#Mr. Peter Coffee

[dep-uty]

there is nothing like playing alan wake 2 while enjoying a cup of coffee in the morning let me tell you

[sciderman]

I was sitting in Starbucks and I opened your blog but I forgot I was in public on my big ass iPad screen and for a brief blissful moment I was enjoying pictures of Deadpool and then there was pictures of Spider-Man’s BUTT and I had to slam my iPad shut. My fault obviously for opening your blog in public. I forgot. But funny nonetheless. And everyone else was doing work stuff and i was sat there in sunglasses and a hat looking like a pervert because i wear hats and sunglasses indoors

reminds me of the time i saw my math teacher in public and he was wearing a hat and sunglasses looking every bit like a fugitive and/or sex offender. which is very funny because without the hat and sunglasses he looks more like a garden gnome.

[hurtspideyparker]

If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2

Read Part 1 and Part 3

Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?

Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore

Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house

Tony: Hm. Makes sense

-

Vision cooked dinner:

Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*

Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*

Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*

Bucky: *just stares at full plate*

Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza

-

Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl

Bucky: Ok.

Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-

Bucky: Give me your phone

Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*

Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)

Sam: BOY-

-

Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-

Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*

Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you

Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him

-

Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert

Tony: Um, why?

Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !

Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.

Peter:

Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...

-

Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together

Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera

Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond

Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind

Bucky: Wanna go for a run?

Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*

-

*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*

Bucky: Dishwasher?

Peter: Dishwasher :)

(later that day)

Bucky: I've decided to let the child live

Peter: YoU wHaT?!

-

Thwip

Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here

Thwip

Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it

Thwip

Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago

*giggling from the ceiling*

Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality

Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!

Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?

Peter: Sor- OOF

*falls out of ceiling vent*

-

Sam: You're in my spot

Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area

Sam: Well that's my spot

Bucky: Did you buy the chair??

Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?

Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*

Sam: Still my spot

Bucky: Still not

Sam: *sits on him*

Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-

Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-

BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-

(one hour later)

Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...

Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*

Steve: I think I left something in my car

-

Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there

Wanda: UGH you're so protective

Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him

Steve:

Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want

Wanda: Really?

Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book

-

Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?

Bucky: *glaring*

Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -

Natasha: Yes it's PMS

Wanda: He's got it bad

Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?

Bucky:

Bucky: I like chocolate

-

Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time

Pepper: Why is Vision here?

Wanda: I get sad when he's gone

Natasha: Why is Pietro here?

Pietro: Slay queens

Wanda: Moral support I think

Maria: Why is Peter here?

Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad

Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?

Peter: ME ME ME

-

Steve: Pancakes or waffles?

Natasha: Pancakes

Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker

Natasha: Then why would you ask-

Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion

*2 minutes later*

Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?

Clint: Waffles

Steve: Oh no.

-

Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !

[rainydayathogwarts]

Bed side drawer - Peter Parker

summary: when Tony finds a box of condoms Peter's bed side drawer, he doesn't expect Peter's girlfriend to walk into the room, causing an awkward interaction. a/n: my toxic trait is that i always imagine tasm!peter even tho it's in the avengers universe 0.6k wc

When Peter walks into his bedroom, the first thing his eyes lay on is the box of condoms in his mentor's hand. Tony Stark smirks from where he sits on his mentee's bed, drinking the cup of coffee Aunt May had so graciously prepared him. Peter's eyes go wide, flickering between his open bed side drawer and his mentor, and he dives across the room to get the box from him. Peter nearly hits his head against the wall when Tony tosses the box in the air, catching it in his hand when it falls down again. Peter's face flushes red as he scrambles back up, straightening his bed sheets where he haphazardly landed on them, mouth gaping open. Peter can hear you laughing with his Aunt May in the living room about another one of May's stories. She always had to tell you about the stories of how smitten he was with you, an attempt for your relationship to last forever. He needs to get that box before you walk in because that was not the situation he imagined you'd meet Mr. Stark in. He refused to let it happen.

Peter tilts his head to the side with desperate eyes, begging "Please give me those Mr. Stark." Tony grins teasingly, saying "You know these only work when there are two people involved, right?" Peter doesn't have time to react before the door to his room opens again and you walk in, saying something about the story Aunt May had told you before your eyes land on the older man in the room, prompting you to go silent. Oh no, Peter thinks. Tony quickly's eyes quickly scan you where you awkwardly stand in the doorway, and the obvious mortification that settles on your face at the realisation of who he is.

"Oh."

"Oh." Tony's tone is suggestive, and completely different from yours. He stands up from Peter's bed, slowly making his way across the room to you. His eyes flicker between you and Peter, the box of condoms still in his hands as you shoot a hand out in front of you, smiling nervously and saying "Hi, I'm y/n." in a lowsy attempt to ignore the box laying in the man's hand, eyes glancing down to it a couple of times. Tony shakes your hand, introducing himself, before asking "And who might you be y/n?" Gulping, you glance between your boyfriend, whose face has flushed a dark shade of red, and the avenger standing in front of you. "I'm Peter's girlfriend." You state, eyes widening as Tony puts the box of condoms in your hand.

"There are two people involved then..." You hear him mutter under his breath, but it's nothing as embarrassing as Aunt May walking into the busy room and observing the situation, attention immediately caught by the box of condoms that you throw at your boyfriend in a panic. The box hits Peter's chest and falls on the floor, and neither of you make a move to pick it up whilst you smile awkwardly at May, who follows Tony out of the room. You huff when they walk out, turning around to dig your head into Peter's chest in humiliation. Your boyfriend hugs you close, rubbing a hand on your back, and he's happy you can't hear Tony say "That girl seems too sweet to be having sex with your nephew." or his Aunt May's scoff of "Yeah until you come back home after a night with your friends and hear everything through those walls. She really knows how to talk dirty."

[stxar-pvnk]

Being around Tony stark can take a toll on you, some have to toughen up their skin to endure Tonys remarks, some just drift away from him, not wanting to deal with it.

But Peter?

No he's adapted.

Every snarky remark, and name Peter would be told, he just came back even stronger

"did you seriously forget to do your homework? Again? Don't you have enhanced..everything?"

"Mr stark, If we wanna talk irresponsible, let's talk about the time it seemingly crossed your mind to tell your loved ones you were dying because of the shrapnel in your chest." Peter snarked back

Tony stood frozen, his jaw dropped.

"well..fuck." Tony mumbled trying to contain l laughter at how sudden Peter came up with something like that.

Or another time.

"Peter, let me get you some new shoes." Tony pleaded

Peter sucked on his lollipop and squinted at Tony

"what? No why." Peter asked seemingly shocked

"because they're ratty. And old. And they look like they're gonna fall off or disintegrate at any given time." Tony answered crossing his arms

"why do you even keep them around?" The older one asked completely confused

"your ratty, old and likely to be on your death bed in a few years, why do we keep you around?" Peter snarked back raising an eyebrow.

Rhodey who was just passing through to grab some coffee was howling with laughter doubling over to clutch his stomach.

Sometimes it's not even directed at Tony.

"how do we even know we can trust the kid, he's unreliable" Sams eyes narrowed his voice harsh, but Steve nodded anyways

"I agree with Sam, recruiting a child would be very irresponsible."

Peter who was swinging on his chair, now paying attention in the meeting with the avengers turns to Steve and sam

"oh lord.." Tony muttered as rhodey tried to hide the smug, fond look on his face

"dude, you are 2 times my age, stop complaining and just admit that being an old man is getting to you, plus I can hear your knees snap like glow sticks when you crouch down. it's gross. Also who in this room has 1. A weird bird suit, and 2. Doesn't." Peter finished crossing his arms mirroring Tony. Alot.

"did I just get insulted by a toddler." Sam muttered

Peter is a sassy kid.

Peter is Tony's sassy kid.

[lowkeyhollland]

best of both worlds

peter park x stark!reader 4.2k words mix it all together & you know you get the best of both worlds

“I just don’t understand why I can’t know who Spider-Man is,” you grabbed yesterday’s unfinished iced coffee from the fridge and closed it. “I know everyone else’s identity, Dad. Why not this one? 

“Y/n, I love you, but–” Your dad started but was rudely interrupted. 

“You’re a yapper!” Sam yelled from across the kitchen and Bucky started laughing with him as you shot them a glare. 

“Okay, who taught them that?” You crossed your arms as the two kept laughing.

“I’m sorry, princess. But it’s true,” your dad laughed with them while you rolled my eyes. He messed with your hair and kissed the top of your head. “You can’t keep a secret to yourself.”

“You told the whole world you’re Iron Man,” You rebutted, and ‘oohs’ erupted from the small crowd. “Plus, the only person I tell is Peter.”

“What about when you told Ned you were going with us to Germany,” Bucky said.

“I had to tell my teachers I would be gone and he was curious,” You shrugged and took a sip from your coffee. 

“Hi, Mr. Stark.” Just then, the man of the hour, Spider-Man swung into the kitchen. Well, he walked into the kitchen. “I might be gone–” he stopped mid-sentence when he saw you. “Y/n! Hi!”

“Hello, Spider-Man,” You narrowed your eyes at him and he spun his head around. 

“Did I do something?” His voice squeaked and you narrowed my eyes even more. 

“She’s just upset that we won’t tell her your identity,” Tony informed him. 

“If I just keep guessing who you are, will you tell me if I’m right?” You batted your eyelashes at the masked hero as you put on the sweetest smile. You could tell he was smirking as he let out a soft chuckle while shaking his head.

“I doubt you’ll guess correctly, sweetheart.” He crossed his arms and Tony’s flickered between the two of you, a faint smirk forming on his lips. A small blush crept onto your cheeks at the nickname. 

“All I’m saying is everyone in the Hannah Montana universe was stupid because they couldn’t put two and two together,” you mumbled as you grabbed a granola bar from the pantry.

“But how were they stupid if they never heard Miley sing? They had nothing to compare her to.” Spider-Man started the counter-argument and you raised your eyebrows, turning to face him and straightening out your back. 

“At every concert, the artist speaks to the audience. How did they not notice that Miley and Hannah sounded the same when speaking? Or even her mannerisms.” You eyed Spider-man cautiously as he grabbed an apple. 

“Alright, one of you can’t be in here if you are going to remove your mask.” Your dad pointed to the both of you and you rolled my eyes.

“It’s fine, I’m leaving for school anyway.” You slung your backpack on and grabbed your car keys. “Bye Dad, love you. Bye, guys! See you later.” 

“Wait, are you picking up Parker?” Your dad yelled and your eyes widened. 

“Shit! I’m late!” You yelled and ran out the door to the car. 

“Drive safe!” You heard your dad’s voice in the distance while seeing a flash of red leaving the tower. Interesting. 

– – –

You frantically knocked on Peter’s apartment door. It swung open and Peter smiled and was breathing heavily. “Hi,” he sighed and smiled. 

“Hi,” You smiled back at him. “You ready?”

“Yeah! Let’s go.” He walked out and locked the door and the two of you hurried to your car. 

You were speeding down the road, not trying to be late for the second day. “Y/n/n! Slow down!” Peter grabbed the car handle and sat straight back in his seat. 

“Oh please, I’m only ten over. I cannot be late again. Mrs. Smith threatened to give me a week’s worth of detention if I was late to her class… again. ” You stopped at the red light and took a sip from your coffee and Peter scoffed. 

“As if they’d ever give Tony Stark’s daughter detention.”

“You’d be surprised,” you said under your breath. “Hey, weird question.”

“What’s up?” Peter looked over giving you, his chocolate brown eyes full of wonder and ready to tackle whatever question you had to say. 

“Did you watch Hannah Montana as a kid?” And just like that, all the wonder was drained from his eyes and his mouth formed a line. 

He knew he had to be careful of what he would say in this conversation in case it reminded you of Spider-Man this morning. It wasn’t that Peter didn’t trust you. No, not at all, he trusted you with his entire life. You were his best friend, but Tony had advised him to keep his secret identity to a limited number of people in case it spread like wildfire. 

“Not really, why?” 

“Nothing, I just got into an argument with Spider-Man today.” You grumbled, looking in your blindspot to switch lanes, seeing Midtown was coming up on the left. 

“It won’t ever shock me how easily you can just casually mention superheroes.” Peter took your coffee and took a sip from it. His face scrunched up and he immediately gagged. “How much sugar did you put in this?!”

“It’s from Dunkin’! You know I always get three packs of sugar with my Dunkin’ coffee.” Peter shook his head as he handed it back to you before you both got out of the car. 

“And every time, I forget how disgustingly sugary your Dunkin’ order is.”

“It's not my fault you like your coffee black. You know, you have to be some psychopath to like straight-up black coffee.” 

“Sorry, you have the palette of a five-year-old.” You gasped at the comment and lightly pushed Peter away as you walked through the school doors.

“Whatever, I’ll see you later.” You playfully rolled your eyes with a small smile on your face before walking away to your first period. 

“See you!” Peter exclaimed, a smile forming on his face as he admired you from afar.

– – –

“I was team Jake because I had a thing for blondes, but then when he cheated on Miley, I was so heartbroken my dad had to watch me to make sure I didn’t throw up from crying so hard.” Ned and Peter listened to you intently as you rambled on about your favorite childhood show. MJ would look up from her book now and then to nod at you to show she was listening. 

“How were you not team Jesse right away? I mean, even I was head over heels for him,” Ned argued with you about the teen heartthrobs. 

“I don’t know, Jake was so charming to six-year-old me. I just couldn’t not fall in love with him. He was always so smooth with everything.”

“So, the opposite of Peter?” MJ raised an eyebrow and smirked while you let out a giggle. 

“Exactly.” You agreed with her while Peter’s mouth hung open. 

“Okay well, Miley didn’t even have to tell Jesse she was Hannah. He figured it out himself because he was so in love with her while Miley had to put the wig on in front of Jake.” Peter smugly said. You stared at him as he proudly smiled at himself.

“I thought you didn’t watch the show,” you mumbled and Peter’s cheeks flushed pink. 

“I mean, not really, but– okay fine,” Peter sighed knowing you had caught him in a lie. “I was the biggest Hannah Montana fan out there. I used to perform just like her in our living room.” The whole table burst into laughter and his entire face went red.

“Please tell me May has videos!” You said in between laughs and you heard your best friend grumble something. 

“Is that why there were purple Hannah Montana sheets in your linen closet?” Ned asked, wiping away tears. 

“It’s okay, Pete. My go-to karaoke song is ‘Best of Both Worlds.’” You smiled in an attempt to make him feel better. He gave you a tight lip smile, knowing no one would let him forget about this. “But, back to this Jake and Jesse discourse,” you circled the conversation back on track. “Would you say Jesse only found out because he was so insanely in love with her?” You watched as Peter thought about the question for a while. You couldn’t help but smile as you admired the way his brown curls fell on his head perfectly or how he bit his lower lip a little as he concentrated. 

“Yes, I believe so.” And that was all the information you needed. 

– – –

Peter walked into the living room of the compound, following the echoes of your laughter. He furrowed his eyebrows together when he saw you throwing a laughing fit over something on your phone. 

“Are you… okay?” Peter cautiously asked. You motioned for him to sit next to you on the couch, still laughing. 

“Look– look at what May sent me,” you managed to get out. Peter looked at your phone and saw a video of six-year-old him singing ‘I Got Nerve’ into a remote, dancing around the living room like he was a pop star. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled under his breath, horrified. He quickly grabbed your phone away and held it up as you protested against it. 

“No! Peter give it back!” You exclaimed climbing over him to take back your phone. 

“Nu-uh!” A playful smile formed on his lips when he switched which hand held the phone. You were both laughing and messing around until you lost your balance and he caught you under his arm, pulling you close to him so you wouldn’t fall off the couch. Your faces were inches apart and you were praying your face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

“Hi,” you whispered to him, staring into his big brown eyes.

“Hi,” he mumbled back, his eyes flickering down to your lips. His action didn’t go as unnoticed as he had hoped when you smirked back at him. It wasn’t uncommon for you two to be so close to each other, but the position you were in was definitely different than most times. You know, being quite literally on top of him and everything. 

“Can I have my phone back, please?” You batted your eyelashes at him. Peter gulped and nodded, not trusting anything that might come out of his mouth. You slowly got off on top of him and sat at the end of the couch and Peter tossed you your phone as you threw your legs over his lap. 

“Now delete the video,” Peter demanded. You were taken aback by his tone and couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I top him once and I don’t even get a thank you,” you jokingly said and he rolled his eyes. 

“Y/n, seriously.”

“Fine,” you grumbled and deleted the video against your will. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He smiled at you but the nickname took you by surprise. You furrowed your eyebrows together and looked at your best friend.

“Wait, why are you even here? I didn’t invite you over.” You realize Peter just appeared out of nowhere. 

“She tops me once and thinks she’s in control of me,” he jokes around and you lightly kick his leg. 

“You fucking wish, Parker.” You laughed at how red his face had turned while his eyes widened. 

“I- uh, I have that internship with your dad, remember?” He answered your question, ignoring the comment you made. You silently mouthed an ‘oh,’ completely forgetting about the internship.

“What do you even do for the internship? I’ve never seen you here doing anything else but hanging out with me.” You eyed your best friend suspiciously as he squirmed around avoiding your eye contact.

“I– uh, you know, I do… stuff.” He scratched the back of his neck, his eyebrows furrowing together once more. 

“What kind of… stuff?” You raised an eyebrow at him and could’ve sworn you heard him gulp. 

“I… repair their suits! Yeah, I do that,” Peter said almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“So why are you here today? No one has been on a mission in like a month.” Your suspicions were rapidly going up by the minute. Why would your best friend lie about what he does for your dad? Unless… No, that's crazy, you thought. 

“I was upgrading Spider-Man’s suit,” Peter’s face fell. Shit. Alarms were going off in his head, hoping you wouldn’t catch onto anything. But another part of him was hoping you would. He thought maybe he should just come clean. Right here, right now. He watched as you eyed him up and down, biting your lower lip. 

“Fun.” He sat there shocked. Fun? That was all you had to say? 

“Yeah, super fun.” He let out a sigh as he sat further back on the couch. You looked at him curiously, opening and closing your mouth like you had something to say. He looked at you, questioning your movements, but you just shook your head. “I should… probably get back to your dad.” He lifted your legs off his lap and you just nodded. 

“Yeah, don’t want to upset Tony Stark,” you scoffed and he smiled. 

“Maybe tomorrow after I’m done, we can watch a movie?” Peter suggested, but you had other plans. 

“Tomorrow’s Bachelor night,” you smirked and you could have sworn you saw Peter’s face light up.

“Oh, I don’t want to miss the girls fighting. Save me a seat next to you,” he winked and you felt your cheeks start to blush. “I’ll see you later.” Peter messed with your hair and kissed the top of it. You sat there in shock while he walked away, eyes wide and face red once he realized what he had done. 

– – –

“Mr. Stark, I don’t think I can keep it a secret from her any longer.” Peter stood next to his mentor as they worked on his suit together, the memory of him kissing your head replaying over and over again. Tony sighed and looked at Peter.

“If you want to tell her, kid, you can. No one’s stopping you.” He tilted his head to the side as he sighed again. His answer took Peter aback. 

“But you told me I shouldn’t tell her.” His mouth hung open, still shocked at Tony’s response. 

“I only said that in hopes of keeping my daughter safe.”

“But she’s constantly surrounded by other superheroes. And, no offense, but she’s your daughter.” Peter bluntly said and Tony let out a dry chuckle. 

“I know.”

“So, why did you tell me to keep it from her in the first place?” Peter looked around confused. 

“Because she’s already surrounded by enough heroes as it is.” Tony made it seem like it made total sense, but Peter just stood there stunned. 

“So?” He felt bad giving his mentor attitude, but he was so confused and lost at what to do and the responses he was receiving. 

“So,” Tony exaggerated. “If she’s seen with Spider-Man, she can, you know, attract danger.” 

“But she’s already seen with– I’m so confused, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s eyes pleaded for a clear response and Tony groaned. 

“Again, if she’s seen with Spider-Man, she can get hurt. I just want my precious daughter to be safe, is that too much to ask for?”

“But she’s always seen with you guys. I don’t understand.” Peter was so confused he thought his head was going to explode for feeling so dumb. 

“If she is seen with Spider-Man–” Tony tried to emphasize. 

“Yes, I get it, but–”

“Oh my God, do I have to spell it out for you? Kid, we all know you’ve been in love with Y/n ever since you met the girl!” Peter stood there dumbfounded. 

“What? I– no I am not– I mean no offense, but–” Peter’s words were all jumbled together as his cheeks flushed pink. 

“What’s Parker rambling on about now?” Steve asked as he walked through the doors of the lab. 

“Trying to convince me he’s not in love with my daughter,” Tony bluntly said, turning back to work on the suit. Steve burst into laughter and Peter’s face fell. 

“Oh, Parker, anyone can see that you’re head over heels for her from miles away.” Peter’s entire face had turned red from embarrassment. 

“Okay, so maybe I am—“

“And you are,” Tony mumbled. Peter shot him a look before continuing. 

“Why does that have to interfere with me being Spider-Man? She’s my best friend, I’m tired of lying to her all the time when she’s already a part of this sort of lifestyle!” Peter threw his hands up in frustration. 

“It’s up to you, Parker. But if Spider-Man is seen with any sort of love interest, criminals can take advantage of that. And it’s your responsibility to make sure my daughter gets home safe.” Tony pointed his finger into Peter’s chest. The kid gulped and nodded before returning their attention to his suit. 

— — —

“I’m home!” You yelled through the compound. Walking into the kitchen, you saw a familiar red suit rummaging through the fridge. “Hello, Spider-Man.” You announced. He whipped his head around, causing him to almost hit it on the door. 

“H-Hey, Y/n!” He scratched the back of his neck and you eyed him suspiciously. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. It’s Bachelor night, are you gonna watch with us?” You swirled your iced coffee in your hand before taking a sip. 

“Yeah!” Spider-Man responded. “I mean, uh, well. I will be watching it just not… here.” Peter looked around nervously under the mask, debating if he should just tell you his secret right now. But Tony’s words rang in his head about the danger it could put you in. He watched as you used the straw to mix your coffee even more and nodded to his words. 

“You should watch with us,” you suggested. “You can finally meet my best friend, Peter.” 

Peter almost collapsed when you suggested that his alter ego should stay for ‘family night.’ You had never hung out with Spider-Man that often, always running around to see other people outside of the compound. The fact that you were inviting him was almost out of character. 

“Only if I get to sit next to you, pretty girl,” Peter smirked under the mask getting caught up in the moment, watching you almost spit out your coffee. 

“Woah there, Spidey. You’re getting bold over there.”

“Can’t help myself when you’re probably the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever seen.” You couldn’t help but smile because you assumed who might be under the mask. Getting up from your seat, you walked over to the masked hero and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Maybe I can say the same about you if you just, I don’t know, take this little thing off.” You wrapped your fingers around the edge of the mask and could feel his heartbeat going crazy. Peter gulped as you continued to mess with the mask. It was harmless flirting, right? If he told you he was Spider-Man, it wouldn’t put you in too much danger because you two were just… friends. Right? 

“Is that coffee good?” Peter tried to change the topic, now feeling very strange watching you flirt with his alter ego instead of his true self. You removed your arms from him and grabbed your coffee, handing it to him. 

“Do you wanna try it? It’s good. Trust.” You reassured him. He grabbed the coffee from your hands and lifted his mask just right under his nose. 

As he swirled the straw around to mix the coffee around more, you couldn’t help but notice Spider-Man’s thin lips. How familiar they looked. He brought the straw up to his mouth and took a sip but immediately gagged. 

“Is this from Dunkin’?” He asked and you smirked. That was all the information you needed. 

— — — 

You knocked on Peter’s door. He had texted you earlier, saying he had something important to tell you and it couldn’t be over text or call. You had a feeling that he was finally going to tell you his secret. Peter swung the door open and smiled, cheeks turning pink. 

“Hi,” he breathlessly said. You weren’t quite sure why he was out of breath, but you just assumed it was nerves. 

“Hi,” you responded back. He let you into his apartment and you followed him to his room. You took in his room, smiling at his dorky Star Wars posters. Walking over to his desk, you noticed a picture of you and him. It was blurry and you were both laughing, your arms wrapped around his neck while his arms were around your waist. “This is new,” you told him, picking the picture up. 

“Oh! Yeah,” Peter’s face turned red but he walked up behind you to look at the picture, placing a hand loosely over your hip. “MJ took that picture from a few weeks ago. It’s my favorite.” He smiled down at you, taking in your features as you continued to stare at the frame. 

“It’s cute,” you turned around, your breath hitched seeing his face just inches from yours. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, those lips, and it reminded you of why you were here. You set the picture back down and walked away from Peter, already missing the warmth he brought you. Sitting down on his bed, you brought your legs up and he sat down next to you.

“So, I did have something to tell you,” his voice trailed off toward the end and you gave him your undivided attention. “God, this is sorta hard to say.” His hands messed with the end of his covers, shuffling something.

“You’re Spider-Man!” You blurted out. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped as you smacked your hand over your mouth, not expecting to say it so bluntly. 

“How did you–” 

“Peter, I’m not stupid. You don’t have to recreate the scene where Miley is holding up the Hannah wig to Jesse with your Spider-Man mask,” you gestured your hand to his that was still under the covers. He slowly lifted his hand to reveal the mask from the bed.

“Well, yes I am Spider-Man.” You smiled to yourself, proud that you figured it out by yourself. “But,”

“But?!” You interrupted him. He let out a dry chuckle and shook his head.

“But,” he continued. “That isn’t why I invited you over. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am so insanely happy you figured out this secret and I feel a weight lifted off my chest. You’re my best friend and–”

“Peter.”

“Yes?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He sheepishly smiled and looked at you. How your hair fell perfectly over your shoulder as you ran your hands through it, an anxious tic Peter found you do often. 

“I wanted to tell you that…” he spoke slowly as you hung onto every word that came out of his mouth, your heart about to explode from your chest. “I am in love with you.”

The room was silent. You could hear a pin drop. You stared at Peter in disbelief, your brain running a thousand miles an hour. 

“Y/n, please say something,” his voice was low, barely coming out as a whisper. 

“I…” you started, “I’m in love with you too.” His face broke out into the biggest smile you have ever seen and you mimicked him.

“Really?” 

“I mean, you said it yourself. Jesse was so in love with Miley that he knew he was Hannah before she even told him,” you smirked as Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Only you would bring up Hannah Montana in the middle of a moment like this,” his hand cupped the side of your face and you smiled sheepishly. 

“Only with you,” you closed the gap between the two of you. When you kissed, it truly was like fireworks were going off behind you. You smiled into the kiss, but the fireworks seemed to be getting louder– wait what?! “Do you hear that?” You pulled away from Peter, his eyes half closed. 

“Mm, no,” he leaned in again to kiss you, but you pushed him away. 

“Peter, my dad is blasting someone a few blocks away.” You saw out his window and he immediately jumped up. 

“I’m so sorry to leave right now but–”

“Go get ��em, Spidey.” You winked at him and he smiled. He put on his mask and took off his hoodie to reveal the suit.

“Will you be here when I get back?” He asked, his eyes pleading for an answer. 

“Is Hannah Montana one of the best Disney Channel shows?” Peter rolled his eyes. 

“On second thought, you can go home,” he was about to climb out the window before you pulled him back. 

“Yes, I will be here. You,” you poked his chest, “be safe.” You lifted his mask and kissed him one more time and Peter melted into the kiss. 

“I could get used to this,” he mumbled against your lips, but you pulled away making him frown. 

“Peter.” You said sternly. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” “Go help my dad, idiot."

“On it!” And with that, Peter swung away. This really was the life and he just had to hold on tight. 

[pathologicalreid]

If your down could u write an imagine where reader is new to the bau and Spencer is just coming back from jail and he makes reader nervous and when he notices he starts to mess with her nothing to wild but he teases her every now and again -🖤

drop | S.R.

in which reid seems to be there every time you drop something

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: fluff, lighthearted teasing, clumsiness, obliviousness, reader is mentioned to be shorter than 5'7" (sorry it just worked for the story)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey anon! thanks for requesting, i think i may have verged away from the request on accident. also this is the one i posted about earlier that had been deleted by word so i had to rewrite it and therefore it's not very thoroughly proofread. hope you enjoy.

It came as a shock, most people needed to apply to the BAU and even then, they spent years trying to get in. You had gotten a call four months ago and were told you were leaving IOD in the Hoover building and would be expected at the BAU the next morning.

Years ago, you had a run-in with Emily Prentiss while she was heading Interpol in London, but you didn’t think she remembered you – let alone wanted to work with you. She brought you on to the team to help catch Peter Lewis

Now, Peter Lewis was dead, and Spencer Reid had been exonerated. You thought your time with the team was done, but when Emily caught you packing up your things, she told you she had no intentions of sending you back to the International Operation Division.

So, you made yourself comfortable at your desk across from Luke’s, even adding a picture of your family, just to make it seem a little lived-in.

It was something you’d had drilled into your head by your father: if you’re not early, you’re late. That was the reason why you were usually the first to the BAU, only sometimes being beaten by Dr. Reid.

Penelope said he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact that he made you nervous. Not nervous in the sense that you were scared of him, but nervous in the way that he was something of a legend in the FBI.

Even more so since his recent release from prison.

You felt a sort of disconnect from the team when it came to them trying to get Reid out of prison, whenever Nadie Ramos came up in conversation, you picked up your files on Mr. Scratch and distracted yourself. Of course, you helped where you were needed, but you didn’t know him like they did.

This particular morning, you had beaten him to the office, taking your spot at your desk and flipping through a file you had abandoned in the name of sleep last night. A slight crash made you jump so badly that you fumbled with the papers in an attempt to not drop them. You looked up to see Spencer had dropped his bag on his desk, “Good morning, Y/N.” He greeted you.

Blankly, you stare at him for a moment before giving him a half smile. “Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you responded.

“I told you that you could just call me Reid, or Spencer,” he said, sitting down at his own desk.

Nodding, you found yourself interested in your coffee cup. “Yes, you did,” you took a deep breath. “Good morning, Spencer,” you tried again, offering him a fuller smile.

That seemed to appease him for now because he flipped open his own files and started inspecting them.

As you were preparing for the 10 o’clock debrief, you found yourself in the office kitchenette, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot that had been brewed an indeterminate number of minutes ago. Vaguely aware of the person standing behind you, you turned around to find Spencer, holding his own mug in both hands. “Oh! Hey,” you said, mentally smacking the palm of your hand to your forehead.

You moved out of the way as you added cream to your mug, watching as Spencer poured his coffee and followed it up with an almost equal amount of sugar. As you were about to make your way to the round table room, Spencer spoke, “You know, before 1975 you wouldn’t even have been able to be an FBI agent.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Before 1975 people shorter than 5’7” couldn’t be FBI agents,” He responded plainly, but there was a bit of mischief in his eyes.

You looked at him curiously, warmth flooding your cheeks. You stammered something about being late and rushed to the roundtable room, taking your usual spot next to Luke, and watching what Garcia presented to you—pretending not to notice Spencer across the table from you.

The BAU had been asked to consult on a case, but there were no precincts that had asked the team to make a trip to them. You had finished the paperwork on a recently closed case and got up to bring it to Emily, stuffing the papers in a file folder, you turned around and ran into Spencer. “Sorry!” You squeaked out, dropping to the floor to pick up the papers. To your surprise, he crouched down next to you and helped to pick up the papers. “Oh, jeez, now they’re all out of order,” you moped, setting the papers back down on your desk.

“It was my fault,” Spencer said. The honesty in his voice made your shoulders slouch.

Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s okay, Spencer. They’re just papers.”

He looked at you like there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t, he just turned from your desk and walked out of the bullpen, leaving you staring.

When you finally brought your papers to Emily, she asked you to close the door behind you. Patiently, you stood in her office while she added your file to the menacing pile she kept on her desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing. With the BAU, I mean,” she told you, leaning over her desk.

“Good, I think. I’ve gotten very few complaints so far,” you told her, unable to help the uneasiness you felt. Had someone said something?

Emily nodded, her dark hair shining with the movement, “Good, I haven’t heard anything negative about you at all. Which is actually uncommon for the BAU.”

You let the rest of the day pass, but as the team trickled out of the bullpen, only you, Emily, and Spencer were left.

At the sound of rustling, you looked over to see that Spencer was packing up his things and putting them into his familiar leather bag. Resting your cheek on your hand, you went back to your case file, marking thoughts in the margins.

Jumping when something hit your desk, making the metal rattle, you dropped your pen on the ground. Peering up to see Spencer giving you a lopsided smile before he bent down to pick up your pen, “Hey, at least you didn’t drop a bunch of papers again.”

You flushed as your eyes followed him out the glass doors of the BAU, turning around to see Emily watching on, leaning on the railing outside her office, looking between you and Spencer as if she knew something you didn’t.

[keisobe]

little bit of self-indulgence but may i request college au! miguel (you can make him a professor, fellow student up to you) tutoring reader with a bit of suggestive content ;)

☆ﾟ°˖ 𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚) ⋮ heavily suggestive (borderline smut). professor + student relationship. not completely proofread. ⎯ miguel cannot keep his hands off his favorite student

professor miguel had a major soft spot for you. yes, a very unethical practice as he was your superior, but he couldn’t help himself. your sickly soothing voice calling him ‘sir’ or even ‘mr. o’hara’ would play in the back of his mind while he prepped for his next lab. the permanent eye contact he would hold with you during his long lectures left him flustered throughout the whole day. he would even give small compliments here and there about your work— a rare thing anybody could ever receive.

he even personally recommended you to the most prestigious internship in alchemax (as a previous senior engineer that worked for the company itself, call it nepotism). boasting about your skills and intellect with lustrous eyes until he catches himself mid sentence. putting aside his thought process, miguel chugged down his hot coffee and held it in— even if it did burn the entirety of his mouth cavity. he spat it out in the nearest bathroom afterwards.

he cannot feel like this, especially for his student.

but when you graced your presence in his empty office, asking sweetly for tutoring lessons over the summer— he immediately gave in.

now he found himself looming over your smaller frame, gazing down at your hands, fiddling with the steel pen he personally gifted to you when you were accepted into the internship (though he never told you how you even got in). the air felt off without other students bustling in and out of his lab, occupying the other seats as they asked their professor’s personal insight. it was just you and him, alone.

“something wrong?” miguel, usually stern with his voice, softly asks you when he notices the furrow in your brows.

upon his concern, the conflicted look on your face melted into a cheeky smile. miguel couldn’t help but feel relieved that he didn’t upset you when he was carefully dissecting the notes and research you asked help on. but what surprised him was your next statement.

“we’re finally alone, it’s weird to think that, right?”

if he was drinking coffee right now, he would’ve spat it out from utter shock. there were thoughts, very inappropriate thoughts that crossed his mind when he thought about this predicament. yes you’re right, nobody else was here, not even his coworkers that would rudely interrupt him when he graded assignments (ahem peter) can catch the both of you.

“yeah… you’re right.”

he left it at that, but his eyes fell down to your mouth— the pretty gloss adorning your lips left miguel thinking about your body being propped between his legs, the fly of his slacks down as the softness of your hands tracing around his exposed skin.

“mr. o’hara, are you okay?” you leaned closer to miguel with fluttering lashes, tilting your head to the side with a small smile.

your feigned innocence drove him crazy, to the point he was clawing at the arms of his chair. he was completely restrained, bound by his title, bound by his position— it was slipping away from his grasp and into your pretty hands. shit, all this self-discipline and you weren’t even touching him.

at the end, miguel really couldn’t help himself.

“fuck– i can’t— please come here.” miguel initially planned for a more intimate tone, but he was completely desperate.

immediately, you stood from your seat and walked over to his side of the desk that created a barrier between the two of you for the last three hours. before you had the chance to situate yourself between his legs, his rough hands met you halfway as he held your waist— pressing you down abruptly onto the cold surface that elicited a sharp screech from one of the legs of his desk. with your face and chest pinned down, miguel had a perfect display of your frame.

you felt a warm press against your ass, his death grip guiding your hips onto his erection while he let out a strangled groan from the contact. you began to take control of your own hips, grinding down onto his hardness as miguel slowly came more and more undone. beads of sweat dripped onto the notes splayed across the desk, accompanied with his deep-throated groans that he failed to suppress in his throat.

suddenly, his weight came crashing down onto you, but his hips still sputtered against you. miguel was burning; his skin heated with lust and his sweaty palms continued to grope and pinch and squeeze and take and take all of you in his touch.

“please sir…” you whimpered out, looking into his intense gaze with anticipation.

miguel’s breath fanned your cheeks as he threaded a comforting hand through your hair, then immediately, he gripped your scalp tightly that left your vision blurry with tears. his other hand sneakily reaches between the plushness of your thighs, dragging sharp nails along your untainted skin.

“miguel…” he mumbled with a heavy pant, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor as his ironed pressed slacks pooled around his ankles. “call me miguel for tonight.”

MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.

[castielsprostate]

uhm anyway this is my official script outline proposal for venom vs spiderfriend / spiderman 4 / venom 4 !

cockroach!venom is travelling to new york all by himself (the the barman is there too because it's just really funny) while we follow eddie having thee worst day he's ever had. he stubs his toe getting out of bed in the morning, his coffee order is wrong and spills on his shirt, he drops his laptop on the concrete, he loses every lead he had on an investigation, a bird shits on his shoulder, it starts to rain and he doesn't have an umbrella, he gets hit by a street puddle a cab drives through, a fling he's "trying" breaks everything off over text message (gender ambiguous), and then when he's crossing the street he gets fucking BODIED by a truck. he gets rushed to the hospital, barely alive, major trauma, broken bones, brain bleed, cardiac arrest, and before he goes he says, "see you soon, buddy," whilst clutching his lady liberty keychain in his hands

cut to spiderman, doing spideythings on earth 616, swinging through the city of new york,

meanwhile, cock!venom is vroaching it up on the other side of the city, going from alley to alley, dodging cars and pedestrians, barely evading death, looking into windows searching for something, making tiny, whiny little alien sounds. he finds a tasty little treat (rat brains) in between and as he's about to munch spiderman's ass squashes him from falling through a marvel sparkles universe hole. venom attaches himself to spiderman and they are an absolute hate at first sight. by GOD does venom hate peter and does peter try to get rid of venom any and all opportunities! "YOU" "what me?" "YOU ARE THE RED BLUE MAN FROM TV" "well... yeah? i'm spiderman? can you get out of my body please??" venom does not, in fact, get out of his body, but they fight some alley bad guys, one calls spiderman an "uptight fruity" and venom goes ballistic. they fight together, badly, because neither of them is strong enough to control the other and then they fight each other before realising it's pointless. venom ends saying "don't let guys like that get you down, bug, sing your own song, dance to your own beat, it's what we do" to peter when they're done fighting and peter just goes ???

eddie is still dying in the hospital, medically induced coma, anne arrives with dan, they mourn him, getting told there's no chance of survival anymore. they're keeping him alive for mrs chen to say her goodbyes, and unhooking his life support in two days. capcut dream montage where he's raising a family together with venom, eddie says, "this is a life i like better,". that's normal behaviour

spideyvenom is being followed by some woodchippers, venom explains NOTHING to the spider man because they doesn't like the spider man. they have a day where they try to find out whats going on, barely working together, but good enough to find out some information. they have an alleycat fight and venom reveals that he's looking for someone "special to us" after coming all the way from nevada, and peter goes "ah.. mr venom, she must be important to you for you to travel all this way, huh?" "yes, insect... he is important to us" and spiderman goes O.O and then tries to help but no one's heard of an "eddie brock". the city, in the meantime, becomes jittery and weird, and something big is coming. something big and wrong. they go on a venom bender and meet the barman in an underground (gay) club in nyc and have a fun (for venom. terrible for spidey and the barman) night out

eddie is dying, slowly, in the hospital, unresponsive to everyone and everything. mrs chen says a tearful goodbye, leaving a bar of chocolate on his bedside table, anne stays with eddie whilst dan goes with mrs chen to get some food. she holds his hand, cries, maybe. she says, through tears,"i wish he could've protected you longer"

spideyvenom are doing what they can to protect people (venom eats a few of them), swinging through the city when more marvel sparkles appear. by god. that's a lot of fucking marvel sparkles. that's. that's too many marvel sparkles. the sky opens up, there really isn't a lot of time left, the something big, something wrong is here.

swinging through new york, spideyman is listing off everything that's going very, very wrong, trying to evacuate as many people, when venom spots eddie, barely, through a top floor hospital window. in reality he actually spots anne, throwing everything on a hail mary, and decides to crash them into the hospital window. anne ducks to protect eddie, spiderman takes off his mask in anger, "mr venom what the hell??? we HAVE to go, NOW,". venom rejects himself from spiderman, launching him out of the window, and jumping onto eddie, trying to be absorbed, "eddie?... eddie... eddie.. eddie. eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie eddie!! eddie!!! eddie!!!! eddie!!!!! eddie!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!! eddie!!!!!!!!!!!!! EDDIE!!!!!!!!!!!!,"

venom goes to anne, looking at eddie, "why isn't our other waking up? what is wrong with our eddie, anne?". "venom, i'm so sorry."

so venom, without thinking, without any hold back, makes anne perform cpr, just enough to flow into eddie. just. barely. enough. and he brings eddie back again, slamming him back into life, waking up another codex in the process, but he doesn't care. because their eddie is back, and eddie is waking up.

eddie says, whilst reaching up to his chest, "hey buddy, i just had the-," "weirdest dream, eddie,"

silence, for a moment, the camera is only focused on them sitting in eddie's glass covered hospital bed before,

"am i dead? are we dead? is this it?" "no, eddie, we are alive," and eddie presses their foreheads together, gently, with no urgency. just relief. eddie gripping the back of venom's goop, entangling his fingers, wanting to feel venom engulf him again. the moment is cut short by spiderman jumping through ANOTHER window "what in the hell are you doing mr. venom??? we have to clear the city, now, we don't have any time for this"

freaked out, a little soggy, eddie says, "venom, that's th-the-the peter guy from tv from the the purple man universe" "yes eddie, we do not like him," "why is the peter guy from tv in here, why does he know who we are,"

spiderman goes ???, eddie braces himself for a fight, gripping venom tighter, he isn't going to lose him again so soon, "listen sweetie, we aren't going anywhere," whilst gesturing to him and venom, "what is going on here?"

something rumbles the ground, anne yelps, spiderman is up and out another window, "no time, gotta swing, we need to evacuate the city,"

eddie is up, getting anne to safety, she says "don't let him go, venom," before venom is filling him in on everything that happened and being shot into battle in his hospital gown. they full body, venom seeps into every part of eddie, impossibly further than any time before, and eddie lets him in

"we have a new tattoo, eddie?" "got it a while back, it's the," "codex?" "codex,"

they save a few people on their way down, venom eats a few bad guys, "you got a new tattoo, too, huh bud?" "it looks cool on us" they find spiderman and, despite their mutual dislike, team up and [epic battle here]. cool co-ops with veddie launching spiderman, spiderman webbing bad guys like a little burrito for venom to eat, eddie does a few kickflips and gets launched by spiderman to get some up-top threats. and the threat isn't clear, it's not knull, it's not more xenophages, it's something neither of them has seen before, and it just keeps coming... until the sky clears up in an instant. like it was snapped away, and spiderman is marvel sparkled back before any of them know what's happening, "mr venom??" "insect! see you never"

half of the city is destroyed (in true marvel hero style), venom and eddie have to get out of there quickly before anyone gets a too good look.

the final scene of venom and eddie is them sitting in central park, debris magically cleaned up, venom safely tucked in eddie's shirt saying some venom-y nonsense and alien purring, two new chickens who they named roan and gaga pecking away by their feet, looking off into the sunset. eddie whispers, "but i like any life with us best," and venom intertwines their hands

spiderman gets marvelsparkled back into the mcu, having the wildest story to tell, and having so so so many questions, with having none answered because it's Doom's Day.

[greensagephase]

Nonviolent Communication - Part 19

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: It's time. Word Count: 9.6k Warnings: angst; Miguel crying; mention of injuries; mention of death; mention of someone sacrificing their life; use of sedatives; Nonviolent Communication? More like Nonviolent [lack of] Communication Music (Spotify playlist): "Present" - Lloyd Vaan "Fade Into You" - Vitamin String Quartet "That Home" - The Cinematic Orchestra Masterlist A/N: Another update so soon? It's a Christmas miracle in October!

Part 19

Miguel tenderly gazes at you from his hammock, his pinky finger wrapped around yours. He feels a gentle breeze rustling his hair, a contrast to the warmth emitted from your hand near his. He can hear music and conversation taking place from afar, but none of that matters.

Miguel is so at peace right now, he even forgets that next week you’ll likely be moving out of the penthouse.

He simply focuses on the now, on this moment of tranquility with you.

Gazing at you, Miguel can’t help but think about how he’ll remember this weekend forever, even when he’s seventy. He’ll gaze at the moon and be reminded of tonight, how you’re sharing a thermos with freshly brewed coffee and holding each other’s pinky fingers under the moonlight. He’ll recall your whispered question about the children you were meant to have, but didn’t, and the way his answer seemed to satisfied your thoughts. He’ll remember the way you subtly lowered your arm, trying to play it off as nothing, and how he knew what you hoped, maybe even longed for: his touch.

His crimson eyes shining like rubies in the night gaze up at you one moment and the next they’re closed.

His eyes move rapidly under his eyelids, confused.

He opens them, but his vision is a blur. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with an ache all over his body, as if he hasn’t moved in days. Miguel repeatedly blinks, his mind trying to figure out what’s going on. He succeeds in clearing his vision, but the confusion remains.

Miguel was at the beach with you just now, hanging on a hammock below yours and holding your pinky finger, but now he’s here.

At an infirmary room.

Alone.

Miguel feels frozen for a second before he looks down at himself, finding his body clad in a hospital gown and laying on the bed. His confusion grows tenfold. Dread spreads throughout Miguel’s chest while he searches the empty and cold room he was in last year.

Why is he here? He was just on the hammock, his pinky finger wrapped around yours.

Where are you?

That thought has Miguel instantly sitting up despite the pain shooting through his body. His eyes search for you, for any sign of you in this room. He looks at the floor, the tables, and the uncomfortable chair you slept on last year pressed to the wall a few feet away. It’s empty, no sign of a pillow or blanket on it. He looks around once more, wondering where your duffel bag is at. It should be here somewhere, right?

Yet, Miguel finds nothing. No trace of you.

Where are you?

Where did you go?

The dread in his chest intensifies with every second, his mind a mess with thoughts. His heart rate shoots up, triggering an alarm that has the infirmary staff rushing through the door. In seconds, a doctor and nurses are at his side, trying to assess what’s wrong. They find the usual distant and stoic boss under distress.

“Why am I here? How did I get here? I was somewhere else,” Miguel says while they check the monitors, his voice filled with stress. “I was at the beach just now — with Dulzura. Where’s Dulzura at? Y/N?” he asks. “Where is she?”

“Sir, you need to calm down. Everything is okay,” the doctor replies in a calmly manner that only seems to frustrate Miguel even more.

“Where is she? Why isn’t she here?” Miguel continues to ask.

“We’re going to call Mrs. Jess and Mr. Peter B., alright?” the doctor replies, giving a subtle nod to a nurse on the other side of the bed.

“I’m not asking for either Jess or Peter. I’m asking you for Y/N. Just tell me where she is!” Miguel says, his voice rising out of frustration. All he wishes to know is that you’re here somewhere, somewhere close to him so the dread in his heart can cease.

Yet, the staff refuses to answer his questions and instead, fill his bloodstream with a drug.

“¿Dónde está? [Where is she?]” Miguel says softly, the sedative doing its job. “I was at the beach. I was with her,” he adds. “Dulzura?” he whispers, eyes fluttering. “Por favor, Dulzura… [Please]” he continues, his vision becoming blurry once more. “Stay…”

♡

When Miguel wakes up again, he detects voices in the room. For a few seconds, they sound far, far away.

He groans when he begins to feel the body ache all over again, still there. “Dulzura,” he says, voice hoarse.

“Miguel - it’s alright. We’re here,” a voice says.

“You’re going to be okay, pal,” another one adds.

“Where’s Dulzura?” Miguel manages to say, his eyes struggling to open. “Where is she?”

“Who’s Dulzura?” the second voice asks.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” the first voice says. “He never called Gabriella that.”

“Then, who… is he calling for?” the second voice questions.

“God knows what’s going on in his mind right now,” the first voice replies. “Look, his eyes are fluttering. Miguel? Can you hear us?”

At last, Miguel opens his eyes, groaning. He looks around, his vision blurry for a few seconds before they focus on the faces near him.

Jess and Peter.

“What - what happened?” Miguel asks, searching for you once more. He tries to spot your favorite blanket, the one you had over your legs just yesterday while reading a book in front of the fireplace at the bungalow, but he can’t find it. Your sweatshirt is nowhere in sight, too. There’s not even a hint of your scent in the air, as if you haven’t been here in days.

“You’ve been out for a few days, pal,” Peter says gently, eyebrows furrowed. “You took a lot during the fight trying to help Miles save his dad. By the way, he’s safe. They both are. And, we defeated the Spot, too.”

“Wh-what?” Miguel whispers, his mouth feeling dry. This makes no sense.

Jess sighs, giving Peter a look before turning to face him again. “We’ll explain everything, okay? But you need to remain calm.” With that, Jess tells Miguel everything. Peter listens, adding a few details here and there when necessary.

Miguel listens, his heart sinking and sinking with every word. His chest is filled with such a heaviness, he feels that if he was standing, he’d surely drop to the ground due to the weight.

How could it be? None of what Jess and Peter are saying makes sense, but according to them, Miguel has been at the infirmary for days after Miles and him, along with half of the Spider Society, worked together to save Mr. Morales and stop the Spot from unleashing chaos on the multiverse.

Miguel didn’t go unscathed, however. He was seriously hurt during the encounter, putting his life at risk for the sake of the multiverse and Mr. Morales’s life.

He thought it was only fair — even just — after being incorrect about the canon event theory. So, Miguel went into the fight ready to sacrifice his life. He had nothing else to give, nothing else to lose.

He was ready to lose his life.

And he almost did.

Apparently, Miguel did in fact die for a few minutes, but the infirmary team resuscitated him. Due to the shock and trauma his body received during the fight, it’s taken several days for Miguel to wake up.

“We’re glad to have you back, pal,” Peter says, donning that pink robe he’s been wearing since Mayday was born, but Miguel can’t force himself to care about anything right now.

He doesn’t care about what everyone has been doing around HQ over the last few days when Jess fills him in. He doesn’t care that everything is running smoothly. He doesn’t care about anything at all.

Both Jess and Peter watch him, giving each other subtle looks, though they’re sure Miguel wouldn’t even notice them if they were obvious ones to begin with. Miguel is distant, more than ever. His body may be here in front of them, but his mind is elsewhere. Far, far, far away.

They have no idea of the immense longing and pain the leader is under while he stares at the windows with the same sentences echoing in his mind over and over again.

It was all a dream.

You were just a dream.

You don’t exist.

Miguel was hurt badly, so much to the point he died for a few minutes, but that doesn’t affect his intelligence to figure it out. He dreamed of a life after the events with the Spot — a total of two years with you at his side.

He tries to swallow the knot in his throat while Jess and Peter converse, not knowing what they’re talking about. He tries to focus on the conversation, tries to pretend to be okay, but there’s a horrible, heavy feeling that grows and grows in his chest with every second, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

He puts on a facade.

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

He’s okay.

Miguel repeats the sentence, trying to make himself believe the biggest lie he’s ever told himself.

He keeps himself at bay, but he’s like a weak dam that finally crumbles when Jess and Peter leave.

It’s only in his solitude, in this horrible loneliness, within his cold and empty infirmary room, that Miguel’s chest heaves dramatically. His breathing speeds up, his chest heavy like lead.

His beautiful crimson eyes swell with tears, his vision becoming blurry once again. The knot in his throat never left, just temporarily paused. He feels it grow in this horrible and cold loneliness. It hurts. The knot in his throat hurts so much, giving him a burning and sharp barbed wire-like feeling. The thought that actual barbed wire pressed to his skin would hurt less crosses his mind before the devastating reality weighs down on him.

Miguel presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, sobbing his gentle heart out.

It has to be a nightmare. It has to be.

His lips tremble before a cry escapes from within.

How was he just there with you? Holding your pinky finger in his, in perfect solitude on the beach?

Miguel can almost taste the coffee you made just to enjoy on the hammocks. He cries at that, at how much you love coffee and the way your eyes seem to twinkle when he says he’ll make café de olla [coffee pot] just for you.

“God — “ Miguel says through his sobbing, his face tear-stained. “Please, please wake me up. I’ll do anything. Just wake me up from this dream — I beg you.”

But Miguel doesn’t wake up.

This is his life and you’re not here.

There’s no you.

You don’t exist.

Miguel cries and cries, until those crimson eyes can’t cry anymore.

He spends the rest of the day mourning and longing for you, the bitter truth crashing over him like rogue waves. He’s longing for someone he’s never met, someone he’s not sure exists, not even out there in the multiverse.

♡

Despite doctor’s orders, Miguel is back in the lab the next day. He stands on his platform, crimson eyes scanning over his screens. His platform is elevated all the way to the ceiling, where Miguel wishes to be alone and undisturbed. He wants to forget, but he cannot.

The lab’s counters are unorganized, parts and tools scattered about.

No one will volunteer to help organize them every week, Miguel knows that now. There’s no quiet conversation between you and Lyla, who asks questions about your comfort food or plans for the weekend.

There’s no hidden Mexican candy in the cabinets for you to eat. There’s no hidden scarf in his drawers with your scent interwoven within its fibers.

Miguel freezes.

Your scent.

Your soft breathing when you sleep.

Your voice.

He slumps over his platform at the realization, wincing at his wounds from the movement. He can smell it, somehow, even now. There’s no trace of it anywhere, but he can remember it and God, he holds on to it, desperately, like a man half dead clinging to life.

Miguel hears your soft breathing and voice then, plays it his head. He prays to God and every saint he knows he never forgets either sounds.

“Mierda [shit],” Miguel murmurs, a slight tremor in his voice. “¿Donde estás? [where are you?]” He wonders, his chest tightening the same way it does every time he thinks of Gabriella and his brother, Gabriel.

And he knows… He is mourning you just the same despite being made up.

“Dulzura,” Miguel whispers, eyes closed as he remains slumped over his platform. Images of you flash in his mind like a movie.

The time he found you sick in your apartment, passed out and in pain. He made pasta for you and cleaned up your space a bit, even fixed the cabinets of your kitchen.

The night of Día de los Muertos [Day of the Dead] while you looked at his ofrenda [altar], the lit candles which gave your face a gentle glow.

Miguel recalls the times you brought him lunch and coffee cups too small to actually do much to his body, but him accepting them nonetheless after months of your offerings.

He remembers the Christmas Eve when you showed up with food, looking nervous because you were in his penthouse for the first time. He remembers your look of surprise seeing him dressed in normal clothes for once.

All these images flash in his mind, all the way to lunches on rooftops and sleeping on his living room floor to putting together that puzzle of two butterflies in a meadow during the beach trip.

“Miguel?” Lyla speaks suddenly. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No,” Miguel replies, straightening up. His voice is weak with a hint of harshness as an attempt to hide his true feelings. “I’m fine.”

He repeats that to himself.

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

He pushes through the first half of the day, his mind and heart a mess.

Even as the days go by and turn into weeks since the situation with Miles, Miguel feels lost.

One morning after showering at the penthouse, he stands in the halfway to the bedrooms. He knows better than to, but he pushes the door open to Gabriel’s old room. Of course, it’s the same as it’s always been since his brother’s death.

Somewhere in his long and intricate dream, you stayed here in this room after a fire on your building. You made it yours with a lot of hesitance, your idea being that you didn’t want to be a ‘burden’ to him.

Miguel recalls telling you to stop thinking that. You could never be a burden to him.

But now you are, only because he must carry on living with the mere imagination of your existence in his life.

♡

Miguel’s stomach grumbles while he works. He’s tempted to ignore the hunger and keep working to avoid his thoughts, but then he remembers that you would’ve disapproved of that behavior. An image of you frowning in disapproval flashes in his mind. Even though it’s just an image and he now knows he somehow made you up, he still can’t find it in himself to be the reason for a frown on your face, real or not real.

He engages the platform to lower it, deciding to go to the cafeteria. He stares at the ground, arms at his sides, a feeling of defeat filling him.

In that moment, Miguel wishes he would’ve never woken up.

Miguel sighs heavily in desperation and sorrow. He covers his face with both hands. He would’ve blissfully stayed in that dream, where things were great with his best friend. He swallows the knot in his throat now, the feeling all too familiar, for Miguel has cried every day since he woke up.

Miguel clears his throat and wipes the beginning of his tears away before dragging himself out of the lab, even though all he wants to do is stay in that dark and empty space — alone. He doesn’t want to look at the spider members, who’ll probably continue to stare hoping for something from him after everything that happened with Miles.

His mind hasn’t even wrapped itself around that situation and how everything he’s worked for has turned out to be wrong. Then, there’s the loss of Gabby, his sweet little Gabriella.

And of course, there’s the loss of someone he’s never met.

You.

He should’ve never woken up.

Miguel walks out into a hallway, a few spider members greeting his sight. He avoids their eyes, unable to meet their gazes. His steps feel heavy as he walks down one of the many hallways of their base, memories of him and you walking together flashing through his mind.

You’re everywhere.

And yet, you’re not.

Miguel almost turns around and heads back to the lab, even if it means not eating. How is he going to manage to walk past the conference rooms where you both spent time together each week, talking over coffee before meetings started? He doesn’t want to gaze inside because he knows only the ghost of you on your unassigned assigned chair next to his will greet him back.

He makes it past them, but only because he keeps his gaze down.

Somewhere, he hears a door open and a new set of footsteps join him. He doesn’t have it in himself to look up, even though the footsteps sound familiar in the midst of his internal turmoil. He hears a gizmo go off, probably the other person’s. He looks up, only by instinct, and freezes as his eyes capture the smallest glimpse of someone’s suit as they turn a corner.

It’s the smallest, shortest glimpse, but it’s there.

The colors of your suit.

His breath gets caught in his throat and before Miguel knows it, he’s walking faster. He turns and enters another hallway, missing the individual once again as they turn the corner. However, this time, his gaze is much more focused, so he’s able to spot not only the colors, but also part of the design of the suit for a fragment of a second, causing his heart to race.

His steps are determined as he continues to walk, following the person’s tracks. He can’t help but feel like he’s chasing his lifeline, feeling more alive than he has in weeks.

He must be going crazy, Miguel thinks.

It’s foolish and yet, Miguel follows.

He enters the cafeteria, met with a buzz from spider members having lunch. He looks around as they walk in front of him, blocking his way. He wishes he could silence them for a second as his gaze searches for you in the midst of the crowd. He spots the colors of your suit again, straight ahead, and follows, ready to push anyone if he must.

Miguel sighs in frustration as he pushes past a group, keeping his eyes in the same spot as to not miss the individual.

“Miguel-” someone says.

“Not now,” he replies as he keeps walking, not even sparing a glance.

At last, there’s the individual. Their back is to him but there’s your suit. Identical.

“No puede ser [it can’t be],” Miguel breathes out as he keeps walking, not sure what he’s even doing. All he knows is that there you are, or at least it seems so and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t talk to you, his best friend.

His steps slow down as Jess steps into view, facing him. She says something to you just as her eyes find Miguel. He watches as she gives him a nod and says something else to you, or at least he thinks it’s you.

With his heart racing, Miguel keeps approaching.

“Miguel,” Jess says, acknowledging him verbally. “I’m glad to see you. I was about to go and look for you to introduce someone to you — someone I think would be a great asset.”

He doesn’t say anything as he comes to a halt, just five feet away from you, your back to him still. As if in slow motion, he watches you turn around and there.

Your face meets Miguel’s eyes, your reflection finding a home in them.

There you are.

You are real.

You exist.

Miguel stares at you, his heart racing. He feels his breathing pick up but this time out of gratitude, happiness, and so much more. You’re here. You’re real.

You look at him with those eyes he knows so well, but there’s no recognition in them. You don’t recognize him at all.

“This is Y/N,” Jess starts.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you say with a nod, not even offering your hand. “I’d shake your hand, but Jess has told me you…” you trail off.

“I’ve informed her,” Jess says, referring to no physical touch.

Miguel stares at you, his heart in pain. You’ve called him ‘sir’ instead of by his name or the nickname you gave him, Migs.

He lifts a hand, his pinky finger out, hoping you know.

You blink at the sight, an expression of confusion on your face when you see the gesture. You glance at Jess, hoping for an explanation.

Miguel gulps. “You don’t - You don’t remember… You don’t know me?”

“Sir…” you say gently, confused.

“Dulzura,” Miguel says, looking at you. “You really don’t remember me?”

“Miguel — what are you doing?” Jess asks, confused and alarmed.

“You don’t remember when I found you sick at your apartment?” he asks. “All the times I made you café de olla? You don’t remember the night we said we had each other. Always?”

“I don’t know what - Jess what’s going on?” you ask, turning to her.

“Dulzura, please,” Miguel says. “I’m begging you. I can’t bear this anymore,” he continues, feeling like he could die right now.

“Miguel, you need to calm down, okay? Please, get something to eat and rest. You’ve been working too much,” Jess says. “You’re scaring the recruit.”

“She’s not just a recruit. This is Dulzura,” Miguel says, frustrated. “She’s my best friend,” he adds, hoping you will remember, but no matter what he says, neither you nor Jess believe him.

“Dulzura, please. Please tell me you remember,” Miguel whispers, tears swelling in his eyes. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve thought of you every day since I woke up, please. It’s been weeks since I woke up in that empty infirmary room, searching for you. We went to the beach because you invited me, remember? We bought groceries the day before, went shopping together. We made red chilaquiles [Mexican dish] that first morning we spent there and some of our friends showed up. We went for walks and I gave you a seashell. Don’t you remember?” Miguel asks in distress, noticing the lack of recognition on your face. “We put together a puzzle and talked about parenthood. You made me realize I’m open to the idea of one day experiencing that and romantic love, even if I’ve accepted I might not get to. Please, Dulzura! Please, please, please! How do you not remember? Dulzura, Dulzura, Dulzura…” Miguel repeats, brokenhearted and crying.

Miguel sits up in bed.

He gasps for air, chest heaving in the night. There’s tears streaming down his face and he feels sweaty as he looks around.

“Dulzura,” Miguel whispers, and at the thought of you, the bed covers go flying. He's on his feet in a second, walking barefoot towards the hallway.

Please, please, please… Miguel thinks as he walks past the door frame. He's barely taken three steps when he runs into something.

Someone.

“Miguel?” your sleepy voice breaks the silence of the penthouse, gently killing that dread in Miguel's chest and replacing it with a calmness — alleviating his soul.

“Dulzura,” Miguel breathes out, before turning the light on in the hallway. He needs to make sure you're really here, that you’re not a figment of his imagination. Relief washes over him when the sight of you in your pajamas, looking sleepily at him, greets him. He instinctively steps closer.

“Migs?” you ask softly. “What's wrong? I heard you calling for me. Are you alright?” You search his body and face for signs of injury, but find none.

Miguel raises his hands, that relief taking over along with the need to touch you, to feel your body to fully confirm you’re in the flesh. He moves them closer until they're near your face, in a cupping form. His hands tremble.

“Migs?” you whisper, noticing his trembling hands, a sight that breaks your heart, and their proximity to your face along with how they seem to be ready to cup your cheeks. “Did you have a nightmare?” you ask gently.

Miguel nods. “One of the worst nightmares of my life,” he answers, his hands growing closer.

You watch intently, sleep fading away quickly due to Miguel’s trembling hands and the fact that he seems to be seeking physical contact.

And Miguel would’ve, if only Lyla hadn’t popped up out of nowhere.

“What’s going on?” she asks, looking around. “Oh, you’re awake?”

Miguel’s hands drop to his sides, realizing what he was going to do.

“I - what?” you ask, confused by the entire moment. Miguel was just about to cup your face and now you’re left here in the hallway with Lyla floating between you.

“What’s wrong, Lyla?” Miguel asks quietly.

“Your gizmo detected you talking while the recording you always play at night was active. It’s past three in the morning. It made no sense for you to be talking at this hour if you have the recording playing, so I figured you were having a nightmare, but I see you’re actually awake and talking with Y/N, so,” Lyla explains.

“It’s alright,” Miguel forces himself to say. “Everything is okay.”

Looking between Miguel and you, as if trying to make sure it’s true, Lyla nods. “Alright, have a good night, you two!” With that, Lyla disappears just as fast she appeared.

You blink softly and turn to Miguel, noticing a bit of perspiration and his tear-stained face. He still looks somewhat startled from his nightmare.

“Come with me?” you ask softly.

Miguel nods, already having an idea of where you’re both going.

A few minutes later, he’s sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen with you at his side. There’s a pot with water and a few cinnamon sticks on the stove and two mugs on the counter ready to be filled with sweet canelita [cinnamon tea].

You stay quiet to give Miguel a few minutes to gather himself, some time to calm down. You glance at his hands, noticing they’re thankfully no longer trembling, which puts you at ease. Earlier, you were still sleepy and startled by everything, but the sight of his shaking hands broke your heart. You wonder if he dreamed about Gabby again, about losing her.

You sigh quietly, deciding not to ask right now and continue to give Miguel a moment, at least until the canelita is ready.

A few minutes later, you silently pour the liquid into both mugs and add a bit of sugar, before returning to the counter with them. You place one in front of Miguel and offer him a smile, hoping to comfort him.

“Thank you,” Miguel says softly, tired. He picks up the mug and blows on it gently, accepting the kind and warm gesture.

You gently stir yours with a spoon, looking at him. “Always…” you reply softly, lifting your mug to your lips now and also blowing on it to cool it off a bit. After some seconds of debating internally, you decide to speak. “Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

Miguel closes his eyes, feeling better now that he’s out of that horrible dream. His breathing has gone back to normal and his mind is clearer. He nods. “Yes…” he simply responds before Miguel tells you everything about his nightmare.

Despite looking better, his voice falters at some points, especially when he reaches the part where he saw you at the end but you didn’t recognize him.

“And then, I woke up,” Miguel says. “I was - I was - I had to make sure you are here… That’s why I was going to your room.”

You nod, your heart aching for Miguel. You can imagine what he felt — feels — when you place yourself in his shoes. You’d be hyperventilating if you had dreamed of that.

“I’m sorry you dreamed that,” you say softly, wondering what triggered it to begin with. “It was just a dream though,” you add, hoping to reassure him. “I’m here.”

Miguel nods, looking over at you. “I know, you’re here. Safe.” Miguel is eternally grateful for that.

“And that dream isn’t realistic because I would remember you,” you say, trying to lighten up the mood. “There’s no way I would forget about my best friend.”

Miguel slowly smiles for the first time since waking up. “You would still remember me?”

“Always. How could I forget you?” you reply. “You’re…” you smile and look away for a few seconds. “You’re one of the most important people in my life. My brain, maybe because of some unfortunate injury might for a short period of time, but… My heart will always know you, always remember you.”

Miguel’s smile widens, his heart filled with tenderness. He forgets all about his nightmare with your words for now, comforted. “My heart will always know you, too, Dulzura. In every universe.”

You both keep smiling before turning your attention to the drink, both feeling more at peace right now. The two of you take notice of the time. Like Lyla said earlier, it’s past three in the morning, almost four at this point.

Miguel and you silently realize something. You’ve been in bed for hours at this point, since ten to be exact, but only an hour ago you both managed to get some sleep. Nerves, disappointment, dread, and God knows what other emotions has kept the two of you up because of what awaits in a few hours.

Your return to your apartment.

After arriving back to Nueva York from the beach trip, Miguel and you finally talked about you moving out. You realized you needed to address it, or at least you thought you had to, so you did.

After discussing with Miguel that you’re moving back, which he accepted and understood, knowing it’s time, you both went to the apartment to clean it. He’s helped you deep clean the space and move some things around, trying to be a supportive friend. The only space left to clean is your living room and of course, you’ll have to unpack the belongings that are now sitting in Miguel’s living room, ready to be transported in a few hours back to your universe.

Despite your silent and respective realizations at the same time and the fact that you’ve only managed to sleep for an hour, if even that, neither of you mention anything about it. Neither of you share that you’re unhappy with the situation.

Miguel doesn’t want you to leave, to move back to your apartment, but he knows he can’t ask you not to. He knows how much the apartment means to you because of Peter and all the memories it holds. It’s a special place, Miguel knows that, so he won’t, even if he wishes he could.

Even if the words are threatening to spill at any moment from his mouth.

Next to him, you refuse to say what’s on your mind, too. You don’t want to move out, even if you love your apartment so much. You do, you really do.

You love your building.

You love your little apartment, its coziness and warmth.

But most of all, you love the memories made within those walls. The moments you shared with your family, back when your parents were alive along with Aunt May and of course, Peter.

Just days ago, you stood outside it on the street and saw phantom memories play in your mind, like a film. You saw Peter and yourself walking side by side chatting, grocery bags in his hands, and remembered how he always tried to hold most of them despite your superhuman strength. You watched the two of you enter the building, still talking. Up above, you saw the light from the living room turn on before images of Peter sprawled on the old couch, which is still stored in Miguel’s building, with you on top of him came to mind.

Within a few seconds, you found yourself physically inside your empty apartment. You stood in the living room, looking at everything you left behind. Miguel offered many times to help you take everything to his universe for the time being, but you declined each time. The things that truly matter are here at his universe right now, everything else you can do without.

You took a turn around the room, realizing.

You stayed here, despite the years, even when everyone moved on. Your former friends kept their relationships, or found new partners. Some of them even have children of their own. They moved on and you stayed here, in this lovely apartment building you happened to come across one day. It was pure coincidence and later that week, Peter and you came to check it out. The apartment had opened up and rent was good, perfect for two people fresh out of college. Shortly after, you moved in and hosted your housewarming party.

It had its details, its little flaws, but it was your place. Peter’s and yours.

And nothing sounded better than that.

But as you stood there a few days ago, you couldn’t help but see it differently. Something happened while you were gone and you don’t know what it was, not yet, but it felt different.

Different in a good way.

That’s all you knew in that moment before you remembered you had somewhere to be. After some time of debating and debating, you finally decided to give Harry Osborn a chance to be a part of your life again. You hadn’t seen him in weeks at that point because he was out of the country for some business, but with his return a few days ago and your own from the beach trip, you decided to say yes.

You sighed when you gave the space one more look, holding on to that feeling, before you slipped out, stopping outside the window. You glanced back, trying to decipher that feeling one more time.

You gave up and swung off without a second glance of that apartment building you came across so many years ago.

So, yes, you do love your apartment, but… You turn the mug with canelita in your hand. You’d be lying if you said you’re ready to move back. You swallow the words and take a drink instead, thinking it’s not right.

It’s not like Miguel and you can simply continue to live like this, right? You both have your own spaces and you don’t want to overstay, even if Miguel has told you many times that you’re welcomed. That his home is your home.

You both have your own homes, so it’s time for you to return to yours.

Right?

Right.

So, then, why are you both still disappointed?

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the hour. Maybe these feelings will pass.

All Miguel and you know, respectively, is that the next fifteen or so hours are dreaded, but neither of you can say a thing out of respect for the other.

You both hide your true feelings about your move, thinking it’s the right thing to do.

Neither Miguel nor you say anything at four in the morning while drinking canelita. Not when you have breakfast together for the last time as his temporary roommate. Not when you both pick up your belongings and travel to your universe, knowing you’ve left a bedroom vacant of life once again. Not when Miguel and you deep clean the living room, move furniture around, and hang your pictures back again on the gallery wall.

Neither of you say anything, even when you order pizza for dinner after only eating sandwiches for lunch. At this point, everything is ready. Every single room in the apartment has been cleaned; surfaces have been dusted, the floors have been swept and mopped, furniture has been moved and found a new home within the space, and your belongings have been unpacked.

Your gallery of photographs is back. Peter’s record player sits on the bookcase and the records are back in its original spot. The box containing his belongings is back in the closet. Your clothes are in their appropriate spaces, though some laundry still needs to be done. Your personal hygiene items have taken residence in the bathroom and dresser once more.

Tomorrow you’ll just have to buy groceries to restock the now clean fridge.

You’re set to go, something you realize while having dinner with the TV on in the background. Miguel and you talk, avoiding your internal thoughts about this move, and opting to focus on other things — anything to forget that in a short while he’ll be leaving.

Yet, time reminds you both of the reality. The hours have flown by too fast.

When Miguel glances at his gizmo, he realizes he should probably head home now, but the truth is he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to leave you or your presence and go to an empty home that awaits him.

Noticing Miguel’s glance at his gizmo, makes you check the time yourself. You mentally wince. It’s getting late, and that only means Miguel will soon depart and leave you alone.

You push the feeling away, telling yourself that you shouldn’t even feel like this. This is your home after all. You should be happier to be here, to sleep on your old bed, not Gabriel’s.

Miguel frowns at the gizmo, it’s time.

“It’s late,” Miguel says slowly, noticing that his tone betrays his lack of enthusiasm to leave. “You’re probably very tired after all the cleaning we did. You should rest,” Miguel continues, telling himself to think of you. You’re probably tired and want to rest on your own bed at last after so many months of not doing so.

“I…” you trail off, wanting to say that you’re not tired, but you realize Miguel might be after helping you, and you don’t want to keep him up any longer. “Yes, a little.”

Miguel nods, your lie making him think he’s right about your exhaustion. He slowly stands up, straightening his top. He smiles at you. “I’ll let you rest, then,” he says, hesitantly reaching for his gizmo. “I’ll see you… tomorrow, maybe?” he says, not sure. Miguel realizes that he might not see you on both days of the weekend anymore, that you’ll both go back to your routines before the fire, in which you’d have Saturday dinners and see each other again until Monday at HQ.

“Yes, tomorrow. We can discuss what time to have dinner…?” you say, sounding more like a question as you stand, too.

“Yes, of course,” Miguel replies, nodding. He sighs and steps into a clearer area of your living room, opening a portal that takes him a few seconds to launch, not of out technical difficulties but because he’s stalling. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Rest, okay?”

Standing in front of him, you nod. You question why there’s a heavy feeling in your chest, one you don’t like, but hide with a smile. “I will, you, too.”

Stalling for several more seconds, Miguel finally takes a few steps back. “Bye,” he says, too softly, unwillingly.

“By-bye,” you say, stuttering a bit.

Miguel manages a smile, a small one despite his chest growing tighter. He turns around, forcing himself to or he might never leave. He stops himself from glancing back at you one more time because he has a feeling that if he does, he might just shut this damn portal and stay another hour. Or, two.

You watch gloomily as Miguel disappears into the portal, the sight obliging you to bite your lower lip because his name is at the tip of your tongue. You want to call out his name and ask him to stay another hour. Or, maybe two.

But you both refrain from doing what your bodies are begging you to do and in the end, you’re both alone in your homes with a portal that grows smaller and smaller unlike the heavy feeling in your chests.

You look around the apartment when the portal disappears entirely. This is home, but if it’s home, then why does it feel different? Something has changed in the space — something that now makes you feel like… It’s not yours entirely despite the furniture and memories you hold within it. You shake your head and decide to distract yourself with laundry, hoping it’ll help with that heavy feeling in your chest.

Back in Nueva York, Miguel gazes out of his living room’s windows. He sighs, noting the silence. There’s no music, no TV, no sound of your footsteps from somewhere - no sign of you here.

Miguel shakes his head. Okay, maybe that’s a lie. There’s traces of you across the penthouse because you helped him redecorate over the last few months. The penthouse feels better than it did in the past. There’s no denying that. It feels homier. He glances to Gabby’s altar, the candle flickering. That’s his favorite change to the penthouse, an addition you suggested on Gabby’s birthday.

There are signs of you in the penthouse, yet… Miguel turns around and faces the living room. Something left with you and now the penthouse feels different.

Miguel pushes the thoughts away. He can’t be thinking like this. It’ll do no good because it’s not like he can change anything about it. He can’t ask if you’re open to being roommates again, in a more permanent way. You love your apartment too much to leave it and Miguel would never ask you to abandon it, nor suggest some other kind of arrangement that involves you not living there. On top of that, you’re probably glad to have your own space again anyway.

He sighs again and looks at the time, realizing that just about now you’d be wishing each other a good night. His heart aches at the realization, knowing that you won’t be able to do that anymore, have that little endearing closure to the night.

“Shock,” Miguel says, realizing just how much your return to your own place is affecting him. He rubs his forehead, wondering how long it’ll take him to get used to this when his thoughts are interrupted by his gizmo. He hesitantly checks, hoping it’s not something from HQ because he doesn’t have the right mindset for it right now, but he finds your name instead and his heart leaps. He instantly opens the notification.

Dulzura Good night :)

He smiles, chuckling quietly to himself before he replies.

You sit on your bed, gizmo in hand while you wait. Of course you remembered that about this time you would’ve wished each other a good night, if only you were still there at the penthouse. You glance around the room again before laying down, the bed feeling strange now, too. A second later, your gizmo beeps, so you immediately bring it up to your face.

Migs Good night, Dulzura :)) sleep well

You smile, holding the gizmo close to you before you sigh. It’ll take some time to get used to this.

Miguel and you complete your night routines like every other night. You brush your teeth, wash your faces, and do the the rest of it as always until you get in bed, in respective universes.

You both lay to sleep, alone, in your homes.

That’s nothing new, of course. You’ve both slept alone for so long, but a loneliness creeps up on the two of you while you lay on your beds, unable to sleep. There was comfort, more than comfort, in knowing you were both down the hallway from each other — just feet away. Now, there’s universes between you.

You both try your best to sleep, but nothing works. For Miguel, not even your sweatshirt and the sound recording helps him.

Hours go by. You toss and turn, and do it again, and again, and again. Miguel wonders if you’re asleep now, then decides you must be. You’re sure Miguel is, too.

Another hour later and you can’t bear it any longer. It’s no use. You slip out of bed and change into your suit, placing your gizmo on your wrist. You leave your apartment a few minutes later in the middle of the night, ignoring the fact that you’re barely back at your apartment and for some reason leaving it in search of a distraction because you can’t sleep. You swing around your city, eyes scanning for a diversion of some kind. You almost wish there was a robbery.

Finding nothing, you stop on a rooftop and look through your gizmo. It’s past two in the morning and you’re here instead of home. You sigh and look around the empty rooftop before clicking on your gizmo again, quickly inputting information. A second later a portal opens. You step into it, leaving a rooftop just to step on another one.

You’re not even sure why you chose this dimension, but you find yourself on Earth-42, on top of the tallest building in the city where you once stood with Miguel to gaze at the city below and where you nearly lost him over a year ago.

You quietly walk around the area, staying clear of it because you don’t wish to sit where you found Miguel nearly dead, before sitting down with a huff.

“No sleep tonight,” you say to yourself, already giving up on the idea of getting some rest tonight. You slip off your mask, placing it on your thigh and lean back to observe the empty rooftop, surrounded by silence.

It doesn’t stay that way for long though. Your eyes widen when you see another portal open a few seconds later, making you wonder who’s stepping out. Your curiosity is satisfied a second later and you’re met with that familiar blue and red suit you know all too well, but the wearer of it even more.

Miguel steps out of the portal, his back to you. His eyes move across the rooftop, silently wondering why he even came here of all places. He decided to leave the penthouse a short while back and swung around Nueva York to distract and maybe tire himself out before deciding to travel here instead, something in his gut telling him to do so.

“Mi-Miguel?” you ask, causing him to turn around immediately.

His mask is disengaged instantly, his face revealed and indicating equal surprise. “Dulzura?” he says, walking immediately to you like a moth drawn to a flame. “What - what are you doing here? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Miguel asks, bombarding you with questions while his gaze searches your body for signs of injury.

“No, no, I’m okay,” you quickly reassure him, noticing the way his face relaxes at your words. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything is okay. What are you doing here?” Miguel asks again, crouching in front of you now.

“I asked you the same thing,” you reply softly, trying to get Miguel to answer first because you’re suddenly too embarrassed to share that you couldn’t sleep, or rather, share the reason why.

Miguel mumbles something under his breath, not wanting to tell you his reasoning for being awake either. “I couldn’t - I had some trouble sleeping tonight,” he admits a few seconds later. “You?”

You sigh. “I couldn't sleep either,” you confess, looking down to fidget with your mask.

Miguel's eyes widen a little. For some reason, he didn't think that would be the reason for you being here, considering you hardly have issues sleeping. “Why?” Miguel asks softly, noticing the way you're avoiding his gaze. “Did you… have a nightmare?”

“Oh,” you glance at him again, shaking your head. “No, no, I didn't. I just couldn't sleep at all. I haven't slept even a bit. Maybe it's just, I don't know, my brain being weird,” you huff out. “Wait - did you have one?” You ask softly, remembering that about twenty four hours ago, Miguel was having that nightmare about you not existing.

Thankfully, Miguel shakes his head. “No, no nightmares for me. I just couldn't sleep,” he says, moving and taking a seat next to you now, leaning back.

“I'm glad to hear that,” you reply, genuinely relieved it wasn't another bad nightmare like the one he had several hours ago. You recall how Miguel’s hands trembled, the way he looked at you, and his erratic breathing. Of course, the fact that he almost cupped your face comes to mind, too. You wonder if Miguel would've gone for it, if Lyla hadn't popped out of nowhere.

You both sit there now, on that same rooftop Miguel nearly lost his life at over a year ago. Your eyes sweep across the city, staying silent for a few minutes before Miguel breaks the silence.

“May I be honest?” he asks softly.

“Always, please,” you reply.

“I couldn't sleep because I missed — I missed you and your presence,” Miguel confesses with some trouble, his cheeks feeling warm due to the revelation.

You turn to look at him, smiling slowly. “Already?”

“Already.”

“I missed you, too, Migs,” you admit, smiling.

Miguel smiles now, sleepily. “You did?”

“Yes, I did.”

“It's relieving to know I'm not the only one,” he says, comforted, but also touched that you've been missing him, too. “I’m sorry you haven't slept, though. Are you not tired?” Miguel asks, his eyes searching your face.

You nod now, feeling some exhaustion within you that wasn't there earlier.

Miguel hums, still staring at you and thinking about how you’re both far more comforted with each other on this open rooftop in the late hours of the night than alone in the safety and comfort of your respective beds. He smiles softly when he notices your gaze become more and more sleepy.

“Maybe we need to…” Miguel starts quietly, thinking. “Maybe we need — or should consider — something.”

“Something?” you ask before a small yawn escapes your lips.

“We’re on a rooftop, instead of at home,” Miguel states, raising his eyebrow.

You nod, realizing what Miguel is saying. You missed each other on the first night and found yourselves in another universe without even planning it because neither of you could sleep. You wonder if Miguel is thinking what you’re thinking about.

“What are you suggesting?” you ask, intrigued.

“We can discuss it tomorrow, or well, later,” Miguel replies gently with a smile, glad that you seem interested on this ‘something’, too. “How about we leave this place?”

Leave? That’s the last thing you wish to do now that you’re in Miguel’s presence, but you can’t just stay on this rooftop all night, can you? “Home?” you ask, disappointed.

“Home,” Miguel says, standing up in seconds and offering you a hand to help you up.

You accept it and stand up with his help, dreading going home. You’re likely just going to stay up anyway. However, you nod to avoid showing your disappointment, even when Miguel opens a portal for you. He gestures with his hand towards it.

“Alright, we can discuss the something else later,” you say, stepping closer to the portal.

“We can. When we get some rest,” Miguel replies gently as you walk further in.

“Right, okay,” you mumble. “After some rest.”

You sigh subtly and step into the portal, touching ground again a second later. You look around, eyes going a little wide. Behind you, Miguel steps out of the portal, too, and straight into his penthouse’s living room.

Home.

You turn around to face him, surprised, and Miguel can only give you a sleepy grin.

“You can go upstairs to your bedroom, or we can stay here in the living room,” Miguel offers, feeling sleepy at last. He very briefly recalls something Lyla said a while back. Something about important people in your lives bringing you comfort and making it easier to sleep. Maybe that study was right after all because he’s suddenly feeling sleepy within a few minutes of being in your presence after he spent hours laying in bed, tossing and turning, helplessly seeking sleep but not finding it. Despite feeling sleepy, Miguel realizes he’s still not ready to part ways, even if it’s just rooms apart.

“I’m still not that tired,” you lie, not ready either.

“Me neither,” Miguel lies, too. “So… Living room?”

You nod. “Living room.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Miguel asks. “I can make some canelita.”

Half an hour later, Miguel and you sit on the living room floor. This time, though, you’re both sitting on the same side of the coffee table. There’s blankets and pillows on the couch behind you for later, but for now, you talk while enjoying the warm drink — growing sleepier and sleepier in each other’s presence when you couldn’t feel even an ounce of sleep before.

“It’s almost fall,” you state sleepily before taking a drink.

“Almost that time of year,” Miguel replies, realizing it’s true. The summer will soon end, another season approaching your lives. “The best time of the year.”

You chuckle. “Pumpkins everywhere, cold weather, sweaters — the best time of the year indeed.” You yawn.

“You’re sleepy,” Miguel comments, glancing at you.

“I’m not,” you counter softly.

“Right,” he replies, amused.

“I’m not. I’m just — yawning.”

“Because you’re sleepy,” Miguel says, noticing the way you’re blinking to stay awake.

You hum. “Nope, I’m still wide awake.” You yawn once more. “Do you remember the puzzle we completed last week? At the beach?”

“Yes, of course,” Miguel replies, sleepily. How could he forget? You both discussed something so personal while putting it together.

“I think I’m going to buy some,” you share, eyes feeling heavy.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Do you want to, maybe, do another one with me?” you ask, half awake and half asleep.

“It’d be a privilege,” Miguel replies, gazing at you sleepily.

“Yayyy, maybe I can find a jigsaw of a thousand pieces.”

Miguel chuckles next to you, noticing the way you’re leaning back. “I’m sure we can put it together in two or three days.”

“That sounds reasonable,” you state, unwillingly succumbing to sleep. “I’ll buy some this weekend.”

“I can get some, too,” Miguel says, picking up his mug to take a drink and stay awake. “If you want to come along you —” Miguel stops talking when he feels something on his bicep. He turns, still holding his mug with the other hand.

His gaze softens when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep on him and now your head rests on his arm after claiming not to be sleepy only a minute ago. He quietly chuckles through his nose to avoid waking you up. After putting his mug away, Miguel gently pulls the blankets off the couch and places them over the two of you before he gets comfortable, ready to give in to his sleep, too.

He relishes the warmth of your body next to his, knowing that later today, maybe you’ll both agree to something because sleepless nights are no way to live. Miguel knows that better than anyone else. While the Miguel of two years ago sought those nights because they were a refuge from his nightmares, the Miguel next to you now does not. He’s open to staying up late to talk or watch a movie with you, or something of that sort, but staying up to avoid sleep and nightmares?

Not anymore.

Never again.

And so, Miguel finally dozes off next to you, sleeping peacefully at last and without nightmares of losing you.

Previous ⋅ ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ⋅ Next

A/N: Ummm, this is weird...? I'm back already, so, hiiiii! Another update is here! I hope you don't hate me after the first half of this chapter 😔 it was just a dream! But hehe, thank you for reading!! Also, thank you so much for the lovely comments on the last update! I have yet to reply to everyone because I had the motivation to write this chapter and basically I've been doing this all day, but I'm so happy a lot of you enjoyed it and liked the latter part of the chapter!! :))

Thank you again so much!! See you very soon...!!😌

Alondra❤️

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credit for green divider to @/vysleix

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

Map of Soho Good Omens Season 2 - Part 1 (Location and general map)

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Update: Map now identifies Lucky Snake and the coffee shop listed in Aziraphale's clipboard may indeed be Give Me Coffee I think we all have wondered how the GO Soho looks like and where it would be in real London. So using all the screenshots, BTS pictures and videos I could find I did my best to map out where things are. It is not to scale but everything I could see is there. I originally had all the pictures and explanations in this post but soon it became obvious it was going to be too long and impractical so I had to split it in different posts and I hope I got it right. The map has five reference points (circle with two diverging lines); imagine the circle is you, standing in the set, and the lines are your viewpoint if you were taking a picture from there. The left side of Whickber Street (#1 and #2) is in Part 2, the intersecting street (#3 and #4) is in Part 3 and the right half of Whickber Street (#5) is in Part 4.

As to where the bookshop would be in real London. We know that Whickber Street is supposed to be Berwick Street so let's start there. The intersecting street is not obvious from the show. In this post Neil said he imagines the bookshop to be where Gosh! Comics is (Peter Street) while Michael Ralph and Douglas McKinnon probably put it at The Week (on Broadwick Street). Because it is ambiguous and really you can do whatever you want, I just left it as "intersecting street". We know from the book that Crowley takes Wardour Street after the bookshop fire. Wardour is behind Berwick so in our map it would be where the Chinese Buffet Restaurant is, considering they run more or less parallel. On the other side, we have the Windmill Theatre located on Great Windmill Street. From Berwick St. and Peter St. it takes three minutes to walk to the theatre, it is that close! (yes, I know, Crowley was conducting business two blocks from the bookshop while not talking to Aziraphale for 80 years). I have never been in that part of London so I used Google Maps streetview and based only on that, I like the corner of Berwick St. and Broadwick St. better. It has the crooked intersection but the proximity of the theatre matches Peter St. better, so whatever works better for you!

There is one place missing from the set map though: Brown's World of Carpets! It is nowhere to be found, we simply don't know where it is My very personal headcanon is that it is nothing but a desk inside the furniture store. I find that idea of the guy most worried about storefront looks being the one without a storefront very amusing, but don't mind me, it is just my very silly hc XD Now, we know Aziraphale has a list for the shops he needs to visit. And we know he wrote it in alphabetical order which begs the question: Where is the Dirty Donkey?! Are they not invited? And what about the fabric shop? And Bilton Scaggs? Battye and Palm? The News Agency? Is "Mo Coffee? No Coffee?" supposed to be Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death? Or is there another coffee shop somewhere? @crow-bee23 suggested it could be "Me Coffee" which it is entirely possible, the full name is kind of long. So many questions to ask Mr. Brown.

Anyway, I put pictures and details on the shops in parts 2, 3 and 4. Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[milunalupin]

hi!! I would like to request older!reader and older!sirius black where reader ends up saving him from bellatrix’s curse.

ty for requesting !! enjoyyy <3 + ty to my lovie for helping :)

— another one bites the dust (but it's definitely not sirius)

post azkaban!sirius x reader ★ 1.5k words

Lily Evans was your best friend. The two of you had been sorted into Gryffindor as muggleborn witches together and assigned the same dorm. The two of you did everything together, from studying in the library to braiding each others hair down by the Black Lake. Of course being that close meant you had to witness all of James Potter's attempts at winning your best friend over. One time you happened to alone on your way to class when James and the other 'Marauders' had stopped you, begging you for any tips on how to successfully ask Lily out.

"You've gotta let this go. She's way out of your league, you toerag." You had rolled your eyes at him, the boy gaping at your remark as you had always seemed pretty docile. Sirius Black — who you now notice was standing beside the bespectacled boy — barked out a laugh and applauded you, causing a warm feeling in your chest that you would never admit was because of him. Moreover, if James ever asked him to, Sirius wouldn't mind hanging out with you to get information on Lily (and not because he thought you were super cute).

Once James had successfully convinced Lily to date him, you and her had blended in well with the Marauders. When Lily and James would have their couple time, you would play chess with Peter and study with Remus in the common room. Sirius even let you join in on planning and performing their famous pranks (which did not jumpstart a crush on him or anything). The six of you had become your own little family, and when James had proposed to Lily after graduation it was no surprise who the groomsmen and maid of honor would be.

Meanwhile you had also fallen in love with Sirius Black during your time at Hogwarts, and the two of you had become attached at the hip. Sirius would walk with you to class, and you'd spend nights in the astronomy tower talking about the future.

You were each other's safe space, and Sirius loved you so deeply, which led to a lot of heartbreak the the night Lily and James were killed and your boyfriend was sent to Azkaban for the rest of his life for being the one who did it. You spent the next twelve years working under the Department of Magical Law enforcement as an investigator, trying to convince the Ministry that Sirius would never in a million years do anything to hurt his friend, much less kill him and his wife. They ignored you, dismissing your claims as a fit of hysteria, weaponizing your grief against you. You had been nonstop trying to figure out what exactly happened that night, regularly exchanging letters with Remus until he sent his final one, asking you to refrain from sending any more, as he felt too betrayed by Sirius to hear any of your theories.

The moment Peter had been revealed as the true murderer, Remus had come by your flat to apologize in person, the two of you reconciling over tea and teary hugs. When Sirius finally came back things were slow to return to "normal", but the two of you were just as in love with each other as you were back at Hogwarts. Because of his current situation with the Ministry, you moved in with him at 12 Grimmauld Place, then agreeing immediately when Dumbledore had come to the two of you about reassembling the Order of the Phoenix.

"You're a cheater Sirius Black, I don't want to play anymore." You huffed, standing up and throwing the playing cards down on the coffee table. The two of you were playing cards on the couch in Grimmauld place, trying to have a relaxing night amidst the recent chaos. Sirius cooed and pulled you down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing sweet kisses to your shoulder. "Oh you'll survive, Mrs. Black."

The name alone caused you to melt into him, but the way he was looking at you in that moment made you feel like a teenager again, shy and in love with the boy before you. "Mrs. Black? We're not even engaged, love."

He grabbed your left hand, his thumb running over your ring finger, his voice becoming as soft as his touch. "It's coming, darling, don't you worry."

Your future mother-in-law screeched in horror from her place on the wall. "The most ancient and noble House of Black will not be accepting of a revolting mudblood! Must keep the blood pure, toujous pur!"

"I like to think I've been patient enough." you teased, gesturing to where his mother's portrait hung, the crazy bitch still muttering nonsense to herself.

Sirius sighed and lightly squeezed your hip. "I know m'love, you've been too good to me. Once things blow over a bit, I promise we'll get back to how things used to be, yeah?"

You hummed, brushing the hair out of his face and kissing his forehead. "No need to rush, we've got the rest of our lives, Sirius."

The fireplace suddenly lights up green as Severus comes through, his lip curling on one side as he saw the position you two were in and moved his gaze to somewhere else in the room.

"Severus," Sirius clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side. "to what do we owe this pleasure?"

"The Dark Lord," his eyes met yours, then shifted to settle on Sirius. "seems to have put an idea in Mr. Potter's head that you were being tortured at the Ministry. He's on his way there to look for you, you are to alert the Order."

You and Sirius stood immediately, thanking Severus as he disappeared again and sending your patronus' to the other Order members. They arrive quickly and the six of you head to the Ministry and apparate down to the lower level chambers, wands at the ready.

Kingsley and Alastor moved towards one group of Death Eaters, with Remus and Tonks on the defense. "Harry, where's Harry?" you were frantic looking for your godson, Sirius right beside you. You find him in combat with Dolohov, rushing to his side just as he hit the dark wizard with a Full Body Bind curse.

"Nice one, Haz!" Sirius praised from a few feet away. Harry beamed at you and you smiled and squeezed his shoulder quickly before heading back over to Sirius.

The chamber was complete chaos, the dark walls lighting up with flashes of all colors, all kinds of hexes and jinxes were being thrown around. You had to admit, Harry and the other students were great at duelling and really kept up with the Order members. Out of the corner of your eye you see your beloved's deranged cousin, her wand locked onto Sirius. Her wand glowed green as she shouted out an unforgivable spell.

You turn around to see him just a few feet from the Veil. "Sirius!" you gasp, immediately casting 'Accio' to pull him out of Bellatrix's way, his hands gripping your waist to steady himself, eyes blown out in shock. You both are staring at each other, eyes watery and chests heaving.

"Too fucking good to me, darling."

Your moment was interrupted by a screeching Bellatrix, sending a 'Confringo' your way. You managed to dodge it but the spell caught the sleeve of Sirius' coat.

"Don't you fucking dare!" you growled, shooting multiple stunning spells at her which she annoyingly kept deflecting. She laughed maniacally as you circled each other, casting spells left and right. The dark witch then shot another spell at Sirius, effectively hitting him in the back then grinning madly at you, "Whoopsie!"

Your heartbeat picked up as you realized where she was standing. You quickly scanned the chamber and it seemed that most of the Death Eaters had fled or been taken down. You'd never killed anyone before, but she was one of Voldemort's strongest followers. Not only that, but she tried to attack your Sirius not just once, not twice, but three times. Your eyes widened as you saw her prepare another curse on him.

"Not my boyfriend, you bitch!"

You cast 'Depulso', throwing her back a few feet into the Veil, immediately sending her into the world of the dead. You stood there frozen, your wand still pointed where Bellatrix once stood. Sirius pulled you back into his arms, whispering "thank you"s and "i love you"s into your ear.

Harry had appeared next as the battle ended, joining in your group hug, the three of you holding each other tight. You kissed the top of your godson's head, no longer unable to hold back your tears.

Harry had come home with you and Sirius that night, having some dinner and then going upstairs to stay in one of the spare rooms. Sirius held you close in bed that night, thanking you once again for saving him. You smiled and squeezed his hand, thanking him for coming back to you all those years ago. You fell asleep that night unaware of the sparkling diamond that was hidden in Sirius' nightstand.

[minimarvelh]

Peter to Tony: heeeeyyy da—*sees Steve* da—mate! hey uh mate? whatcha doin’?

Steve: Peter, it’s fine you can call each other using funny nicknames, it’s not uncomfortable or weird for me. I understand humour.

Peter: thanks mr. Rogers!!

Peter: hey dad!

Steve *choking on coffee*

[hurtspideyparker]

Tony: Hey no more coffee for you, it'll stunt your growth

Peter: Respectfully Mr. Stark I don't think I'll take your advice for being healthy

Tony: Young man when I was your age—

Peter: You were doing cocaine to fuel your lab binges

Tony: What? No... who told you that

Peter: Rhodey

Tony: Shit

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter fifteen

Summary: Oh, hi!

Warning: No Bucky in this chapter.

Word Count: 833

Spotify Playlist | Tips

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: The gif may be Bucky, but, he isn't actually in this chapter. DON'T LOOK AT THE TAGS IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS. Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez

You received a smile in return, and crinkles appeared at the corner of his eyes. “Hi,” he said softly. After another moment of silence, a brief calmness from the morning rush, it felt like time had slowed down. “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“Yeah…” you trailed, a little breathless. “I’m just running late. I was supposed to meet, un, a friend for coffee.” 

He looked at his watch and then back at you. “Well, I, un, I was on my way to get coffee too.” he reached a hand up, running it through his hair. “I was going to ask if you wanted to join me. Call it even for nearly knocking you over?”

You hesitated, taking a deep breath you thought it over quickly. “I guess that could work. I’m sure my friend will understand…” you trailed off, looking down at your phone, looking at the time. 

He grinned, extending his hand to gesture to the way he was walking, “Sounds like a plan.” 

He led the way to a nearby cafe, and as you settled into a cozy corner table, you found yourself thinking about the bar coffee. A smile spreads across your face as the memories of Mr Howlett making it exactly how you liked it. 

“So, what do you do?” you asked as he sat in the chair opposite you, handing you your order. 

“I’m a photographer,” he said, his eyes lighting up as he began to speak about his job. “I mostly do freelance work, but I’m currently helping out at the newspaper. What about you?” 

You shared a bit about your job and your sketches. He listened intently, nodding and asking thoughtful questions that made you feel heard. 

As the conversation flowed, you felt a connection with him. He was easy to talk to, for the first time in a fortnight, you felt at ease. 

~

You sat alone at the table, waiting for him to return from the bathroom. You decided to take this moment to send a message to Natasha and Wanda. Bring up your group chat, you quickly drafted a message before hitting send. 

“Do we know this person? Peter Parker? I met him a few hours ago and want to make sure he’s not another Walker.”

Before you could even set your phone down, it buzzed with a response from Natasha. 

Nat: We haven’t heard of him before, do you want us to ask the guys?

Quickly, you replied: NO. 

A sense of urgency rushed through you as Peter returned to the table. You quickly pocketed your phone, wanting to get back to the pleasant conversation. Just as you engaged back in the small talk, your phone buzzed again.

You tried to remain composer as you discreetly retrieved your phone, glancing at the screen. Another message from the group chat, this time it was from Wanda.

Wanda: Find out more about him, and we’ll help you figure it out.

You smiled at your phone, a rush of gratitude for their support, as Peter continued to chat animatedly about his photography. Pocketing your phone again, you found yourself drawn into his passion and enthusiasm. Lost in the moment, you couldn’t help but smile. You realized how effortlessly the conversation flowed. 

As the hours passed and the cafe began to empty, you wished that time would stop. 

At some point, you managed to reply to Natasha and Wanda but hadn’t thought about your phone since then. The reality of the outside began to creep back, and you reluctantly realized it was time to part ways. 

Bidding farewell to Peter, you exchanged numbers and promised to meet again soon. You walked away from the cafe with a sense of hope. 

~

As you settled into the comfort of your living room, you found yourself unable to contain the giddy excitement. Alpine jumped up and snuggled into your lap as you reached for your phone. With Peter’s number saved, you couldn’t resist the urge to text him. 

Fingers danced across the screen, typing out your message to him. “Hey, Peter! 😊I just wanted to say that I had a lovely time today. Can’t wait to do it again!”

You held your breath as you pressed send. The minutes ticked as you waited anxiously for his response. Just as you were about to give up hope, a notification lit up your screen. “Hey! 😄 I had an amazing time! Let’s definitely meet up again soon!” 

A grin spread across your face, a rush of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Unable to contain your excitement, you clutched your phone to your chest, giggling like a teenager. 

Alpine’s warm presence added to the cozy atmosphere which amplified your sense of contentment. With the new energy coursing through you, you quickly typed another message. Your finger practically flying across the screen. 

Lost in a flurry of texts, you hardly noticed the time. And, before you knew it, the night had slipped away. The soft light of the morning sun peeked through the curtains.

---

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[thealieninhiding]

The Katie McGrath Archives (WIP)

A repository of my ongoing digital archeology & archival work please contact me if you have anything to contribute and buy me a coffee if you value my content

message me if you want a link to her complete filmography 🤫

Updates

(last updated 2024-07-03)

2024-07-03

Scans:

2014-02-07 London Times - Dracula sets

Audio:

(Un)likeminded 2x02 How to Survive The Apocalypse

2024-05-24

Video:

2017 Katie McGrath interview [CW|KMcGsource]

2017 Supergirl Season 3 Sweet dreams (are made of this) Music Video

2017 CW SDCC Promo Supergirl and Arrow

2019-01-01 The CW Promo Open To All

2021-04-25 Supergirl Season 6 Katie McGrath Lena Luthor

2021-09-15 Supergirl Season 6 Katie McGrath Reflecting on Supergirl

2024-05-22

Audio:

Interview - 2009-07-17 Katie McGrath Mr Media interview

Interview - 2009-10-15 Geek Syndicate Merlin BTS special

Video:

BTS - 2008-10-08 Blue Peter Merlin BTS

Events - 2009 TV Choice Awards Digital Spy interview

Events - Getty Videos of 2009 TV Choice Awards, 2010 Merlin Series 3 launch, 2011 W.E. premiere, 2017 King Arthur Premiere

2024-05-17

Archived interviews

2008-12-07 Tribune Magazine - What Katie Did

2011-10-14 What's on TV - Merlin's Katie McGrath- 'Bad girls have more fun!'

2012-12-03 Fanhattan Blog - Colin Morgan, Katie McGrath and Bradley James on Season 5 and The Series Finale

2018-08-01 The TV Junkies - Supergirl SDCC 2018 Interviews- Lena’s Impractical Lab Outfits, the Return of Reporter Kara and a More Grounded Season 4

Audio

HHush samples

Interview - 2009-2011 Sci-fi Talk rewind merlin the series specials episode 1

Interview - 2011? Merlin S4 Sci-fi talk byte katie mcgrath on morgana

Interview - 2013 BBC Radio 1xtra part 1 & part 2

(Un)likeminded 1x02 While You Were Dreaming

Trees a crowd- Irish folklore segment

Magazine scans

2008-09-20 Radio Times

2009-06-08 TV Week (Aus)

2010-09-05 Sunday Express

2010-09-30 Totally Merlin Magazine

2011-12 Total Film

2012-03-14 Sci-Fi Now

2012-10-06 Radio Times

2013-04-06 Irish independent

2013-09-02 Marie-Claire (UK)

2013-12 Instyle

2013-12 Total Film

Video:

Fans - 2012-04-16 Merlin4 [carlospyrrhus]

Fans - 2017-08-30 Supergirl cast together on set [Joyce Law]

Interview - 2009-09-?? Merlin S2 audio interview with Katie McGrath [BJsRealm] part 1

Interview - 2010-09-06 Merlin Series 3 - BBC Radio 1xtra Interview with Angel Coulby & Katie McGrath [BJsrealm]

Interview - 2011-10-14 Merlin S4 Colin Morgan, Eoin Macken Katie McGrath on The Late Late Show

Interview - 2012-07-15 Colin Morgan and Katie McGrath at SDCC 2012 - innerSPACE [merlinnetwork2]

Interview - 2012-07-18 Katie McGrath Talks Merlin At Comic Con 2012 [ThinkHeroTV]

Interview - 2012-10-25 BBC Radio 1 Breakfast - Colin & Katie part 1 & part 2 [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2012-12-03 Merlin S5 Katie McGrath interview international press day [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2012-12-03 Colin, Bradley, Katie phone interview [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2013-11-09 Katie McGrath on BBC One Saturday Kitchen [BJsRealm]

Interview - 2019-07-22 ENTREVISTA SUPERGIRL Elenco fala sobre a nova temporada [Warner Channel Brasil]

Interview - 2019-07-23 Melissa Benoist Teases Directing An Episode Of 'Supergirl' [ET Canada]

Interview - 2020-02-21 ‘Supergirl’ Celebrates 100th Episode [ET Canada]

Panels - 2011-07-28 Merlin Comic Con 2011 Panel [ThinkHeroTV]