Dead, Ive Actually Died.

dead, i’ve actually died.

the amount of tears that have flowed.

haven’t read anything so good in so long ❤️

The Accidental Princess (Epilogue)

Prince Kit x Reader

Synopsis: A contract has been found after twenty years, bearing your name and the Prince Kit's... bound in matrimony.

Chapter Synopsis: And they lived happily ever after.

Word Count: 7.4k words

Warning: mentions of trauma and killings, FLUFF, the gif is from Medici (I know, but it seemed appropriate ;) It's so hard to find the best gif since Cosimo is always so grumpy lmao )

A/N: Here it is! The end of an era! I am so proud of this story, it's become my baby. Thank you so much for staying and reading through all of the parts. Thank you for your comments and likes and reblogs. I love you, guys! I hope you enjoyed The Accidental Princess!

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Epilogue

In the days followed that awful night, you became withdrawn from everybody else’s presence. You refused anyone’s help, knowing full well they would not console you in the way you wished to be consoled. You became a recluse inside Kit’s chambers as you kept vigil beside his sleeping, healing form, keeping only to yourself—and to Kit—with your thoughts and memories your only companions. No one understood the weight you suddenly carried on your shoulders, of how a single event skewed your humanity even when it was done from a place of good intentions.

You had indeed killed the Grand Duke and whilst putting a stop to his rampage had the desired effect of removing your anxiety about him, his resulting death haunted your every waking moment. You still felt the heft of the candelabra in your hands or the way you swung it to the base of his skull to deliver your killing blow. Seldom, you dreamt of being a helpless spectator as he slaughtered Kit before your eyes, moving only when your beloved had laid limply on the floor. Often, you dreamt of yourself brandishing the sword and slaying the man without remorse. With those dreams, you saw sightless eyes and brilliant scarlet blood around you, of faceless figures on familiar silhouettes; every single one condemning you for your actions that may have saved the lives of many but at the expense of one.

No one knew the great fear that ran through you, how every sound of footsteps from the hall made you jump in your own skin out of fear that there would be someone wanting to enact revenge on behalf of the Grand Duke. You became afraid of everything and still you refused their help. It was simple, really. It was just because they were not Kit.

And when he awoke, you decided to put on a brave face for him. Kit was still in pain, still in the process of healing, that you did not want to depend on him for your own. So you kept it, kept all your fears and your hurts, kept the inexplicable confusion of your tilted values, to yourself… until it broke one day.

That had been the night where your scream filled the halls and walls of the palace. You had dreamt you slayed everyone just because you could, with no rhyme nor reason at all, and the resulting confusion from your actions broke you. You screamed within your dream and without, the sound echoing all over the palace grounds and it woke all its inhabitants, fearing for the worse at the terror-filled sound. It took them—Kit, the royal physician, Captain Thibault, amongst others—quite some time to placate you, murmuring to you that the man was gone and dead, that his reign of terror has ended because of you. While those words had assuaged the great anxiety you had with regards to the awful man, it was Kit’s arms that calmed you and told you that you were safe.

“He is gone,” Kit had whispered against your hair, cradling you in his arms despite his healing shoulder wound, rocking you gently until you were at peace. “He will not come for us anymore.”

It was these nightmares that Kit would envelop you in his arms, murmuring to you that you saved him as much as he saved you, telling you that the man was gone and that he would never hunt your family again. You both were alive because of each other; those were the aftermath of your actions, actions that might have just been as offensive as the Grand Duke’s sins but they were necessary.

“You need not face them alone,” Kit had often told you when you suffered another of those horrible nightmares. “You have me. We will face them together.”

There were scars borne from that night: Kit’s once-fatal shoulder wound had become hardly indistinguishable among the many battle scars he had incurred in the previous years; the slice on his palm was indiscernible to the casual viewer and yet you still saw the harsh ridges of the puckered skin with just one look; and, of course, the mental scars that you received from the torment the godawful man had inflicted upon your family. These were the only reminders of the man’s brief tyranny against everyone. These, you often told yourself to convince yourself that what you had done was correct, were much more favorable than what the man had intended to happen.

And slowly, ever so slowly, you came into terms with all that had passed. The nightmares became infrequent until they stopped. You ceased jumping at every footstep in the hallway. You gradually started to tell Kit of the fears that held you back and submitted yourself to the help that was offered. You accepted that you killed the man, accepted that you were changed—as did everyone else—from then on, and you just lived.

.

.

.

.

“There is nothing like the tea you have blended, pet.” Louis said as he took a sip of his specially brewed tea.

You smiled graciously and raised the cup to your lips, sipping at it contentedly. Louis had just returned from Zaragoza after an extended stay and had immediately asked for your nightly routine of tea after dinner despite having arrived earlier that day. You had traveled quite a lot in your lifetime and knew how harrowing trips were and insisted that you would do a morning routine of tea instead, worried that he would be too tired to partake your tradition. He declined with a scoff, adamant to have it with you in spite of being tired as he said it would revive his spirits. You could not find it in you to say no to him—you doubted anyone had ever had the gall to say no to the charming Duke of Granville—and thus promised that you would have it as soon as supper was finished.

“You have not grown accustomed to coffee yet?” you asked.

Louis had written to you countless letters of this certain drink the Zaragozans seemed to love. In every one of them, he mentioned his disdain for it, often comparing it against your tea blend with your blends emerging as victors. You knew he only meant it as flattery but you were flattered, nonetheless.

“I will never grow accustomed to coffee, pet,” he said with feeling. “It is too bitter for my liking and their blend is far too weak.” He pulled a face at how much he disliked the other beverage, earning a laugh from you.

“But I have given you the recipe for your favorite blend. Surely, you have attempted at least once to make it?”

“And poison myself if I do it wrong?” he said.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics. Even when he had spent quite some time away and around new culture, he was still the same Louis Toussaint. “I had also given you detailed instructions on how to correctly identify which tea leaves are harmful and which are not.”

You were briefly reminded of your investigation of the late Queen Amalie’s poisoned tea and of the dangerous flowers that were planted about the garden. You since had the beautiful but pernicious plants removed from the palace grounds and had them donated to a university to be studied upon, where they were far from people’s immediate reach. The empty spaces had been filled with more lavender bushes, as per Kit’s request, and every summer whenever they bloomed, you always thought they signalled a brand new day of hope.

“Forgive me, pet, but do you see me perusing every tea leaf and bud to see if they are safe for consumption?” he asked. “I would no sooner steep them than inspect them.”

You hummed in agreement, knowing he would do as such. “A bellyache would have signalled you that something is amiss with the tea. Surely, you would stop drinking if that happened.”

“Ah, do you truly not know me? I would suffer the bellyache if it meant I would drink tea than coffee.” He grinned as he took another sip of his tea.

“Their coffee must be abominable for you to dislike it so. You must be relieved that you are back home now.”

You sipped at your tea, savoring the lemon and peppermint taste. Louis took a biscuit and halved it, offering the other to you.

“I suppose it would be amiss of me to say I would much rather stay in Zaragoza—in spite of the matter with the coffee, of course.”

You took the proffered biscuit, quirking a brow as you looked at your dear friend. “Oh?”

“I’ve no work to do whilst I was there. It was refreshing to have a bit of intermission from all the kingdom’s issues.” He grinned devilishly at you before he bit on his pastry.

You chuckled at that, knowing very well what he meant. Louis had been very efficient as Kit’s adviser and the brief respite he had at Zaragoza was well-deserved. If there had been someone, other than Kit, who worked equally hard, it was he.

“How did my cousin fare while I was away?” Louis asked, curiosity on his face.

You nibbled on your half of the biscuit, smiling at him. “It seems you have forgotten that I now help with matters of the kingdom.” you scolded lightly. “And while I know how much he likes having me near him, I do not think I should be replacing you in your position anytime soon. You are far more efficient than I in some matters.”

“Admitting that he lost his way without me is easy, pet,” he teased. “And it uses fewer words than what you had said.”

You chuckled. You finished your biscuit and downed the remnants of your tea. Louis offered to refill your cup, to which you politely declined.

“No, thank you. The physician has said for me to drink only three cups of tea a day. I’ve already had my share of it.”

All laughter from Louis’s face vanished, instantly being replaced by concern. “What do you require the physician for? Is something the matter? Are you ill?”

“Oh, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am well and brimming with life.” You grinned ecstatically, finally having your dearest friend to share your news with. “Literally too, I’m afraid.”

At Louis’s confused look, you slid your hand to your abdomen and cradled the gentle swell. It had only started to show beneath your gowns, just a tiny bump beneath the many fabrics that were draped upon you daily. You had asked your lady’s maid to loosen the binds to your stays to give way to the life that was growing between your hips. Kit had not noticed it yet. You were soon to tell him of it.

“Y/N!” Louis erupted suddenly, clearly astounded. When he had left, you were not yet with child. “That’s wonderful news! Does Kit know?”

You shook your head. “No one knows, apart from me and the physician. You now, I suppose.” You speared him a serious glance. “I’ve told the man not to tell Kit about it. If he knows before I tell him, I shall have you to blame.”

His face turned solemn as he nodded. “I promise I will not tell.”

Knowing Louis, he would keep true of his word.

“Good.” You smiled. “Now, I have been meaning to ask you—”

You both paused as commotion ensued in the kitchen. There were surprised shouts and scattered murmurs of “Your Royal Highness” from the staff before you heard the rushing pitter-patter of little feet.

“Do you suppose that is one of yours or one of mine?” Louis asked when he looked at you.

The answer came a few seconds after.

“Mama!” cried your daughter, jumping at you with alacrity.

Behind her, Abigail stopped to curtsy at you and Louis.

Your sweet little girl, a miniature of you in all ways except for her hair and eyes, which she had gotten from Kit, scrambled on your lap as she grinned at her nanny. Her ebony waves shook with her laughter.

“Why are you awake, my little dove?” you asked her as you arranged her on your lap. You wrapped your arms around her tiny waist, securing her into position. “I thought Papa and I had put you to sleep?”

She looked up at you with her arresting blue eyes, eyes that often commanded the attention of its receiver. They were still mirthful but they had a gravity about them that only a four-year-old could possess.

“You and Papa did not tell me a good night story.” she accused. Her tone was very grave, as though what you had done—or had failed to do—was a sin against mankind.

“Oh! I’m sorry, my dove. Mama seemed to have forgotten.” You kissed her downy cheek, eliciting a giggle from her. “Shall we go back to your room?”

The impish look on her face—very similar to yours—did not vanish as she shook her head. “No.”

“No?” You looked at your dearest friend, who was chuckling silently in his corner of the alcove. You would have shushed him if it weren’t for the little girl on your lap. You chose to ignore him instead. “Do you not want Mama to read to you? How about your parrain? Would you like him to read you a good night story?” (Godfather)

She contemplated upon your question, eyes big and lower lip jutting as she pondered her reply.

“I would be happy to read you a bedtime story, moppet.” Louis said with a soft smile at her direction.

But your daughter frowned at him, shaking her head gravely. You anticipated as much. “It is a good night story, not a bedtime story, parrain!” she told him.

He turned to you suddenly, a look of question on his face, to which you nodded with all the seriousness you could muster upon it. Louis had left before the good night story-bedtime story dilemma. It was a little matter to the adults but not to your daughter.

“She insists it is called that. She will correct anyone who calls it otherwise,” you told him as you bounced her on your knee.

“Ah,” he said as he nodded, playing along. Louis knew better than to defy the little princess. He smiled contritely at her. “Forgive your parrain, moppet. Your cousins call it a bedtime story.”

But she did not look convinced. “They are wrong,” she pronounced with conviction, sounding like her father.

You let out a surprised chuckle, as did Louis, and hugged her close to you. “Oh, my darling, you mustn’t say that. Just because you call it differently than they do does not make them wrong.” You scolded her gently, tapping her nose to soften your words.

“But they are wrong, Mama.” She looked at you with her innocent and wide eyes, knowing full well the power it held over the adults. Now, she used it to ask for your support. “It is called a good night story. It is what you and Papa call it too.”

You smiled gently. “For you, my love, it is called that. But for your Parrain Louis’s children, it is called a bedtime story.” you told her. “There can be many different names for one thing.”

Your daughter pouted but she nodded, accepting your explanation. She had always been clever and intelligent, much like how Kit had envisioned her, but none had accounted for her stubbornness. Clearly, she had gotten it from both you and her father.

Louis stood from his chair, hand held out to your daughter. “Shall we go? What is your favorite good night story?”

She shook her head and snuggled closer to you. “No.”

You cast Louis an apologetic glance before addressing your daughter. “No?” You pushed the hair away from her eyes. “But surely, you must be exhausted from entertaining your cousins?”

She shook her head again, looking at you with a pout on her lips. She knows how adorable she is and uses it to her advantage, you thought to yourself amusedly.

“Oh, very well, then.” You chuckled, relenting. It was a struggle to decline her pleas, especially when most of them were trivial and harmless. She was a curious child, much like you were when you had been younger, and whilst she was yet to start her formal studies with a governess, you had taken it upon yourself to teach her of the things that were not taught within the confines of the classroom.

You turned to Abigail, who had been standing and awaiting your orders, and smiled gratefully at her. “Can you fetch me a cup of warmed milk, please, Abigail? After that, you may retire for the night. Her Papa and I will bring her to her room later on.”

Abigail, who had miraculously survived the Grand Duke’s assault that fateful night many years past, was unwaveringly loyal to you. Her attack did not deter her in wanting to remain in your employ; in fact, it only strengthened it. She had been a witness of the horrific display of your great anxieties and did not leave your side during the months of your recuperation, despite she herself was healing as well. You had promoted her to be your lady’s maid upon your marriage to Kit, had been your confidante when you could not depend on Kit or Louis on keeping some of your secrets, and upon the birth of your children, had appointed her to become their nanny. While she may not be educated in the accepted lessons of child-rearing, you knew you could not leave your children without someone you cannot trust. Abigail proved to be capable in her new role, despite coming into it unknowledgeable. She, along with her husband Captain Thibault, were the few people you entrusted with your family’s lives.

She bobbed another curtsy and left for her errand.

“There is something different about you, moppet.” Louis said. You turned in time to see him scratch his chin in mock contemplation. “Did you grow taller?”

Your daughter giggled as she nodded eagerly. She held out her hands horizontally, widening them to show how much she had grown while he was away. “I grew very tall, parrain!”

You smiled as you adjusted her hands accordingly, turning them vertically, showing to her godfather the inches she grew in his absence. “Like this, my dove.”

She beamed at him, thrusting her hands towards Louis. “Like this, parrain!”

He gave an exaggerated gasp as he looked at the distance between her hands. “That is tall! Soon, you shall be as tall as your cousin. Isabella was once as small as you were and then she grew very tall too.”

Her smile was beautiful and her eyes sparkled at the new information as she turned to you. “Mama! I want to be as tall as Isabella!”

You tapped her nose again, smiling gently. “And you shall be, my princess. You just have to be patient.”

“And you have to sleep more.” Louis nodded seriously at your daughter, giving you a sly look at his attempts to have your daughter return to her bed to sleep.

You chuckled, nodding along. “Yes. You have to sleep as well. Shall we go now? Abigail can bring your milk to your room.”

“But I am not tired,” she told you matter-of-factly, tone so similar with her father’s. “Papa says I mustn’t lie and I will be lying if I say I am tired.”

“She has quite a lot to say,” Louis commented mildly, sipping at his tea. “When Philippe and Isabella were younger, they did not have much to say. Is Henry like her?”

“No,” your daughter said before you could reply to his question. “Henry is taller than me! He is this tall!” She held out her hands to show him again, adjusting them as wide as her little hands could take her. “I am only little and small.”

You smiled amusedly at how she had interpreted the question. Louis was absolutely correct; she had a lot to say of anything and everything. She always made sure her voice was heard. Henry, on the other hand, while precocious like his younger sister, was politely assertive. He was all the positive traits of his father—as well as resembling very much like him—and you combined. While he may not be as loquacious as his sister, whenever he would speak or address anyone, the quiet authority in his voice rang loud and clear. He was Kit’s miniature in every way possible.

“No, not at all. Henry’s quiet, much like his father,” you told Louis. “She overtakes him with her questions and thoughts almost always.”

Abigail returned and set down the cup of warmed milk before you. Your daughter turned to her with a wide smile on her face.

“Thank you, Abigail!” she said cheerfully.

The nanny smiled and curtsied. “You are much welcome, Your Royal Highness.”

“We shall see you in the morning, Abigail. Thank you,” you told her with a smile.

She bobbed another curtsy. “Madam,” and left.

You gave your daughter the cup, supporting it with your hand as she brought it to her lips. “Finish your milk, my dove, so we may go to sleep.”

She took small sips before turning to you. “I am not yet sleepy, Mama.”

“Then how will you grow tall like Isabella?” you asked her seriously. “Ask Parrain Louis what made her tall and he will tell you it is because she sleeps when it is her bedtime.”

Louis nodded when her attention shifted to him. “Yes, moppet. Isabella and Philippe always sleep when we tell them to sleep. Now they are tall.”

“But—” There was an adorable frown on her face.

“And Henry is asleep, isn’t he? Don’t you think it the reason why he is taller than you?” he asked.

She shook her head at him. “Henry is tall because he is older. Isabella and Philippe are older than me too.”

Louis stuttered, blinking at your daughter’s logic before turning to you. “I see she has taken more than just your looks, pet. She has taken your stubbornness from you too.”

“I beg your pardon?” Your brow rose sharply.

Louis only grinned his charming grin. “Where else would she get such persistence if not from you?”

“Kit is stubborn as well,” you said, looking put off. “Perhaps he does not show it to you but he can be very adamant when he wishes to be.”

“Are you talking about Papa?” your daughter asked as she took a chocolate biscuit from the tray.

You looked down at her with a nod. “Yes, my darling. We are talking about Papa.”

“Papa is very busy,” she said with gravity as she bit down on her pastry.

You chuckled at the unexpected statement from her. “Yes, he is.”

“I want to help Papa.” she declared.

“Oh? With what, my dove?” You tipped the cup again when she asked for her milk.

“With his work.” she said simply, as though the answer was very obvious to everyone.

“You can be like Parrain Louis, my dove. He is Papa’s adviser. He helps Papa with his work.” you said. You took a napkin and dabbed at the sides of her lips to catch the droplet of milk.

She looked at Louis now, face set and serious. You chuckled to yourself at how much she resembled you, especially when she looked thus. “Parrain, you mustn’t leave anymore. Papa has been very busy since you went away.”

“Oh!” Louis exclaimed at the admonishment he received from her. “Begging your pardon, Your Royal Highness, but your marraine wished to see her home even for a while. I could not deny her simple request.” (Godmother)

She turned to you as if seeking for advice on what to say next.

“While you are correct, my darling, about your Papa being very busy, your parrain also has his family to think of. He is free to do as he wishes, like leaving your Papa to visit your marraine’s home kingdom.” you said.

“Marraine does not like our kingdom?” she asked innocently.

“She does but she misses her family and the people from her own kingdom.”

She turned to her godfather, who was watching her in great amusement as he sipped his tea.

“Will you forgive parrain if he gives you a gift from Zaragoza?” Louis asked when he set his cup down.

Her eyes shone brightly, clearly having forgiven him at the mention of a gift. “A present!” She clapped her hands excitedly.

He chuckled. “Yes. It is a beautiful little thing they call a marioneta.”

“A marionette, my dove. It is a puppet.” you said when she looked at you at the mention of the word.

“I chose this specific marioneta because she looks like you. She has your beautiful black hair and your blue eyes and your happy smile. Her name is Mariana.” He grinned at her eager look. “But we must come to an agreement. I shall only give her to you when I learn you have slept tonight. If not, you will not see Mariana until I hear you have properly rested.”

Your daughter contemplated on it for a while before nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, parrain!”

You turned to your dearest friend, smiling in thanks at the gift he bought for your daughter. “Aren’t you in the least bit tired, Louis? You need sleep as much as she does.”

“I shall be—”

“Mi corazon?” called a voice from the kitchen door. (My heart)

You all turned to the doorway, to the Princess Chelina entering your little alcove. She looked much more radiant and livelier since you had last seen her—and very much with child. She smiled as Louis stood to help her take a seat at the table.

Louis’s impromptu trip to Zaragoza years ago had been troubling. He not only left his estate quite so suddenly, but had been gone for nearly a year in his attempts to court the King and Queen of Zaragoza for Chelina’s hand in marriage. Initially, they did not accept him, adamant as they were that their daughter will only marry a prince. Louis’s letters to you had chronicled his hardships when he had been courting them; of how he nearly gave up when he heard rumors of her parents having found another prince to marry her to or how he very nearly wanted to steal Chelina from a celebration to marry her secretly.

But his perseverance and insistence—coupled with his bountiful charms and riches—finally convinced the Zaragozan monarchs into choosing him. They were impressed with his tenacity and his fierce love for their daughter, that, in apology for their harsh reception of him, they immediately had them married as soon as they were able. Not long after their union, Louis and Chelina were blessed with their beautiful daughter Isabella, and their son Philippe followed soon after.

“Why are you not asleep, mi vida?” Louis asked as he poured her a cup of tea. (My Life)

“I cannot sleep without you, mi corazon.” she replied as she took her cup. She turned to you, smiling. “Louis had been very excited to return home just for tea. Had it been any other reason, I would have understood his giddiness.”

You chuckled. “He is rather fastidious with his tea. I’ve already given him the recipe for his favorite cocktail but I do not think he made one for himself.”

“Pet, you must know it is only a blend by your hand that I will drink.” he said with a wink at your direction. “I had had someone make it to your instructions but it did not taste nearly the same as yours. There is something special about it when you make it.”

You shook your head at him, looking at his wife for support. Chelina only laughed. “Flattery will not make me grant you another few months’ respite in Zaragoza.” you teased Louis.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, scandalized. “I would never!”

“And I shall tell Kit to say no to you if you ask him.” You helped your daughter with her milk again, drinking it to the last drop. You wiped the crumbs and milk off of her mouth.

“Mi vida, she is accusing me of using my charms on her.” Louis told his wife.

Chelina gave an amused shake of her head at her husband. “You’ve made an error of using it on her, mi corazon. I did not think she will fall for it like I had.” she said as she sipped at her tea. She looked at your daughter, a sudden playful gleam in her eyes. “Why are you still awake, princesita? I thought you had gone to bed?” (Little princess)

“Papa and Mama did not tell me a good night story.” she replied with a pout. She then turned to look at you, eyes innocently wide. “I think I want to sleep now, Mama, because Parrain Louis will not give me my marionette if I do not.”

You smiled, kissing the tip of her nose softly. “Okay. Let us see Papa about our good night story problem, my dove.” You wiped her hands for any remnants of the chocolate biscuits. She had a proclivity for them, much like her father.

You looked at your friends and guests once more, smiling apologetically. “I fear I have to leave the two of you alone,” you told them regretfully. You had been looking forward to hearing of their adventure in Zaragoza but your daughter and her sleep had to come first.

Chelina waved a hand, shaking her head. “We shall tell our stories tomorrow. La Princesita must sleep so she could get her present.” (The little princess)

You chuckled. “I hope Isabella and Philippe found their rooms to their liking. If not, I can always ask the staff to arrange it to however they wish,” you said as you helped your daughter down from your lap.

“You mustn’t trouble yourself with us, pet. We are perfectly able to adjust to our accommodations.” Louis said.

Chelina nodded in agreement. “They do like it but thank you for offering.” she replied graciously.

You turned to your daughter, straightening her nightgown. “Shall we say good night to parrain and marraine, my darling?” you asked.

She held the sides of her nightgown, executing a wobbly curtsy to her godparents. “Good night, parrain. Good night, marraine.”

The Duchess of Granville smiled, bowing her head regally. “Good night, princesita.”

Louis got to his feet and bowed with all pomp and grandiosity. “Good night, Your Royal Highness. I thank you for gracing us with your presence.”

You daughter giggled as she took your hand and waved them goodbye with her other. You said your goodbyes to your friends before making your way to your husband’s office. She talked throughout the short trip, telling you of her plans for the marionette her godfather had bought for her and how she would make a show for you and her Papa. You chuckled amusedly, reminiscing of a certain time when you had regaled the crew of your father’s ship with the stories you have read. You had also used puppets but yours were ones you had crafted yourself from scraps aboard the ship. You told your daughter of such and saw the sparkle in her eyes at your story.

You arrived at his office and, before opening the door, turned to your daughter with a devilish gleam in your eyes.

“Shall we surprise Papa?” you asked her. At her enthusiastic nod, you grinned. “You must be very quiet. He does not know you are not asleep.”

She giddily clapped her hand against her mouth.

You entered the office, one hand behind your back, clasping your daughter’s small one. She kept close behind you, walking with small steps in time with yours. You heard her muffled giggles.

“My King,” you called softly, hoping not to startle Kit.

Sat behind a grand oaken desk, Kit looked impossibly kingly. Stacks of missives and correspondences, each bearing differently colored wax seals, each from different people and different parts of the kingdom, nearly drowned the monarch as he pored over another in his hands. He had been the King for nearly six years, upon the death of his father, but even before that, had been helping with matters of the kingdom. He was an exceptional ruler since the start of his regency, always listening to the people’s pleas and keeping them in the forefront of all laws he authored and passed. The people loved and adored him, were never afraid of him, and in every celebration of his coronation as King, everyone gathered and exalted his reign.

His new role had aged him, however. His hair was now cropped shorter and he sported a full beard, forgoing shaving it off, saying that he would rather use his time looking over the people’s problems than to use it for his vanity. His new look made him appear more kingly, which you admitted to him with a laugh. A full beard or a clean-shaven face, to you, Kit was still as handsome as he had been on the day you met twenty years after you both had erroneously signed that marriage contract.

Kit looked up and smiled when he saw you. “My queen.”

You smiled warmly at your title. He always loved to call you by your title but to the both of you, you were only Kit and Y/N.

You heard your daughter’s soft chuckles behind you and swallowed a laugh of your own. You cleared your throat, taking on a serious mien, before addressing your husband. “I hope you are not too busy. There is someone quite adamant to see you.”

A kingly brow rose at that. “If it is Louis, tell him I am otherwise occupied—”

“Papa!” cried your daughter as she jumped from behind you to run to her father.

You chuckled as Kit’s face morphed from that of an exhausted monarch to that of a loving—and surprised—father.

“Amelia!” he exclaimed. “Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? Earlier, you bid me good night!”

He caught her before she could jump on his lap and hugged her gently to his chest. Kit was careful around her, always taking care of his actions whenever he was with her. Named in honor of her late grandmother, Amelia had been a squirmy little thing when she was born a month early. She had sent her father in a frenzy at the moment of her birth but you heard no objections from Kit. He catered to her every cry, cradled her when your own arms were tired from doing so, and even had her sleep in your bed so he would not be away from her. He had done the same with your firstborn Henry when he was younger.

Kit was no traditional king when it came to his family. He refused the idea of you sleeping in a separate room; always wanting to keep you close to him whenever possible. He also shunned the other nobles’ practices of raising their children: of leaving them to the nursemaid or of not seeing them unless it was absolutely necessary. Kit wanted to be present for every breath, sigh, and cry. When Henry was born eight years ago, the midwife had proclaimed to him that he had an heir. Kit had only shaken his head in disagreement with the woman.

“No,” Kit had whispered when he had taken his son in his arms and had cradled him against his chest. “I have a son.”

He never thought of them as his heirs. They were always his children.

Peals of laughter rang throughout the office as Amelia’s little hands found their way to her father’s beard. You smiled at the picture they presented, even though it was one you saw every day, and made your way to them. Kit deposited his daughter on one arm while his other pulled you to him. You laughed as you stood beside your husband, his arm around your waist, looking at you lovingly.

“My love,” he said and turned his head up to receive your kiss.

You bent down and kissed him softly, lingering for a second longer before pulling away. A decade of being married to each other and Kit still had the same lovestruck expression on his face. “My Kit.”

“You did not tell me a story,” Amelia said petulantly, immediately taking her father’s attentions away from you.

You broke free from him, hands moving to the many papers that were scattered atop his desk. He had been called away immediately after dinner, missed having tea with his cousin and you to see matters regarding the eastern border of the kingdom. Despite being his queen for as long as he had been king, you had only recently started helping him with kingdom matters. In the first years of your marriage, you had asked to be taught all there was to know of your territory. You were tutored by the very same teachers Kit had in his childhood and were diligent in your studies, devouring law books and history books to learn more of the kingdom you were now queen of. You found you excelled in international relations, using your prior knowledge to help expand the trade routes and garner more alliances with other territories.

You sat on the arm of Kit’s seat, taking the latest missive he had been looking at and read over it. It was a business proposal to export the gemstones from your kingdom. As the new queen, you were now it’s owner.

“You and Mama always tell me a good night story,” Amelia continued and you looked over at her with a smile.

“I’m sorry, my darling dove. Papa had urgent matters to attend to and Mama was having tea with your parrain.” he told her. “Does Henry require a good night story as well?”

She shook her head, waves moving here and there. “He does not need a story because he is big.”

“And you are small?”

She nodded, jutting her lip as she implored at him. Like you—and any other people who beheld her—Kit could not resist her deep, wide-eyed sapphire gaze.

“Very well. Let us tell you a story then.”

“Was this the urgent matter with Lord Blois?” you asked, holding the missive in your hands.

Kit looked over and shook his head. “No. That is for you. I opened it by mistake.” he said. “I’ve sent a missive to Lord Blois and had Captain Thibault gather troops to oversee the issue with the eastern border.”

“Is it something we should be worried of?”

“No, no. We’re in no immediate danger, my love.” he assured you with a smile. “He thinks it a matter I should be aware of but it is nothing. We are safe.”

You nodded.

“There is also a letter from Prince Frederick. He wishes to thank us for our gift to his new son. He also means to invite us next month for a celebration.”

You beamed at the prospect of a ball. “Shall we go? It would be wonderful to see old friends again.”

The king’s smile was tender when he looked at you. “Anything you wish, my love.”

You flushed and replaced the missive with the other papers. “Now, on to the matter at hand. Little Princess Amelia wishes we tell her a good night story so she may sleep and then she may get her puppet from her parrain.”

“Puppet?”

“His gift from Zaragoza.”

“Of course,” Kit said and stood from his desk, carrying Amelia with him. “Did Mama receive a scolding as well, or was it only I?”

“She had to make it known even to Louis and Chelina that I did not tell her a story.” You snuffed the candles on his desk and followed after them as they exited the office.

“Were you polite about it, Amelia?”

Amelia looked innocently at her father. Kit gave her a stern look before kissing her temple. He could not go on getting angry with his children, not even for a while.

“You must be polite all the time, little princess, even when it is not your fault.”

She bobbed her head. “But, Papa—”

“What have I told you before?”

“A prince or princess must always be polite.” Amelia dutifully said.

“Very good.” He kissed her temple once more before he turned to you. “And how was tea with Louis, my love? I apologize I wasn’t able to come.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you replied, slipping your arm around Kit’s and walked beside him silently.

“What’s on your mind, my Queen?” you husband asked as you all ascended the stairs. “You are rarely quiet and when you are, I fear I have to think of what it is I’ve done.” he teased.

You chuckled. “I was thinking of names, my love.” you told him coyly.

“Names? What for?”

Once you arrived on the second-floor landing did you bring his hand to your abdomen. “I believe this little one will require a name in a few months’ time.”

Kit paused in the hallway, a stunned look about his face. “My love? Are you—?” His eyes dropped to the indiscernible bump on your abdomen.

You nodded, smiling softly. “Yes, my love. I’ve known for a week now.”

“Is Mama what, Papa?” Amelia demanded.

Kit turned to his daughter, a brilliant smile about his face. “You, my darling Amelia, will become a big sister.”

She only frowned. “But there is only Henry and I and I am younger and smaller.”

He chuckled, having used to her logic. “You shall be a big sister soon, my darling. Not now. We must wait because your Mama will still grow your younger sibling.”

“Grow?”

You resumed walking now, with Kit’s hand holding yours firmly. “Yes, my dove. The baby needs to grow before we can meet him or her.”

“I want a baby sister.” she declared. Both you and Kit chuckled.

“We can’t choose the baby we will have, Amelia, but let us hope that whatever we will have will be born healthy.” You told her, smiling gently.

You pushed the door to her chambers open. Amelia’s room had been decorated with motifs of the sea and traveling, with paintings of different landscapes from different parts of the kingdom adorning her blue walls. You saw in her the eagerness to travel when she was younger and you and Kit had no doubt she would wish to traverse the kingdom as well like you had.

The fire was low and dying and you made your way to it, adding enough kindling to illuminate the room until she fell asleep. Kit took Amelia to her bed and tucked her beneath the covers, smiling softly as he laid a kiss on her forehead. You neared her shelf of books, heading towards a tome of children’s stories by the Brothers Grimm before her sweet voice called out.

“I want my favorite story, Mama. The one about the traveler and the prince!” she said excitedly.

You cast a look at Kit, smiling when he smiled back at you. You knew the story by heart, no book would ever account for the wonders of that tale.

You sat on the other side of her bed, softly caressing your daughter’s face, mesmerized that this was now your life. It was amazing, to have survived all the challenges and be blessed with the life you never thought of having. Before, you traversed the seas, belonging nowhere and everywhere at once. You had no reason to remain long in one place, had nothing to care for and live for. But fate intervened and brought you back to your kingdom, brought you to the place where you never once thought of settling down. Fate brought you home.

You looked at Kit, at the love that shone in his eyes, wanting nothing more in your life. You were blessed to be married to him, a man who had been willing to renounce his title and power just so he could love you. You were gifted children whom you adored and adored you in return. Once, you had wanted to be an emissary of the kingdom but fate gave you more and made you Queen of it. No, there was nothing more you could ask for. You had everything you ever hoped for—and more—right here, right now.

“Are you ready, my dove?” you asked Amelia as you pushed the soft hair away from her face.

“Yes, Mama.”

You linked your hand with Kit’s, holding and never wanting to let go, as you started the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who accidentally married the prince…”

Infatuation

pairing: simon basset x fem!reader

warnings: darkish simon? a kiss, young reader (16ish!!) pushy and possessive simon, implied fem!reader and poc!reader, not proof read

notes: idk what to do so i just rambled 😭 this is just a two parter i think. and the storyline is a bit scrambled :) WHAT THE HELL IDK WHY I GOT SO MUCH ENERGY TO WRITE THIS BUT HERES ALL THE PARTS IN ONE DAY!!!! hope you enjoyed <3

PART I

Lady Whistledown: Dearest reader, the time has come to place our bets for the upcoming social season. Consider the household of the Baron Featherington. Three misses foisted upon the marriage market like sorrowful sows by their tasteless, tactless, mama.

Far better odds might exist in the household of the widowed Viscountess Bridgerton. A shockingly prolific family, noted for its bounty of perfectly handsome sons and perfectly beautiful daughters.

Or perhaps in the loving household of the Marquess of Anderton, Lord and Lady Y/L/N? With their two eldest sons, known not only for their intelligent selves and gorgeous faces, but for their stunningly bright younger sister, who is not just a pretty face.

Not only are the two families extremely close, but practically family, how very perfect, indeed!

It is only the queen's eye that matters today. A glimmer of displeasure, and a young lady's value plummets to unthinkable depths.

It has been said that, “Of all bitches dead or alive, a scribbling woman is the most canine." If that should be true, then this author would like to show you her teeth.

My name is Lady Whistledown.

You do not know me, and rest assured, you never shall. But be forewarned, dear reader, I certainly know you.

how on earth had you not yet read this?

one of the things you’d looked forward to besides meeting everyone had been the scandal sheets and you’d missed out on receiving one yesterday.

“this woman seems quite powerful. you know how easily words can ruin someone’s image. it’s interesting to see a lone woman hold so much sway in just her writing. i truly do wonder who she is. any guesses?” you asked pen, daphne and el as the three of you waited for your mothers and pens sisters to catch up as you made your way to the park.

eloise smiled, “it has to be a widow! no married woman would have time for this, she’d have an estate to care for and children pulling on her every day. a widow with her own home and responsibilities. perhaps lady danbury?”

you had to giggle at the guess, knowing whistledown herself was right with you. you’d managed to meet penelope at least, so that was one person of your list. lady danbury would be next with her ball tonight, and perhaps simon as well.

“what’s so funny? i haven’t heard a guess from you!” eloise groaned as you smiled, “i have no guesses besides, pen?” penelope’s head shot up straight away from the ground, “what?” “i was going to ask if you had any.” you could see her cheeks flushing, and her breathing quicken at the idea of being caught out.

and as you all walked together through the park, you’d mistakenly enthralled yourself in conversations, going so far as to walk with your back facing others. walking backwards as to face the girls.

“look out!”

before you’d fallen you were caught, by simon.

“i, i am so sorry. i was not looking-” simon smiled, “well that’s obvious no?” he joked as he lifted you up. you straightened your dress out and smiled, “of course. forgive me your grace.” you curtsied, in the presence of the person you’d been most excited to meet, you’d forgotten all about your friends behind.

as they all met him you couldn’t even take your eyes off of him, and neither could he for you. and once lady featherington came around she wasted no time to throw her eldest daughters upon him. the misery in his eyes hurt your soul so you took it upon yourself to rectify the situation.

“your grace!” simon turned towards you, as did everyone else. “yes, lady y/n?” you smiled, “would you like to accompany me, to promenade?” simon tilted his head, pondering your question.

he couldn’t help but be taken aback, usually many girls weren’t so forward. and god were you beautiful. rather than dealing with annoying girls who wanted a title the second they saw him, he could walk with someone he actually found interesting.

“i- would love to.” he smiled as he took a step back, allowing you to walk with him. you could hear the chatter from the girls behind you as well as your mother and violet.

you’d spent so long together, walked for so long your feet ached afterwards. and you didn’t miss the longing stares from other men around, and the women for him.

and even if it had taken so much energy of yours to keep walking, you wouldn’t have given up the chance. everything he said, you replied to. every joke sent laughter rippling through you and you could not help but feel content. he was, even better then the show. and as you got to know him you felt unbelievably happy.

and so did he.

he went home with all his thoughts containing you. he found himself smiling at every memory of his time with you that day. your smiles, your laughter, your beauty, you. and he had no clue why. he’d never been this taken with someone and he found himself struggling with why.

over the season you found yourself taken with him, your family allowed you to attend balls and do as you wish but you were under no obligation to dance or do anything you did not wish to.

yet you found yourself undeniably enthusiastic every time you realised you were going to a ball because you’d see simon. you’d dance, you’d laugh and everything else because he always gave you something to look forwards to, as did you for him, he was truly an amazing friend.

and he was completely besotted with you.

much to not only anthony’s surprise but danbury as well.

and simon was so intent upon being with you.

as much as you liked him you could not help but love how you were. your family was amazing and so happy. you had amazing friends within daphne, penelope and eloise. marriage seemed so far away in your mind and your life was sweet and favourable.

lady trowbridge’s ball was, scandalous, to say the least. you couldn’t believe your eyes when you walked in, half naked dancers spinning around, and quite uptempo music for a woman in mourning.

“lady y/n, may i-” lord wellington was promptly cut off in his endeavour to dance with you by the person you’d been looking for.

“y/n?” simon called out as he made his way to you. “simon! there you are, i was wondering where you’d gone off to.” you smiled at your bestfriend as he made his way to you, nodding in acknowledgement to his friend lord wellington. you thought they were friends at least.

and so did simon, until he saw him coming after you for a dance.

“come along now.” he smiled as you also nodded at the lord, “it was nice to see you my lord.” you curtsied as simon dragged you away.

“oh my god, i thought he would never leave! he tries to dance with me every single ball yet he doesn’t take notice of my indifference towards him!” you snorted as simon laughed louder, “i did not know such an unbecoming sound could originate from such a lovely women!” you scoffed, “that is no way to talk to your best friend!” you fake cried as you wiped literal tears from your eyes, the paintings in-front taking your eye.

simons breath hitched, best friend? best friend?

is that what you thought of him as? he thought the world of you, over the time he’s gotten to know you, he held you in the highest esteem. you were everything to him and he was a mere friend for you. no, he would not have it. who else loved you as he did? wanted you as he did?

“best friend?” simon questioned as your laughter died down at his seriousness, “what?” you giggled as you tried to compose yourself. “you named me your best friend. am i nothing more to you? just a friend? you see me as an acquaintance, as a brother?”

“no i do not see you as a brother, my dear simon.” you smiled, “you are amazing. every day i wake and think of seeing you, for the time i have known you, you have been nothing short of my favourite person. i look forward to seeing you, speaking with you and dancing. arguing over who’s literature is better, who’s right and who’s wrong. i have never known someone’s company besides daphnes to never annoy me. i love you, i do but-”

“but nothing. we love each other, that is all that matters. y/n not a day goes by where i do not wish to be in your presence, to see your gorgeous face. to hear you say my name, to feel you hit me when i say something utterly scandalous. i cannot and will not imagine myself spending my life with no other women but you. you are my other half, you are the air i breathe and the only person whom i’ve ever loved as much as i do. there are not enough words to describe my love for you y/n/n. it is you who i wish to wake up with everyday, it is you who i wish to be with, you who i would start a family with. your laughter that shall echo through my halls for as long as we live. i cannot and will not fathom the idea of you not being here for me, you are made for me.” simons grip encircled your wrists as he pulled you close, his face drawing near as he met your lips.

you never imagined yourself here with simon especially. he’d been nothing short of amazing in your time here, your best friend. but here you were, kissing him.

kissing him?!

you immediately detached from him as you retained your senses and drew your hands to cover your face in shock. “i’m so- so sorry. i do not know what that was your grace.” you rambled as your heart quickened, had someone seen? how could you be so stupid!?

his eyes furrowed at your words, your grace? what was with the formalities, you were to be wed, to be together. and here you were reverting to old habits. “my love there is no need to use such proper titles.”

your head whipped up the second he stopped speaking, “simon do not say such things! endearing terms as such are for, married couples. we are not.” you whispered as you made your way towards the party, but not before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him as you collided with his chest.

he couldn’t let you go, everything, his head and his heart were screeching at him to ‘hold on tight’, to not let you go. so he did what he thought best,

lie.

“someone saw us.”

your eyes widened to the heavens as your breathing quickened again, “no. no they didn’t- they didn’t.” you shook your head as he placed his hand on your cheek to have you look at him. your eyes began to water and he felt himself tense, he hated it. he hated the idea of you being upset, but he was so close to having what he wanted so he continued.

“my dear y/n, i will treat you better then anyone ever could, deep down you know you are better off with me then any other. i love you, we will be together.” simon explained as you buried your head in his chest, you were so young, you hadn’t even properly debuted and now you were to be wed. how did you let this happen?

but a little voice piped up in your head, ‘it’s simon, your simon. the one who is always there for you. marrying him will give you a life of happiness and peace. marrying your best friend is the best thing you could ask for. you loved him when you didn’t know him truly, and now you do. be happy.’

and you wanted to be, simon was so good to you.

but you knew you weren’t ready. with marriage people would expect a child, a family. and your real life, the one back home? what would happen? would you ever go back? or would marrying him cement you in this world, forever.

“shh, you’ll be okay. i’m here, right here my love. you are my love, my heart, my infatuation.”

and you didn’t know it but you were right, the second you allowed him into your life, you were never going to go back home.

Can we request some bridgerton stuff?

yeah of course, rq r open for everything!!!

-WHATEVER IT TAKES

PART 1 PART 2

pairing - prowler!miles morales x reader, miles morales x reader

summary - you and miles make it back to your own universe and dodge the other members of the spider society as you make your way to miles’s home. little did you know someone managed to slip through the cracks, and was here to try to take you back, whatever it takes. does he?

warnings - possessive!prowler miles, he’s like low key delulu, swearing, violence, stalking, bad spanish/glish, not proofread

word count - 3.1k

notes - uhm hahahah i thought i’d leave it at part two and i go in and out of povs :) lack of consistency with names , this lowkey might not make sense at times since it was nighttime i wanted a cutesy easy ending so the solution might be super easy idc i wanted to make a part three :)

TAGLIST: @pifuyue @afternoon-evening @myspacewhore1comz @ashleebooksblog @sophiaj650 @colossaltitannnn @the-rogue-robin @zaddyskye69 @loonalockley (some not working)

you thought you’d collide with the ground straight away.

rain was pelting down as you slowly got up from being splayed across miles on the concrete roof. “i’m sorry for landing on you.” miles groaned as he rose, “nah your good babe.” you slowly stood on your feet and looked around, now this was your earth.

“c’mon we have to get you home. maybe you should change? we could borrow some clothes from somewhere and maybe find a pay phone? call your dad ask him to pick you up then we can explain everything. miguel is probably staking out your home, there’s probably a bunch of spider people here.” you rambled as miles got up too, “i don’t care if they see, we need to get home y/n.” he tried to straighten up, but you could see the pain in his face and his ripped suit.

“you need to take it easy miles. we can’t afford fighting more people, that other miles is nothing compared to miguel.” as you voiced your concerns you could see miles thinking, “alright, let’s just get home, i need to see my dad, we’re so close, we can save him. I’m not stopping now.”

the wind was cold as it nipped at your bare arms, the rain had died down but splattered across your body as well.

you invited it in.

nothing felt better than being home. to ground yourself (and to make sure you were in the right universe) your eyes scanned across your environment, your favourite restaurant tucked into the side of a gigantic, glass mcdonald’s, your favourite sandwiches at delmars, yours and miles’ favourite arcade, graffiti work à la mode miles. you were so grateful to be home, but you were terrified at the thought of not reaching mr morales in time.

the two of you landed on a roof nearby miles’ apartment as you surveyed the two of your surroundings, you both pointing out miguel and his counterparts. “will he still see us if we’re invisible?” you asked as miles nodded, “pretty sure he can see me, heightened senses and vision, probably. i just don’t wanna put us at risk.” you sighed, “how about a diversion? car alarms going off, maybe scare the living shit out of someone and the second he looks away we swoop in?” miles looked up at you as he sighed, “i can’t think, why can’t i think?”

you wrapped your hands around his wrists as he stared at you, as if you held all the answers. as he looked at you, he couldn’t help all the voices in his head.

“in every universe, y/n l/n falls for spider-man. and, in every universe it doesn’t end well.”

as miles looked at gwen he couldn’t help but smile, “i’m not like every other spider-man, i’m better.” he joked as she laughed. “and, in every universe i guess spider-man falls for her. i did. and it’s cause i love her that i won’t let it happen. i won’t let anything happen to the people i love.”

and as he looked at her, he felt, exposed.

but looking into her eyes had the gears turning in his head again, she gave him his spark. and he’d be damned if any other spider-man tried to take her from him. tried to take the ones he loved.

“i’ve got a plan.”

as miguel neared the edge of the roof looking over the scenes below his eyebrows furrowed together as he wondered (or aggressively pondered) where on earth miles was.

thank god y/n remembered the password to the service door of the building.

as the two ran up the stairs, their hearts were oh so close to bursting. miles was praying to every god that his dad was home. his patrol car was outside, so he had to be home, right?

as they burst through the door, they came face to face with mr and mrs morales and- gwen?

“there you two are! i was so close to calling your mother and telling her you’d ran away!” she screamed as she engulfed the two of you in a hug, mr morales following closely behind.

“i unground you and allow you and y/n/n to go after your friend and the two of you disappeared, no text, call nothing! do you know how irresponsible that is?” as she was about to continue her rant, jeff slightly elbowed her, alerting her to your guys’ huffing selves.

“i’m glad you’re okay. you can go talk to your little friend in your room but keep the door open! don’t need you three sneaking off, okay?” rio explained as you nodded profusely but not before miles launched himself at his parents, “i love you guys, so much.” the two parents smiled and returned the favour, “te quiero papa.”

as the three of you got into miles’ room you crawled along the ceiling till miles reached the curtains and drew them.

“you guys are okay thank god.” gwen spoke as she sat down on miles’ bed. “i realised you went to the wrong-”

“wrong universe.” you and miles finished her sentence in union. “it was crazy we got there and another version of miles was there, the one his spider was meant for. gwen, the entire world there, we’ll at least new york, it’s dangerous. they don’t have a spider-man and it’s ruined the city. they have no one to protect them and miles- he lost his father and his- me. and when he saw me he was crazy, he thought i was her, we barely got away.”

“he- i cant stop thinking about him. and if- if i never got bit, would i be him? would i have turned into him, i would have lost my dad and you.” he stuttered, the last part spoken toward you.

“hey, we’re home. i’m here, your dads right outside. we got here in time. spot is probably gonna be here soon, we can convince your parents to leave the city for a bit, make-up some fake excuse and get your dad to push back the captain thing. we defeat spot and then there’s no threat to your dad. we can grab peter, hobie- anyone that can help us beat him. then hopefully miguel will back off, we can try and fix the canon-”

“and how exactly are you going to defeat spot?” all three of you whipped around to the window as miguel crawled in. “what the fuck?” you shouted as rio and jeff ran in, “what the hell are you doing in here? what on earth are you? you are not spider-man and you need to get the hell out of here!” rio shouted as jeff grabbed his holster and pulled out his gun.

miguel raised his hands and tried to calm them down, “there’s no need for the gun-”

“no need!? you’re a six foot, leotard wearing spider-man copy in my sons room, if you know what’s good for you i suggest you leave buddy!” jeff shouted as miles rose to his feet, “dad! don’t-”

a loud crash from the living room caught everyone’s attention, allowing miguel to swiftly take the gun from jeff’s grip. “did you just disarm a police officer?” miguel scoffed, “and you threatened spider-man we’ve all done shocking things.” as he tried to move forwards you all shouted in scattered warnings.

“woah there!”

“you stay right there.”

“not another step from you!”

“don’t come any closer”

“stop moving!”

“is the suit not enough? the web i used to disarm you? i’m a spider-man either way so it’s a waste of time to try and corner me when there’s someone else in your living room.”

you all slowly shuffled out of there, everyone keeping track of miguel, but all of a sudden, he wasn’t the biggest threat.

a gaping dark mass in the middle of the room took the cake.

“he’s here.” miguel said as he began to inspect the whole. “whaddya think would happen if we just pushed him in?” gwen whispered, “don’t even think about it gwen.” miguel answered, shutting down all revenge fantasies.

“will someone please explain what on earth is going’ on here?” rio asked exasperated. “mom, dad. i have something to tell you.” (i’ve decided to spare you the agony of my shitty spanish translations - imagine it’s said in spanish 😘)

“no lo hagas.” miguel warned as he turned towards miles.

do not do it.

miles pulled down the zipper of his jacket and proceeded to pull both sides apart, exposing the red and black suit of the one and only spider-man.

“ay dios mìo.” rio uttered as her hands covered her mouth. jeff just stared. the awkward, apbrupt nature of the reveal made you want to die. you stood next to miles and covered the suit again. out of your peripheral you could see miguel with his head in his hands.

“i know it’s a lot but, miles is a good kid. you know that, and this is a huge secret, he knows. but all he wants is to keep the city safe and he does it! along with the noble police of course but at the end of the day, he comes home to you. he’s always safe and is never reckless and balances it all with school, family, friends, me. so don’t be mad that he lied, just be grateful he’s alive! not that he’s not responsible out in the field- he- miles is super careful i promise- i would know! he always takes me on swings and the amount of control he has- no actually he does not swing me since that would be-”

“càlmate querida.” rio spoke as she again hugged the two. “i knew you were hiding something but i thought it was- ni siquiera lo sè. pero estoy contenta es nada mal. pero siendo spider-man es- peligrosa. por favor tener cuidado mi ninito.”

“si mamà.”

“alright, if you’d wrap up there then maybe we can try and sort out your mess later? spot is here, and we need to contain before anything else ha-”

the whirring in the corner took you all by surprise. you were excited, maybe it was peter, or maybe hobie? pavitr? noir? pen-

you swear your heart stopped the second you saw other miles step through, and you clutched onto miles that much harder. as the portal closed miguel snapped his head towards miles, “now what the hell is this? did you do this? did you bring him out-”

“no, i did not bring him out! y/n/n and i barely got away from him! why would he wanna see him? send him back!” miles shouted as his parents’ jaws hung low.

other miles’ gaze lingered on his dad, which caused unease throughout miles’ body. what was he doing here? how did he get here? what was he for? revenge? does he think miles got bit on purpose? did he want y/n?

y/n.

her hand clutching his grounded him to the moment as he looked back at her, glossy eyes, chewed on lips and heavy breathing. she looked up at him and his heart plummeted. the idea of her getting hurt flashed through and all of a sudden, he was lunging at this other miles.

“this how you say hi up in here?” other miles joked as he allowed miles to tackle him and all of a sudden, the entire room was in motion. gwen running to miles’ aid, miguel readying his watch, more of spot spreading outside and miles’ parents trying to help their son as-well.

y/n stood still, what the hell was going on? miguel leapt outside as jessica’s bike could be heard starting up miles and miles got pulled apart from one another with miles in one corner, smug, and miles being pulled away by his parents and friend, furious.

miles was eventually subdued by gwen and miles whilst miguel hopped out the window to jessica. rio and jeff were confused by everything going on, “we let this boy out for one day and look what happens.” rio scoffed as jeff ushered her out of the messy apartment, “why won’t you leave!” gwen shouted at the other miles, frustrated, as he laughed in her face. “I just want one thing, but ain’t no one giving it to me.” you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, this guy was seriously delusional huh?

the growing concern was the enormous black holes appearing outside and if you were to save your world all of you needed to help outside rather than deal with other miles. looking around the room you found nothing of use, so you ran back inside miles’ room, searching through the drawers you were looking for one thing only.

webslingers!

you ran back to the living room to see gwen getting right back up, ready to charge at the other miles as you slipped it on and aimed.

sticky substances confined miles to the wall as he struggled to get out, he may be the prowler, but he doesn’t exactly have super strength. as he stayed strung up miles had the idea of finding the watch he used, the commotion outside was distracting yet you all tore the room apart for said watch only to find a mangled piece of wires and glass.

“looks like i’m staying a lil’ longer.” miles smirked your way as miles’ fists closed, connecting with his face, “miles!” you shouted out. “are you okay?” miles laughed, “yeah I’m good, but we gotta get out there and we need more help.”

and as if God was answering all of your prayers and words, portals began to open as the three of you sighed in relief. hobie, peter and may by association and pavitr hopped through. “hope we aren’t too late to the party.” hobie laughed as you ran over and hugged him, “could’ve used your help a little earlier but it doesn’t matter now, spot’s here and we need to stop him before he causes any further damage here. thank you, guys, for showing up.” you rambled on as the others smiled. “now i’ve gotten pretty use to the portal but maybe i am still experiencing some side-effects because i think i am seeing double.” pavitr exclaimed as miles and gwen walked over, “nope just another version, the usual.” gwen explained ever so nonchalant. “will you all stop standing around and get the hell out here?” miguel screamed as you all prepared for whatever was going to happen out there.

(Im too lazy to figure out how they defeat spot so come up with a fantasy or som since this is such a random explanation with no planning)

it was quite odd to be at HQ without a million spider people chasing you and your boyfriend, but you obviously weren’t complaining. as you walked through the halls miles’ grip on your hand was tighter than over, indicating he was feeling on edge, and you were glad you weren’t the only one.

spot may have been downright diabolical and delusional but god did he learn quickly. he must’ve devoured a million ‘how to villain’ books as he jumped around universes and aced any tests cause he somehow beat the shit out of all of you, repeatedly. but again, he was overly cocky and underestimated miguel’s willpower and it was obvious he was an amateur in the ‘angry miguel’ department since he had no clue what that man would do to keep the order.

with lyla and margo’s help and organisation you were able to come up with a way to lure spot into a trap, with his over-whelming need to beat your boyfriend came the blindness and he did whatever he thought would help him win. other spideys came along to aid your group of course and a certain spidey named petyr had the ability of illusions, being able to manipulate any mind into seeing what he wished. and whilst it was hard to catch spot his holes were an extension of himself in a way so touching one/being in one allowed petyr to connect with spot’s head. by creating that link he was able to create false versions of not only miles, but his parents and you.

once spot believed everyone else to be busy fighting off the destruction around them and saving people, he cornered miles and was monologuing his ass off, “no one’s here to save you, you realize that right? just like no one came to save me. no one is going to care about you being gone, your family being gone. you ruined my life and now I’ve ruined yours, maybe your parents manage to escape, your girlfriend too, but they will never be able to come back here. im going to destroy this world of yours, like you destroyed mine. and no one will ever overlook me again. im more powerful than any of your little spider society.”

and as he continued the real miles slung down and tapped him on the shoulder, “are you so lonely you’re talking to walls?” he joked as he sent about a bajillion volts of energy throughout his body, then quickly transporting everyone back to HQ and trapping spot.

lyla with the help of some scientist spideys managed to figure out a way to take away all the dark matter from johnathon’s body, returning him to his normal self. as he stared in awe of his normal body being returned to him you could see the sadness on his face. yes, he was normal again, but what was he supposed to do now? his family turned away from him, his job probably wouldn’t take him back, did everyone know who he turned into? god all the things he’d done, how was someone supposed to turn back to normal after being a literal universe-travelling, world-destroying villain?

and the other miles, miguel had him in the amber case as he waited to be taken back to his world. the watch he’d used was gone so he couldn’t exactly use that and he was surrounded by literal heroes. he couldn’t exactly fight them all off, take you and run. he knew his time with you was slipping away and he hated that he couldn’t do a single thing.

so he sat and watched you as miles brushed away stray hairs, assessed the damage on you as you comforted each other. his eyes drifted to rio and jeff, the two of them in awe of their surroundings whilst throwing questions every second at the two of you whilst you tried your best to answer them all. there was so much going on around you but all you cared about was your family, which didn’t include him, and never would.

miles was absolutely exhausted.

and as the two of you sat down together you wondered what would happen in the future, what miguel was going to do about your canon event, how you’d save his dad.

and while you didn’t know what would happen in the future you knew whatever happened,

you have eachother.

targaryenluv’s mcu masterlist

ANDREW!PETER PARKER

— lover

summary: peter lost y/n and gwen at the same time. whilst ned and mj are trying to locate y/n and peter they grab the wrong versions. but it seems these two know eachother better then everyone thought.

— i got you (mature)

summary: whilst on your way to your internship at oscorp you aren’t exactly paying attention to where you’re going, luckily peter is hopelessly in love with you and follows you to make sure you’re okay.

PETER PARKER

— coming soon!

BUCKY BARNES

— coming soon!

STEVE ROGERS

— coming soon!

TONY STARK

— coming soon!

AVENGERS

— coming soon!

omg i freaked out when i saw ur masterlist had f1 in it and i thought what if i collided my 2 worlds f1 and miguel o'hara > < i go insane for racer miguel whether if its street racing or f1 idc i got the need for speed (you can make it really smutty or fluffy or angsty whatever u think best suits the vibes^^)

hi bae! i’m so sorry to tell you but i’ve recently taken miguel off my masterlist, i just actually hate him with a burning passion cuz i love miles so much 😭

i’m so sorry you can for sure request this again to another writer, sorry for wasting your time x

(miguel is hot tho)