#Alibi!peter | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slowsonic69 · 23 days ago

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I'm not in love...

Benjamin Poindexter x Mean!f!reader

Synopsis: Dex get's obsessed with a fellow FBI agent who seems to always be up to no good. Author's note: I don't know what this is, but it's here. The lack of Dex fics is making me go crazy and thus I end up writting this. Warnings: Smut(?), Masturbation, they both awfull, I do not condone anything the reader is doing/saying, English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes. No use of Y/N. She/her reader. Also I know nothing about FBI, only what the internet says so...bare with me...

Words: 5k

He doesn’t remember when it had started really. The shift from Julie to her. It had flipped like the flick of a switch. Blinding light reshaped into complete darkness.

She wasn’t kind like Julie had been, patient and sincere in her warmth. She didn’t care much about how other’s felt around her. Didn’t run to their aid when they faltered. Didn’t compliment her colleagues when they did good. Didn’t pity laugh when the joke wasn’t funny.

She was crude with her words and harsh in her judgement. Walked with square shoulders and a lifted chin through the halls of the office. Her steps loud and proud even while deafened by the carpeted floors.

Her outspoken attitude led to frequent disputes with the guys over at the coffee machine, who’s arrogance matched her own. Answering their jabs with unflattering descriptions of her nights with their mothers. Poking at their insecurities like a seasoned surgeon on an operating table.

She would steal people’s lunches in the shared fridge on the days she had been too lazy to make her own. When people started complaining about their missing food she blamed Steve Fat Hudson (as she so kindly called him).

Even going as far as planting the half eaten lunches she had disliked into Hudson’s desk whenever his back was turned. Well hidden between the disorganized files and office supplies that Steve half-mindedly threw into his drawers.

It didn’t take long for people to noticed the smell of rot coming from his cubicle. And even shorter after that for them to socially outcast him, and call him Fat Steve to his face.

It had unfolded so perfectly in front of her, only mere feet's from her own desk. Spectating the scene with an unforgiving glint in her eyes, one that only Dex had spotted. After, she’d laugh at every joke at Steve’s expense, enforcing them even more by making pig noises whenever he passed her in the halls. It was cruel, he knew, childish even.

Yet Dex stayed silent, an unknown accomplice to her malice. He had noticed every single of her mischievous endeavor. How they always started as something random, a fleeting though that inexplicably stuck. Fat Steve, Slutty Samantha from the front hall and drunk gamble addict Peter who worked in forensic. A few of her ever growing list of victims.

By now he recognized it when the ideas landed. Her face would light up for a mere second, anyone would easily miss it if you weren’t paying attention like Dex was. Her canine would bite upon her plush lips, harsh white on pink, a ghost of grin growing ever so lightly behind it. Ready to bite at the bait laid bare before her.

Then, when gossips and manipulation weren’t enough, came the broken electrics. The sputtering coffee machine who left third degree burns, the printer that only printed out compromising pictures of a variety of colleagues. The smashed in vending machine, only one danglingly pack of peanuts left inside of it. Crimes left unpunished, even when surrounded by dozens of FBI agents.

She was a convincing devil, always an alibi at hand. A convenient witness, a contradicting proof that shows that it could not have been possibly her. But the higher ups knew or at least had a hunch that it was her. A cryptic feeling that came from years of dealing with the worst of crimes, and most cunning of criminals. They knew when someone was guilty. But sometimes you just couldn’t prove it and had to move on.

Therefore they shrugged at her demeanor. Reasoning she wouldn’t last long in the bureau anyway, so might as well laugh at it or ignore it completely. Their burdens and cases heavier on their shoulders then her gossiping or bitchy personality.

But she lasted, longer then most have betted.

Because at the end of the day, in between her casual cruelty, she was a damn good FBI agent. Efficient and fast-minded on the field, she never came back from a mission without receiving a pat on the back from Hattley.

She solved cases left and right. Meticulously writing them up and always handing them on time, no one could discredit her place in the bureau. As much as everyone wanted her gone. Or dead, depending on who you asked.

Dex continued to watch from the sidelines, perplexed and perhaps even drawn to her ways. She was so unashamedly herself. Even if it meant she ended up eating alone every evening, watching random show’s on her tablet. Even if it meant she had an empty contact list on her personal phone. That the rumors that she started were nothing compared to what others said of her.

She shrugged it all off, barely noticing how people immediately sighed and groaned when she entered a room. She never budged or adapted to others, instead forcing them to endure her for however long they had to work with her.

He hated her for it, hopelessly and obsessively waiting for the day she’ll be caught. The day she would be humbled and change herself for others. For the loneliness to eat her alive and make her fumble into submission. For her to crawl and beg for anyone to like her, love her as she is.

Dex lingered at the edges of her life, with the patience of a saint, so he’ll be the first to see her morph into an unhinged animal. Gnawing at it’s cage for redemption. He waited, with batted breath for her to turn into him.

Because she had to. Because if she didn’t, it meant that everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed would have been for nothing. That he had suffered for nothing.

Changing skin every time he stepped out the door for the mere price of being seen as normal — stable. While she paraded her vices like a trophy and went back home with the same life as him. The only damning difference being that she was content with it.

It made Dex’s head spin, especially while watching her through his monocular as she snickered at her phone. Like a well trained agent, he followed her offline and online activities closely. So he knew exactly what she was laughing at, or more accurately; whom.

Laying comfortably on her couch, a glass of red wine in hand, she was reading up on all the responses to her hate comment under a fitness influencer’s instagram post. Complaining about his mental health, on how much pressure he had felt making videos or content in general.

Her response to his post had been short, but poignant; Then Kys, pussy.

Immediately after she had been flooded with long essays about her inappropriate behavior. Accused of perpetuating the harmful pressure on men to not talk about their feelings. But even the most holiest of angel could not dissuade her from her path of chaos. On the contrary, it amused her to see them try.

Dex rolled his eyes at her means of entertainment, but didn’t look away either.

It irritated him to no end that she was satisfied doing all these meaningless bullshit while he couldn’t even fathom putting his cups away in the wrong order. And she ended up the happier one of the two.

God, he loathed her. Just like everyone who ever met her.

So why did his heart flutter when approached by her at the coffee machine on a random Tuesday?

The office had been mostly empty that day. A heavy sigh stagnated between the overworked bodies and humming computers, the heat of summer slowing down their movements. Phones ringing here and there, it seemed even crime had slowed down from the heat.

Most were catching up on paperwork, only the ticking of their keyboard filling up the silence. Others were suspended from being on the field and so ended up doing the same. Dex had been one of them. And so was she.

She walked up to him with the same confidence that a man in his midlife crisis would have after buying a Lambo above his budget. It was comically over the top. She didn’t walk but stomped to him. Her shoulders swinging with each step, hands tucked in her trousers pocket. Her canine visible behind her badly hidden grin.

“Damn, you’re stuck here too?” She started, leaning her back against the wall next to the coffee machine. Observing his movements like a shark looking for blood.

“Yeah.” He breathed out, sipping from the crappy office coffee. Worried for a moment that she had broken the machine once more and came to see him get burned. Dex stepped back from it just in case, keeping his face stoic. He didn’t want to give her anything. Not a tick of his jaw or the shuffling of his feet. He must stay neutral — boring.

“Sure feels like a shitty day to stay inside.” She continued, he was sure she hadn’t even registered his response and simply continued on to perform her planned monologue.

“It’s just isn’t fair isn’t it? To punish agents for simply doing their jobs.” She pushed herself off the wall, kicking an invisible stone on the ground like a grounded child. Well, in a way she was. Dex silently agreed with her statement though but didn’t show any sing of doing so. Simply continued to stare as she turned dramatically with a woosh back to him.

“It’s my first trespass. Shoot out gone wrong” She eyed him up and down. “I’m sure you know the drill after, what, your fifth suspension?”

It had been out of his control, a visceral reaction to her words. His eyebrows creased into a deep frown. His mouth opened half agape ready to retort before he saw the glint grow brighter in her eyes. Shit. He caught the bait.

Dex pressed his lips tightly back together before he could regret coming to work today. In return she shot him a smile, shark teeth in full display.

“I didn’t mean it as a jab, just…you’re experienced, right? What do you do on a day like this?” She stepped closer, hunching down slightly, Her eyelashes fluttering. Surely hoping to come across as unharmful, lost and in need of guidance. Dex knew better. Knew her better.

He shrugged, “Ask Hattley, I’m sure she’ll be glad to help you.” He finished the sentence with a tight smile and a nod. His feet dragging him forward and past her. Eager to escape whatever plan she was hatching up, so he could concentrate on lowering his pounding heart and the tingle of something creeping up his spine. A sentiment he couldn’t place.

But of course, she wasn’t one to give up so easily. She followed him to his desk.

“I can’t ask Hattley, she’s mad and would just bark at me to get out her office.” She finished with an exhausted huff and made herself comfortable against the side of his desk. Dex watched her do it, her hips pushing his penholder slightly to the left. With flared nostrils he put it back to its place, an inch more to the right. Her grin broadened when she noticed.

“I don’t know how to help you, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out. On your own, like a grown adult.” He snapped back, the tingle in his back increasing with each of her predotary smiles.

She chuckled, picking up the neatly placed fountain pen on his desk. Turning it around between her fingers, her smile never faltering. She was clearly getting exactly what she wanted out of him.

“You sound like Hattley. I’m only asking for guidance, you know.” She flipped the pen in the air, and caught it back with her other hand. Repeating the motion until Dex had enough. Catching it mid-air he placed it firmly back where it should have stayed, 3 inches from his writing mat.

“I have work to do, so…go bother someone else.” He squeezed trough clenched teeth. She tilted her head.

“That’s not true. You finished all your reports yesterday.”

The tingle up his spine intensified. “How do you know that?”

She leaned forward, lowering her voice. This close he could smell her perfume, (Florabloom Forte from Guerlain Paris, he had noticed it in her bathroom closet). It reminded him of spring, when the trees grew greener and the air caressed his skin instead of biting on it. The perfumes tones mixed with her natural odor almost made his eyes flutter shut, forgetting for a moment how annoyed he was from her presence.

Unfortunately, the creaking of the desk as she leaned closer stripped him out of that short sweet daze. “You’re not the only one who’s observant.”

“What?” His whole body straightened, fully back on guard.

When she chuckled, warm breath hit his cheek. Accompanied with the scent of the strawberry mints she sparsely ate throughout the day. As sweet as it was it, this time it couldn’t distract him from the fact that she was mocking him. Sitting on his desk like she owned it, disorganizing his whole setup.

Her overwhelming presence and insinuations inciting the tingling to grow even stronger, threatening to reach the back of his skull.

“You don’t think I wouldn’t recognize your car outside my apparte-” Dex didn’t let her finish, not in the middle of the office like this. He grabbed her arm, pulling at her black blazer and pushing himself back on his feet. Towering over her, he eyed the rest of their colleagues. But no one was paying them no mind, too entranced in their own melting misery.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice strained inside his throat, prompting him to croak out his words. The faintest start of a buzz tickling the inside of his skull, taunting him to implode further.

She winced as his grip tightened but didn’t wiggle or fight her way out of it. Instead she placed her hand on his, the sudden added warmth making him suck in a breath.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. In fact…” She looked around as well, more for the dramatics then out necessity. “I kind of dig it.”

He frowned, frozen in place. “What?”

“I said I liked it.” It was with ease that she peeled his stiff fingers off her arm. The shock of her revelation making his body compliant to her touch.

He simply stood there for a second, dumbfounded. Whatever outcome he had expected, it hadn’t been that one. Then again, she was a special kind of person. Completely out of the box, and undeniably attracted to danger and everything forbidden. What else could he have expected then this?

“It’s not what you think.” That’s all he managed to say. Because it wasn’t. She made it sound perverse, like he was some kind of creep stealing her underwear.

“Let’s talk about this somewhere else?” Some attention started to turn towards them which made an added ounce of sweat join his already damp forehead.

Licking her lips she nodded. “Sure, pretty boy.”

“Don’t call me that.”

He led her to one of the underused utility room close to the bathrooms. It was a narrow space, but big enough to fit two bodies. And most importantly, it would be private.

Now chest to chest, the small room encapsulated their warmth in some sort of makeshift sauna. Dex felt drops of sweat tickling down his neck, her keen eyes not helping with the matter. Close once more, her sweet perfume enveloped him. Somewhat calming down his nerves.

“Well, you wanted to talk?” She drawled out her words, taking sadistic pleasure in his discomfort. “Or, we can cut the bullshit and just…you know, do it?”

He tilted his head. “Do…what?”

“oh come on, you know what I mean...” She hit his arm playfully. It must have been an attempt at easing the air, an offer of partnership in whatever she was insinuating. With no response from Dex her face contorted into disbelief, finishing it off with an exasperated sigh as he remained lost.

She raised her eyebrows like an elementary teacher would while explaining something obvious to the dumb kid. Lifting her hands in front of him she passed her right index finger multiple times through the hoop her left hand formed.

It dawned on him like a bucket of ice. Sex. She was talking about sex.

Dex stiffened into place, the already small room shrinking even further around him. Suddenly their current placements felt completely inappropriate. Her chest only inches away from his, he could nearly feel her dress shirt shifting against his. The glint in her eyes, her whispers, her attention — it all had corrupted into something more then just her search for mischief. And all shifted into place right in front of him.

He couldn’t stop the blush from reaching his cheeks. “No. I- No, that isn’t-” clearing his throat he reaffirmed his voice. “It’s not what this is.”

“Wait, so you weren’t planning to fuck me?”

As always, crude with her words. He clicked his tongue. “No.”

For a second she just looked at him, in complete shock. Clearly not expecting that answer.

“Then why the hell are you stalking me? Just for shit and giggles?” She barked, raising her voice.

Dex shushed her down, but that seem to do the opposite effect. “Don’t fucking shush me!”

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but please keep you voice down. I’ll explain, I swear.”

She rubbed her face, the heat finally getting to her as her skin reddened. She restrained. The edges of her anger grew duller, its blade halted. For now.

She nodded for him to continue. “Better be good.”

He took a breath, trying to form a coherent reason why he indeed had followed her around. As much as he had wanted to explain to her why, he realized he didn’t really know himself.

Morbid curiosity? Hatred turned to obsession? The need to understand her? To become like her? To survey her?

He had acted before thinking, impulse always taking over when it came down to it. Lost in the rhythm of her life, her schedule, her habits.

He hadn’t even stopped to think on why he had given up on Julie for one of earth’s many scums.

“You intrigued me.” Is what he landed on. Although it was short, and simply not enough to explain the wide range of emotions he felt whenever he simply thought of her, it was a start. An opening into a plausible cause of his overwhelming interest.

The utility room fell silent, only their labored breath filling the dense tension. The smell of his sweat overwhelming her sweet perfume. He hoped it didn’t disgust her. He hoped he didn’t disgust her. The mere thought made him twitch.

He thought he hated her, wanted her punished for what she was. But now faced with her complete attention, it dawned on him that he didn’t want any of that. He couldn’t even deny the small ounce of pride he felt as she had wanted to give herself to him, right here and now. Not despite his flaw, but because of it.

In the whole 9 months he had been surveying her, he had never seen her with another man. Romantic nor platonic. The notion quirked up an involuntary smirk. She had really wanted him, just like that.

The echo of her laugh reverberated in the ever shrinking closet, causing him to look back up, not having even realized he had inclined his head in the first place.

“You’re a weird motherfucker.” Another chuckle, although she didn’t sound amused. His heart dropped.

“Good lord, if it weren’t for your pretty face I would have already punched you into a coma. But wouldn’t want to ruin your only redeeming quality, right?”

Watching her cruelty from afar and being the target of it was two very different things. When distanced from it it mildly annoyed him, like a lone small rock inside your shoe, uncomfortably digging into your sole.

Now confronted by it, the rock grew ten fold and split his skin open until blood poured freely out of it. She had given him an ounce of what he craved, and immediately snatched it out of his hand. He knew that what she had just said was nothing compared to what she’d done to others. And yet he couldn’t shake the need to hurt her back.

“Well at least I got something going on for myself. Couldn’t say the same for you, the office’s whiny bitch. ” He retorted, the crudeness feeling strange on his tongue. But he didn’t mind the taste.

She cocked her head to the side, staring as if seeing him for the first time. It wasn’t disgust, to his relief, but something else. Something deeper, a reaction she won’t give away freely. Not without a fight.

With one step forward their chest collided, adding on warmth to the already simmering utility room. If there had been windows, they would have completely fogged up by now. She was a few inches smaller, but it still felt like she towered over him.

“Brave little stalker. With your particular antiques I could end your career just like that.” She snapped her fingers as emphasis, always up to overdoing her dramatics. “And your carreer will end up dead and buried, right next to your parent’s caskets.”

His face dropped and before he could stop himself, his hands flew at her collar. Gripping at it while pushing her against the wall behind her.

“Not before I end yours.” He promised, now nose to nose with her. His spine rigid as a metal rod, the feeling from before still pressuring against the back of his skull. Like bolts of electricity turning into warm pooling blood. He wanted to vomit from it’s pressure.

Another one of her mocking chuckle filled his ears. He was growing tired of them.

“With what exactly? Because from last I heard, being a whiny bitch doesn’t get you fired. But stalking someone is a felony. I could press charges, and whine some more at the court stand. Cry my bitch eyes out until you end up right where you belong, you freak.”

She pushed hard against his chest before he could even register what she had said. His back hitting the wall behind with a loud thud, making him groan in pain.

The door of the utility room flew opened, airing out the sweat and the spitted out insults. With her hand still on the handle of the door, she turned, one mean look on her face.

“Stay away from me, asshole.” She said like a dare. Challenging him into a game he didn’t know the rules of yet.

He should have followed her, threatened her into silence for even thinking of getting him fired. Hell, he should put a bullet inside that thick skull of her and make her shut up for good.

But he didn’t, instead he leaned further against the wall. His hand resting on his chest where she had pushed him minutes ago. Through skin and muscle he felt his heart beat a thousand miles an hour.

The tingles from earlier finally breaching through the thick layers of the wall he had built around his mind.

As it collapsed the corners of his lips lifted into a full smile. The same one he wore the day he had won his first baseball match and his team had lifted him up in the air. Cheering his name instead of spitting it out.

The same smile he shamed himself into forgetting when he aimed at the birds in the tree in front of the orphanage’s window. Watching them fall flat onto the grass bellow, their thin wings twitching one last time.

It was all consuming, akin to a wave crashing into him, engulfing him completely. Like the floral smell of her perfume. The sharp predatory canine behind her pink lips. The harsh rolls of her tongue as she threatened him, Pushing him to be his true self.

He wanted to show her more. What he could do, what he wanted to do but stopped himself from doing everyday. And he will.

It didn’t take long before her talent for gossip worked throughout the office. For days now, weird looks and whispered followed wherever he went. It felt like walking through the halls of the orphanage again, head down and desperately confused on why no one liked him.

He shook it off, because he had to. Because he will not let her win at this game she forced him to play. But he couldn’t deny that she was pulling at a string he was sure she hadn’t even known was there. Alienating him even more the he already was. It wasn’t difficult for people to believe the strangest things about him then.

The story that she had concocted was that Dex had assaulted an ex-coworker into a coma back at his old job. At least that was what Ray had told him.

“I didn’t do that, I would never do that…” He pleaded with his partner, the only one still willing to talk to him. Ray reassured him that he believed him. Still, there was a hesitation in his looks, a lingering ‘what if’ written in his frowns*. She was making him paranoid.*

Work had always been a safe heaven of order for him. Predictable after years of cases and missions. With one whisper she had grumbled it all down to the ground, leaving him to pick up the pieces.

Dex’s head spined further and further into an agonizing buzz as the days went on. Not once catching sight of her. It was almost like she had evaporated from the surface of the earth completely. Ray affirmed him that he had seen her around the office, so it wasn’t as if she was missing. Some days he went and waited next to her desk, hands on his hips. Gnawing at his lips until they bled. She never appeared. Always ‘On a mission., at least that what he was told.

From that point on her saw her everywhere.

From the weirdly human shape coat rack in in the corner of the office to similarly looking strangers on the street. Even the shadow of the breaker box the at the end of the hall of his building had suddenly taken her form. The brown bubbles of his decaf winked at him like her. The fountain pen she had played with staring him down, mockingly. Traces of her fingerprints still present on the barrel.

Driven thin, he discarded her warning of staying away from her even further and went to park in front of her appartement. The same spot he always used, with the best view to her windows. The lights were out. The curtains pulled. He never saw her come in or out that night.

It was driving him mad, no one can just disappear like that. She had to be somewhere, hiding just at the edges of his vision.

With each passing day he couldn’t see her he was left to resolve the frustration with imagination. Fantasizing about what she was possibly doing. Perhaps her dishes or going for a walk a cigarette dangling form her lips. Pursuing the bad guy she was currently investigating, placing the photographs of the murder scenes on her desk. Those sparkling eyes toning down into deep focus.

But the most recurring thoughts were the flashes of her heated stares in the utility. They ran frantic at the forefront of his mind, making him squirm in his bed at night.

The feeling of her clothed chest moving against his, her floral perfume and her even sweeter sweat filling his every pore. He could have had her then, taste the strawberry mint on her tongue. Mingle his sweat with her own, his tongue tracing her racing pulse underneath the flesh of her arched neck. His hands mercilessly groping at her clothed breasts.

She had turned him into a pervert.

Even as a teenager he hadn’t fantasized this way. Left so pathetically aroused in his bed it had felt almost painful. Hopelessly grinding against his mattress like animal in heat, hoping to alleviate his growing needs. Unsurprisingly, it worsened it. He couldn’t ignore it for long, with fast hands he freed his member, pre-cum already leaking from it. He sighed in relief, like a weight had been lifted from his chest.

Through half lidded eyes, he stroked it slowly. Up and down, feeling the velvet skin stretch with each thrust. The pronounced veins pulsating with pleasure. A broken moan escaped him involuntarily as images of her haunted his release.

“Gross little freak. All this for me?” She would taunt him, that god awful grin of hers sharpening with each of his groans. And he liked it. All her attention on him, even when knowing what he was. Not looking away but praising it. Because she must be as fucked as him, to do what she does.

His strokes grew faster, more hasty.

She’d brush the hairs away who stuck at his sweat-packed forehead. Her touch soft and caring, like a lover would. She’d be kind to him, only him. For they both know how it is to be alone. Rejected for being different. But they had each other now. She’d lean down, frustratingly slow, and rest her lips on his. Gentle, like a confession. Deepening it into a promise.

“I’d never leave you. I need you, Dex.”

Strands of cum spurted out past his hand and onto his naked stomach. His orgasm so strong and sudden, he almost forgotten how to breath properly. It had been while since he had had a climax that strong. This intoxicatingly bittersweet.

The aftermath was the bitter part. Cleaning himself up witch shaky hands (he hated the stickiness on his skin, the bleach smell filling up his senses), reality creeping up on him. He was still alone in his bedroom, his appartement, his life.

Shame and anger, intermingling and tightening into his core. He felt dirty, he felt pathetic. But the hope of seeing her again, and show her he was capable of what she wanted of him kept him going.

To show her she was not alone in her cruelness, that he could be way worse.

She would embrace it, Dex was convinced. She had to or he’ll kill her.

#benjamin poindexter #benjamin poindexter fanfiction #bullseye #benjamin poindexter x reader #Dex poindexter x reader #Bullseye fanfiction #Daredevil

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theshadowrealmitself · 3 months ago

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So I like to hc that Peter has 2 cameras, he has a v old camera that uncle Ben got him awhile ago, and he has a new camera because after Ben’s death he couldn’t bear the idea of something happening to the camera

Anyways, for “people accidentally perceiving Peter as villainous”, there’s a situation where Peter has to pop out his old camera for whatever reason (new camera probably out of commission and he really needs to make rent), and it almost gets messed up by another person (some jackass who might’ve been rough on purpose)

So people see Peter being protective of this camera, and they see him just give the deadliest glare at this guy, and then later on, completely unrelated but no one knows that, this guy gets targeted by a new villain who unfortunately looks like he could pass as Peter in a super suit

So everyone’s clearly like “that was Peter getting revenge for his camera” meanwhile Peter has no alibi because he was being Spidey at this time, and due to potentially both cameras being out of commission, he can’t even say he was following Spidey around

#Peter Parker #Spiderman #spider man #spider-man #uncle ben #mistaken villain peter parker

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webslingingslasher · 2 years ago

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i woke up mad at peter today <3 he's getting the cold shoulder but trouble and ethan are getting showered in love💋 mwah my babies

you didn’t respond to peter’s good morning text. you usually do, but he assumes you over slept or had a busy morning and there’s nothing in his head to suggest otherwise. that was until he tried to greet you with a kiss and you pushed his face away with the glare of a thousand suns.

‘good morning, trouble.’ when he leaned in, your fingers made contact on his chin, forcing him away from you. peter wants to bang his head into a wall, it’s never easy.

peter looked up to the sky and spoke exuberantly, ‘why? why are you mad at me?’ you think you have a good reason. ‘i woke up mad at you today.’

‘oh, fuck this.’ peter walks away, slowly, just enough to make a few steps before he knew you’d be calling out. except you don’t, you really are mad. peter stomps back up to your side.

‘you really are mad at me.’

you sneer down at him, he’s never seen you so dismissive towards him. ‘you cheated on me. i hate you.’

peter raises his hands calmly, he’s trying not to poke the bear. he’s instantly sweaty, he’s looking at you like he’s about to diffuse a bomb.

‘woah. that’s a fair claim and we should definitely expand on it, but before we do, i swear i didn’t cheat on you.’

it doesn’t work, you look even more pissed. ‘you did. you fucking cheater. i saw it with my own eyes. i hate you.’

peter swears his heart just shattered.

‘hey, trouble. i’m sorry, i’m really sorry i did something to hurt you like that, but i swear i didn’t cheat on you.’

‘i saw it! you were all over her! and you kept making her fucking laugh and it’s all i can hear in my head!’ peter feels like he’s going insane, he can’t remember where he would’ve had not only the gall to cheat, but to do it with you in the same area.

‘who? when?’

you stare at him like he’s stupid, for a second he’s questioning if he really did cheat. ‘last night, peter.’ he has a solid alibi. he wasn’t with you.

‘i cheated on you last night?’

your arms cross over your chest, you snap at him. ‘yes.’

peter’s just trying to get the facts straight. ‘and you caught me with her?’ you try and speed him up, ‘yes, peter.’

one more time, ‘you swear this was last night?’ you roll your eyes, ‘oh my god, yes!’

‘right, right. solid argument, trouble, but, uh… i wasn’t with you last night.’

you’re just as defiant, peter’s excuse meant nothing. ‘no, you were.’

peter furrows his eyebrows, ‘no, i wasn’t.’ maybe you had gone crazy, he wonders if there was a gas leak in your dorm overnight.

‘alright then, where? where did i cheat on you?’

you look away from him, the idea makes you want to hurl. ‘in my dream. it was fucking disgusting and i hate you for it.’

peter feels like he could collapse, you held him on the edge of his seat, punishing him for something he didn’t do just to tell him it was all make believe. he wanted to pinch you and kiss you at the same time.

a smile spreads across his face, ‘oh, thank god. you really had me stressing there for a second.’ for the second time, you dodge his kiss.

‘i told you, i’m mad at you.’

‘but i didn’t cheat.’

you laugh like he thinks he got away with something, ‘sure as shit looked like you, sounded like you, felt like you.’

peter nods, ‘oh, i’m sure it did. but it wasn’t me, me. you know me, you know i wouldn’t do that.’ you sigh, ‘yeah, well, i also thought dream peter wouldn’t do that to me either.’

‘i’m sorry dream peter cheated, i can beat him up if you want.’

you smile wide, there’s no reason for such violence. you pat his arm and push up to kiss his cheek. ‘aw, thanks, petey. but, there’s no need. i already killed him.’

peter gives a faulty smile, he believes you a thousand percent and the look on your face tells him it was bloody. ‘that’s… great. so happy for you.’

#frat!peter blurbs

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twlgholts · 19 days ago

Text

what comes after, p. parker

chapter three, petty crimes

— peter parker x f. reader

a/n: been trying to keep up with all the mcu movies and series but there are just so many i cant omg. currently missing the marvel era 2016-2020, u will be missed

word count: 4.7k

warnings: angst, insinuation of mental health, underage alcohol usage, suggestiveness

prev. masterlist! next.

Caffeine was never something Peter relied on. He didn’t need it. While his classmates clung to morning coffee like it was air, lining up in crowded shops with their messy buns and half-zipped backpacks, Peter had always run on something stronger: stress, guilt, adrenaline. And, of course, radioactive spider venom. His body practically hummed at all hours—alert, restless, coiled like a spring. He didn’t need a stimulant, not more than he already had coursing through his blood.

Eventually, he started drinking it, despite the hypocrisy, but not because it helped.

At first, the bitter taste was something he had to choke down, grimacing through each sip like it was a dare. But he liked having something warm in his hands. Something that made him feel grounded and still human.

He used to go to Peter Pan Donut & Pastry—not because it had good coffee (it didn’t), but because MJ worked there. Because Ned would camp out in the back with his cracked laptop and contagious energy. The coffee was just the excuse, a three dollar alibi for a routine that made him feel like life hadn’t completely spun off its axis. Even if the beans were stale and the owner was the kind of man who scraped old grounds back into the grinder like no one would notice, he still bought.

Then his friends left for MIT, but Peter kept going anyway.

Maybe out of habit or because the place still smelled like powdered sugar, comfort, and a linger of Ned’s B.O. Or maybe because even when everything else in his life had shifted, the coffee stayed the same. A predictable, bold, bitter taste, warm in his palms when everything else felt cold.

Eventually, though, he gave up the trek. The shop wasn’t close to campus or his apartment. It wasn’t even convenient with the slow and borderline rude customer service. Without MJ behind the counter and Ned hogging the WiFi, it wasn’t the same. It felt empty in a way he couldn’t quite explain and rendered the trip useless without them.

So he found a new spot that was closer to where he lived and where he learned. It was a lot louder with longer lines, but it was less tied to a version of himself that didn’t exist anymore.

The Rustic Bean was four minutes from campus and had just enough charm to feel intentional without trying too hard. Brick walls, decent lighting, a train stop nearby. Cash-only on Wednesdays. It was the kind of place where no one looked twice at him if he came in alone, where he could disappear without meaning to, and study in his favorite corner by the window after classes.

Peter liked it more than he thought he would.

He pushed open the door and stepped into the warm hum of early morning caffeine addicts. It was more packed than usual—eight a.m. rush hour. Laptops open on nearly every table, headphones tucked beneath knit beanies, muffled indie music playing over the speakers like a gentle apology for how tired everyone looked.

He checked his phone instinctively, thumbing the screen. No messages. Not that he expected any since he didn’t really have anyone left to text anymore—not anyone who’d respond. Except Harry, who only ever texted in random pictures, acronyms, and the occasional all-lowercase rant about everything and nothing in particular.

Peter shoved the phone back into his pocket and stepped into line, blinking the sleep from his eyes. His hoodie string was damp at the knots from habitually chewing on it on the train, with him only stopping when he got a whiff of the hoodie. He didn’t have much time to do his laundry. Or sleep much. Or breathe.

He let the soft murmur of the café settle around him, tried to feel present in it. The scent of espresso and baked goods, the clink of cups against saucers, high-pitched milk steamer screaming like a banshee. The assortment of random noises helped keep his brain busy, his melancholy thoughts at bay.

It didn’t take long for the line to inch forward. The barista at the register gave him a half-smile—the kind you give to someone you recognize, but don’t know well enough to joke with. Still, there was something oddly comforting in that tiny bit of familiarity.

“Tall black coffee, no room for cream,” Peter said softly. “For Peter.”

She nodded, scribbled it onto the side of the cup, and took his crumpled bills without complaint. He dug into his battered wallet for exact change, mumbling a quiet thanks when she handed over the receipt.

Then he moved to the side—by the fogged-up window—and waited.

Outside, the streets were starting to crowd. Coats pulled tighter. Coffee cups clutched with two hands. Everyone moving too fast, too loud, too in sync with a world Peter didn’t quite feel part of anymore. He watched the people more than the weather. Watched them laugh, check watches, jaywalk between buses. It wasn’t creepy… or at least he hoped it wasn’t. He just found it calming in a way. Watching other people live their lives and being able to pretend, for a second, like he could belong to one of them. It helped to remember that life kept going and other people had stories, schedules, and faces not full of grief.

The barista called out the drink without a name—just "tall black." Peter stepped forward automatically. But so did someone else.

Your hand reached the cup first.

You were half-asleep and bundled in an oversized wool sweater, sleeves swallowed past your knuckles. Your lip gloss caught the light—a soft, peachy sheen—and Peter caught himself noticing that before anything else. Then your fingers curled around the cup like it was a lifeline.

You lifted it, blinked slowly, and brought it to your mouth.

He froze.

Your eyes met his over the lid, over the steam rising between you. Then your gaze dropped to the black marker scrawled on the cup: Peter.

You froze too.

A tiny wince. Then: "Oh my god. This isn’t mine, is it?"

Peter shook his head, a gentle smile tugging at his lips, amused rather than annoyed.

You pulled the cup away like it had burned you. "I’m so sorry. I seriously—I wasn’t paying attention. I just—I feel like a thief."

He blinked, still smiling warmly. “It’s fine. Really. You can keep it.”

Your eyes flicked to the barista, who was already sliding another identical cup onto the counter, calling out, "Tall black." This time, the name on the cup was yours, neatly written in the same black marker.

Peter grabbed it, grinning.

"We got the same thing," he offered, with a tiny shrug. "So technically, it’s not even theft. It’s more like... misassigned coffee custody?"

That made you laugh—just a little—which pulled something up in his chest.

Still, you looked mortified. "No, but I mean—your name’s on it. That’s, like, irrefutable evidence. I literally drank your coffee. My lip gloss is on your lid. More evidence."

Peter’s smile widened as he glanced at the cup in his hands, with your name clearly written on it. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve had stolen.”

You blinked. "Oh?"

He took a sip, half-hiding behind the cup but grinning. “Backpack. Bike seat. Identity, once. The coffee doesn’t even crack top three.”

You stared at him. Then giggled again—full and easy, your shoulders shaking. Peter felt it in his ribs, smiling even more now.

"I still feel like I owe you something," you said. "Maybe a new coffee. Or... a croissant? Bribe you into forgiveness?"

"You really don’t. I’m just glad it wasn’t, like... a double peppermint soy thing with five pumps."

"Wow," you said, pretending to be offended. "Is that what I strike you as? A soy drinker? Honestly, extremely offended and hurt by that assumption."

Peter raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I mean… the sweater was definitely giving off cozy seasonal beverage drinker—someone who probably prefers non-dairy milk. I panicked."

You narrowed your eyes, but you were smiling now—cheeks slightly flushed, either from the heat of the drink or the heat of embarrassment. "Mm. So you're profiling now. Over caffeine. Bold move."

He held up his hands, cup balanced loosely between them. “Guilty. But in my defense, you did steal my coffee.”

“Allegedly.”

“You admitted it.”

“Only because I felt morally compelled!”

Peter chuckled softly, then smiled wider, eyes sparkling. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll just pretend to be you today, and you can be me. That way, everyone wins.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Deal. Just don’t mess up my life too badly.”

Before Peter could figure out what to say next, a familiar voice chimed in behind him—casual, teasing.

“A crime happened before I even got here? Couldn’t you guys have waited?”

Peter turned, already recognizing the voice—but there he was: Harry in all his charming glory, scarf trailing dramatically behind him like he'd stepped out of a magazine instead of a coffee shop. Sunglasses still on, despite being indoors and it being the middle of September. He slung an arm over Peter’s shoulder like it was second nature.

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Seriously, Haz? Who let you in here—fashion week or campus security?”

Peter looked between you. Haz?

“We’re here every Monday, Wednesday, Friday before class for the three C’s,” Harry informs you, flashing a grin. “Coffee, croissants, and chats. It’s kind of our thing.”

You raised a brow, still smiling. "So I’m crashing your date?"

Harry gasped dramatically. "She admits it."

Peter blinked. "It’s not—it’s not a date."

“It’s a situationship,” Harry says, deadpan. “We’ve had coffee together more consistently than I’ve been to class.”

You take a slow sip from your cup. “Sounds healthy.”

Harry shrugs. “It’s the most stable relationship I’ve got.”

The barista slid a bag toward the pickup counter.

Harry pointed. "That better be my chocolate croissant. And it better be toasted extra."

You rolled your eyes. "You order like you’re eight."

"Eight-year-olds understand the finer things in life."

Peter stayed quiet, sipping his coffee, quietly entertained by your banter with Harry but still wondering how you two knew each other—though he didn’t press for answers.

Once Harry had his pastry in hand, the three of you stepped outside, the wind tugging at jackets and scarf ends.

The walk toward campus fell into an easy rhythm, a comfortable mix of conversation and quiet. You chatted about overpriced textbooks; Harry grumbled about a professor still using overhead projectors. Peter chipped in with the occasional comment—until your eyes landed on the cup in his hands.

“Seriously though,” you said, “thanks for not making a big deal out of that—or yelling at me or something. I got yelled at here last week by some old guy, so honestly, if you’d yelled, I probably wouldn’t have come back. Two strikes and I’m out.”

Peter shrugged, glancing down at the cup with your name on it. “All good. Crazy coincidence we order the same thing. Though, I’ve only ever seen old people order plain black coffee.”

“Profiling me again, huh? What does that make you, then?” You smiled slightly. “Guess you’ll have to go through the day as me.”

“And you can be me. Fair trade.”

The biology building came into view, and you slowed.

“Alright, this is me,” you said, stepping toward the building. Then, softer, “Take care of my identity. I’ll come find you if I find out you're ruining my reputation, Parker Peter.”

Peter grinned. “Noted. I’ll do my best to behave and save the evil scheming for Harry.”

You gave a small wave before heading inside.

Peter watched you go, a genuine smile lingering.

Harry shoved the last bit of his croissant in his mouth. "You’re grinning."

"What?"

"Just saying. Gonna be a fun semester."

Peter didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop smiling either.

His day flew by. After the morning—when he finally saw you again for the first time in four days (not that he was counting… though, he definitely was)—you stayed on his mind. During lectures, throughout the ten-minute breaks he usually spent half-asleep in the back of the library. Even now, sitting in Orgo lab, he couldn’t stop replaying the way your eye widened like a deer caught in headlights when you realized you’d grabbed the wrong drink.

You treated him like a normal person. Like someone worth talking to. Not like another ghost on the sidewalk. Not like a face in the crowd.

So, yeah. You were on his mind.

Peter stared ahead blankly, eyes unfocused on a slightly discolored brick just above the whiteboard. He didn’t hear the TA reviewing their objectives, didn’t notice the clatter of glassware around him. He was busy daydreaming—somewhere between hypothetical conversations with you and wondering if you’d recognize him in a crowd at another party—when a hand waved aggressively in front of his face.

“Hello? Parker?” Harry Osborn’s voice broke through, dripping with faux outrage. “Why do you keep zoning out on me, man? I’m the one taking notes right now. That’s absurdly, unusually, out of character for me in this class.”

Peter blinked back to the present. “Sorry. I’ve been... thinking.”

Harry narrowed his eyes dramatically. “And clearly not about anything academic. You haven’t written a single word. Meanwhile, I—me, Harry Osborn—have actual notes.”

Peter squinted at his friend’s notebook. It was messier than a toddler’s crayon attempt, but, surprisingly, legible. “You’re actually paying attention?”

“Don’t sound so shocked. I contain multitudes.”

Peter rolled his eyes and dragged the notebook closer. “Let me copy this before your pen explodes or something.”

As he jotted down bullet points about their task—performing a dehydration to yield a mixture of alkene products—Harry leaned in with that shit-eating grin Peter had come to associate with impending nonsense.

“So…” he began, casually spinning a glass stirring rod between his fingers. “Does this, uh, distraction have anything to do with a certain coffee thief from this morning?”

Peter paused mid-sentence, cheeks tinting pink. “You’re not subtle.”

“I’m not trying to be.” Harry shrugged, unfazed. “She’s cute. You’re clearly enamored with her. It’s basic math.”

Peter looked down at the reaction schematic in front of him, willing his brain to reengage with chemistry. “How do you know her?”

“We went to the same school before college. And we were in a band together.”

That made Peter’s head snap up. “A band?”

Harry looked mildly sheepish. “Don’t start. It was a phase. I had a rebellious era—wanted to be cool, play garage shows, wear eyeliner. She played guitar and we needed vocals. She was good, actually. Still mad at me for forcing her to join, though.”

Peter snorted. “That’s weirdly endearing.”

“Don’t bring it up around her though. She’ll pretend she doesn’t know what you’re talking about and then kill me later.”

Peter set down his pen and reached for a clean test tube. “Okay. We’re doing an acid-catalyzed dehydration today, right?”

“Yup. Professor wants us to heat some 2-methyl whatever with phosphoric acid and then collect the product by simple distillation.” Harry handed over the reagent bottle with mock seriousness. “Big day for alkenes.”

Peter chuckled and began assembling the distillation apparatus—clamps, condenser, receiver flask. “You remembered all that?”

“I pay attention when the TA threatens us with quiz points.”

“Fair.”

Harry adjusted the tubing while Peter started adding the alcohol to the flask. “So. Back to you and mystery girl. You guys seemed pretty cozy this morning. Had your little coffee swap meet. Ogled each other. That’s practically first base.”

Peter gave him a look. “I was not ogling her. Plus, it wasn't like that.”

Harry smirked. “No? You didn’t walk her home from my party too?”

Peter’s hand faltered for a second before resuming the careful transfer of liquid. “Her friend was blackout. I just made sure they got back safe.”

“And then you walked away into the fog, cape fluttering behind you.”

“I’m not Batman.”

“No, you’re worse. You’re humble.” Harry sat back, arms crossed.

Peter glanced over, curious. “Why does she call you Haz, anyway?”

Harry smirked. “Legacy nickname. It’s kind of stuck. You’re already behind.”

Peter huffed. “Short for what? Hazard? Fitting.”

Harry raised his hands in mock offense. “Guilty. But, for the record, I’m not competition. I’m just a charismatic guy who once played drums in the same band as her. She and I are friends. I swear.”

“You did.” Harry leaned forward, more serious now. “Look, man. If you’re into her, just say so. You’re Peter freaking Parker. You’re smart, you’re a gentleman. Chicks swoon for things like that. You’re definitely boyfriend material."

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re so weirdly detailed and supportive, it’s almost like you’re the one into me. Don’t worry, Osborn—I’ll let you down easy even if you're not my type.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s your type then?”

Peter shrugged. “Someone who doesn’t turn dating advice into a TED talk.”

“I’m your hype man—that’s clause two in the friendship contract. Did you miss that memo? Now, grab the boiling chips, and let’s go make some questionable hydrocarbons.”

When they finally logged their last data point and cleared their station, the classroom was still a half-finished mess of bunsen burners, overheard complaints, and lab coats stained with mystery substances. Peter and Harry were the first ones packed up, as usual.

Harry slung his backpack over one shoulder and yawned like he hadn’t just spent the last hour dangerously close to open flame.

“You working today?” he asked, stretching until his button-up rode up slightly and then tugging it back down.

“No, not today,” Peter replied, adjusting the strap of his own bag. “They finally hired some new people. Which, in theory, should be a good thing.”

Harry raised a brow. “Lemme guess. You hate them already.”

“I don’t hate him,” Peter lied. “He’s this new high school kid who told me I looked like a substitute teacher during his first shift.”

Harry snorted. “Was he wrong though?”

Peter gave him a side-eye. “He also asked if I knew how to use TikTok and then called me ‘sir’ when I didn’t answer fast enough.”

Harry wheezed. “Oh no.”

“I’m eighteen,” Peter said flatly. “I’m not ancient.”

“Maybe it’s your meek aura,” Harry teased. “Very ‘mild-mannered civics teacher’ vibes sometimes.”

Peter gave him a light shove, but his grin betrayed him.

As they reached the quad, Harry glanced sideways. “Alright. Since you’re free, come over to mine. We can chill, maybe order in some shitty Chinese food. Watch something dumb. You pick.”

Peter nodded. “Sure.”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “...Or—and hear me out—I could invite a few more people. Have a casual afternoon. You’ve met, like, three people on campus total, and I’m not trying to let you slip into full hermit mode.”

“In the span of one month, I’ve had more social interaction than probably my entire high school experience,” Peter said. “All thanks to your relentless matchmaking.”

Harry smirked. “And you’re welcome.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “You’re up to something.”

“Always,” Harry said easily. “But in this case, it’s for your benefit. I was thinking Gwen might come. And maybe her roommate.”

Peter gave him a look. “You mean…?”

Harry didn’t even blink. “Yup.”

Peter groaned. “Wouldn’t that be kind of weird? Like—too much of a coincidence? Twice in one day?”

Harry shrugged. “Not if you don’t make it weird.”

“You sure she wouldn’t think I’m plotting on her? Or stalking?”

“She won’t,” Harry said. “Trust me. She’s not that kind of person. And besides, if you don’t want to talk to her, you don’t have to. But something tells me you really, really do.”

Peter didn’t say anything.

Harry slung his arm around his shoulder like a sitcom older brother. “Listen, you’re interested in her. She seems into you too. You’re both painfully nice, emotionally repressed, and vaguely awkward. I’m just here to expedite fate.”

Peter let out a quiet groan. “You sound like a wedding planner.”

“I’m a man of many talents,” Harry said. “So? You in?”

Peter hesitated. Then sighed. “If you really want.”

Harry beamed, already leading them toward the stairwell. “Good. We’ll head to mine, yeah? The couch at my place still remembers the imprint of your ass from last time. It misses you.”

“You’re banned from talking for five minutes.”

“Okay, Mom.” He grinned. “Now hurry up before I get hangry. I’m feeling a tantrum coming soon.”

Peter didn’t expect to be spending his Wednesday night drinking.

But that’s what comes with being friends with Harry Osborn.

There was something inevitable about it—like gravity. One moment Peter was walking out of lab with a backpack full of half-finished lab reports and crushed snack wrappers, and the next, he was sitting on the floor of Harry’s living room with a lukewarm seltzer in hand, pretending to understand the rules of a drinking game he’d already lost three times.

Harry was draped across the couch like he owned the whole building (which, knowing him, wasn’t entirely impossible), laughing too hard at his own joke. Across from him, a silver-haired girl—Felicia, Peter had caught—shot back with dry one-liners that cut sharper than her eyeliner.

Gwen had shown up with Felicia, and much to Peter's dismay, without you since your class ran late. She was in rare form—barefoot, glossy-lipped, halfway through her second spiked lemonade. At some point, she’d declared a dance-off, stolen Harry’s scarf and was now wearing it like a feather boa, mixing drinks behind the counter with zero clue what she was doing. Brian—blonde, broad-shouldered, and someone Peter had met once before—just watched with quiet amusement, sipping something out of a red cup like this was all perfectly normal.

Peter mostly observed, sipped his drink, and let the noise fill the quiet parts of his brain. He hadn’t realized he was waiting for something until it happened.

The door opened.

And there you were.

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Harry had mentioned you would still come, but there was something about the timing. The way you stepped inside with your coat slung over one arm, hair slightly wind-tousled, cheeks frozen from the cold. You looked up and smiled—effortless, unbothered.

And just like that, Peter forgot the rules of the game all over again.

“Hey,” you announced your presence, closing the door behind you.

Gwen immediately shrieked, “Finally!” and ran over to pull you in like you hadn’t seen each other in years.

Peter tried not to look for too long—or pretend his pulse didn’t quicken just slightly. You disappeared into the crowd of now familiar faces and scattered laughter, with Gwen dragging you toward the kitchen like a hurricane. For a while, you blended into the background: talking, laughing, letting someone press a cup into your hand.

He figured that would be it, just sharing the same space, trading the occasional glance across the chaos. Maybe a quick hey, a polite smile, and then back to pretending he hadn’t been thinking about Saturday night.

Later that night, long after the sun had slipped away, he found you standing alone on the balcony—your cup nearly empty, your back resting lightly against the railing. Behind you, the city stretched out in a blur of static lights and slow motion, your hair lifting gently in the breeze.

He paused in the doorway. You didn’t notice him at first. Or maybe you did and just didn’t say anything.

Then, without turning, your voice cut softly through the space between you. “Déjà vu?”

Peter stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. “Kinda feels like Saturday.”

You nodded, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. “Less sticky, though. And less Gwen trying to convince everyone she invented feminism.”

He let out a breath of laughter, joining you at the railing. “She was on a mission.”

“She always is,” you said warmly, your eyes flicking to the window as the music swelled inside. Gwen’s laugh spilled through the glass for a moment before fading again. Out here, the wind hummed low, streetlights cast soft gold onto the pavement below. The night didn’t close in—it stretched open.

You looked at him again. “You didn’t think I’d actually show, did you?”

He blinked, caught off guard by your tone—playful, curious. “What? No. I mean... I wasn’t sure.”

“Mm,” you said, tilting your head slightly. “Well, I didn’t think you’d be here either.”

He shrugged, smiling a little. “Harry can be convincing.”

“Tell me about it. He texted me six times. I think one of them was just a picture of Gwen holding a paper towel roll like a mic.”

Peter laughed. “Honestly? That would’ve convinced me too.”

You studied him for a moment, then asked, “So... Parker Peter. I don't remember you being this quiet.”

He shrugged, eyes a little hazy. “I’m not quiet. I’m just... mildly impaired.”

You laughed, bumping his shoulder. “Good. Makes it easier for you to say something incriminating.”

“I’m always thinking about something. Possibly incriminating—but these lips are staying sealed.” He glanced at you, then down at his hands.

You tilted your head, sipping from your cup filled with a random concoction of alcohol and mixers. “Oh yeah? What was it this time? Or do I have to guess?”

He hesitated. Not like he didn’t have an answer—more like he wasn’t sure if it was the right one to say out loud.

“...Honestly? Just thinking it’s kind of nice out here.”

You looked over, brow raised. “That’s what you were brooding about? The weather?”

Peter laughed under his breath, scratching at the edge of his cup. “No, not just that. I meant it’s quiet. And I don’t know. You’re—” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

You leaned a little closer, elbow grazing the railing—casual but not accidental. “I’m what?”

He glanced at you, then away, then back again. Like he couldn’t quite help it. “You’re easy to talk to.”

“Maybe I’m just better than most people.” You smiled but didn’t tease him for it.

Peter huffed a laugh. “Yeah. Maybe.”

There was a brief lull—comfortable, not awkward. The kind where the quiet didn’t need to be filled. Still, you spoke first.

“You don’t really do this, do you?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“Socializing. Talking to girls on balconies. You know—the whole college thing.”

Peter leaned forward on his elbows, eyes drifting to the street below. “Wow, you’re good. Not really my scene. I usually bail before the second round of drinks. Or pretend I have some impossible assignment due.”

“But you stayed.” You looked at him, then tapped your nail lightly against the rim of your cup. “Even after your coffee got stolen.”

He smiled again, a little crooked this time. “Yeah, well. Maybe that part wasn’t so bad.”

You let the silence hang for a moment, then said, soft but teasing, “You realize you’re flirting with me, right?”

Peter choked on a laugh, surprised by how direct you were about it—but also how okay it felt. “…Was I?”

You shrugged, eyes warm. “Kinda. But like, the polite, hesitant type. Like you’re not sure if you’re allowed to. Very endearing, though.”

Peter looked down at his hands, then out at the skyline. He didn’t say anything right away. When he finally did, his voice was quiet. “I think I just forgot what it feels like. Liking someone. Or wanting to.”

You didn’t flinch or ask questions he didn’t want to answer. You just stood there, looking at him like maybe that made sense.

“Well,” you said, nudging his arm gently, “if you ever remember… I’m usually a good guess.”

Peter looked at you then—really looked—and this time, he didn’t look away with a smile. “Noted.”

From inside, the sliding door creaked open. A gust of warm air and laughter spilled out, followed by Harry’s voice yelling something unintelligible about Gwen and the blender. Felicia’s voice cut through the party’s static, bright and lively, while somewhere inside, Brian was probably trying—and failing—to keep the peace.

You sighed, smiling. “They’re fine. I think?”

And you stayed like that—side by side. Not quite touching. Not quite leaving.

But here, on the edge of it all, it was still.

Peter could finally breathe.

#peter parker angst #marvel #peter parker series #mcu #peter parker x you #no way home #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman no way home #spiderman fanfiction

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percyweasleyapologist · 8 months ago

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Peter: Christmas lights?

Lily: Check.

James: Thermos of hot cocoa?

Lily: Check.

Sirius: Santa suits?

Lily: Check.

Marlene: Shovel?

Lily: Check.

Remus: Alibi and bail money?

Lily: Check- wait, WHAT?!

#lily evans #remus lupin #james potter #marlene mckinnon #sirius black #peter pettigrew #Marauders #the marauders #marauders era #the marauders era #harry potter marauders #young marauders #marauders incorrect quotes #incorrect marauders quotes #incorrect quotes

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aanoia · 1 year ago

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I Don't Know Who You're Talking About

Remus Lupin x reader words; 2817 warnings; angst, blood, sad, murder, the usual part two this is so cutesy (NOT!) I wrote this on my phone in the car so if there's any mistakes thats my excuse. Also Y/m/n stands for your/marauders/nickname because ofc you're a Marauder and of course you're an animagus. like duh.

“Remus, it's a full moon tonight, you can't go. We can't risk that.” I persisted, staring holes into the back of the boy's head.

He turned around angrily, “Why does it even matter, Y/n?” He yelled, and a drop of spit flew from his lips. “After everything that's happened, you're gonna stop me from going to that traitors trial?”

“If you're gonna act like this, yes! I am going to stop you.” I yelled back, taking a step towards him as my voice softened. “And we don't know if Sirius was framed or not, he's our best friend. Do you really think he'd do something like this?”

Remus shook his head, his shoulders dropping, “I think it doesn't matter, because James and Lily are dead. And Peter! Someone needs to be punished for it, and all the signs point to him.”

I frowned, “I don't think he did it.”

“Well, you think wrong.” Remus said, turning back around and walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

“Remus, I swear to Merlin, if you apparate to the Ministry-” I was cut off by the loud cracking noise of apparition. He didn't even grab his coat.

“Fancy seeing you here.” I said coolly as I sat next to Remus. He shook his head, anger radiating from his skin.

“You're ridiculous.” He muttered and I scoffed.

“There's no way you're taking your frustration out on me, right now.” I flashed a smile at a woman I recognized from Hogwarts, she smiled back sadly. I focused in on the middle of the room, where an empty cage was being rolled out.

“I can't even talk to you. You’re so annoying.” Remus stood up but was stopped as a new cage was rolled in. I gently pulled him back down as we stared at Sirius. He was caged and muzzled like a dog.

Remus squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. Sirius’ clothes were torn, his usual fancy jacket he stole from his mother covered in dirt and blood. He looked around the room frantically, eyes wide and tears streaming down his cheeks. He made eye contact with me and placed his hands on the bars, silently begging me to believe that he didn't do this, he could never.

I gave him a look of worry as the Minister cleared his throat, “Sirius Black, son of Orion and Walburga Black, you are here today under the accusation of working with He Who Must Not Be Named and the murder of twelve muggles, one witch, Lily Potter, and two wizards, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew. How do you plead?”

The moment the muzzle was off his mouth he answered hastily. “Not guilty!” Sirius screamed, his voice shaky and broken. He shook in his cage, “I didn't do it, please! I would never hurt my frie-”

“Silence!” Crouch demanded, holding his hand up, his ring glinted in the candlelight. “We need not hear more.” He scribbled on a piece of parchment and handed it to the boy standing next to him. The boy studied the paper.

He nodded, “Of course, sir.” He left the room quickly.

There were quiet whispers floating around the room, speculating what the young boy could possibly be searching for.

“Now, because there seems to be a lack of witnesses, which I am sure is just how you wanted it to be, unfortunately we cannot blindly believe that you are innocent.” The boy came back into the room, holding a small vial of clear liquid.

“Veritaserum.” Remus mumbled and I nodded.

“It's a good idea.” I whispered.

The vial was brought up to Sirius’ lips, who drank it willingly, thankful to finally have a good alibi.

“I will ask you plain and simply, did you reveal the hidden location of James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord, resulting in them being murdered and their son orphaned?”

Sirius shook his head, “I did not.” My shoulders relaxed as it felt as if a weight had been lifted. Remus still looked at him coldly, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Did you murder that group of muggles, and your own friend, Peter Pettigrew, leaving behind only his finger?”

“No, I did not.”

The room was silent as Crouch thought. They glanced between the man behind bars and the one upon a podium, his stare belittling. He glanced at the empty bottle on his desk, and back to Sirius before whispering to a man beside him.

I glanced at Sirius who was already looking at us. He gave me a small smile and I returned it.

“It is probable.” The man said quietly, but still in earshot.

Crouch nodded and banged his hammer, “It has been decided. The Veritaserum that was given to was a flake. So, under Mr. Barty Crouch, Minister of Magic, you plead guilty, and are sentenced to life in Azkaban.”

Some people cheered, others let out yells of protest. Remus slipped away, walking out of the room angrily.

“No, that's rubbish.” I yelled as he began to be rolled away. He screamed in fear, going crazy inside of the cage.

I stood up and pushed past people, carefully jumping down to the floor and below the Minister. The room silenced again and the cage stopped dragging across the floor. Everyone had their eyes on me.

“Let me talk to him.”

Crouch looked amused, “Miss-”

“It is only a custom. Tradition, even. You must allow me a word with Sirius Black before you send him off. It's in the books.”

Crouch glanced at the book as the boy flipped to the pages. He sighed as he read the words, telling him that it was indeed allowed for loved ones to speak with the person before they are sent off.

“I'm afraid he cannot be out of his cage, it is not up for discu-”

“I can talk through the bars, can I not?”

“Fine. Follow them.”

I followed them out quietly, ignoring the angry stares I got from people, even the spit that they shot at me, landing right in front of my feet. Once we were in the hall, the men stood to the side and I walked up the cage hastily, putting my hands on the bars.

“Sirius, I'm going to ask you this once, and only once, and I need you to tell me the truth. Whatever you say, I will believe you. Did you or did you not kill James and Lily?”

Sirius looked me straight in the eyes, desperate, “Y/n, please, I would never.”

“It's a yes or no question.”

“No. I didn't.”

I paused, before grabbing his hand through the bars, “I believe you. It's okay, I'll figure this out.”

His eyes filled with tears again and being this close I could see the heavy bags below his eyes. His hair was a ratty mess and his skin was blemished and dirty.

“Did you know she was pregnant?” Sirius asked and my eyes widened.

“She was?”

“Yeah. They were going to tell us all on Christmas, but James let it slip to me.”

I took a deep breath, “Oh my.”

There was a moment of silence between us, neither daring to break the quiet atmosphere.

“Does Remus hate me?” He whispered and my heart broke.

“I don't know.” I answered honestly and he nodded, his eyes averting to the bottom of the cage.

“I didn't kill them. I'd never. He was my best friend, my brother.” Sirius began sobbing. “I've already lost him, and Lily. I've lost my godson. And now Remus. I can’t lose you, Y/n/n, I can’t.” he cut himself off with a gasp.

“It's time to go.” One of the men said, beginning to drag him away.

“I can’t lose you!” Sirius yelled as he was dragged away.

“You won’t.” I whispered before I looked up at the man as he was dragged away, “Sirius! I love you!”

He smiled sadly, “I love you too, Y/m/n!”

I rubbed my hands together quickly as I walked up to the front door. I placed my hand on the freezing knob and opened it, silently cursing myself for not locking it before I left.

It was half an hour until sundown, so I immediately apparated home to help prepare Remus - and myself - for the night. It was probably going to be one of the hardest he's ever experienced, and I felt terrible for him.

“Remus?” I called out, only to get no response. I furrowed my brows taking my jacket off slowly, “Baby, I know you're mad but I still want to help you tonight.” Still, nothing.

I set down my bag and slipped off my shoes before quietly walking to the bedroom.

“Rem?” I asked softly, pushing open the door and expecting to see him sitting on the bed, head between his hands as he cried softly.

But he wasn't. In fact the room seemed to be the same as it was before I left. The bathroom was dark and empty. No sign of Remus anywhere.

I walked to the kitchen, hoping to find him sipping from a mug of tea while staring out the window, like he usually is. But there was nothing.

I slipped on my coat and threw on my shoes, ignoring my bag as I quickly left the house. I pulled out the flip phone Remus had insisted on us getting.

“For easier communication.” He’d say.

I struggled to work the muggle device, but managed to send a quick ‘where r u?!’ text. At this point, the sun was beginning its descent and the full moon shone brightly.

I paused for a moment, thinking of any possible place he could be.

“The Shrieking Shack.” I said quietly to myself, immediately apparating to the raggedy house.

However, just like our own, it was also completely empty, save for one man.

“Professor Dumbledore?” I asked quietly. The older man turned around and smiled gently. I didn't fail to notice the tears he wiped from his cheeks.

“Ah, Miss L/n, or is it Lupin, yet?” Dumdledore asked.

I shook my head, “Not yet, no. But speaking of the man, has he been here?”

Dumbledore looked around, “No, I'm afraid not.” He glanced out of the window, at the light in the darkening sky. “It is a full moon tonight, isn't it?”

I stood beside him with a sigh, “That it is.”

“And the night of Sirius’ trial as well, what unfortunate timing.”

“I'd have to agree.”

“You cannot find him?”

I turned around and leaned against the window sill, “No. We were fighting, before the trial. It's been rough for everyone and we took it out on each other.”

Dumbledore nodded, “Ah, it happens. I suppose, however, you should spend less time with this old man, and more time finding who I would assume to be a werewolf by now.”

I opened my mouth to answer but was cut off by a loud howl. The sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and the werewolves were born.

“Well, it seems you'd be correct.”

“Was that him?” Dumbledore asked.

I shook my head, “No, his howl is deeper. I assume that was a female.”

“Ah.”

I shifted my feet, feeling awkward. “Uhm, I'm gonna go look for him.”

“Take a blanket.” Dumdledore said, handing me a brown bundle of cloth.

“Thank you.”

“Go.”

I nodded and pushed open the door. I sighed at the heavy snowfall, looking into the distant trees. It was going to be a long night.

The tears started as the sun made an appearance again. The weight of everything finally hitting and pressure built behind my eyes.

“Remus, please, where are you?” I called out, my voice hoarse and salty tears slipped into my mouth. I wiped the running snot from my upper lip, my shoulders shaking.

I passed a tree and the bright color of red caught my eye. A blood trail. I followed it eagerly, a small sob leaving my lips and I clutched tightly onto the blanket. It led behind a rock, where my heart broke.

Remus lay there, naked and in a fetal position. He had long cuts all along his body and the snow around him was trained red. He shivered in the snow and his lips were blue.

He glanced at me weakly, sadness filling his eyes. “Y/n.” He whispered, his voice almost non existent.

I snapped out my daze and grabbed onto him, quickly pulling him to his feet and wrapping the blanket around him. He clutched onto me and cried, I cried with him.

I apparated to the house silently and he fell to his knees, I followed him, holding him in the kneeling position.

“It’s okay.” I whispered, biting back my own tears as he sobbed. “It’s okay.”

He cried, “It’s not!”

“Remus, let me clean you.” I said softly, wiping my tears after a few long moments.

“Okay.” He whispered, staring ahead blankly.

It was quiet, again, as I cleaned and bandaged. A few times he'd cry again, and I'd let him, figuring it was better to continue what I'm doing. I led him to bed and closed the curtains so the sun didn't shine through.

“Do you feel better?” I asked quietly once I got into bed.

“I'm not sure I feel much of anything, right now.” Remus said, facing his back towards me.

I looked at him sadly and turned over, closing my eyes and finally letting sleep overtake me.

When I woke up the bed was empty. I sighed, assuming he was in the kitchen or living room. I used the bathroom and walked out of the bedroom. I walked out into the living room.

“Remus?” I asked. He wasn't there. I looked into the kitchen and he wasn't to be seen. The deja vu of the night before was prominent. “Are you serious?”

A note sat neatly on the fridge. I glanced at the magnet, it was a picture of Remus and I smiling wide, faces pressed against each other. We got it from a muggle - or no-maj - vendor when we visited america. I noticed the second one we had was gone. I shook my head and took the note from beneath the magnet.

I immediately recognized the handwriting as Remus’. I stared at the letter, the one assigned to me. The last letter of my name was splotchy, stained with a tear.

I gently tore open the letter.

Dear Y/n,

I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I'm so sorry for what I'm doing.

I am so scared. With James, Lily, and Peter dead, and Sirius in Azkaban, I just don't know what to do.

You mean the world to me. You're perfect, beautiful, intelligent, witty, talented, you're everything good and nothing bad. At this point you are the world for me.

Which is why I have to do this. I can't drag you down to darkness with me, I'd never forgive myself. I know this will hurt you, it's hurting me too, but I also know you can get through this.

I want you to be happy, and I think that's impossible if I’m in your life. So I'm taking the liberty to leave it. My stuff will be magically transported once I find a place to stay, keep the house, you deserve it more than I do.

I love you more than life itself.

with the deepest of regrets,

Remus

P.S. you are worth EVERYTHING! don't ever settle for the bare minimum.

I dropped the letter and stared out of the window. The snow fell gently, piling up on the ground. It felt rather similar to the quiet tears dripping down my face. In the span of four weeks, I had lost everyone important to me. I didn't realize I had any tears left to cry.

I suppose I'll have to get a dog to keep me company now.

“Welcome, Professor L/n.” Dumbledore greeted.

I smiled at the group of teachers that came to welcome me. “Thank you, I appreciate all of you. Especially you, Minnie.” I said with a wink and Professor McGonagall laughed wetly, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

“Okay okay, let's not suffocate her on her first day. Dinner is in an hour, I trust you to find your room.” Dumbledore said and I nodded as the teachers dispersed.

“Severus.” I called out and the man stopped in his tracks. I walked over as he turned around and pulled him into a tight hug. He looked at me weirdly once I pulled away. “I know you loved her too.”

He knew exactly who I was talking about, “I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“I know you don't.” I smiled and began walking towards my room.

“I’m sorry about Lupin.” He said and I paused.

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

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taglist; @loving-and-dreaming @1lellykins @poetrypirate @ashisabitgay @kodiskisses @whitemanswh0r3 @ultraoreoqueen @miss-mercuryy @peanutbutterinacup @r-scneptune @pheonixfucu @luannemaru @jluvsjpotts @its-a-ittle-bit-cold @maraudersgirlie @thescarletredwitch @irjdujsksjahhbs @irjdujsksjahhbs @1-800-ididurmum @jennasco @myradiaz @chellyrps @lixiefelicis @ittybittyhogan @lollloki @dreamingofmarauders @everybodyhatesari @agy-mari @wayytoocooll @notaboutlovebyfiona @harrington-potter @little-bubba @whoreforlupin @jdoshalablab-blog @mybelovedneilperry @bellathethirstybitch @poetrynerdsunite @talesof-old @remussbitch @keira-fitzsimmons @peopleisdumbs-blog @dunaahahah @starsshinebluewhite @lizzieolseniskinda @fast-slow-disco @bubblegumanatomy @sparkling-ariaria @blooberry-bagel @whiskeywineimfine @fluidfandoms @lyrahelmand @reaa88 @mysteriouslydeliciousmoon @randomchicksstuff @loca4moony @lynnleanist @alliacnh-blog @bullets-from-another-dimension @sususdiaryy @imafckingbitch

#aanoia #romance #marauders era #the marauders #james & peter & remus & sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #marauders #harry potter #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin angst #angst #one shot

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gunsandspaceships · 9 months ago

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Lie: "May Parker absolutely despises Tony Stark". Part 2

Part 1

Indeed. Aunt May in Homecoming:

And you know why? Because at that point she thinks that Tony makes Peter do a lot of work, and because of this, Peter is always stressed, tired and distracted.

In reality, Peter was stressed, tired, and distracted not because of Tony, but because of patrolling, criminals with high-tech weapons, Ned now knowing he's Spider-Man, and his own desire to impress Tony and become an Avenger. But at that time, he still needed an alibi, so he told her it was because of the internship.

So no, May didn't like Tony at that time not because of who he really was or what he really did, but because of the misinformation May had about him.

And I just want to say: people, stop trying to make Tony a scapegoat. Or anyone else. It doesn't look good and can be busted so easily.

#marvel #mcu #tony stark #iron man #the avengers #spiderman #peter parker #may parker #aunt may #spiderman homecoming #anti-antis

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lavylu · 2 years ago

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You owe me

It was no secret, you knew Peter was Spider-Man. You had caught your boyfriend when he came from from his patrols. You were laying on his bed and saw him without his mask.

He was screwed.

But it was fine. You were supportive and offered alibis to others. You would even bring him sandwiches he could take with him on patrol. Things were looking good.

. . .

You breathed loudly as you tried to calm down. It was nearly impossible however, since a robber was pointing a gun at your chest. He demanded that you would open the cashier and empty the contents.

You obliged, with shaking hands. Your entire body trembled as the masked man stared you down.

When a crash was heard on the other end of the store you reached under the counter to grab the bat. Your manager insisted that the cashier would have a weapon on hand in case of scenarios like this.

Your hand gently rested on the hard wood, calming you down a little. But then the robber turned back and chills ran down your spine.

He held out his hand for the money bag, but before you could give it to him a web shot out and stuck his hand to the counter.

You let out a sigh of relief at your masked hero. Spider-Man gave you a wink as he punched the guy knocking him out cold. Your whole body relaxed as he was dragged outside.

After the incident was taken care of you clocked out of your shift and started to walk home. However you were met face to face with your charming boyfriend.

“Miss me?” He had a mischievous smirk on his face as he looked down at you.

You only laughed as you nodded softly. “Thank you, for what you did back there. I was scared to death.”

Peter licked his lips as leaned against the wall. “You know, you kind of owe me.”

“Is that so.” You couldn’t miss the bulge that was growing in his pants.

He only nodded as you gently pushed him backwards. His back hit the wall and your lips found his neck.

Leaving warm, love bites he moaned. You lightly bit his adams apple as you twisted his hair in your fingers.

Through hooded eyes you whispered “there’s an abandoned alleyway right there. Maybe I can find a way to properly repay you.”

Goosebumps shot up Peters back as he smiled wide. He quickly scooped you up in his arms and took you there.

Your legs wrapped around him as he thrusted upwards. With one hand he was undoing your blouse. Your breast fell forward: heavy and warm. You tugged his shirt off and immediately went back to kissing his chest.

Peter undid your pants and threw them aside. You don’t know when he lost his other clothes but you were both naked and rolling around on the alleyway floor.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt his tip at your hole. He gently pushed in, only going into the tip and then quickly pulling back out. He was teasing you and he was loving it.

He repeated the process a few more times till you were a whiny mess below him.

“Please… Peter please.” You begged

He only smirked as he thrusted his hips again. This time he went all the way in and you felt his balls slap your ass. He quickly found his rhythm as he pounded into you.

One hand went to your mouth and he stuck a finger inside. You sucked like your life depended on it. Peter only quickened his pace causing you to moan. Vibrations were being sent down his hand and he loved it.

You picked your hips up so he could thrust deeper, and he did. The entire time you heard his balls slapping against your skin. Then a hand went down your stomach till he was tracing your sensitive little bud. He rubbed you firmly as you threw your head back in pleasure.

Your high was building and Peter could tell. He quickened his assault on your clit and within moments you were at your high. Your walls clenched around Peter making him groan in pleasure.

He carefully set you down and took his cock in his hand. He stroked himself a few times and then came all over your chest. His cum decorated your breast as Peter looked at you proudly.

“I should save you at work more often.”

#peter parker #peter parker smut #marvel smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #marvel x reader

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unnecessaryheadache · 4 months ago

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Dorcas must love being the gossiper of Hogwarts. We got Pandora and Xenophilius, the couple of the year, being her alibis for whenever a teacher is starting to catch on.

They SPREAD the gossip like Legos on a carpet. Lily writes everything down and keeps it in this thick book just to look back at when she gets older AND she soon ends up making pamphlets for the big guys, James is usually the target of gossip along with Sirius, Remus reads these pamphlets every. single. night. Paired with some hot chocolate and slow music, and Peter is always doing stuff that helps feed these rumors (adding onto them).

Regulus tries to deny ever being interested but don't let him fool you. Evan and Barty end up finding out who the anonymous gossiper is and keep it a secret under one condition: the rumors should never stop at just Hogwarts drama. They don't care WHAT it is, as long as it is full and juicy, they want it.

So then FAMILY drama is dragged into this. No one is safe. People are learning about the lives of their fellow classmates and they don't have a clue where all of this is coming from. The tension in the school escalates, it's like World Burn from Mean Girls: The Musical and Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton smashed together.

#marauders era #i need to stop taking naps #naps supply me with this #but hear me out #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #peter pettigrew #marauders era au #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #xenophilius lovegood #pandora lovegood #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #regulus black #severus snape #no major ships (srry yall)

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myers-meadow · 4 months ago

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Sascha (oc) introduction

Name: Sascha Stanimirova

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: bisexual

Job: assassin, and has a successful OnlyFans & social media presence on the side. This man keeps busy.

Likes: the colour black, sex, gloomy weather, orgasms, pasta, showing a lil tummy, the woman he's obsessed with (she can do NO wrong in his eyes), red wine, porn, teddy bears, inflicting pain on others, knife play, city trips, being a slut, Wassily Kandinsky.

Dislikes: when his girl (its not his girl) has a new bf, grocery shopping by himself, short vibrator battery life, long flights, summer, politics, high fashion, cocaine, loud dogs, being touched or hugged, fruit flavoured sparkly water.

Backstory: An assassin first and foremost. Sascha's main targets are political ones, or rich ones. He is good, he is quiet and he enjoys what he does. He loves manipulating his appearance and personality to fit in with ease in any environment. Outside of his job, he hates pretending, so he is very unapologetically himself, whether that is crude, rash, or polite and friendly, he doesn't care.

His parents come from very different backgrounds; his mother is a visual artist (collage, painting, occassional art installations), and she met his father through travelling and seeking a model. His father was an assassin as well, Sascha learned from him. Thanks to his mother's education, he mixes well in higher society. She also instilled a passion for art in him.

His OnlyFans career started as a dare, and he has the audacity to do absolutely anything - so he did it. It caught on quick; he used his friend groups to promote himself, and moved to other social media platforms as a means of promotion later on. There's little this man won't do, and he is absolutely not anonymous online. Everyone attributes his weird lifestyle and high income to his porn career, so it provided him with a perfect alibi for his eccentricities.

Warning: His story features heavy themes of co-dependency, rape/non-con, coercion, blackmail, toxic relationships, honestly this man is a walking content warning tbh.

I'm very open to questions and comments regarding him! Pls be nice, this is my first time posting any writing, esp original work, in what may as well be years. It's a vulnerable thing, esp him/this story. Feels good to be back! And I haven't forgotten Mischa, don't worry hahaha :)).

Bonus moodboard summarising a few vibes and inspirations:

[the middle one is a shot from a movie, rest is Trent Reznor, Peter Steele & young Johnny Depp] [first moodboard credits; some I made into pngs myself, bleedingthroughteeth, s4dpngs, free-png, violetbudd]

#oc introduction #Sascha 🎥🧷🧸#original work #go sascha go!!#hope yall had fun reading this!! <3 #i have 1 chapter written #i prob wont write the night following that any time soon bc of how my brain works rn #but i will work on other stuff that involves him!! <3 bc i love him #if u cant already tell; im obsessed w him. he is created to tick all my boxes #some stuff like age is fluid throughout the story bc him and the MC go way back so its hard to put a set age on there

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st1cki · 7 months ago

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Kevin McCallister Attending Hogwarts AU

Hear. Me. Out. Home Alone but it’s set in the Harry Potter universe. IMAGINE all the possibilities that could come with this, so many questions to be thought of- what house would Kevin be sorted in? Who would he befriend?? What would be his favorite subjects??? JUST THINK ABOUT IT!

Like ok let me just share my thoughts and headcanons here, let's start with this:

𝗛𝗼𝗴𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴

Personally, I can see him as a Ravenclaw. I mean have you seen how creative and ingenious his traps are? Not to mention how resourceful he is with making them mostly out of mundane objects you'll find lying in a house. Throughout the two movies, Kevin doesn’t rush into action too, he 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 first. And he even manages to create elaborate alibis on the spot when asked why he’s alone *reference to the grocery employee in the first film and the hotel receptionist in the second.

Honestly this is just my opinion though, I can totally see him being in other houses too. (Slytherin for his cunning nature, Gryffindor for his bravery against the wet bandits, & Hufflepuff for his sense of justice)

But I just think it's more funny if he was in Ravenclaw. Like I imagine his family making bets with each other on what house he'll be sorted in, only to be absolutely 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 when he gets into Ravenclaw, AKA the only house no one betted on.

I just get the vibe that his uncle, Buzz, and maybe his siblings will be betting on Slytherin, while his parents think he's going into Gryffindor. Then you have his cousins and aunt thinking he’ll be in Hufflepuff. I’m giggling thinking of how BAFFLED they’ll all be when he does get sorted into Ravenclaw LMAO

𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗕𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗛𝗼𝗴𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀

I’m imagining Kevin as a half-blood wizard. With Kate McCallister as a pureblood Gryffindor witch–which like, she is literally the embodiment of Gryffindor qualities, girly 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 did not hesitate to go through great lengths to find Kevin when they realised he was missing–and then you have Peter McCallister, a muggleborn Hufflepuff. Because unlike Kate, he was incredibly patient and calm during the whole chaos, and was reliable enough to get the family back home just in time. I could also imagine some of the family members being squibs too, weirdly enough.

Okay now imagine if Kevin’s first act of accidental magic was him arguing with his family and then out of nowhere he's just- POOF! Gone. The family then goes from being confused to being panicked, then in the next moment the front door opens and Kevin just waddles back inside to the living room like: 🧍‍♂️🚶‍♂️🚪 “erm guys what just happened?” and it turns out he just teleported outside, then the family sighs in relief but now realizes that they're gonna have to deal with a child that teleports randomly when angry or frustrated lol

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝘆𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗰𝘀

His interactions with other characters in the Harry Potter universe would be pretty interesting. I could see Kevin being a fellow prankster that Fred and George would have fun with (so on top of moving stairs, you’ll have to watch out for traps too oof), or maybe he'll get along with Ginny with the both of them relating to each other about being the youngest of a big family. Heck, I could even see him and Ron butting heads for a while before resolving the rivalry and becoming friends.

Kevin would totally befriend and be close to Harry and Luna the most too. He and Harry would develop an odd yet functional friendship with mutual respect and understanding for one another with a bond over their shared experiences of having to fend for themselves. On the other hand, Luna and Kevin would 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 be bestfriends that have a quirky friendship that would be really amusing and fun to watch happen.

Not sure how he would interact with Neville and Hermione though. However he and Draco Malfoy would probably clash, Draco 100% nicknames Kevin "Knockoff Weasley" while Kevin does majority of his pranks on Draco in return. There's no evidence, but Draco just 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 it's his doing.

For the adults, Kevin would most-likely get along with Hagrid, Ollivander, Professor Lupin, and Professor Flitwick the most.

𝗛𝗼𝗴𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗦𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁𝘀

Now how would Kevin do in the classes? Here's what I think:

He'll probably excel in Charms & Defence Against the Dark Arts. Maybe his patronus would be a dove *reference from the 2nd movie. Though an otter would probably fit him too, reflecting Kevin’s playful and creative nature.

Kevin could also do well in Herbology and Care for Magical Animals too. I don't think they’ll be his favorite subjects, but he'll probably have fun learning them anyway. I think Transfiguration and Potions would be hard for Kevin to do at first, but overtime he’ll learn to do it well. But for the History of Magic, Astronomy, and Divination.. He might find those a bit boring.

𝗟𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗛𝗼𝗴𝘄𝗮𝗿𝘁𝘀

I think Kevin would thrive after graduation. If he works in the magical part of the world, he might start off working within the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shop, before moving to do something more independent. A few examples could have him be a magical architect; designing enchanted buildings with traps that could kick out any robbers from entering, or an inventor of magical tools/gadgets for people to use. Maybe he could even become an Auror- the choices are endless, really.

That’s probably it of this AU rant for now. But I’d love to hear anyone’s thoughts on this. But for now I'll leave you with this thought :

How do you think Kevin would feel about the Annual Christmas Party thing? Would he even attend it?

ALRIGHT! THATS IT FROM ME! THANKS FOR READING!

Also! Credit where credit is due, though some of these HCs were thought of by me, most were thought of by my lovely bestie : @snoozysunflowers

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