Quick Transmigration: Villain Creation System MASTERLIST
Pairing/s: Mark Grayson x Reader x Invincible Variants
Synopsis:
You died. Literally. The process itself was nothing special. The interesting part is what happened after. Instead of the abyss or paradise, a mysterious voice strikes up a deal with you in front of your fresh corpse.
[I am the Villain Creation System, if you want a second chance at life, then you must corrupt the souls of various Mark Graysons across the multiverse.]
âDo I have a choice?â
[Of course! Agree to our terms, or spend the rest of eternity alone and conscious of your own nonexistence, unable to move on to the next life and barred from what your ilk calls Heaven.]
[ ËśËáËËľ ]
â...okay, sold.â
[Yay!]
You successfully destroyed the lives of different versions of Mark Grayson, but when it's time to claim your prize, something goes wrong and you are stuck in this godforsaken timeline. What's worse was that they have found you.
"Come with me and we will rule the universe together."
"Be my wife and bear my children. No harm will ever come to you."
"After you died, no one could compare to you, not even your own corpse."
You: (â˘_â˘)
General Trigger Warnings: you are literally dead, death in general, dark humor (e.g. necrophilia jokes), innuendos, mild swearing, mentions of violence and bodily harm, toxic relationships, the Marks are their own warning
Your Character Settings: AFAB
AO3 | Quotev
Chapter 1: Don't Mix Red Bull with Coffee
Chapter 2: Tutorial Mission START
Chapter 3: When In Doubt, Do Your Research
Chapter 4: Just Cut Their Red Thread of Fate
Chapter 5: This Boy is a Choking Hazard
Chapter 6: Square Root of a^2+b^2
Chapter 7: My Mama Done Tol' Me a ManâŚ
Chapter 8: They Call Himâ
Chapter 9: Just Spit It Out!
Chapter 10: Mountain and Sea
Chapter 11: Like a Virgin
Chapter 12: They Call It the "Suspension Bridge Effect"
Chapter 13: First Loves
Chapter 14: She's Off Limits
Chapter 15: Coming Soon.
Questions and Discussion about the fic
who is who
villain creation system and origins
path to destruction
how many variants
greedy for love and attention
cheat items
toxic viltrumites vs human love
maskless (gay) mark
villain reformation system
virgin viltrumite
will the marks find out the truth?
more on virgin viltrumite mark
mohawk's zipper
rizz 'im with the 'tism
1st mark's jealousy
meeting with main mark
which variants; also, angstrom?
we don't villainize love rivals here
piercings
system cheats are op
card and board games are free
random thoughts: sinister loves selfishness
note: there are more questions and discussion regarding the fic that i may have missed but you can click on the #vcs or #villain creation system tag to see them all. âĄ
Fanart:
fanart by @gluttonousriceflour
spoiler!! chapter 6 fanart by anon
Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to me. They were lifted from the following sources:
Invincible flying from https://gamerant.com/invincible-every-character-fate-comics/
Alternate Invincibles from https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/
Like a female bird? ăSpiderman, Peter Parker x reader ă
Tom Holland!Peter Parker x Female Reader
Rating: Fluffy, Awkward & Low-key Spicy
Sumary: Navigating Peterâs chaotic spider-biology was something you thought you had under control. That is, until you walk into his apartment to find it completely transformed, and Peter acting with an unnerving, magnetic intensity that feels a little too physical to be normal. He thinks heâs just taking care of you. Google thinks itâs something else entirely.
A/N: Hi! Oh my god, itâs been forever since I last posted anything here. Lifeâs been so insanely busy lately that I honestly havenât had the time to think about anything other than work. Iâm pretty sure itâs been over a year since I last wrote a single word! Because of that, Iâm dropping this here without expecting too many people to read it, I just couldn't help it, Spider-Man: Brand New Day has completely rewired my brain chemistry, and this story was genuinely the only thing I could think about.
Thank you for reading, really. Every like, comment, or message makes my day and keeps me writing âĄ
It had been a strange season. Complicated, too.
Then again, it had always been like that, right from the very beginning. And once you truly understood what you were walking into, you embraced every single tiny caveat that came with entering Peterâs world. An emergency alert going off right in the middle of a dinner that was going wonderfully? Sure, no problem. Falling asleep alone on the sofa while waiting up for him, just to squeeze in a five-minute chat about your days? It didnât matter, as long as you got to share a little more time together. Ending up stranded at the very top of the Ferris wheel because trouble flared up a few blocks away? You knew heâd make it up to you later.
As chaotic as it got, the two of you always managed to find a middle ground, a quiet corner where you could tether yourselves back to each other.
Until a couple of months ago.
Even though Peter insisted everything was business as usual, things had started to feel⌠off. You often crashed at his apartment for days at a time, since his building was much closer to your workplace. But lately, the temperature inside his place felt ridiculously high, bordering on suffocating. On top of that, there was a strange, heavy humidity in the air. The kind that feels sticky and clings to your skin like a second layer. When you finally asked him about the sudden climate change, he just looked at you with a blank, puzzled expression, as if he hadn't noticed a single difference at all.
But it hadn't stopped at the heat. The stifling warmth was soon followed by behaviors far too bizarre, even for Spider-Man.
There were the moments when youâd try to have a normal conversation after days of missing each other, only for Peterâs brain to completely short-circuit. Heâd stare right into your eyes, wide-eyed and completely vacant, looking as if his mind had drifted off to another astral plane entirely. He would nod a beat too late to whatever you were saying, his focus trapped five floors down, tracking the erratic fluttering of a fly roasting against a lightbulb.
Then came the sudden jumpiness, the kind that sent your own heart into your throat.
Any unexpected noise would trigger a minor catastrophe in the apartment. You still remembered the time a spoon slipped out of your fingers while clearing the table after dinner. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Peter launch himself several feet into the air, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. When he landed back down, he stared wide-eyed at the culprit responsible for the heart attack: the spoon harmlessly resting between your fingers. All he managed was a quiet, embarrassed "sorry" before ducking out of the kitchen.
And how could you ever forget the dinner incident from a few weeks back?
Peter had spent ten straight minutes staring blankly at his plate, consumed by his own thoughts. He looked exhausted, having spent days complaining about a killer headache that kept him awake. He was constantly rubbing his temples, trying to relieve the pressure building behind his eyes.
Hoping to pull him out of his trance, you slid your hand across the table to gently brush his forearm, careful not to startle him. You knew the warm proximity would prevent him from jumping out of his skin. Peter blinked rapidly, finally snapping back to his small kitchen table.
"Welcome back. You okay, Pete?" you had teased, trying to lighten the mood. "Youâve been glaring at your food for five minutes. I promise I cooked it right, it won't run off the plate."
All you got in return was a weak attempt at a half-smile. Still, he closed the distance between you, lacing his fingers through yours and giving your hand a soft squeeze.
"What? Yeah, of course. The chicken is awesome... super good." He cleared his throat, releasing your hand to wipe his palms against his jeans, clearly sweating more than usual. "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?"
You didn't answer, considering this was one of the rare moments his apartment didn't feel like a sauna. Once he relaxed, he gave himself a small nod. "Could you pass me the salt, honey?"
Trying not to look at him too strangely, you complied. But as you reached out to hand it over, a weird, wet popping sound shattered the quiet, like something being violently launched under pressure.
Before you could even process it, Peter turned ghost-white, looking like he was about to pass out. You followed his horrified gaze down to your shirt. Right over the printed logo, there was a glob of a strange, thick, milky-white substance.
You carefully set the salt shaker down and pulled the fabric taut to examine the residue. As you reached out to touch it, you caught a faint, panicked "Don't..." from your boyfriend, but you ignored it. You pinched a tiny bit between your fingertips. The moment you felt it, you knew instantly what it was, even though you had never touched anything like it before.
"Itâs webbing," you said, looking back up at him.
Peter looked mortified. You instinctively scanned his wrists, expecting to see his mechanical Web-Shooters. Instead, there was only bare skin. That stuff had just shot straight out of his wrist.
"IâmsorryIâmsorryIâmsorry," Peter had blabbered, panic lacing his voice. "I don't know what happened... It's never... I didn't meanâ"
He threw his hand over his mouth as a sudden dry heave cut him off.
"It's fine, Pete. I don't understand what just happened, but it's..." You leapt out of your chair, turning your back on him instantly. The forced, reassuring smile you were trying to hold had just been crushed by a wave of intense, visceral nausea.
"I'm sorry!" Peter squeaked.
"It's nothingâ"
You didn't get to finish the sentence before bolting straight for the bathroom to save your dinner.
Yet, as strange and gross as those moments were, the two of you had survived them. Step by step, piece by piece.
Eventually, Peter figured out that his spider biology was acting up. His hormones had spun completely out of control, shifting into overdrive and affecting his body in ways he was reluctant to admit.
Which brought you to right now.Â
You arrived home that day completely exhausted from work. J. Jonah Jamesonâs shrill, booming voice was still reverberating inside your skull, stubbornly refusing to leave. As you stepped into Peterâs apartment, a wave of relief washed over you when you realized you weren't greeted by the stifling, humid heat wave that usually turned his place into a sauna.
"Peter?" you called out.
You always made a point to announce your entry, just in case the sharp slam of the front door proved too much for his hyper-sensitive hearing. You had tried calling him on your walk over to let him know you were just a few blocks away, but he hadn't picked up.
It took a second for your senses to register the air inside the apartment. You crinkled your nose, picking up a dizzying array of scents. There was an overwhelming mix of food aromas, so many that your un-enhanced nose couldn't even separate one from the other. Underneath it all, a soft melody was playing, drifting pleasantly from the living room like a faint thread of background music.
Following your instincts, you walked in, half-expecting to find Peter lying face down on the couch, completely overstimulated. But before you even made it past the hallway, something in the living room froze you dead in your tracks.
Peter was standing at the stove, his back turned to you. He was completely shirtless, wearing nothing above his low-slung sweatpants except a simple black kitchen apron tied snugly around his waist. Every line of his back was on full display, the deep groove of his spine, the cut muscle of his shoulders, and the subtle, rhythmic flex of his lats as he moved. He was gliding between pots and pans with a fluid, predator-like grace, softly humming along to a low, sultry beat playing from his phone.Â
You opened and closed your mouth, searching for words. It wasn't that Peter hated cooking, it was just that heâd sooner starve to death than ignite a gas burner. He survived almost entirely on takeout, microwave burritos, and cheap bodega sandwiches. None of this made sense.
Your eyes darted across the kitchen island, taking in the array of finished dishes. Every single one of them was one of your absolute favorites. And sitting right in the middle of the feast...
"Peter... is that a cheesecake?"
He smiled from ear to ear, not taking his eyes off the plate he was plating, nodding along to his own humming.
"What's going on? What are we celebrating?" you asked, slowly approaching the island and pulling out a stool. You watched him with genuine concern, clasping your hands together to resist the urge to feel his forehead for a fever.
When he finally looked up, the way he did it made your stomach do a sudden flip. He didn't lift his head all the way, peeking up at you through stray strands of dark hair resting on his forehead. His eyes held an intense, dark hunger: one that had absolutely nothing to do with the food on the counter.
You swallowed hard.
"Why don't you go change so we can have dinner?"
That simple suggestion set your cheeks completely on fire, and you had no idea why. When you didn't move immediately, Peter stood up straight. Something in his gaze softened, breaking the intense spell for a fraction of a second. But his posture was strange... Was he puffing his chest out? No, no way. It had to be your imagination.
Before you could think, you felt the gentle brush of his hand sliding under your chin. He leaned across the counter and pressed an impossibly light, lingering kiss to your lips.
"I missed you so much today," he whispered softly, pulling back just an inch. "Don't worry about a thing. Go get comfortable, okay?"
Desperate to shake off your stunned confusion, you agreed and headed toward his bedroom.
You stumbled into Peterâs bedroom and pulled open the drawer he usually cleared out for you whenever you stayed over. But when you pulled it open, you were greeted by an unsettlingly empty space. All that remained were a couple of your socks and some underwear. You checked the other drawers, scanning for your things, but there was only Peterâs clothing.
"Peter? Have you seen my clothes?"
His voice drifted back from the kitchen, slightly muffled. "Oh! Yeah, I threw everything into the wash. Wanted to get a full load done!"
It sounded like a lie, a terrible one. But why on earth would he lie about laundry?
"You can just borrow my stuff for now," he added. "I think youâll be much... comfortable."
You snapped your head up. Sure, you stole his clothes sometimes, but it was never this coordinated. 'You'll be more comfortable?' What on earth had gotten into him?
You heard his footsteps approaching. A second later, Peter was leaning against the doorframe. The apron was gone. He stood there completely shirtless, his bare skin gleaming under the soft hall light as he flexed his shoulders in a way you had literally never seen him do before. You stared, stunned by how that posture made him look oddly... bigger?
"And what happened to all your shirts?" you asked, gesturing vaguely. "Did those end up in the wash too?"
A slow, sly half-smirk spread across his face, a look that was entirely uncharacteristic for Peter Parker.
"Maybe," he murmured, shrugging in a way that deliberately flexed every single muscle in his broad chest and back.
He rested one hand high up on the doorframe, leaning his weight into it as he tracked your every move. For a split second, you thought you saw a dark shadow bleed over the brown of his pupils, turning his eyes into twin black voids. You shook it off, it disappeared in a blink. You shook your head with a quiet sigh and reached into his drawer for one of his worn-in grey hoodies. The moment your hands touched the fabric, a low, satisfied hum vibrated from the back of his throat.
When you turned to head toward the bathroom, he didn't move. He blocked the hallway, his intense gaze tracing every single line of your face as if he were trying to memorize it forever. Then, he leaned down and gently pressed his nose against yours: a soft, tender gesture that completely threw you off guard.
You pulled back slightly, laughing nervously at his strange behavior. He seemed like he was in a trance.
"Okay, seriously, what is up with you today?" you asked, laughing softly as you tried to put a little distance between you.
Peter stayed completely quiet. His expression remained intensely serious, his lips slightly parted as his breathing ran a little heavier than usual. Your laughter faded, replaced by growing worry. You placed a palm flat against his bare chest, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin.
Thatâs when you felt it: a strange, deep vibration echoing through his sternum.
You had never felt him do anything like this before. It was as if his entire body was humming on a sub-bass frequency, a rhythmic, mesmerizing pulse that felt strangely soothing, lulling you into a warm spell. Hypnotized by the purr like rumble, you stood frozen as he slowly brought his face closer and closer to yours...
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The kitchen timer blared from down the hall.
Peter jumped, snapping out of his trance like a splash of cold water to the face.
"I'll... I should..." He cleared his throat violently, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
"Yeah. I'm gonna... bathroom," you muttered.
You ducked right under his raised arm, still feeling that lingering, hypnotic vibration buzzing in the tips of your fingers. You shut the door behind you and sat down on the toilet seat, completely bewildered by what had just happened in less than fifteen minutes.
Peter had filled his apartment with soft, plush nests. He had cooked a feast fit for a party of twenty, made up entirely of your favorite foods. He had hidden all your clothes so youâd be forced to wear his. And then there was that bizarre, chest-puffing, purring thing he was doing.
Exhausted, you stared up at the ceiling.
Sitting in the upper corner of the wall was a tiny web. It wasn't Peterâs, it belonged to "Hugs," the resident bathroom spider who occasionally showed his face. You watched as the little spider worked on his intricate web, carefully wrapping up a tiny bug that had gotten trapped in his threads.
And suddenly... click.
The missing pieces fell into place with the force of a freight train.
Peterâs wild spider hormones had stayed outside of your relationship until now. You had never seen him act strange with you, beyond his overstimulated senses or his lack of control during patrols.
You pulled out your phone frantically, typing "spider behavior" into the search bar. You spent a long time reading, searching, and piecing together what on earth had triggered this behavior in the superhuman cooking dinner a few feet away from you.
The words "COURTSHIP RITUAL" took your breath away.
You read further:
Male spiders will prepare a plush, secure nest to make it attractive in the first stage. Food stockpiling also becomes a key necessity in this behavior. Certain species use rhythmic vibrations to attract and soothe the female. Not to mention flexed physical displays, where they attempt to appear larger or showcase their strength.
You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh my god.
Peter was courting you. You had no idea how to handle this, or how to even bring it up. It wasn't that you didn't like the changes but they were just overwhelming. And the last thing you wanted was to hurt his feelings or make his spider half feel rejected.
You tried to clear your head under the stream of the shower, thinking about how to face what was waiting for you outside. You dressed slowly, taking an odd, grounding comfort in the scent of Peterâs clothes.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped out into the living room. There was no sign of him anywhere. Yet, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stood straight up. You could feel eyes watching you from somewhere in the house.
"Peter?" you called out.
Without a sound, Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing in a low, flawless squat right in front of you.
You shrieked, taking a step back, but before you could recover, Peter stood up to his full height. His shirtless chest was still glowing with heat, his shoulders back, his eyes darkening as he took a slow, deliberate step toward you.Â
"Didn't mean to scare you," he said. But his tone lacked any real remorse, he actually looked amused.
"Well, you failed!" You slammed a hand over your heart, trying to calm your racing pulse.
As you looked at him again, you realized he was doing the vibration thing once more, and the memory of the trance heâd put you in came rushing back. As Peter tried to step closer, you stopped him.
"Ah-ah! Absolutely not. No more spider-hypnosis today, Parker!"Â
He looked deeply confused, but he stopped in his tracks. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the wounded, disappointed pout that immediately crossed his face.
You rushed forward, gently taking his face in both of your hands, forcing him to look at you. There it was again, that subtle, dark shadow glazing over his eyes.
"Peter, I think your hormones are totally shot. I suspect you don't even realize what you're doing right now... but I don't need you to court me."
The words acted like a light switch, clearing the dark haze from his eyes as a genuine, confused smile formed on his face. He pulled back slightly, surprised.
"What?"
"I mean, I really appreciate the comfortable nest, andâŚ"
"Wait. Nest?"
You carefully chose your next words. "Peter... you are acting exactly like Hugs in the bathroom if he were trying to win over a lady spider. You padded the entire house with soft pillows, you cooked enough food to survive a winter hibernation, and then there's that weird chest-vibration thing you're doing. Which is very soothing, by the way! But Iâm slightly terrified youâre trying to hypnotize me so you can wrap me up in a giant web. Honestly, I didn't finish reading the whole article."Â
You watched as the realization slowly travelled through his brain, connecting the dots of his own involuntary biological instincts.
His jaw dropped. His eyes went as wide as saucers.
"Oh... oh no," Peter squeaked, his voice cracking violently. He covered his face with both hands, his bare chest heaving as a deep, mortified red flushed across his entire body. "Oh my god. Oh god, I... I tried to spider-mate you."
"Yeah," you teased, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his bare waist, resting your cheek against his chest. "You kind of did."Â
"I am so sorry!" Peter blabbered into his hands, completely mortified. "I didn't mean toâŚI wasn't thinking! My brain just felt so foggy and I just really wanted to make you happy and keep you here andâŚoh god, I was standing there flexing, wasn't I?!"Â
You let out a loud laugh, looking up at his utterly ruined, embarrassed face. "Honestly, Pete? It was incredibly hot. A little terrifying when you tried to hypnotize me, but the shirtless chest-puffing? A solid ten out of ten. If I were a lady spider, I would've been wrapped around your finger in seconds."Â
Your words achieved exactly what you wanted. A burst of nervous laughter escaped Peter as he tried to fight off the overwhelming embarrassment crushing him.
Peter groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his arms tightly wrapping around you. "Please kill me. Throw me out the window."
"Not a chance," you giggled, pressing a soft kiss to his warm shoulder. He shook his head, closing his eyes in sheer embarrassment at his own little show.You pulled back slightly and bumped your nose against his, just like he had done earlier, and stole a quick kiss.
"Though... I do have one question."
"What?" he mumbled miserably into your neck.
"According to the article... after the nest, the food, and the vibration... there's supposed to be a courtship dance." a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Were you going to dance for me, Peter?"
Peter went completely still. He slowly lifted his head, his ears burning so bright they were practically glowing.
"No," he lied horribly.
"Peter Parker! You had a whole ritual planned out!" You shook him by his waist, laughing uncontrollably. "Come on, tell me! What song were you going to do your spider-courtship dance to?!"
Peter tried to pull away, desperate to physically escape the apartment, but you held on tight, burying your face in his chest as you shook with laughter.
chapter summary: Matt takes you on a date you'll never forget, and gets a little tongue tied in the process.
series warnings: 18+ for smut, canon-typical violence, age gap, huge wealth gap, AFAB reader, slow burn, semi-retired daredevil
word count: 5.3k
"I think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. We are good people and we've suffered enough."
- Seventy Years Of Sleep
When you got home from the studio, the penthouse was even tidier than usual. And quiet. You noticed it before youâd even slipped your shoes off.
The lights had been dimmed low, leaving the apartment washed in warm amber instead of its usual brightness. Somewhere deeper inside, soft soul music drifted from the turntable. One of your favorite vanilla candles was already burning, the familiar scent wafted gently into the entryway.
You frowned. ââŚMatt?â
No answer. God, he'd been acting so strange lately. Smiling to himself for no apparent reason. Randomly buying you artisan chocolate because he âfelt like it.â Staring at you in his own way over breakfast this morning. Head tilted, with that soft, completely besotted expression until you finally asked if he could sense something on your face.
You rounded the corner toward the bedroom and stopped. Hanging carefully from the wardrobe door was a garment bag. Your heartbeat immediately stumbled. âMatty?â
Still nothing.
A smile tugged at your mouth despite yourself. He's being dramatic again. You stepped into the bedroom, reaching out to unzip the black bag. You froze completely when you peeked inside. âOh my God.â
The dress hung against the wardrobe in rich plum silk, the color somewhere between a dark wine and crushed berries. It caught the afternoon light softly as though the fabric had been poured instead of sewn. Pure liquid. Luxurious without being heavy.
Soft draping fabric. Open shoulders. A flowing skirt that brushed just below your knees. Elegant enough that your stomach immediately flipped. Carefully arranged beneath it sat a pair of heels. And pinned to the garment bag itself was a folded note. Your heart sped up instantly and you picked it up with careful fingers.
Wear this for me tonight. And your hair like you did at dinner last week.
I'll be home at 8.
I love you.
â M
You stared at it for a long moment. Then smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. âHairstyle request?â you muttered to the empty room. âThe audacity.â A tiny chirp interrupted you from the bed and you turned before inhaling sharply.
Dilly sat proudly in the middle of the comforter wearing a perfectly tied plum ribbon around her neck. The exact same shade as the dress. Your eyes probably looked like saucers. âNo.â The kitten blinked at you. Entirely innocent. You crossed the room immediately, scooping her into your arms. âDid dad make you fancy too?â
Dilly answered with an enthusiastic purr. âI know,â you said, scratching beneath her chin. âI think he's sweet too.â
The soft chime of the elevator echoed through the penthouse and your stomach fluttered immediately. You smoothed your hands once down the sides of the silk dress before making your way toward the entryway.
The elevator doors at the end of the long private hallway slid open and Matt stepped inside. Dark suit, white shirt, and the tie youâd bought him for Christmas. He was sporting a much shorter beard than you remember him having this morning, very obviously groomed at some point today. Your mouth curved automatically. His surprisingly didnât, not immediately. He stopped just inside the apartment, completely still.
âMatt?â A slow breath left him and you blinked. He crossed the apartment without another word. One hand settled carefully at your waist and the other brushed lightly over your shoulder, before his fingertips skimmed the silk of your dress. Like he was making sure you were really standing there.
âYou okay?â you asked quietly.
âMhm.â
âYou look like youâre thinking very hard.â
âI am.â
âAbout?â
His thumb drifted once across the fabric at your waist. âYou.â Your heart gave one traitorous little squeeze. âThatâs very smooth.â
âIâve had some practice.â
You smiled. âSo, how do I... feel?â
Matt let out the softest laugh. âYou already know.â
âI wanna hear you say it.â
His hands settled a little more securely around your waist. âYou feel beautiful.â The simplicity of it, even if coaxed out of him, somehow made your cheeks warm more than any elaborate compliment could have. You reached up automatically, smoothing the lapel of his jacket. âYou clean up pretty well yourself." You studied him for another second. ââŚYou trimmed your beard.â You smiled, reaching up to brush your thumb lightly across the silver threaded through his jaw. âI like it.â
His breath caught almost imperceptibly. Then he leaned down and kissed you. One hand still resting against your waist while the other settled gently beneath your jaw. There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing desperate. Just warmth.
When he finally pulled back, he stayed close enough that your foreheads almost touched. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. You watched curiously. âWhatâs that?â
Instead of answering, he unfolded a length of familiar black silk. Your eyes widened immediately and the corner of his mouth lifted. âI thought you might recognize it.â
âYou cannot possibly be serious.â You stared at the fabric and then back at him. âThe last time you blindfolded me, you shut down the Met.â
âI did.â
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. âI cannot believe weâre doing this again.â
He stepped closer. âSo?â You looked from the blindfold back to him. He wasnât teasing anymore. Just waiting patiently, the same way he had last year, on the sidewalk outside your former apartment. âTrust me?â
Your answer came without hesitation. âAlways.â For the briefest moment, something in his expression softened so completely it almost stole your breath. He lifted the silk carefully. âHey- I spent way too long on my hair, just like you asked," you warned him.
âI know.â
âSo if you ruin itâŚâ
He laughed quietly, then tied the blindfold gently behind your head. Darkness settled around you and immediately, the rest of the world disappeared. There was only Mattâs hand in yours. The familiar cedar scent of his cologne. The warmth of him standing impossibly close.
Your other hand found the front of his suit jacket instinctively, clutching it briefly. His fingers laced more securely through yours. âReady?â You smiled into the darkness. âMhm, yeah.â He squeezed your hand once, then led you toward the elevator.
He guided you carefully from the apartment, never letting go of your hand. The elevator hummed quietly beneath your feet. A few moments later, warm summer air brushed across your skin and the familiar sounds of Manhattan wrapped around you immediately. Traffic somewhere nearby. A distant siren. Laughter drifting from a restaurant patio. The muted thud of bass from a passing car. Someone walking a dog.
Mattâs hand remained steady around yours as he opened the town car door. âCareful.â You ducked inside obediently. âThis is very mysterious.â
He laughed quietly as the door shut behind you both Those first few minutes passed in comfortable silence. You leaned your head lightly against his shoulder, still blindfolded, listening to the rhythm of the city slipping past outside. Eventually curiosity won. âSo⌠restaurant?â
âNo.â
âHm.â You thought for another second. âBroadway?â
âNo.â
âA boat?â
Matt sounded genuinely offended. âAbsolutely not.â You smiled. âYou answered that awfully fast.â
âIâve made my feelings about boats very clear, you know you'll never catch me voluntarily boarding one. Heightened senses and seasickness do not go together."
You laughed softly and decided to give up, he obviously wasn't going to tell you anything more. The car continued through the city for several more minutes before gradually slowing to a stop. Matt climbed out first before offering you his hand again. âStep down.â You carefully found the pavement beneath your heels. âWhere are we?â
âYouâll see.â He began leading you forward again. Slowly. The sounds around you shifted with every step. Concrete beneath your heels became smooth stone and the noise of the city faded behind you once a door was opened for you. A gentle rush of warmer air brushed across your face and immediately felt different. The air. It wasnât cooler. If anything it was warmer. Almost humid. Your brows knit together. â...Why does it feel tropical?â
He only squeezed your hand. The air also smelled different now. Green. Fresh. Earth after rain. Something floral. Just... alive. You inhaled again. "Flowers?â
âMhm.â
Your heart skipped. Somewhere nearby water trickled softly. Not a fountain exactly. More like a gentle little stream. The sound echoed gently around the space, telling you the room had to be enormous. Your pace slowed instinctively. His thumb brushed once across the back of your hand. Birds. You could hear birds. Not city pigeons. Little chirps high overhead and leaves rustling somewhere above you. Above?
Your pulse began climbing. âAre we-â
âNo questions.â
You smiled despite your impatient huff. He guided you another dozen steps before stopping completely. It was so peacefully quiet, the kind that existed in places built for people to simply exist. You became suddenly aware of your own heartbeat. Fast enough that you could hear the blood rushing in your ears.
Matt lifted both hands carefully toward the knot at the back of your head. His fingertips brushed lightly through your hair as he loosened the silk. His voice, when he finally spoke, was almost a whisper. âOkay, sweetheart.â A tiny pause. âYou can look.â
The blindfold slipped away. Light flooded back all at once and you blinked a few times. Then you forgot how to breathe. âOhâŚâ Your eyes lifted instinctively. Glass. An enormous vaulted ceiling of glass stretched impossibly high overhead, catching the last golden light of evening while the glow of the moon began to appear beyond it. Everywhere beneath it, orchids. Thousands of them.
White orchids cascading from towering branches. Deep magenta blooms climbing elegant arches. Soft pink petals spilling from enormous arrangements. Delicate sprays of lavender flowers suspended like little clouds above winding stone paths. The entire conservatory glowed beneath hidden golden lights, every bloom illuminated so gently it looked almost painted.
Warm air wrapped around your bare shoulders. Water trickled quietly through a pool nearby. Somewhere farther inside, music drifted so softly you almost thought the room itself was just humming. It didnât feel like New York anymore. It felt dreamlike, someone had folded summer into a building.
Your eyes wandered farther. And finally landed on the candlelit table waiting beneath an archway of orchids. You covered your mouth without thinking. âMatt.â
He was facing you when you turned. Waiting, almost holding his breath. You turned slowly in a circle, trying to take everything in at once. âThisâŚâ You laughed once in complete disbelief. âThis canât be real.â Your eyes found him again. âHow did you even do this?â
Matt only smiled, one shoulder lifting in an almost sheepish shrug. You laughed, breathless, still turning slowly beneath the orchids. âOrchids are my favorite." He tilted his head and his smile softened. Mattâs answer came so naturally. âI know.â
Your smile faltered. Just for a second and warmth trickled through your chest. You reached for his hand without thinking. âWell,â You squeezed it once, "thank you.â
Mattâs thumb brushed across your knuckles. âYouâre welcome, sweetheart.â He gestured toward the table waiting beneath the orchids. âCome on.â
Candles flickered between you, their reflections dancing across crystal glasses while soft jazz drifted lazily through the large conservatory.
The food arrived one course at a time. Fresh peaches. Honey whipped ricotta. Warm bread that Matt insisted on buttering for you. Handmade pasta that was bright with lemon and herbs. Everything tasted like summer. Everything smelled incredible and mixed with the scent of the flowers. You kept catching yourself looking around just to convince yourself it was real. âThis is ridiculous.â Matt smiled over the rim of his wineglass. âYou rented a botanical garden.â
âI rented one room.â
âOh, excuse me.â You gestured broadly around you. âHe only rented one room in the botanical garden.â
He chuckled, and conversation came easily. You told him about the studio earlier, and how your newest employee accidentally burnt an entire batch of lavender and gave Luis a heart attack.
Matt laughed. Asked questions and really listened. Every word out of your mouth still seemed endlessly interesting to him. Every now and then his hand found yours across the table. Sometimes your wrist. Sometimes your fingertips. Sometimes your knee beneath the linen tablecloth. You finally smiled. âYouâre touchy tonight.â
âHm?â
âYouâve held my hand through... like seventy two percent of dinner.â
"That's an oddly specific number." A tiny smile tugged at his mouth. âBut yeah I suppose I have.â
By the time dessert arrived, the candles had burned almost halfway down. Youâd spent more time talking than eating. The orchids around you glowed beneath hidden lights, filling the conservatory with shades of ivory, blush, and deep violet. You rested your chin lightly against your hand. âI think this might be the prettiest place youâve ever taken me.â
Matt smiled. âI hoped youâd like it.â
âI love it.â
His shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. You reached across the table, slipping your fingers around his. âThank you.â His thumb immediately stroked across the back of your hand.
âYou never have to thank me for loving you.â
His words settled quietly between you and your chest tightened. ââŚThatâs a very unfair thing to say to me in a room full of flowers. Youâre making it very difficult not to kiss you across this table.â
âI can think of worse problems.â
You giggled, and a brief silence settled comfortably between you. Matt traced slow circles against your skin. Then, so quietly you almost wondered if he hadnât meant to say it aloud, âI love you... so much.â
Everything inside you softened, the words sounded almost involuntary. You smiled. âI love you too... youâre emotional tonight.â A quiet laugh escaped him and you added, âYou gonna tell me why?â
Something shifted in his expression. His mouth opened. Closed again. Then he smiled, that small, warm smile that always made your chest ache. ââŚIâm just really happy.â You searched his face for another second, and you smiled back. âWell," you lifted your wineglass, "to really happy.â
Matt picked up his own. The crystal chimed softly between you. âTo really happy.â
You took another sip of wine, smiling over the rim of the glass. The conservatory had grown quieter as late evening settled outside, the last traces of sunset long faded beyond the glass ceiling. Matt set his glass down first. He looked at you for a long moment. âWalk with me?â
You smiled immediately. âYeah, course.â
He stood first, rounding the table before offering you his hand. You slipped your fingers into his automatically, letting him help you to your feet. He lingered for just a bit longer than necessary before he started leading you away from the candlelit table. The farther you wandered from dinner, the quieter everything became.
First you heard the faint clink of the dishes being cleared. Then the soft jazz faded behind you. Soon there was only the gentle trickle of water weaving through the conservatory and the quiet click of your heels against the winding stone path.
You found yourself slowing without even realizing it. ââŚThis place is unbelievable.â You looked around again, still incapable of taking it all in. âYouâve completely ruined normal dates for the rest of my life.â
Matt chuckled beside you. âI was afraid of that.â
âNo, seriously.â You laughed, looking over at him. âHow am I supposed to enjoy dinner at some little Italian place after this?â
âI have faith in you.â
âI donât."
His smile widened. and your shoulder bumped gently against his as the path curved around another enormous bed of orchids.
The farther you walked, the more the conservatory changed. Near the dining area everything had felt elegant and intentional. Now it felt almost wild. Long flowering vines spilled from towering branches overhead, white blossoms cascading toward the stone pathways while broad green leaves caught the moonlight filtering through the glass ceiling.
You stopped beside a cluster of orchids almost as tall as you were. âOhâŚâ Matt stopped beside you. âTheyâre beautiful.â You reached out carefully, brushing one fingertip along a smooth green leaf without disturbing the flowers. âIâve never seen anything like this.â
âNo?â
You shook your head. âIâve seen orchids in planters. But not⌠this.â Your eyes wandered upward again and you smiled âI think I could stay here for hours.â
That made your chest warm. âI have, havenât I?â You slipped your hand back into his. âI think⌠I think I forgot what quiet felt like.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âI donât know.â You laughed softly. âIt just feels like," you gestured vaguely around the conservatory, âeverythingâs been so busy lately. I donât think we've stopped moving in months. And then you did this⌠Itâs like somebody pressed pause.â
Matt didnât answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quieter. "We both needed that.â You smiled. âWe did.â
For a little while neither of you said anything. You simply walked. Hand in hand listening to the water, breathing in warm air scented with earth and flowers. The path curved gently around a long reflecting pool, its surface so still it mirrored the orchids hanging overhead almost perfectly.
You slowed without thinking, eyes welling up a little. âMatt.â
He smiled beside you. âI was wondering how long it would take.â You laughed softly, turning another slow circle beneath the flowers. âItâsâŚâ You shook your head. âI donât even have words.â Matt tipped his face upward, taking a slow breath through his nose.
âThey're blooming all at once I can smell it,â he murmured. âThe water and fresh soil.â A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. âAnd now you smell a little like the flowers too.â Warmth bloomed in your chest. âI think I love the way you see things.â
For just a second, he looked almost caught off guard. A faint flush climbed into his cheeks before he ducked his head with a quiet laugh.
Your hand remained tucked comfortably in his while you wandered slowly beside the water, stopping every few feet whenever another arrangement caught your attention. Eventually Matt cleared his throat. âDo youâŚâ He stopped, and you glanced over at him.
âHm?â
His thumb brushed once across the back of your hand. âDo you remember⌠what you said about the painting at the Met?â Your smile came immediately. âThe Monet?â
âMhm.â
You laughed softly. "Yes. Of course I remember.â
How could you ever forget? The quiet galleries. The way heâd somehow shut down an entire museum to let the two of you wander through it alone. The Monet lilies. Matt spoke again beside you. âYou said something.â His voice faded again and you waited. âWhen we were standing in front of the water lilies.â A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
You smiled sheepishly. âI talked your ear off. I remember telling you why I loved it.â
âYou saidâŚâ He searched for the words. âYou said it feltâŚâ His sentence drifted away again. You watched him fondly for a moment before rescuing him. âPeaceful?â
He nodded once. âYeah. And private.â
Another nod. âLike the rest of the world couldnât quite reach it," you recalled. Your gaze drifted back toward the water. âI still think thatâs true.â The reflection of the orchids barely rippled beneath the glass ceiling. âIt feels likeâŚâ you searched for the feeling all over again, âlike whoever painted it had found one tiny place where nothing bad could follow them.â
You smiled to yourself. âI think thatâs when I realized I was in trouble.â Matt turned his head slightly. âWhat do you mean?â
You laughed under your breath. âI remember standing there thinkingâŚâ You shook your head at yourself. âDonât do it.â A smile slowly spread across his face as you spoke. "Donât fall in love with him." His expression softened so completely it made your chest ache. âAnd then I did anyway. Pretty spectacularly, actually.â
Matt let out a quiet breath through his nose, looking down at your joined hands. Then he spoke again. âWhen you said that painting feltâŚâ His voice trailed off and he frowned ever so slightly. ââŚI thoughtâŚâ Another pause. Then, after what felt like forever, he smiled again and gave the smallest shake of his head. âI-I donât know, I forgot what I was going to say I'm sorry."
You looked up at him, amused. âYou keep losing your train of thought tonight. Thatâs unlike you.â
âI know.â
A tiny giggle escaped you and you grinned, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. âWell, whatever it wasâŚâ You shrugged lightly. âItâll come back to you.â
Matt smiled at that. âI hope so.â You smiled, giving his hand one last squeeze before turning your attention back toward the winding path ahead. âCome on,â you said lightly. âI want to see the rest of-â
You only made it a single step before your hand caught gently. You looked back over your shoulder to find that Matt hadnât moved. He was still standing beside the reflecting pool, your fingers linked between you. ââŚMatt?â
He looked almost thoughtful and somewhere far away. You took a small step back toward him. âWhat is it?â
For a long moment, he didnât answer. His thumb brushed absently across your knuckles. âI hadâŚâ He let out the smallest breath. âI had something I wanted to say.â
You smiled. "Yes, I know. Did you remember?â
He laughed quietly at himself. âIâve been trying to say it for about an hour.â That made you giggle. What is going on with him? You smiled, still holding his hand. âWellâŚâ you tilted your head, studying him. âIâm officially curious now.â
âSo am I.â
Your brows knit together. âWhat?â
Matt looked down with another quiet exhale, his thumb still moving absently across the back of your hand. âI donât think Iâve ever been this nervous.â He let out a slow breath. âIâve been repeating what I wanted to say to myself all day.â You felt a tiny, inexplicable flutter low in your stomach. He laughed quietly under his breath, though there wasnât much amusement in it. âAnd every time I hear your voice I forget everything."
Your pulse was loud enough you could hear it. Matt took one slow breath and closed his eyes for the briefest second. When they opened again he smiled, his bottom lip wobbling minutely. He let your hand slip from his, then took one careful step backward and reached slowly inside his suit jacket.
Your breath caught. No. Your heart slammed so hard it almost hurt. No, there was no way.
He turned his head up to face you again. The smallest shake of his head like he was laughing at himself. âI canât remember a single word.â Your vision blurred instantly. Oh my God. Oh my God. âSoâŚâ he said softly. âI think Iâm just going to tell you the truth instead.â And then he lowered himself onto one knee.
The world disappeared, everything blurring until there was only your Matthew. Looking up at you with tears already gathering in his eyes. Your own vision flooded so quickly you could barely make out his face.
His laugh came out shaky and he looked down for one brief second, collecting himself. When he looked back up again, his smile was small. Almost embarrassed.
âYou were supposed to be temporary.â
The second the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes. ââŚShit. I had a much better opening than that.â Your hand flew over your mouth and he shook his head at himself. âI told myself I wasnât going to start there.â His voice caught. âButâŚâ He looked back up at you. ââŚitâs true. You were supposed to be thisâŚâ he paused to release another shaky breath â...arrangement. This beautiful woman who was going to stay for a little while⌠and then leave.â Your tears spilled freely now.
Matt laughed once through the tears pooled in his own eyes. He looked down at the little velvet box in his hands, then back up at you. âI keep trying to find the right words.â Another quiet shake of his head. The conservatory was impossibly still, even the water seemed to hush around you.
âI donât want temporary, I-I don't think I ever did.â His voice was quiet. Another tear slipped down his cheek. âI justâŚâ His laugh broke again. âI want to wake up next to you when I'm eighty.â Matt's thumb brushed over the little velvet box. âYou are the safest place Iâve ever known.â His tender and earnest words landed somewhere so deep inside you that breathing suddenly felt impossible. âI want every version of life that exists if youâre standing in it with me.â His voice had become almost impossibly soft.
Slowly, carefully, he opened the box. The diamond caught the warm conservatory lights, and tiny rubies glinted like scattered pomegranate seeds, nestled within the ornate filigree.
His unfocused eyes never left your chest. âPrincess...â He took one shaky breath. âWould you let me spend the rest of my life with you?â The smallest smile trembled across his face.
Every feeling youâd ever had seemed to collide inside your chest at once. You couldnât breathe or speak. You nodded. Once. Twice. The tears wouldnât stop.
Matt stayed perfectly still and his brows knit together. ââŚSweetheart?â His voice was barely above a whisper. âIâŚâ He laughed nervously, the sound almost apologetic. âIâm so fucking nervous I canât tell.â Another tiny laugh escaped him, shaky with emotion. âWas that⌠was that a yes?â
A sob escaped you before you could stop it. âYes-â Your voice cracked so badly it barely sounded like your own. "Yes, MatthewâŚâ You huffed through another sob. âOf course itâs yes.â
The breath that left him sounded almost painful like heâd been holding it for hours instead of a couple seconds. His head dipped briefly, and when he looked back up he was crying openly.
A smile spread across his face so bright it almost didnât look real. Your own laugh dissolved into another sob as you dropped to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around him before he could even think to stand. He caught you instantly, like he always did. The little velvet box was still clutched safely in one hand while the other wrapped around your back so tightly you wondered if he was afraid you might disappear.
He buried his face against your shoulder. âI love you,â he whispered, his voice breaking completely, âso much.â
âSo do I.â You pulled back just enough to cradle his face between your hands. âSo much.â He leaned into your touch without thinking. Then, with a soft huff, he blinked.
ââŚI should probably put the ring on you.â
You laughed through another sob, holding out your shaking left hand without a word. Matt smiled so broadly it looked almost boyish. His own hands were trembling as badly as yours as he carefully slid the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly. Your fingers laced through his and he smiled so broadly, the kind of smile that only comes once in a lifetime. Finally, like he still couldnât quite believe youâd said yes, he cupped your face and kissed you softly.
- FIVE YEARS LATER -
Morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy curtains in soft bands of gold, warming the comforter where it had slipped down around your waist sometime during the night.
You stirred first not because of the light, but because someone was kissing your shoulder. Quite leisurely. A sleepy smile tugged at your mouth before your eyes had even opened. âMorning.â
A warm chuckle rumbled against your skin. âMorning, princess.â
Your eyes fluttered open just enough to find him only inches away. Matthew. A little more silver threaded through his hair now, a wash more at his temples. His beard was longer than it used to be, just rough enough that you always complained it scratched when he kissed your cheeks. You secretly loved it though and he knew that.
One elbow was propped beneath him as he looked down at you with that same expression heâd worn for years now. It always felt like heâd never gotten used to waking up beside you. You reached up automatically, your fingertips combing through the the side of his hair.
His hand found your waist beneath the blankets, warm and familiar, drawing lazy circles against your side. Then he kissed you properly. The kind of kiss that came after years together. Unhurried. Comfortable. You sighed happily into it, and when he pulled away, it was only far enough for his lips to brush your cheek. Then your jaw. Then slowly, your neck.
A breathy laugh escaped you. âOh?â
âMhm.â
âSo thatâs where this morning is headed?â
âI was hoping.â His mouth found the sensitive spot just below your ear and you shivered immediately. âMatthewâŚâ
âHm?â
Your sentence dissolved into another sigh as his lips brushed lower. Warm and lingering. He kissed your neck once, twice, then smiled against your skin. âI miss you.â
You snorted. âWe were literally asleep together.â
âI still miss you, we were both so busy yesterday."
âYou're so clingy.â
âI'm aware and Iâve accepted that.â
âHm, you should probably seek professional-â
He interrupted you with one tiny, playful bite against your neck. Just enough to make you gasp. âMatt!â
âWhat?â he chuckled, continuing to mouth at your neck.
âYou better follow thro-â
He froze completely. The change was so sudden your brows furrowed with confusion. âMatt?â His head lifted slightly and tilted, obviously listening. A tiny smile spread slowly across his face. âTheyâre awake.â You groaned dramatically, tucking your forehead against his shoulder. âAlready?â
âMhm.â
âThey were supposed to sleep until at least,â you squinted toward the clock, âeight.â
He laughed quietly, and then you could finally hear it. Tiny footsteps. Fast. Very fast. Pattering down the hallway, and you both looked toward the bedroom door at exactly the same moment. Mattâs grin widened and then the bedroom door flew open. Two little voices greeted you both in perfect, delighted unison.
"Mommy!"
âDaddy!"
Mattâs entire face transformed. You never gotten used to that. The Devil had long ago disappeared. But even the brilliant attorney disappeared briefly in this moment too, and all that remained was a father. Pure joy lighting up every inch of his face.
Two tiny bodies barreled toward the bed with absolutely no concern for you both. You barely had time to lift the blankets before they launched themselves onto the mattress. One crashed happily into your side and the other landed squarely across Mattâs chest with a dramatic little âOof!â
The bed shook with his chuckles. âEasy there, buddy.â
âI jumped so high!â
âYou did.â
The second little body wriggled over you and beneath your arm, immediately demanding what they both came here for. âCuddle pile!â
âCuddle pile!â the other echoed enthusiastically.
âWell,â Matt said gravely, wrapping one arm around both of them while reaching his free hand toward you, âI donât believe we have much of a choice.â You giggled, sliding closer until all four of you were tangled together beneath the blankets.
Little arms and legs. Morning hair everywhere. Someoneâs tiny foot was inexplicably in your ribs and one of them was giggling so hard you were worried if they could even breathe properly. Matt eventually found your hand beneath the comforter and his fingers laced through yours. He tilted his head, presumably taking in the beautiful chaos surrounding all of you before turning back to face you.
The corners of his mouth lifted into that soft, almost shy smile that still belonged only to you. âHappy anniversary, sweetheart.â
You looked around at the four of you tangled beneath the blankets. At the littles, already arguing over whose turn it was to be in the middle. At the man beside you who still made every impossible dream of yours wonderfully real. You squeezed his hand. âHappy anniversary, Matty.â
He smiled. Then he leaned over and pressed one last kiss against your forehead.
đ¸ THE END đ¸
notes: i don't even know where to start. but i'm so incredibly grateful for the love that this series has received. Never in a million years would i have imagined this beast of a fic existing anywhere but in a locked folder on my notes app. i genuinely can't believe or conceptualize that anyone wants to read my amateur writing 𼚠i hope this was a satisfying conclusion for all of you, and a big thanks to those who've been there since the beginning, and all your lovely comments on each chapter.
i will definitely be posting more! i'm extremely motivated right now and have been getting quite a bit of NEW writing done.đ¤ and of course we have some epilogue and flashback content for these two still! i have a pretty lengthy bonus chapter about their children in the works if that's something that you all are interested in seeing at all. originally i was going to conclude their story after their wedding, but this proposal really felt like a full circle moment and the perfect place to end. if you are interested in seeing their wedding that's certainly something that can be explored in a bonus chapter. let me know what you all wanna see! sorry for the ramble, feeling a lot of feelings here.
Man f my dad talking bout how I need to earn milkshakes and frostys ( I asked him which one I should get) going "those kinda things aren't good for you" Bitch I KNOW. He genuinely pissed me off like I don't give a fuck if I get fat id rather be fat and happy the skinny and starving, it's these kinds of incidents with them that ruin my relationship with food and why I can't eat normally and why sometimes the idea of food is disgusting đŤŠđđ like I wasn't asking if I should have one I was asking which one đ¤Źđ¤Źđ¤Źđ¤Ź
The new Odyssey adaptation has inevitably gotten people talking about a Muppet version of it, and theyâre frequently suggesting Kermit as Odysseus, Miss Piggy as Penelope.
Iâm sorry but thatâs thinking way too small, hear me out:
We need to have Miss Piggy as Odysseus, and Kermit as Penelope.
Think about it⌠whoâs the more fickle, prideful, warlike one in that relationship? Who is absolutely ready to go ham, at a momentâs notice?
HEAR ME OUT: they're both bosses, they're smart, they're cunning, they look cool asf, like RLLY cool. Genuinely the biggest aurafarmers when it comes to status.
I imagine these two would go drive off and have meaningful conversations after a gala dinner or a big business meeting or a charity event, DO YOU SEE MY VISIONN??? Like maybe they'd get a few drinks in, Valko can visit Sylus' base in N109 and I imagine the Twins would welcome him too.
Maybe they'd try to outrank each other, friendly competition though because their masculinity ain't fragile, they'd 100% laugh at idiot podcast bros omg. THERE'S SO MUCH POTENTIAL. THE FRIENDSHIP AND BUSINESS PARTNER POTENTIAL.
Anyways, if I put my MC in the picture, she's 100% confused at what they're talking about bc the mind of business alpha males is too complicated for Ms Hunter. That's all folks.
I just had a girl show up to my place of work, realize that I work there, and then run like a bat out of hell simply because of the fact that I work there. Like genuinely wtf did I ever do to her?! đ This bitch is just pissed that we have to share the same friend like a toxic CEO alpha male she can't stand the fact that her pookie wookie bear kitten whiskers is talking to another hoe(me). I honestly still just don't get why she has beef with me
summary đ¨ â> you and peter parker have been dating for about a year now, but neither of you know the other person is a vigilante. him being spiderman, of course, and you being somewhat of a robin hood knockoff..
warnings â ď¸ â> maybe a touch of angst, but otherwise itâs just fluff n stuffđ
authorâs note đâ> guys i felt super corny putting this out so donât flame me okayđŹđŹ lmk if i should put out more or if itâs time to cut it..
word count đ â> 2,354 (itâs kinda short sryđŁ)
{taglist: @khonshuswill , @thaliassair }
youâve been dating your roommate Peter Parker for about a year now, and everything is honestly really good. the one thing though, is as you see your relationship with peter deepening, you also get more and more protective over your secret. you find yourself telling lies upon lies to distract him from days youâll be coming home late, or not coming home at all. you hate lying to peter, itâs not as if you donât trust him or anything, you just donât wanna put him in that kind of danger.
the secret being you steal from the rich and give to the poor, essentially you steal expensive things like jewels, rare metals, etc. then you sell them to the highest bidder while keeping enough to live on (maybe a little extra) and donate the rest of the money you receive to orphans, homeless people, shelters, things like that. you dont usually have a huge problem with your late night occupation besides the fact that your not so friendly neighborhood spiderman often shows up to try and stop you. he hasnât succeeded because of your quick and quiet escapes, but heâs definitely gotten close. this is only because youâve tried to explain that youâre not a bad person, itâs just what youâre doing thatâs illegal. youâve tried to convince him to turn a blind eye to your thievery because of the fact that the people you steal from rarely even notice what you steal because theyâre that greedy.
this particular night, though, is a very important night for you. youâve been planning on this score for a few weeks biding your time, because if this night goes well, you could bag almost 2 million dollars which would mean a lot for you. this is your biggest heist yet, so you have to be very careful about how you go about it. one of your concerns is to make sure peter isnât wondering where you are all night, and why youâre coming home at 4AM.
one perk of you and peterâs relationship is that you both maintain your independence. this means for the most part, as long as you let him know youâre all good, he wonât be too invasive or anything. you still worry about him waking up alone though, purely off of the fact heâs- i mean, heâs cute, but you know how he can be. what would he do without you there to protect him from the things that go bump in the night? anyway, youâre planning on telling him that youâre going to your parentsâ for the weekend and itâs believable since heâs never met them, which leads you to where youll really be staying overnight.
youâve found a bunch of abandoned warehouses near the art gallery, and this is where youâll store the goods. youâre not planning on taking many pieces, just a few. you wonât need many since theyâre all so valuable, youâll most likely end up making even more than your estimated amount as long as everything goes well. thereâs honestly nothing that makes this specific warehouse special, but thatâs why you picked it. you know the police will likely think that this spot is too obvious, âwhy would they store the art pieces in such a conspicuous location?â but thatâs exactly how you want them to be thinking, because by the time they do end up searching your picked warehouse, you will have already moved the items to the location where youâll eventually bid and sell them off. itâs a perfect plan, theoretically.
at this point, your only concern is spiderman, and even thatâs not a true concern. you wish instead of seeing the good in what you do, he is just hell bent on seeing you as a villain. he usually isnât much of a threat, but heâs improved a lot since you first met, heâs learned how you fight, matching your speed and agility more often. luckily for you itâs just a matched fight, he doesnât have an advantage over you. besides, thereâs surely going to be others committing crimes worse than you.. right?
12:30AM
you have your escape route set, and youâre now making your way to the gallery. this isnât your first rodeo, so thereâs no nerves coursing through your veins, youâre just excited for the biggest achievement of your career yet! while fantasizing about what youâre gonna spend your chunk of cash on, i mean you could indulge in a shopping spree.. a gift for peter.. a pet.. the opportunities are endless with as much money thatâs solely yours (after you donate a portion of it, of course!), your mind drifts to your future.
you definitely donât wanna be doing this until youâre 60. and youâre starting to get kind of serious about peter, i mean, heâs a great person. this kind of career has to be temporary, you either get caught by the spider and get arrested, or eventually quit. and youâve evaded jail for this long, you can surely stay out for a few more years before you set yourself up for life. i mean, youâre definitely putting a nice chunk of the money you get paid today in savings.
youâre making sure to not trigger any alarms, replacing the pieces with decoys of their exact weight, size, etc. you donât need to fool the staff forever, just until youâve left the building.
âthis should do for nowâ
youâre barely whispering, so quiet no cameras could catch it.
you're making sure youâre taking care of everything- nothingâs forgotten, nothingâs overlooked. you make sure the items are all packaged so they wonât be damaged during the trip from the gallery to your selected warehouse, and you begin the journey. youâre careful not to be caught by any tripwire alarms, street cams, or seen by a group of people oblivious to the story thatâs definitely gonna be on a few news channels tomorrow morning.
when you arrive to the warehouse, you get a weird feeling, thereâs just something about the way the air has settled, the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the way youâre suddenly paying attention to your senses just a tiny bit more. you scan the room, and you see nothing around you but the webby walls of the old warehouse, the dust and grime on the floor. you try to calm yourself down, but something still feels wrong. you jump as you hear soft, sneaking footsteps behind you, and you realize you havenât looked hard enough.
as you turn, you catch a glimpse of a bright red suit and you sigh annoyedly, of course, you cant have just one easy job.. as he steps into your line of vision, he sizes up your loot and tilts his head quizzically, seemingly confused.
âwhy only three?â
now itâs your turn to be confused. you stand up, ready for anything as you respond with a cautiously defensive tone of voice, watching his slightest movements.
âwhat?â
âonly three paintings? i wouldâve thought a money hungry criminal would get as many as possible.. more art, more money, you know?â
you raise an eyebrow at his teasing grin, slightly offended at his immensely inaccurate assumption of you, taking a beat before you respond.
âi donât need that many paintings, plus itâs difficult to carry that much cargo on my person without- hey! i shouldnât even be telling you this anyway..â
âi mean you shouldnât, but it makes my job easier, so i canât complain.â
he shrugs and slowly takes inventory of the room, looking for any weapons or tricks you can use to try and escape.
âso whatâs the plan here, spider? i mean no harm, as long as you let me walk away clean.â
he shakes his head, crossing his arms and walking around the room slowly.
âcanât do that, i have a job to do.â
âthen i guess we have a problem, huh?â
âi guess we do.â
he throws the âfirst punchâ, shooting webs at you in order to try and end the battle quickly but you expect this and quickly dodge it. you place the paintings somewhere safe and transition your focus onto defending yourself. youâre ducking and dodging as much as you can but he definitely gives you a few bruises and close calls, but you land a pretty strong hit onto his right cheek, which distracts him long enough for you to think of an escape plan.
you squint, analyzing his curly brown hair, his soft eyes, and your eyebrows knit together in confusion and horror at the realization that the man you just fought might be your boyfriend, the man who brings you breakfast in the morning and kisses your forehead while youâre sick, might be your rival. you shake your head, pushing those thoughts down. as you open the door to the streets, you quickly hijack an abandoned car in the parking lot of the warehouse and head to the bidding location, leaving the spider to escape on his own.
THE NEXT MORNING
after coming home, taking a hot shower, and sleeping until way past your normal alarm your mind is racing with thoughts of fear, sadness, anger, and guilt. you pace your apartment so many times your footsteps may as well be burned into the carpet. youâre making sure you covered your tracks, you didnât leave any evidence behind, you didnât leave any fingerprints on any surfaces, etc.
âi mean, it canât be peter. heâs too.. sweet. but, again, maybe thatâs what he wants me to thinkâŚ?â
youâre torn between two theories- on one hand youâre thinking that peter has been lying to you this whole time and just is using you to gather information on the people who purchase your stolen items and once heâs done with you heâll just turn you in, on the other, youâre overthinking for nothing and he isnât the spider and you have no reason to be this stressed. as youâre pacing, you hear a knock on your door that makes you jump as it breaks you from your trance.
you walk to the door, fixing your hair as you make your way, and when you make it to the door you look in the peephole. you immediately make sure nothing looks awry, your suit isnât visible, and the money is in the safe, as you open the door to the smiling face of your boyfriend, peter, and you look down to see heâs bought you flowers. this would be comforting to you except for your little debacle youâre in right now.
âhey, you.â
âhey, peter!â
youâre trying to make it seem like nothings wrong, but youâre looking closer to at his face and you see a blooming bruise on his right cheekbone.. you suddenly flashback to last night when you strike spiderman on his right side and your eyebrows come together in a mix of panic and rage. you grab his arm and pull him into your apartment so swiftly that some of the petals from the flowers drop to the ground and as he enters the threshold of your living room you close and lock the door and wipe your hands over your pant legs, approaching peter.
âpeter.. if i ask you a question, would you answer it honestly?â
âyeah, of course i would.â
you cross your arms over your chest and he notices you eyeing his bruise. you step towards him and let your fingers linger over the mixed purple and red blotch of skin as you tilt your head curiously.
âwhere did you get this?â
he tenses up ever so slightly, you wouldnât notice unless you were looking for it. he pauses for a moment, and he smoothly tells you it was just a stupid accident at home.
âyou wonât believe this, i was laying in bed and i dropped my phone on my face.â
you can see it on his face heâs hiding something, so you push him further.
âcan i ask you something else, peter?â
he looks at you confused and tenses up further before responding.
ââŚ.yeah, sure?â
âwhy would you lie to me?â
he backs up and smiles carefully
âwhat? why would you think iâm lying?â
his silence is deafening, thatâs all you need to know to realize that your boyfriend is spiderman.
âpeter, i know because i gave you that bruise last night.â
his face contorts into something like disgust and betrayal mixed together before he starts moving further away from you.
âwhat do you mean..? that.. thatâs not true. youâre telling meâŚâ
youâre watching him carefully, trying to calculate his next words as you see your newfound connection click in his mind. he looks up at you with watery eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and you immediately feel defensive of yourself. he speaks with undeniable anger and sadness in his voice.
Closet Cinderella has set my standards too high the only way I'm falling in love now is if I bump into a gorgeous cross dresser whos gonna teach me the ways of makeup and fashion đż woe is me
Was watching Cinderella closet I'm still on ep 1 and this diva just said "after 20 being ugly is a choice" y'all I got 2 year left to lock TF in wish me luck đ¤đ
