#Peter survives the snap

[irondadfics]

Hi! I’m looking for a fic where Pepper and Tony blipedand when they’re gone Peter took care of Morgan and the SI while they were gone. Idk if it was happy or Rhodey but apparently Peter would have Morgan bouncing on his leg and textbooks laid out and like 3 Holoscreens and it really reminded them of Tony.

hello! This is for you!

Anything For You by jarynw02

Tony and Pepper are both blipped, leaving their newborn daughter behind. When they return, they learn what happened in their absence.

[pathologicalreid]

sense memory | S.R.

After eight months, you and Spencer reunite after he was in prison and you were in WITSEC.

who? spencer reid x hotchner!reader category: flangst content warnings: general cm violence, peter lewis, prison reid, cat adams word count: 2.64k a/n: i have no idea if i like this or not. it might be too cheesy. but i like cheese.

Second floor, apartment 23.

You leaned against the wall and slid down until you were sat on the ground. You left your bag draped over your shoulder, holding the strap tightly.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, sweetie,” someone said, causing your head to snap up. “Here to see him?” Spencer’s elderly neighbor asked as she passed, carrying a grocery bag in her hand from the market down the street.

Nodding, you smiled softly at her, “I was on a trip. I’m just waiting for him to come home.”

She hummed and kept walking to her door, apartment 24. “He went on a trip too, huh.”

Waving halfheartedly as she disappeared into her apartment, you leaned your head against the wall. Yeah, you went on a trip – a trip to witness protection, and Spencer went to prison.

Spencer went to prison. The words still felt foreign to you, you hadn’t heard them until two weeks ago after Peter Lewis died. Since he didn’t know where you were, he sent letters to your old address, and they were forwarded to the marshal assigned to protect you. When you left the program, you got the letters. 178 letters.

Some of them were several pages long, some of them were as simple as an I love you or an I miss you, and some of them had doodles, usually equations.

You wondered if he’d gotten your mail yet. The letters and pictures you’d collected for your marshal to send to him once you were out of WITSEC. You weren’t even sure if he’d want to see you, but your dad encouraged you to try anyway.

You had left in October, just after his birthday, and now it was May.

After being separated from your dad and Jack for so long, you went to stay with them for a week, but you knew you wanted to return to the district. You wanted to see Spencer, for closure if for nothing else. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, JJ,” you heard him say from the first floor, and panic washed over you. The nerves of seeing him again had you wondering whether or not you could survive a jump out of the second-story window.

But the hallway windows didn’t open, you were left panicking, and then there he was.

You shouldn’t be here; you didn’t know what to say to him. The first person from your past should’ve been someone else. You could’ve called JJ or Penelope.

You saw him before he saw you, he was too busy digging in his bag for his keys. Pulling yourself up to your feet, you stood up and wiped your clammy hands on your jeans.

When he looked up and saw you, his expression went from confusion to disbelief to shock. Not once did he look happy, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he, like you, had been finding it hard to be happy lately.

Your chest ached as he walked past you and put his key in the lock. Spencer opened the door, and you held your breath as he held the door open, and you stepped inside of the apartment.

For months, you had imagined this moment in your mind, wondering what you would say when you finally got to see him again. He set his keys down on the entryway table before he turned around and faced you.

Familiar honey-colored irises studied you as if he was comparing the last time he had seen you to now.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like you were imposing on him.

Slowly, you walked backward out of the still-open door, resorting to the idea of never seeing him again. Until he spoke, “Please don’t leave me again.” His voice was soft, timid in a way you had never heard before.

You spun around and your lips parted in surprise. Tentatively, you stepped back toward him before you were right in front of him, inches apart, “I won’t.” It was a promise.

You weren’t sure who reached for who first, but the next moment your arms were slung around his neck and Spencer’s were around your torso, holding you so tightly that your feet lifted off the ground.

He’d bowed his head so that he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, whispering your name like a prayer that had been answered.

Propping your chin up on his shoulder, you took a deep breath, “I’m right here, Spence. I’m right here.” He was the same, and yet entirely different. Maybe more muscular, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You opened your mouth to speak again, to tell him that you would never leave him again, not as long as he didn’t want you to.

Everything had changed in the past eight months; you knew you couldn’t make him that promise. That I’ll never leave you promise. It wasn’t real.

But Spencer was real. He was real and he was clutching you the way you were clutching you, his fingers digging into your skin so hard that you might bruise. “I got your letters,” you whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

You felt tears seep through your clothes as you took a deep breath and gently pried yourself away from him. “222 days,” he told you matter-of-factly. “I haven’t seen you in 222 days because you were in witness protection and you’re apologizing to me.”

“Of course, I’m apologizing to you. God, I left the program, and my marshal was like ‘Oh, by the way, here are hundreds of letters from your friends and your boyfriend wrote to you while you were gone. And just so you know, your boyfriend was in federal prison for the last three months.’” You took a few deep, uneven breaths. “What am I supposed to do with that, Spencer? Stop looking at me like that!”

He was smiling at you, his eyes were still watery, but he was giving you a doting smile even so, “I missed you.”

You dropped to a crouch at his words, and he followed you down. Those were the only words you had needed to hear over the last eight months. Meekly, you looked up at him, kneeling in front of you. When you left, Spencer had seemed like he was on top of the world, his mom had been accepted in that clinical trial, and the two of you had been talking more and more about your future. Now he seemed… heavier. A more burdened person. “I missed you so much,” you cried.

Reaching over to you, Spencer gently wiped the tears from your face before pulling you close to him, “You look as beautiful as you did the day I lost you.”

The two of you toppled over as a result of focusing on holding each other instead of balancing. He laid back on the floor, holding you close to him. You looked up, resting your chin on his shoulder, “You never lost me. You could never lose me. I always knew I’d come back; I always knew you’d get Scratch.”

“I didn’t, though,” he whispered, his voice tight with emotion.

You hummed, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your palm. “We’re here now, doesn’t that count for anything?”

Spencer pushed up so that he was being supported by his elbows, “That counts for everything.” He studied your face, “Where did that scar come from? It’s new,” he said, his voice still quiet, like you were an animal, and he was trying not to scare you away.

“Oh,” you murmured, “bashed my head on a door. Only me, right?” You brushed him off before clambering to your feet. What were you supposed to do now? Ask him if he wanted to talk? You used the sleeve of your jacket to wipe your nose. God, he had called you beautiful with snot running down your face. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered, staring at the floor. “I know, I know you’re going to say that I don’t have anything to apologize for, but I’m apologizing anyway. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry that Morgan, my dad, and I all left within the same few months.”

He shook his head, “If you hadn’t gone, you’d most likely be dead now. I’d rather miss you for eight months than grieve you for a lifetime.”

You stepped away from him until you backed into the couch, “I thought about calling you. I had no idea that I wouldn’t have been able to. I just thought that-“

And just like that, he was kissing you. It was inevitable, just a question of who would make the first move. A small, shocked noise bubbled in your throat before you leaned into the kiss. It was gentle, tentative even. You gripped the lapels of his jacket as if he’d fade away, but you kissed him gently until he pulled away. “You showing up is the best thing to happen to me all year,” he murmured, sweeping your hair behind your ears. “You remain the most important person in my life.”

“Second most important,” you corrected. “How’s your mom?” Some of the information in his letters didn’t seem overly optimistic, mentioning him bringing her home to stay with him and a medication that he was getting in Mexico.

Spencer gave you a tight-lipped smile, “She’s good, I just went to see her with JJ, actually. She’s staying at a home in the district now.”

You smiled, “That’s good, keeping her close will be good for the both of you, I think.” Spencer reached around your body and pulled at your jacket, “What are you doing?”

“Taking your coat off in an attempt to coax you into staying,” he answered candidly.

Humming, you allowed him to pull the coat off of you, watching intently as he hung it on the coat rack. “Spence?” His name still felt foreign in your mouth as you moved to sit down on the couch.

He looked at you once he finished hanging his own coat, “Yeah?” Sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. A calculated decision, giving you space, but not sitting in a different chair.

“We should talk about it,” you responded, swallowing thickly. “All of it. Everything,” you continued. Millburn. Cat. Mr. Scratch.

Spencer went first, talking to you intently about what happened in that hotel room in Mexico. When he told you what Lindsay had done, you had to swallow your anger. Every once in a while, he’d trip over his words, and you encouraged him to take a break. You laid down on the couch and Spencer nestled in right next to you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck and enabling you to play with his hair.

Eventually, he told you about Scratch’s takedown. How Luke had watched him dangle from the ledge of that building before he fell to his death.

You sniffled at the end of his story, “I’ll have to thank Luke next time I see him.” You said, closing your eyes and reveling in your sense memory. The smell of his shampoo – tea tree – and the smell of his apartment – stale coffee and old books.

“Where were you?” He whispered, reaching up and skimming the scar on your forehead with his fingertips.

Slowly, you opened your eyes to find his brown ones watching you. “Minnesota,” You whispered, “St. Paul.” Taking a deep breath, you continued, “Then Sacramento, for a while.”

His brows furrowed, “Why did you leave St. Paul?”

You hesitated, afraid to speak about the event. One of the worst things to have ever happened to you, right on up there with the death of your mother. “My uh…” you cleared your throat, “my location was compromised.”

“Does it have anything to do with the scar?” The one you had lied to him about hours ago.

Shutting your eyes, you nodded almost imperceptibly, “It has everything to do with the scar.”

You could see him starting to put a story together on his own, there was a scar on your face that hadn’t been there last year. A scratch. “What happened?”

The memory was there, you wanted to bury it, but it would stick with you forever. The scar on your forehead would fade, but the scar on your soul was permanent. “I did it, I put the scar there,” you admitted. “I don’t know how he found me,” you whispered, that same feeling of defeat rising in your chest.

You were lucky that there was no one else in the house for you to hurt because if Peter Lewis had turned you into a murderer, it might’ve pushed you over the metaphorical edge. As you spoke to Spencer, you told him as much. You were in a bad place while you were in WITSEC.

The two of you remained curled up together in a mess of tears and limbs and fistfuls of shirts and the overwhelming fear of being separated. Looking at him simultaneously broke your heart and put it back together again. “Sacramento was nice, but I missed the East Coast,” you whispered.

“What about your dad?” Spencer asked softly. Part of you wondered if he wanted to go to sleep, it was dark outside now, but you couldn’t be bothered to check the time.

Nodding, you sniffled, “he’s in Philadelphia with Jack, has been the whole time. That’s where I’ve been, with them.”

Spencer lifted his head to look at you, “Where are you staying tonight?”

Sighing, you shifted on the couch, “In a hotel, I’m apartment hunting tomorrow.”

“No,” he said simply, a frown forming on his face.

You laughed lightly, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

He shook his head, “I mean don’t go apartment hunting tomorrow, stay here with me. Stay here tonight, too.” He said, voice bordering on pleading.

“Spencer, we were together for almost six years and never moved in together,” you told him, arching one brow in suspicion. You had talked about it, it just never seemed to happen.

He sat up fully, “I’m tired of making excuses about breaking leases and travel times, Y/N. There’s not enough time in life to keep avoiding it,” he gestured wildly with his hands as his voice slowly rose.

You tried to wrap your head around the idea, “I just want to make sure you’ve thought this through before making a decision this big.” Folding your hands in your lap, you noticed the first real change in him. This was impulsive.

“I spent three months in prison thinking about you!” He said loudly, “Sometimes that was the only thing that kept me going.” That was quieter like he realized how loud he was actually being. “I knew there was my mom, I knew there was the team, but seeing you again… that kept me going.” He studied your face and based on the emotions you were feeling you could only imagine what your expression was, “Is it me? Is it everything I told you that I did? The poison? Cat? Do you not love me anymore?”

Your breath hitched, “I love you. Of course, I still love you.” Finally, you saw it. He was different, but at the same time, he was still the boy who hid his feelings from you – afraid of upsetting your father. The two of you had a long way to go before you could be together in way you used to be, and maybe things would never be the same.

His shoulders slouched forward in relief, “then move in with me.”

Nodding, you leaned your head on his shoulder, “okay.” You took his hand in yours, expertly intertwining your fingers as if no time had passed. “Okay,” you whispered. It certainly didn’t hurt to try.

“And for the record,” he murmured, “I love you too.”

please remember to reblog, like, and/or commend if you enjoyed!

[atimebombarcarchive]

SEND 🫂 TO JUST HUG MY MUSE. NO REASON. HUG THEM. - @astraloutlaw​​ sent a MEME

It has been a pretty terrible couple of weeks - first with separating, and then with the fight, and then losing the fight, and losing Rocket... Groot doesn’t like to think about that. He was already a moody teenager, and losing his parental figures, almost all of them, didn’t help. So he’s sulky, and bitter, and lashing out. Today has been no exception - skulking around their now repaired ship, kicking things, being aggravating most likely. Which is why the hug is a surprise, and though he does stop being surly. “I am Groot?” (‘What is this for?’)

[sycamorelibrary754]

We're a Family

Summary: You and Natasha are taking your first vacation since the birth of your 5-year-old daughter. While you and Natasha are off on a romantic getaway to Paris for your anniversary, how will your Avengers family handle watching your daughter for the weekend?

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Romance

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Some mentions of grief.

A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback on Come Home to Me! I hope to keep writing as I feel inspired and have time. This story takes place after the events of Endgame. Tony survived defeating Thanos with the Snap, and Steve brought Natasha back after returning the Soul Stone to Vormir.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Natasha questioned for the third time that Friday morning as you gathered the last essentials for your 5-year-old daughter to take to the Avengers Compound. You and Nat were taking your first vacation together since your child's birth in celebration of your wedding anniversary. Understandably, your wife was struggling with the idea of leaving your daughter. It was all you could do to convince Natasha to drop her off at preschool, let alone leave her overnight. 

“Love, we’ve talked about this. It’s only for the weekend. Mila is going to have a great time. Besides, there is nowhere safer for her than surrounded by Avengers. You trust them with your life”, you remind her reassuringly as you rub gentle circles on her back.

“Exactly. My life, not my child,” Nat muttered.

It had been five years since you gave birth to your and Natasha’s daughter. Your whole world changed from the moment you both laid eyes on her. Soon after, Nat transitioned into semi-retirement with guidance from Clint. She was still available for consultation and recruit training or if the situation was dire, but you and Mila are her number one priority now.

You heard little feet padding down the hall as your daughter entered your bedroom. Her red curls bounced up and down on her head. “I'm ready, Mommy and Mama!” Mila squealed. 

“Oh, Moya Lyubov, you look so pretty! Did you dress yourself this morning?” Natasha asked, getting down to her level.  

“Yes! I wanted to match Auntie Yelena!” as she showed off her mini black vest that Yelena made her for her last birthday, worn expertly over her pink tutu. 

“Auntie Yelena is going to love it, sweetheart. You’re going to have so much fun with your aunts and uncles this weekend,” hugging her tight.

After packing your luggage in the car, you drive to the compound. FRIDAY greets you as you exit the main elevator. “Good morning, Ms. Romanoff, Ms. Y/L/N.” The team is awaiting your arrival in the common room.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” you replied as Mila let go of Natasha’s hand and ran ahead of both of you, having been here several times already in her young life.

As you enter the room, you see Wanda and Vision in the kitchen, and the smell of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air. Peter and Kate are playing video games, Bucky and Sam are playing cards with Clint, and Steve is quietly reading Moby Dick. 

“Little spider!” Yelena called out as she entered the room, and Mila ran into her arms.  

“Auntie Yelena! Do you like my outfit? I got dressed all by myself!” 

“I love it, malayshka. It's so much cooler than Mama’s outfit,” Yelena says as she side-eyes her older sister with a smile. “We are going to have so much fun this weekend.”

“Yeah, about that,” Natasha interrupted. “Mission briefing in five.”

Mission briefing?" you asked, confused. "Love, we're going on vacation, not a stakeout.”

“Yes, but they have the most important mission of all, watching our daughter,” motioning to the group before you.

Your heart warms at how protective your wife was—the Black Widow. She was a woman who would run into a collapsing building or intercept an alien invasion without batting an eye, but the moment she became a mother, everything changed. She vowed to give Mila everything she never had as a child. To break the cycle of uncertainty and pain that the Red Room forced upon her. Truthfully, you were so proud of how far Natasha had come. From growing up believing love was for children to giving nothing but love to both of you. 

Just then, Tony and Bruce entered the living room, arguing over their latest nanotech calculations, with Pepper following closely behind. 

“Hey, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, park it,” Natasha declared. 

“Ah, Rushman, wonderful to see you as always,” Tony says, winking at Nat. She rolled her eyes in response as Tony and Bruce hugged you before sitting down, and Pepper picked up your daughter.

“Come on sweetie, do you want to go play with Morgan?” Pepper asked.

“Yay!” Mila cheered as they walk down the hall to Morgan’s room.

“Okay, here are some quick dos and don’ts for this weekend. No guns, no repulsor rays, no arrows, and no using our daughter as a beta test subject for any new experiments. When Thor gets here, no Asgardian beverages in front of our child. Mila’s bedtime is 7 pm, and she likes it if you do the characters' voices when you read her bedtime story. If she has trouble falling asleep, a lullaby usually does the trick. Got it?”

“Geez, this is almost as bad as Budapest,” Clint whispered to Kate.

“It’s going to be alright, Natasha,” Wanda reassured. “We’re a family. You know we would do anything for that little girl. Please, go and enjoy your anniversary. No one deserves some special alone time more than you two”, Wanda says as she hands you a tin of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies for the trip. 

You put your arm around Natasha and kiss her cheek. “Wanda is right, my love. Mila will be fine.” 

Just as you complete the sentence, Mila runs back into the room. “Mommy, Mama! Morgan has Puss and Boots: The Last Wish, and we will watch it tonight before bedtime.” 

“That sounds like so much fun, sweetheart! I know you will be a good girl for your aunts and uncles, and Mommy and Mama will see you on Sunday night, okay? We love you so much.” you said. 

“Okay, Mommy. I love you!” She said as she hugged you so tight. Natasha knelt to kiss your daughter on the cheek and squeezed her hand three times. Their unique way of saying I love you. After one last hug and kiss, you walk to the Quinjet. Tony had offered one for easy and convenient travel. 

*^~^*

By the time you arrive at your hotel in Paris, it’s almost dinner time. After sightseeing, you two enjoyed a gourmet candlelit dinner under the Parisian moon and a romantic stroll under the stars. When you returned to your room, you received a text message from Clint with a photo of your daughter asleep on her bed—lovingly cuddled under a blanket with Yelena. 

“See, she’s okay,” you said lovingly as Natasha smiled at the picture of her little girl and her little sister.

As you lay in bed that night, you feel more grateful than ever to be here with the love of your life. Both of you had learned firsthand to never take anything for granted.

You were one of the lost souls left behind after the Blip. Struggling with the loss of your loved ones, you began attending Steve’s Brooklyn Support Group once a week. It was after one of those meetings that you were first introduced to the Black Widow. 

Natasha hesitated at first to let anyone in. She was too scared to lose anyone else and was convinced that nothing should take away from her commitment to bring everyone back. However, she still found any excuse to attend Steve’s meetings. Whether that was to bring homemade peanut butter sandwiches for the snack table or shyly offering to give you a ride home. 

You weren’t a hero or a super soldier. You didn’t remind Natasha of the guilt she carried over the last five years as the fallout from the Blip continued. You were just yourself, which Natasha loved the most about you. You began to visit her at the compound, and slowly but surely, the walls came down for both of you. 

When she told you about the Time Heist, you didn’t want to hear it. You couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing Natasha, but you knew she believed in her heart that she owed it to everyone they had lost to try. When Clint returned from Vormir alone and dropped to his knees, so did you. Grief overtook you all over again.

As the Battle for Earth became inevitable, the team hid you in a safe house off the grid. Days went by and you lost track of time, stuck in your grief and unaware of what was happening. It wasn't until a knock on your door awoke you in the middle of the night that you dropped to your knees again. This time in shock at the sight of Natasha on your doorstep. Tears streaming down her face, she told you they had won. Tony defeated Thanos with the Snap, and Steve performed a miracle by bringing her back upon returning the Soul Stone to Vormir. 

So much life has happened since then. You were married in a beautiful autumnal ceremony shortly after Nat returned and bought your house. Five years ago and twelve hours of labor later, you welcomed your daughter into the world that your wife sacrificed herself to save. You couldn’t believe how much you loved them both. Returning to the present moment, you gently move a strand of Natasha’s unbraided red hair away from her face. Her hands move effortlessly to the nape of your neck, and you lose yourself in her touch.

*^~^*

It’s Saturday morning back at the compound, and Mila is eating blueberry pancakes when Clint strolled in from his morning workout. 

“Hey, squirt! Those pancakes look amazing. Did Auntie Wanda make those?” he asked, reaching for the extra plate of pancakes on the counter. 

Before Mila can respond, the plate glides quickly away from him, enveloped in Wanda’s red magic. “Auntie Wanda did make those, but they’re only for adorable little girls named Mila. Is your name Mila?” Wanda said to Clint with a raised eyebrow.

“No,” Clint grumbled.

“Then make your breakfast, Hawkeye,” Wanda sighed, patting him on the back. 

After breakfast, Sam and Bucky take Mila outside to play. Meanwhile, Steve is working on a mission report in his room when FRIDAY interrupts his concentration. “Mr. Rogers, I’m picking up an elevated heat signature from your shield just north of your location.” Steve looked curiously out the window to see Mila giggling as she slid across the grass. She is sitting on his overturned shield, pulled by a rope tied to the back of Red Wing. 

“My shield is not a toy!” Steve yelled out the window. 

“Oh, hey, Cap! It does make a great sled, doesn’t it?” Bucky answered, pretending not to hear what his best friend said, as Sam laughed out loud. 

Steve shakes his head to hide his smile. You meant the world to him, having spent countless hours processing your grief together in that dark and dank recreation room in Brooklyn. He was honored when you and Natasha asked him to be Mila’s godfather. His shield was made from Vibranium, after all. If his goddaughter wanted to play with it, he knew no harm would be done. 

That afternoon, Peter arrived at the compound to work on his newest suit upgrade with Tony. Mila is engrossed in coloring at the kitchen table with Auntie Kate when Peter walks in to get a soda. 

“Hey Mila, what are you up to?”

“Coloring, do you want to help us?” Mila asked happily. 

Peter nodded, and they got lost in her Disney Princess coloring book for the next twenty minutes. After adding pretty sparkles to Elsa’s Frozen dress, Mila noticed Peter’s Spider-Man suit sticking out of his bag. 

“Pretty!” Mila said with wide eyes.

“You like it?” Peter asked.

“Yes, is this how you fly? Mama says you can fly!” Mila exclaimed. 

“Something like that,” Peter chuckled and tousled her hair. 

Down in the lab, Tony had been waiting for Peter to arrive for half an hour. Unusual, as his protege was typically annoyingly punctual. Running out of patience, Tony asks FRIDAY for Peter’s current location.

“Mr. Parker is in the kitchen with Ms. Bishop and the young Ms. Romanoff, sir.” Tony rolls his eyes as he trudged up the stairs.

“Hey Hawkette, have you seen Peter? He was supposed to — “

Tony stops as he sees Peter swinging from the ceiling with Mila on his back. Kate was too busy filming the spectacle on her phone to notice Tony standing there. 

“Wee!! Faster, Uncle Peter!” Mila shouted as Peter’s web carried them across the room to the top of the bookcase. 

Tony’s eyes follow the pair around the room. He put on his best poker face, “I won’t tell Romanoff or her better half, but if you break it, you pay for it. That includes the kid.” Tony warned.

“Sure thing, Mr. Stark,” Peter gives Tony a thumbs up. 

“And for God’s sake, at least put some pillows down on the floor!” Tony hollered as he walked back to his lab. 

*^~^*

You and Natasha took a Saturday evening cruise down the Seine River in the city of love. It was magical. When your phone alerted you to an incoming FaceTime from Carol, you had seen the Musée d’Orsay the Notre Dame Cathedral and had just reached the top of the Eiffel Tower. You swiped, her face appearing on the screen.

“Hey, you two, I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be on Earth-616 tomorrow for a meeting with Fury and thought I’d drop in on my favorite couple. Wait, where are you?” 

“Paris, for our anniversary! Our first vacation alone in over five years. Can you believe it?” you said giddily as Natasha put her arms around your waist and lovingly kissed your cheek. 

“Wow, that’s wonderful! Where’s your little mini-me?” Carol asked.

“With the team if you’re going there anyway, could you just make sure that everything is good with Mila?” Natasha inquired. 

“Of course. You know you never have to ask.”

“Thank you, Carol,” you gratefully respond. We’ll be back tomorrow evening, so I’m sure we’ll see you then.” Carol gave you a mock salute before you ended the call and put your phone back in your coat pocket. 

“You look so beautiful, dorogaya. After all this time, I still can't believe you’re mine.” Nat waxed poetically as she removed her scarf and wrapped it around your neck. Natasha could not look more beautiful in the glow of the Eiffel Tower. You decided this is the perfect moment to give her your anniversary gift. You slowly hand her the red velvet box you had snuck into your satchel. Her green eyes went wide at the sight of it.

“Detka! We said no gifts this year. This trip is gift enough,” Nat facetiously scolded.

“I know, but I still wanted to do something special for you,” you said sheepishly. 

Natasha opens the box, revealing a simple, delicate gold heart locket necklace. Upon opening the pendant, she is greeted by a candid photo of all three of you. Clint took one during your last visit with his family in Iowa. Nat was sitting on Clint’s front porch with a smiling Mila on her lap. You are leaning behind her with your arms wrapped lovingly around her neck. It quickly became one of your favorite photos of your small yet precious family. 

“This is so beautiful, Moya Lyubov. Can you put it on me?”

You moved Natasha’s braid away from her neck and clasped the necklace in the back. The heart locket fell directly on top of her own heart. It looked perfect on her. You're not sure who leaned in first, but your lips met in a kiss that made your stomach flutter like it was the first time. You couldn’t be happier than you were at that moment. 

*^~^*

The Sunday morning sun was slowly breaking through the compound windows. Yelena was pouring your daughter a bowl of Cheerios and singing along to the sound of American Pie from her phone when The God of Thunder entered through the Bifrost. Mila jumped and started to hide behind her Auntie Yelena but ran toward him when she realized only her Uncle Thor was materializing before them, leaving his trademark on Pepper’s Persian rug. 

“Must you do that every time? You’re becoming more of a poser than my sister.” Yelena remarked. 

“Of course,” Thor said nonchalantly. “It is the only entrance fit for the God of Thunder.”

He lifted Mila with one arm, “Odin’s Beard! You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you, Mila,” Thor declared

“I know! Did you bring me a present Uncle Thor?” Mila squealed. 

“Yes! Now, let’s see here… Asgardian Ale, Mead, no… ah, here it is!” He handed the little girl a small snow globe set in gold with her name engraved elegantly on the base.

“Wow. Pretty snow globe….” Mila whispered. 

“It is indeed,” Thor said, sitting cross-legged on the carpet before the little girl. “This is a special Asgardian snow globe. Look, see the rainbow bridge inside it?” He pointed. “Most importantly, Lady Mila, if you shake it, I shall be there in a flash. If ever you need me, I will be there.”

“Thank you, Uncle Thor!” Mila said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. I’m going to show it to my Teddy Bear!” Running to her bedroom. 

“You spoil her, you know,” Yelena stated with a smirk, as she began to clean up the kitchen. 

“I know, but she is such a grand example of goodness and joy in such a tiny human. She deserves the world.” Thor declared.

Carol arrived shortly after lunch. After a short meeting with Fury in the conference room regarding upcoming mission targets, she finds your daughter in the compound courtyard. She is wearing her vest to match her favorite auntie as Yelena demonstrates the newest tricks Fanny has learned.

“Roll over! Good girl, Fanny!” Yelena praised the dog. Mila takes a treat out of her vest pockets with her tiny hand and tosses it to the Akita.

“Well done, Mila! Before you go home tonight, I will show you what else you can hide inside those pockets,” winking at her niece. 

“Fruits and veggies, right, Yelena?” Carol deadpanned as Mila ran over and jumped into Captain Marvel’s arms. 

“Auntie Carol! When did you get here?” Your daughter giggled. 

“Just a little bit ago. I talked to your Mommy and Mama last night. They miss you and can’t wait to see you when they get home tonight,” Carol shared before kissing your daughter on the cheek.

*^~^*

As the sun started to sink on the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ancient city of Paris, you found yourself immersed in the rich history of the Louvre museum. You had eagerly anticipated this moment, and after spending the afternoon exploring the countless treasures within the museum's walls, Natasha was determined to ensure you had the chance to lay eyes on the iconic Mona Lisa. As you weaved your way through the bustling crowd of tourists, Natasha's determined presence caused a path to effortlessly clear before you as she kindly asked them to move the fuck over.

You returned to your hotel and enjoyed a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries when Natasha’s phone dinged. 

Carol: Hey, lovebirds. It's all good here. Mila is doing great and excited to see you when you return. However, you may want to check her vest pockets when you get home for some “special” presents courtesy of Auntie Yelena. 😘

Natasha giggled, showing you the text. 

“The important thing is that they’re bonding,” placing a delicate kiss on her temple. 

Following Wanda’s delicious Chicken Paprikash dinner, your daughter watched Frozen II. Vision attempted to explain the science behind snowflakes to her when Tony strolled into the lounge.

“Hey, kiddo, do you want to come to the lab with me and see the new suit modifications that the Jolly Green Giant and I are working on?”

“Yay!” Mila said excitedly, jumping up and down.

“Sir, Ms. Romanoff indicated there was to be no experimenting with young Ms. Mila while she is in our care.”

“Relax, chrome dome. We’re just looking at the new holographic mockup.” Picking up Mila and carried her to his lab. 

*^~^*

After a few hours, Natasha gracefully guided the Quinjet to a smooth landing. As the engines powered down, she took a deep breath and gently reached across the console to grasp your hand. Together, you gazed out at the glittering lights of the team living quarters in the distance.

"Thank you for making our anniversary so wonderful," you said. "I love you so much. I know it was tough for you to leave Mila for three days, but not only did we have a beautiful anniversary, but our daughter got to spend meaningful time with her family, which she will always remember." You pressed a kiss to her knuckles as Natasha caressed your cheek.

You were right, dorogaya. This was perfect. I’m sorry I was so nervous about leaving her. I just never thought I would have my happily ever after. That little girl and you are my everything. It breaks my heart every time I leave either one of you.

“I know, my love,” you said quietly. “Now, let’s go get our daughter and go home.”

As you entered the compound, the air was filled with shouting and the excited barking of Fanny and Lucky. Natasha instinctively reached for her spare Widow Bites, but before she could react, both of you heard the unmistakable sound of your daughter's laughter. Following the noise, you entered the common room to find your daughter joyfully running through the compound. She was wearing her pajamas and had one of Tony’s Iron Man helmets perched on her head while clutching a can of whipped cream. Yelena and the rest of the team were in hot pursuit, with puffs of whipped cream trailing behind her as she raced through the room.

Kate skidded to a stop in front of both of you. “Oh, you guys are back. Awesome! Umm, we made ice cream sundaes for dessert. Mila enjoyed hers, as you can see”, Kate motioned, breathing heavily.

Mila took her last lap around the couch when she caught sight of you and Natasha. 

“Mommy, Mama! You’re here!!” she squealed, running into Natasha’s arms. 

“Hi, Moya Lyubov, we missed you so much!!” Natasha said as she wrapped Mila in a big hug before passing her to you to do the same. 

“It looks like you had fun with your aunts and uncles this weekend,” removing the helmet and brush a red curl away from her eyes. 

“I had so much fun, Mommy! I got to eat yummy food, ride a sled, fly, and Auntie Yelena helped me hide special treasures in my vest pockets. Oh, and I got a magic snow globe with my name on it!” Your daughter rambled happily. 

Natasha looked at you slightly skeptical, wondering if your sweet little girl was exaggerating. With your family, you were never quite sure. 

“Wow, that sounds amazing, kotyonok!” Are you ready to go home now?” Nat asked as Mila gives you her best puppy dog eyes. 

“It’s okay sweetheart, we’ll come back and see everyone next weekend. Why don’t you go get your Teddy bear?” you suggested.

“I’ll help her with her things,” Yelena said, scooping up your daughter and walking to her bedroom. 

“We can’t thank all of you enough for taking such good care of her. I know she would stay here forever if we let her.” You said as you move through the group hugging every one. 

She is always welcome here, you two know that.” Wanda said, confident she was speaking for the entire team. 

A short while later, Mila emerged with her unicorn backpack, followed by Yelena, carrying more bags than she had when you dropped her off. You couldn't help but shake your head, knowing the team had showered her with gifts. Natasha crouched down to Mila’s eye level, tenderly placing her hand on her back. “Can you say goodbye and thank you to all of your aunts and uncles, dorogaya?” she asked. Mila made her way around the room, hugging everyone. It warmed Natasha to witness her family showering your daughter with so much love and affection.

Mila drifted off to sleep only five minutes after being placed in her car seat. Upon returning home, Natasha carried her to her bed with the utmost care. She tenderly laid Mila down, ensuring she was tucked in snugly, and then, both of you gently kissed her forehead before quietly slipping out of the room. You decided to postpone the unpacking until the following day, feeling too exhausted from the long journey. In the bedroom, Natasha was sitting in bed, engrossed in a book with her reading glasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose. The day's fatigue faded as you turned off the bathroom light and joined her in bed.

“I couldn’t have asked for a more romantic anniversary, my love,” you admitted as you carefully removed her glasses from her face and gently kissed her lips. “But there is nowhere I would rather be than at home with you and our beautiful daughter.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nat said, returning the kiss. 

As Natasha drifted into slumber, her mind wandered back to the tumultuous path that had brought her to this moment. She couldn't escape the memories of her past—a life of manipulation in the Red Room with no autonomy and the unending pursuit to cleanse her conscience of the bloodstains it bore. But then came the shot that Clint didn't take and the chance that Fury did. Her deeply unconventional yet cherished family culminated in the arrival of you and your precious daughter. In these precious bonds, Natasha Romanoff found the strength to thrive and, at long last, find peace.

[alisonwritesimagines]

Naps in the Quinjet ~Peter Parker Imagine~

Requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent:

Peter Parker x female!Stark!reader

Reader and Peter getting back from a mission, on the quinjet, and the other avengers can't get over how adorable they are

Bc they are all cuddled, and how about Peter got a mild concussion so he's just snuggling int reader

Summary: After a rough mission, both you and Peter crash together in the quinjet.

Author’s Note: I got physically sick last night from being in charge of a family trip because no one understands a certain amusement park like I do.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of concussions, injuries, reader gives out some Alex Russo vibes

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Your father was never fond of the idea of you joining the Avengers team. However, it was bound to happen since your father was non other than Tony Stark. So you were a target to most enemies.

When your father took in Peter Parker after the civil war fiasco, you two have been together like glue. You both were the same age, liked the same stuff, and you two had fought many enemies together side by side.

However, this mission was harsher than any one that you and Peter have faced. Your father had to carry you back to the quinjet before setting you down on a bench.

"You should've been more careful," your father scolded you.

"I was careful," you tell him.

"No you weren't. Because if you were careful, you wouldn't have a wound on the side of your body," your father tells you.

"It's technically a minor wound," you tell him.

"Minor or not, I'm still upset you got hurt," your father tells you. "And that goes for you to."

You looked over at Peter who sat next to you. Peter had a cut on his head that was making him bleed a little. You frowned a little as you stared at his cut. Natasha walked over to the two of you before fixing Peter up a little until you guys got back.

"You okay, Peter?" You asked him.

"I'll be alright."

"You two can be reckless, you know that?" Tony tells you two, looking at you both with a stern look.

"But we survived," you pointed out. Tony gave you a look, making you quiet.

"Let's head out already so the two can be checked out," Tony tells Clint and Steve.

"On our way," Clint told Tony as he began the quinjet.

"Peter?" You asked.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna take a nap?"

"Yeah."

Natasha noticed you both first. She smiled softly as you leaned your head onto Peter's shoulder with his arm wrapped around you. His head was leaned back against the wall, making him look up at the ceiling as he slept.

"Steve," Natasha said quietly.

"What?"

"Look," Natasha pointed over. He looked over and smiled at the two of you.

"Tony's gonna have a blast when he sees that," Steve chuckled.

"Hold on. Before you tell him or before he finds out," Natasha said before taking out her phone. She snapped a photo of the two of you before smirking at the photo.

"Okay, now he can see the two," Natasha joked.

"Hey, Tony," Steve called out to get his attention.

"What?"

"How do you feel about y/n dating?" Steve asked him.

"I'm not ready for her to date," Tony said.

"Well you might need to get ready soon," Natasha said as she looked over at the two of you.

Tony followed her gaze to see you comfortably sleeping on Peter. Both Steve and Natasha smiled at Tony's small look of disapproval.

"He's a good kid. Plus they always hang out. What will be the difference?" Steve asked Tony.

"Because I would need to see him as a potential threat to her," Tony pointed out.

"How is Peter a potential threat to y/n?" Natasha asked.

"Because she is my little girl and if anyone hurts her, I will throw them up in space without any oxygen," Tony told her.

"Oh please. For anything, it would be Peter to get hurt from y/n," Natasha told him.

"Let them sleep. They need it," Steve told the two.

Once you all made it back to the base, you woke up to feeling Peter's arm around you. You felt your cheeks heat up as you looked up at Peter.

"Peter. Wake up," you whispered as you gently woke him up.

"Hmm?" Peter asked as his eyes opened up a little.

"We're back. Let's go get fixed up. And then maybe later, we can watch a movie?" You asked.

"I would need to check in with my aunt first," Peter told her.

"Of course. But whenever you're available, we can have a movie night?" You asked.

"I'd like that," Peter said as he helped you over to the infirmary.

"I bet you ten bucks those two will get together within the week," Natasha tells Steve.

"Ten bucks says Tony is going to have a small fit over her dating," Steve added.

"You're on," Natasha smirked at Steve as the two shook on it.

Bonus:

"You two are dating?!" Tony asked in shock.

"Yes. And I am old enough to date. Don't make me remind you of your dating history," you pointed out.

"At least it's with Peter," Pepper pointed out.

"Thank you," you tell her.

"Just no kissing in front of me okay?" Tony said.

"No promises."

While you and your father argued about your dating life, Peter looked at Natasha and Steve confused on why Natasha gave Steve ten dollars. The three were sitting together while they watched you defend your relationship with Peter.

"Why did you give Cap ten dollars?" Peter asked Natasha.

"Don't worry about it kid."

[exhaslo]

OMG HI I HOPE YOUR DAY WAS GOOD

i was thinking of a whole thing where miguel is constantly tortured by spiderwoman reader because yk his heightened senses he vould literally smell like her natural scent + perfume and it hinders his performance as spiderman so lets say like one day he’s at a breaking point and readee is just naturally a little bratty because its their personality but that day it was yk that horny week before the period so she like REEKED OF SEX bc she had some solo time before getting to the society so she goes to a mission or something and her perfume was just gone because she smelled like herself and she was teasing miguel, so like miguel decides to put her in her place by literally fucking them to submission and possibly score a date after

IDK JUST A THOUGHT OKK BYEEE HOPE THIS ISNT TOO MUCH

I love these feral like Miguel moments. Boy can freaking do so much more than the regular Spiderman that I just CRAVE for him to be real. Cries.

Warning: Minors DNI, Smut, feral Miguel, creampie, oral, size kink, rough sex, dirty talk

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a mistake to bring you here.

You were a temptress, a tormentor to Miguel. Ever since he brought you to the Spider Society, you've done nothing but torture the poor man. You naturally smelled like sex. It was so intoxicating, especially since Miguel had heighten senses.

While everyone else treated you normal, Miguel couldn't help but have to avoid you. Your scent just brought out a side of him he wasn't sure he liked. A side that felt so animalistic. Miguel was worried that he had to run tests on himself due to his half Spider DNA.

"Miguel! You can't keep yourself locked in here forever! People will believe those vampire rumors." Peter yelled out. Miguel ignored him,

"I can and I will," He mumbled to himself.

"Bah! Oh! (Y/N), hey! Have I shown you my new pictures of-"

Miguel instantly froze the moment you entered his office. He tuned Peter out and groaned at the scent of you. This was difficult. You were even wearing a sweet perfume to try and cover your arousing scent, but Miguel could still smell it. He could still smell you.

"Miguel, I wanted to ask-"

"Whatever it is, fine." Miguel spat, clenching onto his work desk.

"But I didn't even-"

"Yes! Whatever it is, yes! Just...both of you, leave NOW!" Miguel hissed. Peter raised his hands up in defense,

"I think he's hangry."

"Mhm," You nodded in response and slowly left, "Well, thank you, Miguel. I'm looking forward to working with you on your next mission!" You said with a chirp.

Miguel immediately paled as he snapped his head towards where you had just left. His desperation for you leaving had just signed him up for a whole mission with you? Oh, there was no way he could survive. This sexual frustration he was having from you scent was not going to end well for him.

--------

"Geez, Miguel, even I could take down my Rhino faster than you arrived." You said with a snobby huff.

Miguel rolled his eyes as he approached you with a separate mask on. You raised a brow, wondering if he was sick, but before you could ask a portal was opened. Miguel activated his normal mask and jumped in ahead of you.

"Sooooo, are you like...sick or something?" You asked as you entered the new dimension.

"Sure,"

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Then, can you say more than one word without yelling?" You grumbled, swinging in front of Miguel now.

"Watch your six."

Miguel was doing his best to avoid you. He even wore a second mask to try and block out your scent, but it wasn't working. This was painful. You didn't deserve this treatment from him. Miguel knew that, but what could he do? How could he tell you that your natural scent was making him horny?

"Miguel! Behind you!" You called out.

Miguel raised his head and tensed as you tackled him. His head right in between your breasts as the two of you landed against the fire escape outside a building. He cussed lowly, wishing that he had Spider Senses like the others.

"Are you okay? You seemed distracted today," You asked, placing your palm on his forehead, "No fever."

"I-I'm fine. Let's...get that anomaly." Miguel groaned.

Your scent was all over his mask now. Miguel couldn't breathe without inhaling you. Feeling his vision blur, Miguel almost reached out to grab you. He felt relieved as you quickly rushed towards the anomaly. Unable to stop his shaking body, Miguel tried to pull himself together.

"Lyla, I need to find a solution to this," Miguel hissed lowly, taking his mask off to breathe fresh air.

Lyla appeared before him, "I can think of one way." She hummed.

"Do it."

----------

Miguel was groaning in his office, threatening to do something inappropriate. You were nearly all over Miguel once you caught the anomaly, bugging him about how he was doing and whatnot. You were so clueless and annoying because you had no idea how good you smelled to him.

"So, Lyla told me that you got a problem. Said that I'm the only one who could help. Lucky me," You said with a wide grin.

A shiver ran down Miguel's spine the moment you walked in. Your scent was overwhelming! Not even your perfume could cover the fact of what you did. Feeling his vision blur again, Miguel tried not to breathe. Your arousal was stronger than before.

"You're only making it worse," Miguel groaned, leaning over his platform with sweat rolling down his forehead.

He needed you.

"Making it worse?! You're the one who went on a mission sick. Unbelievable."

"Leave....now," Miguel begged.

He wanted you.

"Lyla told me that I can help. So I'm here to help. I'm not leaving because you're in a bad mood."

"I'm telling you to leave for your fucking sake!" Miguel growled as he started to approach you, "I can't stop myself any longer if you continue to stay."

"Is that supposed to be a threat? I'm not sca-"

Miguel grabbed your arms, pushing you against the wall as he stole a kiss from you. Lifting you up, Miguel held you in place with his hips. Your scent was driving him crazy. His hands were roaming your body as your scent got stronger.

"(Y/N)"

You on the other hand, gasped in surprise. This was not the kind of problem you were expecting, but hell, you weren't going to deny it. Shit, everyone wanted a chance with Miguel, even you. Eyes widening as Miguel started to grinding against you, you whimpered lowly,

"So...any reason...why I'm your problem?"

"Your scent," Miguel hissed as he ripped apart your suit.

"Hey! I spent hours-"

"I'll buy you a new one! Just stop talking." Miguel lifted you up higher, your legs now wrapped around his head, "Your fucking scent drives me insane. I can smell you everywhere."

"Huh?!" You gasped and cried out as Miguel licked your cunt, "H-Hey, a-at least ask me out first!"

"You masturbated right before entering my office on purpose, didn't you?" Miguel swirled his tongue around your clit, listening to your moans, "Always torturing me."

"O-Oh~ R-Right t-there~" You gasped, attempting to arch your back, "Y-You were...ah~ mhm~ a-able to smell me?"

"You even taste as sweet as you smell,"

Miguel ignored your comments as he kept feasting. You gripped onto his hair, moaning and crying out as Miguel's tongue ravished your poor cunt. You gasped, shaking as you felt your orgasm fast approaching. Miguel only took this as a sign to go faster.

Circling his tongue inside your pussy, Miguel groaned, finally getting a taste of you. Finally shutting you up. He brought you to his desk, clearing it off and laying you down. Once you cam against his face, Miguel licked his lips as he pressed his cock against your folds.

"M-Miguel....wait..."

"After cumming like that? After coming in here so horny? I'm not waiting anymore, (Y/N)."

You arched your back, crying out as you felt Miguel's dick stretch your walls. You tried to reach for him, but Miguel just grabbed your hand and licked it in response. His pupils were blown and he looked like a starved man. You were not leaving this room the same way you came in.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me in so well. Such a slutty pussy just for me. You like having my fat cock inside you, huh?"

"D-Don't be...mhm...t-to mean," You whimpered, feeling his tip poke your cervix. Miguel just chuckled as he started to slap his hips inside you,

"Your body is telling me otherwise. A small little thing like you is the perfect accessory for my cock. Tell me that you've been wanting this. My cock pounding the life out of your cunt."

"I-I won't let you win this. Y-You've totally been...ah~ ah~ w-wanting, hah~ m-me." Your moans were getting louder as you tried to win this silly little competition with Miguel.

"Fuck, that's right. Cum against my cock. Let your pussy drip all over my desk."

"Hah~ Ah~ M-Mig...R-Right t-there! Mhm~" You cried out, reaching another orgasm. Miguel clenched his jaw as you tighten around his aching cock,

"Good girl. Finally behaving." Miguel was losing his cool, falling into lust, "Let me reward you, yea?"

"Mhm~"

You flung your head back, crying out and moaning as Miguel kept thrusting into you, not giving you a chance to rest. A shiver ran up your spine as his grip against your waist tighten while his thrusts grew rougher and faster.

Your eyes nearly rolled back as you felt a hot wave fill you. Unable to even think of what had happened, you kept your whines as Miguel kept his unresting pace.

"(Y/N), don't let other people smell you," Miguel whispered into your neck.

"Y-You're...mhm....ah~" You tried to argue, wanting to tell him that he was the only weirdo.

It was a lost cause to tell him anything that night.

---------

"Keep looking guilty," You huffed, glaring towards Miguel as he worked on a new suit for you, "Hours. I spent hours sewing that suit."

"And I gave you hours of pleasure."

"You gave me buckets load of cum and orgasms. I still can't feel my legs."

"Again, I apologize, it seems as if your scent taps into my other half of DNA. I understand if-"

"I want a date! I'm owed a date!" You said childishly, "Oh! And that suit you're making! I want both!"

"Such a brat."

"Huh?! Who's the one who couldn't hold it in??!"

"Who's the one who masturbated before entering my office?!" Miguel huffed, hovering over you again, "Don't make me shut you up again."

"Then that's two dates."

"Deal."

It ended up being three dates that he owed you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed!!!

@tojishugetiddies

[webslingingslasher]

can we get a peter x reader fluff about like reader going to see family out of state for the weekend and peters js being really clingy and cute because he’s gonna miss

mcu peter <3

“I’ll be back in five days.” 

“You’re not allowed.” 

You tug your bag back from Peter, “You go on missions all the time and I survive, you’ll be okay.” 

“But… you’re going to the woods.” 

“You went to fucking space, you don’t get to talk.” 

Peter’s been complaining about your family trip for the past week, today’s been the worst because you’re trying to leave and he’s blocking the door and whining. 

“I’ll miss you, we won’t even get to talk!” 

You frown, that part sucks the most. You won’t get to speak the whole time, no service means no Peter. Five days without your boyfriend was going to drag. 

“I know, but I’ll call you before we lose service, and the second I get it back.” 

“But what if I want to go out for dinner?” 

“Take May.” 

“What if I want to build legos?” 

“Call Ned.” 

“What if I want to go bowling?” 

“Ask MJ.” 

“What if I want to have sex?” 

You narrow your eyes, “use your hand.” 

Peter snaps his fingers, “damn, I was hoping you’d say-” 

“Tread lightly.” His hands go up, “nevermind.” 

“Good boy.” 

You lean up for a kiss, he supplies and you pull away. 

“I’ll miss you, I’ll talk to you in a few hours, okay?” 

Your boyfriend pouts, “do you think they’ll notice if I stowaway in the trunk.” You laugh and pat his chest, “absence makes the heart grow fonder, remember why you miss me and I’ll do the same.” 

Peter grunts when your mom calls out for you, “this is the worst couples therapy to exist.” 

You kiss him one more time, “I love you too.” 

[fotibrit]

Tony Stark survived the snap, but barely.

His survival was kept under wraps, so much so that nobody was told beyond his doctor and Nick Fury. His family was allowed to grieve, given only the arc reactor that was in his chest.

Tony Stark was in a coma for a long time, long enough for his family to move on. Long enough for Morgan to barely recognize pictures of him, long enough for Peoper to go back to being called Virginia, long enough that monuments to Iron Man had long since been painted over. Long enough for Peter to be looking at colleges, maybe in college.

When Tony Stark woke out of his coma, he spent a while trying to decide what to do. He could announce his survival, disrupt everyone’s lives, simply to make his own better. He could get a new identity, try to reintegrate into society, get a job and an apartment and learn to live outside the workshop.

Tony elected for the second and started his new life, comfortable in an apartment near where his old tower had been. He started a new job, he learned all he could about the time he had been out, he tried to avoid anything to do with his old life.

But he didn’t need to avoid mentions of Peter Parker, he soon noticed. the name wasn’t anywhere. Not on the MIT student list, not listed as a high school graduate, not at his old apartment… nowhere. Spider man was still around, but Peter? Nowhere.

And as much as Tony tried to avoid getting sucked into his old life, he wondered what had become of his pseudo-son. What happened?

Tony found out what happened when he came face to face with Spider-Man. And the hero stopped in his tracks. And Tony stopped in his.

Because Peter had just found out that Tony was very much alive, no matter how different he looked now.

And based on the stunned expression on his face and the first word out of his mouth being “kid”, Peter guessed that somehow, tony had evaded the grasp of the spell.

Because the spell dosnt work on people in a coma.

And Tony could never forget the son he died to save.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Today's @wolfstarmicrofic prompt is unrequited!

(936 words.)

"Oh, just fuck right off!" Sirius snaps, grip tightening on his butterbeer.

"God, what's gotten into you?" Marlene asks, arching an eyebrow. To be perfectly honest, Sirius doesn't want to talk about it.

James is more than happy to, though.

"Don't worry about him. He's all pissy because of his unrequited love." Sirius' head immediately snaps up, alarmed.

"Prongs," He says, warning. His eyes almost involuntarily dart to Remus for half a second, panic seeping through him. James, however, is teetering on the line between tipsy and drunk, completely missing the hint.

"Mm, completely hung up on some girl, right?" Peter chimes in, and Sirius almost wants to laugh. The urge to drop dead is much stronger, though. To crawl into a hole and say there until this conversation ends.

"Something like that," Sirius says quickly, before turning away from them both. Fingers crossed, he can just shut this down. "Hey, Lily, that potions essay..."

Unfortunately for him, Lily seems just as invested.

"How do you know it's unrequited?" She asks curiously. Remus lifts his head, then, nose out of his book. For some reason, that's what tips him over the edge. He needs everyone to stop. This is difficult enough.

"Because I asked, okay?" He says hurriedly. It causes his friends to lapse into silence, but it's like he's just burst a dam. The explanation starts before he can hold it back. "I asked, and they said no. They said it was a bad idea, we were too close for that."

"Huh," Mary hums.

"What?" Sirius asks with a frown.

"They didn't say they don't like you?" Mary asks, and it really throws Sirius. He hasn't considered that.

"No, not exactly," He muses, frowning. "But why would anyone reject someone they like?"

"Maybe they were scared of ruining the friendship you two have," Remus speaks up gently, almost inaudibly from across the common room; capturing Sirius' attention in less than a second.

"That makes no sense," Sirius says without missing a beat, eyes locking with Remus. "They should know me well enough to know that I wouldn't let that happen. I know they wouldn't. We've survived worse."

From the corner of his eye, he can see confusion flit across James' face at that comment. Yeah, it was a bit of a risky thing to say. He's practically handing James the truth. It doesn't matter, though. Not right now. His eyes are fixed on Remus.

"Depends on what you think is worse. They might be worried about a messy breakup getting in the way."

"No, that can't be it," He says, imploring. The longing to see into Remus' mind, figure out what he means is too strong. He'll have to unravel it this way instead. "If they're already thinking about a breakup, then clearly they don't like me that much. Unrequited." He wants nothing more than to drop the matter now that he's proven his point to himself. Maybe he doesn't need to see inside Remus' mind. He goes to down the rest of his drink, but Remus is shaking his head, and Sirius is losing sight of everyone else in favour of Remus.

"Or they just care too much about you." There's something in Remus' eyes, an ache that Sirius wants to heal.

"Really? Why would they reject me when I told them how I feel, then?!" Sirius asks desperately. It seems to snap Remus' resolve, burst his ambigious speech.

"Because I'm in love with you, Sirius! Okay?! Christ, this isn't just some- some joke, or some experiment to me! You looked me in the eye and told me you liked me, and that- that made me hope, okay? I don't want to hope. To think that you liking me means you'll fall in love with me. I mean," He releases a breathy laugh, seemingly unaware to the way Sirius' world is turning on it's axis, "I'm me, and you're- you're perfect."

He seems to have reached the end of his tangent, pattering out as everyone looks between the two of them, stunned. Sirius searches his brain, which may or may not be short circuiting, for some way to voice his thoughts. There are so many things he could say, so many ways to tell Remus everything, but none of them seem to be enough. Enough to encompass everything. A better solution comes to him as his yearning overwhelms him.

With that, he sets his butterbeer down and crosses the common room. Remus' eyes widen, suddenly unsure, until Sirius pulls himself into Remus' armchair, facing him. He reaches out, pressing a hand against Remus' cheek and finally, finally connecting their lips. It's everything he could have imagined and more.

Remus' lips are soft, warm against his, overwhelmingly perfect, and making Sirius desperate to stay there forever, mapping out every inch of Remus' mouth, the way it fits against his like they should have been doing this forever. It's a feeling Sirius knows he's never going to forget, causing the words he has been desperately repressing for years bubbling up inside him.

"I love you," Sirius murmurs against Remus' lips after a moment. "I love you so much, Moony."

Their eyes meet again, Sirius watching as Remus' eyes go from searching to joyful, a grin splitting across his face. It took a whooping cheer from James to break the spell that Remus' eyes got him in. They both turn to their friends, a laugh escaping Sirius as he drops his head into Remus' shoulder.

"Thank fuck that's sorted, then!" Lily says brightly, a wry smile on her face.

Okay, Sirius is really grateful for his oversharing friends.

[dixons-sunshine]

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Three | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: Your suspicions regarding the community you were trapped in only heightened with each passing second. Daryl was mad at you, and you had confirmation that you were pregnant. Things couldn't get worse, could it?

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, blood and injuries.

Word count: 2.7k.

A/n: I feel like this is all over the place, plot-wise. However, another chapter was highly requested (by a few anons asking about it), so I stuck it out and this was born. I also feel like it ends on an awkward note, but I wanted to end it on a cliffhanger. I don't know if I did it right lol. Anyways, I hope you like this!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89 @jupiter1700 @enlightndone @shadowcitrine @ddamm @caseylicious @celtic-crossbow

“Alright, then.” Doctor Owen Miller tightly secured the bandage around Daryl's wrist. “The bandages should be able to come off in two to three days. The rope burns weren't that severe. You can feel really lucky about that.”

The doctor's suspiciously friendly voice barely reached the archer's ears. His ocean coloured eyes stared off at nothing in particular, his mind desperately attempting to wrap around that one pivotal fact the doctor had accidentally exposed to the unsuspecting father. Due to that fact, about a million thoughts were flooding through his brain—pregnant. You're pregnant. Baby. Father. He was going to be a father. He needed to get you out of there. He needed to keep you safe.

“Liam should be made aware that I expect to see the lady again tomorrow,” Doctor Owen told Mariah, subtly motioning over to you. “With the beating Peter gave her, I want to monitor the baby. I want to ensure that these two don't lose their child due to that asshole's—” The doctor cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Peter's recklessness. Please bring that to his attention.” With that, the doctor walked towards the door and opened it, momentarily stopping to add one last thing. “I'm off for the rest of day. Don't forget to lock up once your done.”

Mariah nodded as she helped you from the bed, careful not to disturb your injuries. “Of course.” She turned towards you and gave you a hesitant smile. “Ma'am, how are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? There were at least a million answers to that question: Slightly happy. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. But above all else? Overwhelmed. You were truly and undeniably extremely overwhelmed. You now had concrete evidence that you had a life growing within you, and although you were ecstatic at the news, you knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. For one, you were a thousand percent sure that your husband was pissed at you for keeping your pregnancy a secret and insisting on going with him beyond the safety the walls of Alexandria provided. On another note, you were even more certain that the supposed safe zone the two of you found yourselves trapped in wasn't all what Liam was making it out to be. That almost definitely meant that blood would be shed when you and Daryl attempted your escapes.

“Ma'am?” Mariah prompted, snapping her fingers in your face to grab your attention. “How are you feeling?” she repeated the question in a softer tone.

You shrugged and cast your eyes down towards your feet. “Okay, I guess,” you mumbled out weakly, your voice unknowingly snapping Daryl out of his trance and redirecting his fiery gaze to you. “I've had it way worse than this before.”

Mariah chuckled before she took a step back. “I bet,” she began, picking up the tray with the various tools and ointments that were used to clean and fix up your wounds. “You look like a real tough gal. You wouldn't have survived if you didn't get roughed up a couple of times, right?”

“Right,” you agreed in a mutter, your eyes hesitantly moving to meet those of your husband. You flinched a bit when you were met with a glare, but you didn't blame him. You knew he'd be pissed, and rightfully so. You just didn't expect him to be so open about his anger. Well, open by your standards. To the regular eye, his anger would be mistaken for the signature Daryl scowl, but you knew better. This was different. He was angry. And he was angry at you, which made it so much worse.

Mariah placed the tray on one of the tables before turning back to face you and Daryl. However, before she could speak up, a voice could be heard through the room; a voice that you had grown to know and hate, all within a few... Minutes? Hours? You didn't even know at this point.

“Mariah, love,” the voice of your captor, Liam, rung through the air from the walkie talkie that was sat on one of the shelves. “It was just brought to my attention that Doctor Miller is done with the new recruits. Please bring them up to the house for me.”

Mariah sighed, her steadily relaxing demeanour being replaced by that earlier nervous, mouse-like stature she had when you had originally met her. She walked towards the door and opened it. “Please follow me,” she squeaked out nervously, her eyes darting around.

You slowly walked towards her, not sparing Daryl a glance because you didn't want to see the anger behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. Besides, as mad as the archer was at you, he would never let you face that man alone. He would much rather die, that much you knew.

Daryl grumbled to himself and followed behind you, proving your point. Together, in silence, the two of you followed the woman out of the makeshift medical building and up to the big farmhouse you vaguely remembered spotting earlier—the farmhouse Liam had mentioned you and Daryl would be staying in with him. In no time at all, the three of you were walking up the steps of the majestic, white home, and in through the front door.

The inside of the home looked even more beautiful than the outside. It seemed as if though the horrors of the outside world were never heard of for this house. The floors were shining, the walls were decorated with all sorts of artwork, and there was even a television resting in the living room. However, you doubted the object even worked, because you hadn't spotted solar panels or anything that could generate power, so the thing was more of a decoration than anything else.

You were snapped out of your rather unnecessary train of thought by the feeling of someone's hand resting on your shoulder. The touch was all too familiar—it was your husband who was resting his hand on your shoulder. A subtle glance to your left proved your suspicions correct. So your husband didn't hate you. You considered that a win. However, you were confused as to why he felt the need to do that. He rarely did that in public, unless he was trying to comfort you, or to refrain himself from launching a punch in someone's direction. So why would he—

Your thoughts were cut off by the obnoxious sound of an all too familiar British accented voice. “Ah, well would you look at you?” Liam began as he descended down the stairs, his green eyes alight with invitation. However, whether or not it was genuine, you were yet to find out. “You're looking better, Y/N. Doctor Miller did a good job. A shower and a set of fresh clothes will certainly make you look rather ravishing.” Daryl's hand tightened on your shoulder, and you brought your hand to rest over his, a subtle way of trying to calm him down. Liam noticed, however, and sent Daryl a reassuring smile with a raise of his hands. “Woah, there, champ. No need to get all feisty. I already have a lady of my own. I was just making an observation.”

“Observation, my ass. Shouldn't even be lookin' at her, ya stupid fuck,” you heard Daryl mumble under his breath, and you had to refrain from giggling. Daryl wasn't a jealous guy perse, and he certainly wouldn't stop you from befriending other guys, but he definitely had his moments. Although he had other reasons to want to knock this guy out, it was rather cute to know that he didn't want Liam to look at you that way.

Liam, thankfully, was blissfully unaware of the archer's hateful words, instead turning to regard Mariah, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “Hey, my beautiful girl,” he greeted her, opening his arms as an invitation for a hug.

Mariah hesitantly walked into his arms, tensing slightly when he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. You were sure to make a mental note about that. You didn't know why exactly Mariah was so scared of her husband, but you knew it wasn't good. If his own wife was terrified of him for god knows what reason, you didn't even want to know what he could do to complete strangers.

After he was satisfied with the hug, Liam pulled back and turned back to you and Daryl. He was about to say something until an unknown man barged into the room, breathless and sweating. Liam scowled angrily at the man, swiftly pushing Mariah aside. “Reggie, this better be really fucking important. You know how I feel about being interrupted when interviewing new recruits.”

The man—Reggie—quickly nodded. “I know, I know.” He panted breathlessly and leaned against the wall in an attempt to recapture his breath. “There was a man who demanded to speak to you. He refuses to speak to anyone but the leader.”

Liam stared at Reggie for a few seconds, his face giving absolutely nothing away, until he nodded and turned back to you and Daryl. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I promise I won't be long. Mariah,” he began, turning to his wife and lazily waving towards the door that lead to another room. “Please make our guests something to eat. I'm sure they must be absolutely famished. Oh, and get them something to drink as well.” Liam sent the two of you a smile. “I hope wine is alright. I'd offer up some scotch, but that's really hard to come by and I don't fancy wine that much, you see.”

“Liam!” Reggie exclaimed impatiently. “We got to go!”

“For fuck's sake, alright!” Liam roared loudly, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. He roughly pushed past the man and stormed out of the door, Reggie having to jog behind him to keep up. The door closed behind them with a slam, and just like that, you and Daryl were left alone with Mariah for the second time that day.

Mariah let out a small sigh, and you could see her visibly relax without Liam's presence. It was odd to you that the woman felt more at ease with two complete strangers who could turn around and end up hurting—or killing—her, and it only fueled your reluctance to trust Liam. There was something very off about that man, and you were determined to find out what.

Mariah turned to look at you, her eyes darting between your face and your stomach. “Um, are you sure you want wine? I mean, I don't want to force you to do anything, but—”

“It's okay,” you cut her off, sending her a small, tight-lipped smile. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Mariah nodded and motioned towards the couches. “Please, feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I won't be long.” With that, she scurried off into the kitchen, leaving you and Daryl alone in the living room.

Without the company of others, the air surrounding the two of you got tense very quickly. Neither of you made a move to sit down, but Daryl did move away from you, his warm, comforting touch leaving your shoulder. He refused to make eye contact with you, and it broke your heart. You knew he was mad at you, and he had every right to be, but it certainly didn't mean that it didn't hurt. You were certain it would be up to you to clear the air, and that's what you'd do—whether Mariah heard it or not.

“Daryl—” you began hesitantly, but you were instantly shut down.

“Don't,” he muttered bitterly, his back still turned to you. His shoulders were visibly tensed and even though you couldn't see it, you knew his jaw was as well. He was trying hard not to lash out at you, and you had to give him credit for his self-control.

However, you weren't having any of it. You were nothing if not extremely persistent, so you'd stop at nothing until you'd had a chance to explain yourself. “No, I'm not gonna stop until you've let me speak my mind.”

Daryl whipped around to face you, his eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes were set in a steely glare, but you didn't back down. “Where could ya possibly start explainin' yerself to me?” he spat bitterly. “Yer pregnant and ya kept tha' from me? Ya begged and pleaded to come with me on the run today and put yerself and our baby in danger! Now 'cause'a tha', yer in fuckin' danger. If ya had jus' told me tha' ya were pregnant, maybe things would'a been different. Maybe we would'a been safe back home. Maybe I never would'a suggested the run. Maybe I would'a let Rick come with instead'a ya. Maybe—”

You cut Daryl off by pulling him into a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. He froze for a few seconds, hesitating to return the hug, but ultimately wrapped his arms around you. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes as he felt the anger drain from his body. He never could stay mad at you. However, it didn't mean that he wasn't still upset that you were in danger.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered against his chest. “I should've told you I was pregnant, I know that. I just didn't want to say anything until I was a hundred percent sure. That's why I wanted to go on that run with you. I wanted to find a few pregnancy test. I guess I could've just asked you to do that, but I didn't want you to freak out. I was... Scared. I was scared that if you knew that I thought I was pregnant, something would go wrong. I don't know what I expected to go wrong, but I just... I promise I was gonna tell you after I knew for sure. You have to believe me. I—”

“Hey, s'okay,” Daryl reassured you, pulling back to look into your eyes. Daryl was feeling all kinds of bad at that moment. You didn't deserve to be treated like that for any reason, especially not by him. You had your reasons for keeping it a secret from him, and he couldn't blame you for it. He was upset, but the two of you could figure that out later. For now, all he wanted to do was get you the hell out of that place, and to do that, he needed a clear mind. “M'sorry fer reactin' like tha'. M'upset ya didn't tell me, but there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it now. We jus' have to figure out a way to get the fuck outta here. We can figure the rest out later, alrigh'?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you practically sprung apart when the door flung open again. However, instead of being met by Liam, you were met by somebody completely different. The man came strutting in like he owned the place. The man stopped and regarded the two of you with an indifferent look. “And you two are?” he questioned, plopping himself down on one of the couches.

You shared a look with Daryl, neither of you making any attempts to answer the question. However, you didn't need to, because Liam soon entered the home as well, sending you and Daryl a suspiciously friendly smile. “Sorry for disappearing, champs,” he began. “He was the one causing an uproar by the gates. This guy can make quite the spectacle when he wants to, don't you, brother?” The two men shared a laugh, before Liam calmed down and regarded the two of you. A look of realization dawned on his face, and he hit his forehead with his palm. “Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce him. This is Lucas Davis, my brother and right-hand man.”

The man—Lucas—sent you a small smirk, his eyes trailing you up and down. And for some reason, you knew that the arrival of this man would only mean trouble.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[irondadfics]

trying to find a fic where peter and tony survive the snap and survive in space for the time skip. it was titled something like guide to survive space or something. one of the big quotes was “you’ll find it out there, eventually” it was my all time fave fic on ao3 and i can’t find it

here you go! Enjoy!

Survivor's Guide to The Galaxy by fanfic1892

Space rock crunched under Peter’s armor-clad feet and he dropped his hand from his eyes, turning to Tony. "Mister Stark," he said softly. "What do we do now?” The question was entirely reasonable, Tony supposed, but being the one expected to answer it was like an infinity gauntlet punch to the gut. (Now there was a unit of measurement he could submit to the CGPM.) Or: In a billion-to-one cosmic fluke, Tony and Peter both survive the snap and are left alone on Titan with an alien spaceship and no plan in sight. Peter’s presence brings Tony to make a tough call: diverting their course away from Earth in search of food and fuel. With the galaxy in shambles and no clear route home, the two survivors must carve out a path of their own somewhere in the great infinity.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

A Second Chance pt.2 {Blurb}

Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Dear God XTC

Masterlist

Summary: Someone had been hiding something fatal}

Cw; Guns, major character death, cussing, insinuations of abuse (Lily is worried this time), Zombie apocalypse typical violence, reader is a lil dumb in this one, infants in danger)

Wc- 1785

“I know, I know. Just..” You looked at Harry and Lily slowly smiled. She looked at the rest of the group and nodded. Peter seemed startled as he just noticed your presence, James seemed surprised just like Sirius. Remus seemed in distress, rubbing his leg as the storm grew closer. 

“We would love your help.”

~~~

If it was one thing you used to hate about kids, it was their volume. God, they were loud. 

Hermione, however, had grown quieter the more weeks that passed. Just a month old and already she was already rather clever, or perhaps, it was your bias. 

The nights waking up to crying became more rare, your routine of doting on her in the morning and going out at night was more calculated and confident, knowing she wouldn't attract too much attention to the abandoned farmhouse. That being said, her crying meant one of two things, real distress or physical harm.

You hated to hear that sound, but sometimes, times like now, it was music to your ears.

You had convinced Lily, Remus, and who you learned to be Peter, to come ahead with you. Leaving James and Sirius behind to pack up what they could. You had Remus by his shoulder, holding up his weight as he limped to keep up.

You learned that he had gotten his joint popped a few months ago, they did their best to salvage it, but it resulted in his limb being a permanent issue. It got worse with weather like this.

When you got to the field, you could hear her so very faint. Hermione, clearly distressed by the storm, crying from the bottom floor of the small cottage-like house. You quickened your step to make time with Peter and Lily.

Lily looked surprised at the sound, looking at you bewildered as you simply opened the door. Walking Remus to the living room as the cries began to grow louder, you plopped him on the couch and he muttered a grateful thank you.

You gestured around to the other two, as if to say 'this is it,’ before hurrying over to a makeshift fort in the corner. You don't have a cradle, so you put some boxes in the corner and leaned as many blankets and pillows against it to make a plush bedding for her. It was almost missed, hidden under a desk to keep her as protected as possible. You pulled her from the cocoon and leaned her against your chest. Wincing a bit as her cries seemed to stir Harry awake. Lily quickly took him back from Peter and hushed him, coddling the boy. 

Learning to take care of an infant was quickly becoming like second nature to you. The practiced movements, of bundling her up and wrapping a sling around your chest to hold her up to give you back your arms, and the small coos in her ear until she settled down. 

You finally looked up to Lilys burning eyes. She looked distraught, a million questions running past her eyes, but one was very clear. You cleared your throat and looked back down at Hermione.

“She's…” You whispered, trailing off, before you winced. Technically, she wasn't yours but how cruel would it be to say that? Her parents were long gone, she only had you. You weren't about to reject her. 

“She's mine but she's not, mine.” You muttered and a look of relief rushed over Lily’s face. You had both survived in this hell scape for a year, you knew what dangers you faced in society as more feminine figures, seems she thought the same thing you did.

“You guys can get settled in here.” You finally broke the silence and Lily snapped out of her trance. Looking around the small living room and nodding. 

“Thank you, again. You really are just total sweetness.” Lily gushed as Peter walked over to the couch to sit beside Remus. He was holding his gut and covering one of his arms. You watched him walk across the room, Lily's words falling on deaf ears for a moment as you observed the blonde. You didn't like him. 

You had no reason for it, he didn't speak, he seemed a bit queasy, it wasn't hard to guess he was just unsettled with whatever injury he had gotten. You still didn't like it.

Turning back to Lily she was looking at you curiously before you shook her head. “Sorry, sorry. Uhm, let me get you guys settled before the other two return.”

You had made a space out of the living room, but even then you had to admit it was small. Peter had volunteered himself to sleep in the main room you had made somewhat of a nursery with the children. You didn't like that idea, he looked sick, and if Hermione got anything from him you would never forgive yourself. 

Lily insisted he was fine, saying he just lost a lot of blood from his shredded wound. You finally gave in, allowing him to watch them, just for the night. You went to sleep in the closet sized second room, it took you a fair long while to finally sleep, staring at the rifle on your desk across from you, before turning your hand to grip the knife under your pillow at every creak the house made.

~~~

You were startled awake by what you could only assume was the sound of someone falling out of bed in the room next to you. You stayed quiet, staring at the wall of the room, holding your breath as you waited for any other sound that would indicate anything. 

Then, there was a sound you had never heard before. It was blood curdling, Hermione was screaming, not crying, screaming. Maybe she sounded the same as she always did when she cried. Maybe you were just wound up. Maybe you were growing paranoid with Peter in the room with her, you didn't like him one bit, but they trusted him with little Harry so he couldn't be horrible with kids. 

You waited a few more seconds, your body filled with adrenaline and practically vibrating in anticipation for you to just get up and check on her. You were being paranoid. 

Then, Harry began to scream too. 

You jumped up from your bed in seconds, scrambling out of the room and down the hall. You heard what sounded like a few people running behind you but you didn't check.

You went straight to the door next to yours, throwing it open and taking in the horrific scene. 

Peter was hunched over the makeshift cribs you made for the two babies, he was letting out a barely audible snarl, one you knew very well. When he snapped his head back to you and you saw his milky eyes, you knew what had happened. He turned. He had been bit and insisted on staying in the room with your fucking child.

No wonder his wound was shredded. Your eyes slowly widened as it clicked. He was covering up a bite. 

You glanced back at the kids and saw that the fort you had made them had claw and bite marks, but the damn creature couldn't figure out how to get to them. You didn't get a chance to think longer on it, before Peter charged you. You held your knife up but greatly underestimated his strength. He flew both of you against the wall, pure animalistic strength knocking the wind out of you. 

He began to snap his jaws getting closer to your face, you put your forearm into his neck to keep him away, but he was starting to weigh heavy against your body, forcing you lower. Threatening to make you slip.

Suddenly, there was a gunshot and the infants screamed louder. Your eyes were closed tight but the second the pressure stopped you fell to the ground, hard. 

Groaning, you opened your eyes to see Peter, laying limp on the ground, eyes locked on yours. You were breathing heavily, still panicked. You snapped your head over to where the shot had rung out, and you locked eyes with James.

He was still holding the gun, breath heavy as he clenched the handle with both of his hands tight. You were stunned for a moment, waiting for his next move. His friendly and soft expression was turned hard and disjointed. He looked terrifying like this.

If he had this gun the whole time, why did he give in so easily when you met him? 

You felt like you knew the answer.

Once the adrenaline died down, Lily reached her hand out and slowly lowered his gun. He seemed to snap out of his angry fixed gaze and looked down at Peter with a watery laugh. 

“I fucking knew it!” Sirius gave a bitter laugh from behind James and his words sunk in fully. You were seeing red.

“Sirius-” Lily started and Sirius shouted over her.

“No, I knew he was bloody bit! I told you guys he was being suspicious! I told you we couldn't come here with him! And I told you to stop leaving Harry with him!” Sirius ranted on as you tried to focus on his words. 

“We had no way of knowing-!” James started.

“You knew!?” You screamed out, stumbling to your feet. Sirius looked at you and flinched heavily. Your throat was closing up and your eyes were growing watery. “You fucking knew!? And you let us leave the babies in there with him!” 

Sirius slowly shrunk in on himself and you scoffed. “You fucking..” You quickly shook your head and looked over your arms and body for any blood or open wounds. When you were satisfied with what you found, you looked at the three with pure anger running threw you.

“This isn't over.” You snapped at them, eyes trailing to Remus who seemed to have managed to pull himself up. You walked into the room and went to slam the door, but Lily was close behind you. You paused at the door before you huffed and let her in, walking over to the cribs and lifting the fort. Staring down at the delirious and red faced tots. You leaned down and lifted Hermione in your arms, turning to set the knife down on the bedside table and sitting down on the love seat in the corner.

You didn't say anything to Lily, she didn't try to speak to you. You both sat in silence, Lily on edge as she fussed over Harry, pacing the room to try and get him to calm down. You were holding Hermione and looking out the window. Rethinking your trust in the current group dynamic.

[rxsilabeth--er]

ok this feels mean to do but, remus and a slytherin male reader. post-prank. essentially, post-prank remus is angry with sirius, but suddenly he find himself close with his 'sleazy' seatmate in charms. turns out, he's not that mean and less of a jerk from how he holds himself and how most people percieved Slytherin men. he's also very good at his studies, he helps remus out when remus seems to need it, he has this nice voice, and an even nicer face—wait what?

(i'd love to walk in the great hall with my arm around remus lupin's shoulder, maroon and burgundy marks on my neck and a sleazy grin on my face as i leaned down to his ear, just to whisper to him that his ex's staring. let 👏🏻 me 👏🏻 make 👏🏻 that 👏🏻 man 👏🏻 blush 👏🏻)

:: hickeys and a Slytherin that's tricky...

Now calling....Author: "This was a lovely request!! Though I LOVE wolfstar, this did hurt my wolfstar heart, but I love it nonetheless!!"

Now calling....Synopsis: "...After the prank, Remus prefers sitting alone in case one of the marauders come and he bursts open at the seams, but luckily during potions, a certain Slytherin helps his wrong potion and even fixes his seams perfectly..."

Now calling....warnings: "smoking, drinking, fashion show, personal headcanons, tying Remus to his bed for his health (dw), reader is mentioned to piercings, hickeys, mentions of sexual activity, The prank, angst on Sirius's part, possibly wrong potion making, I couldn't fortunately get my hogwarts letter...I deserve to be there more than Draco Malfoy, that's for sure...male!reader. Ooc? Bellatrix and Narcissa? Bellatrix doesn't like Remus in the beginning, but settles to tolerate him cause his ma was a squib and his dad a wizard so he's a pureblood, right? Bella had sexual history with reader. Beware, this is quite long."

the clinking of his spoon on the walls of the bubbling cauldron did not help Remus's situation, he could still hear James, Sirius and Peter's murmurs along with Severus's glare at him. What potion were they making again? Does not matter especially if you just got your heart torn apart by those you trusted the most in your life...

He softly looked around, Severus's glare still trained on him as he lowered his eyes with guilt, continuing to cut whatever he had as the instruction in his books said, his eyes already blurring the view with tears,

"You're not supposed to put three lacewings...the book says wrong." a gruff voice softly perked up as Remus flinched and looked around to find a particular Slytherin whom he had seen around, mostly smoking, snoozing or being lazy and chaotic.

With messy hair, messy shirt, Slytherin tie, a few piercings around your ears and tattoos poking out from under your sleeves, you stood there pointing at his book.

Seeing him basically zoned out string at you, you snapped your fingers in his face to pull him out of trance, as he shook his head and looked at you, his eyebrow raising,

"And what makes you think you're right?" Remus asked as he glared his eyes up and down you, as you simply shrugged and said,

"I mean, if you add three lacewings which makes the potion acidic to daisy roots who's job is to acidify the potion already, it will become..I don't know? Too acidic for anything to survive in it? We need it just enough acidic so that when we add the base, it will be enough to neutralize...I thought you were smart, Lupin."

and your words left him appalled, but he couldn't speak as he did understand your logic behind it as he scoffed and asked, "And how many am I supposed to add, genius?! Professor didn't say anything." as you looked at your own book at the corrections you made, "...One and a half".

As you said, as if on cue, Snape's cauldron bubbled too much and spilled everywhere leaving blisters on contact with bare human skin of those around as people winced and softly whispered, a Remus looked in surprise, you didn't seem shocked as Snape did think he knew better and added three and a HALF lacewings, idiot.

You simply continued to mix your potion, Remus decided to take your advice and only add one and a half instead of three like everyone did...You finished yours and tested it in front of everyone as Slughorn awarded your with fifty points for Slytherin, he must ave been impressed because this particular potion was a hard one, Remus's also turned out to be good but he was awarded only fifteen points, possibly because he showed it at the last minute.

As you got your things and walked out, the classes were over so you had free time as you walked down the courtyard down the grassy fields near the tree where the Slytherin skittles often sat. Throwing your bag up, you quickly climbed up there, pulling out a cigarette and a lighter before lighting it and smoking out smoke from your nostrils as you hummed to yourself, opening a book to read.

Remus didn't know how, but he somehow walked up and climbed up to meet you, you simply looked his way, nodding as a greeting as you went back to reading while Remus was panting from the tiny climb,

"Uhm....hey, thanks for the tip today in class..." Remus began as you nodded, taking another drag and softly blowing it out, as Remus stood there, clinging to the tree in disbelief,

"..Okay...Uhm..." he nodded to himself as he took a step down, "...What happened to you and marauders?" you asked softly, crawling to lay on your stomach on the slightly somewhat large space the tree had to offer, looking down at him with your face in your propped up hand, noticing the way he froze,

"...None of your fucking business." Remus said in annoyance, as you nodded, "Okay." you said taking another drag and blowing the smoke in his face, making him more annoyed, as he swatted your hand, "Fucking stop." Remus snarled, as you grinned..

Out of nowhere, with unknown confidence, Remus took your wrist and made you place your cigarette between his lips as he blew the smoke in your face before climbing down and walking away as you stared back at him in surprised with flushing reaching up your cheeks to warm them, a soft smile spreading your cheeks as you looked at him walking away.

You quickly gathered the book, the bag and jumped down, following him from a few feets away, walking behind him yet no doing anything, of-course he noticed, you weren't hidden or invisible and yet he didn't do anything. Up until the portrait of the fat lady you followed him and would have followed him inside if he didn't just stop in front of the portrait till you stood beside him,

"What is it? Why are you following me, you fuck?" Remus asked as you simply blew out more smoke, "You looked like shit, so I followed. I need to make you a forest brown again." you said simply as his eyes soften ever-so slightly...sighing, he gave the password and pulled you in, sitting you down and removing your tie,

"Oooh, already so eager to fuck, Lupin?" you asked smirking, making him scoff, "As if me, or anybody in fact, would sleep with a sleaze like you. Only doing it so people don't know I'm hanging with a serpent.", "Okay.. :)"

And the next month flew without a care of world for Lupin and you, as you simply pulled out a cig after classes ended and were pulled by Zahara and if she pulled you, you pulled him, cause if Zahara was around, you needed the 'Casanova' around so people don't think that Zabini be sleeping with you...

Or maybe you'd help Pandora to collect rocks or snails or slugs around the Black lake, while she rambled on and on to you while Remus stood there smoking.

Or maybe you'd be sharing a cigarette with Barty and Evan cause you three were being stingy and lazy to buy some from Hogsmeade as you three glared at Remus in envy while he wasted cigarettes from his brand new packet while he only took two drags before putting it out and pulling out another one all while smirking in your direction cause he knew you three were too prideful to ask him for one.

Or maybe you'd be reading while cuddling with Regulus and helping him annotate while Remus sat beside you hearing both of your interpretation, he didn't think you'd be into literature almost as much as Regulus while you both acted out Shakespeare sometimes.

Or maybe styling clothes with Andromeda, Narcissa and Dorcas and putting on a show for the house in the common room while people hooted or laughed at the dramatic display all while Remus sat there in confusion at how weird the whole house of Slytherin is if you don't notice the idiotic pure-blood supremacists (Lucius, Lestranges, Bellatrix, Snape, Mulciber, etc.).

The month went by quickly, you stood outside the door of the Shrieking Shack, smoking as he transformed for the month...The month had sadly two full moons and it did not go well...

if not for you standing outside until the morning and tying him to his bed, while putting on healing spells and refusing to let him go to class and leaving him there in the Shrieking Shack until the classes ended and you came back with the gang and sat beside him on the floor, playing truth or dare, having a fashion show, smoking, singing songs and playing stupid instruments and more...

For Remus, well it was small, not for the Marauders especially Sirius...No, on the contrary it was hell for them, Sirius could not help but feel guilt as he refused to let himself or James or Peter believe that he purposefully sent someone to be murder and maimed...

He could not let James or Peter turn their back on him, cause he knew that in the two's eyes he was still a good person..and a good person doesn't send someone else to be mauled....

Sirius had begun to cry himself to sleep, putting silencing charms around his bed post and sticking his curtains around him with a few spells as he heard Remus walk in every night, giggling at something another voice spoke, before he heard the sounds of him falling into his bed and the sounds of Remus...possibly kissing the person..No he could not have that in his mind..

Remus had changed a lot, everyone in Gryffindor could tell. He still wore his grandpa sweaters, but he had eyeliner around his eyes, his eyes seemed more hooded and bored, with no concealer covering his scars anymore.

And despite his sweaters, he was more often seen with Blazer, sometimes blood dripping down his nose or knuckles and mostly walking around Barty, Evan, Regulus and you, all five laughing while Pandora clung to your arm and Dorcas fussed over Remus's hair and scars and body, asking him if anything hurt...

Mary, Lily, Marlene, Alice often saw themselves being replaced by Dorcas, Pandora, Zahara and sometimes Andromeda and Narcissa and well rarely, Bellatrix who asked him to tutor her after swallowing a lot of her pride...Sirius, James, Frank, Peter saw themselves being replaced by you, Barty, Evan and Regulus...

Remus wasn't ever seen in the Gryffindor tower now, always roaming around the Slytherin common room, sometimes seen beside the Black lake with Pandora and Dorcas talking with merfolk with sign language, or waltzing with Narcissa in the courtyard who always smiled and laughed as he mixed up his steps...

And seen in the library with Zahara and Bellatrix who wore a scowl which sometimes melted away after a while as the two listen intently to whatever he taught them...

Or walking around Hogsmeade with you, Barty and Evan, Barty and Evan whining and clinging to each other before going away somewhere to make out as you simply bought him his favourite chocolates at Honey dukes and sometimes putting the tiniest bit of melted chocolate on the tip of his nose before kissing it away...

Or talking with Regulus and you about the newest books they read, or three-wheeling Andromeda and Ted, teasing the two with a smirk as you leaned against him, smoking with a smirk, sometimes enjoying him with the teasing. Sirius or other marauders couldn't bear himself seeing it and often teared up at the slightest mention of Remus and his new-found friends..

Despite being everything Sirius hated the most; a pureblood, coming from a noble family, serious, smart, cunning, ambitious Slytherin, you were everything that deserved you got and showed not everything is not as simple as it seems.

you did not worry what people thought when you helped people. Helping Andromeda through hexing a few of Ted's bullies from Slytherin who tried to hurt him for being with Andromeda,

comforting Alice after a fight she had with Narcissa,

sharing some weed with Peter,

helping Lily chase away Snape who was being too persistent,

helping Marlene get the snitch just to spite Dorcas yet make Dorcas laugh the other second cause you didn't want her to feel bad about loosing the match,

taking the blame for whatever Barty, Andromeda, Bellatrix, Regulus, Narcissa did cause you didn't want a letter be sent to their house and make them get punished by their parents,

learning to braid Zahara's hair the way she likes it to help her,

taking Pandora anywhere she wanted,

helping Evan with his homework in library...

You couldn't be thrown into one category cause you weren't like that, you were the hardest thing to navigate, you were always being sleezy, smoking, yet you helped, cared, comforted people who needed it...

The next morning as he stood up and walked down to the Great Hall, Remus left WAY earlier possibly to be with his new found friends... He walked in, and sat down as he simply ate whatever was present before Marlene smacked his hand pointed back at the entrance to see Remus.

In his usual black blazer, hooded, bored eyes, a few piercings, a cig in his hand with his shirt's top two buttons open and showing his collar and neck covered in bite-marks, hickeys...

some were even decorated with stickers as he walked and sat right behind Sirius, yawning as Zahara whistled, as Bellatrix scoffed,

"What, couldn't even handle being with Y/N?" Bellatrix asked grinning with confidence,

"Well, still better at handling him than you, no Bella? He isn't able to walk, last time I remembered, it wasn't him who couldn't walk, it was you who couldn't walk!" Remus said back with a evident smugness in his voice as Bellatrix sat there, appalled and shocked as she simply humphed and looked away as the table softly snickered...

Sirius couldn't bear to think that something he wished he could have was now with someone completely different. Sirius longed to be in your place as he couldn't help the tears which pricked his eyes...How come a large mistake of his took away everything he wished was his...?

He looked back at the entrance to see you softly walk in, slightly limping with a cig in your hand which you dropped on the floor and stamped on to put it out as you walked and sat down beside Remus, leaning against him, trying to catch on sleep which you obviously couldn't complete from last night's activities...

Sirius felt filth inside him at seeing you and Remus be together, through classes as you helped him read and developed spells for him to read through his Dyslexia, helped him sleep with a potion Regulus created to heal his own insomnia which you even gave to James to help his insomnia.

You helped Peter sometimes with his charms when he needed help, told Lily which colour looked good on her, helped motivate Marlene to cause pranks, told Mary she looked pretty, gave advice to Alice about Narcissa and even gave Rita some gossips you heard to satisfy her.

You even helped Sirius himself with pranks to pull on Snape whom you started calling "Snevillous" as well...no matter how much Sirius tried, he couldn't hate you..or even be you...

He saw you everyday with Remus, making out with him in some corner of the library, sitting on his lap to tease him, quoting books he hated simply to annoy him, stroking his scars with your fingers, putting on liner on his eyes, using spells to make drawings that Evan did to turn them into permanent tattoos, wearing his grandpa sweaters and flaunting them in front of the girls all whom laughed or giggled...

You even tried your hardest to fix the marauder's friendship, in which you succeeded..but not because their apologies were sincere, it was because you tried to fix their friendship.

© This writing work belongs to me, rxsilabeth--er, Aurelia, Rosilabeth, Cerine. Reblogging is appreciated, but plagiarizing or copying my works is forbidden, thank you for reading this and if you like this check out my blog!

[oldguardleatherdog]

The Night Before the Tribute In Light September 10, 2003

I.

One month ago today, this long-forgotten photo suddenly popped up in the photo app on my laptop. I took this photo with my Sanyo clamshell phone on September 10, 2003, 21 years ago tonight, from Hudson River Park in Manhattan.

Don't ask me how it survived all these years or where it's been stored all this time or how in the world it could have found its way to me from the long-dead storage servers of a long-defunct cell phone carrier. We're in the penumbra of The Anniversary, and time is out of joint.

I had been back in New York for about a month (after getting violently run out of the place I was staying by a fellow who is now one of my closest friends), homeless and living in that roach-infested HIV crack-house shelter at 96th and Broadway that I describe in "The One Decent Thing I Ever Did" (it’s archived on this blog), and you can imagine my state of head and spirit at this moment, the night before the 2nd anniversary of the terror attacks on the World Trade Center that drove me from my home in Lower Manhattan, four blocks east of the site.

I was sitting on a bench in Hudson River Park on the West Side of Manhattan, somewhere near Houston Street, maybe ten or fifteen blocks north of World Trade. I hadn't noticed these beams of light as I walked, and I think they might have just been activated while I was sitting there. As I recall, it was a full moon in Virgo, and I was positioned just right to snap this shot. I had *no* idea what this was all about, as I recall, but I thought the image was so striking and affecting that I wanted to capture it.

As it turns out, this was the tech run-through for the first September 11th installation of the “Tribute In Light”. Here’s Google’s AI summary of this remarkable memorial:

So there I was, just two years after the blast, stunned by this sudden, mysterious apparition rising from just south of what was still a giant, messy hole in the ground. I was still not fully myself at that time and would not regain my full memory or sense of who I was until the following January (therein lies a tale!), and as I recall I was just numbly stunned, not knowing what to make of it.

As I write, I’m getting the physical sense memory of that moment: the dog in me (my medulla oblongata speaking) feels his hackles rise, it’s not what I expect to see filling the hole in the sky, is it another attack? Do I bark at it, sound an alarm, run towards it, away from it, why is there light there, is this some unholy ruse, another trick being played on me from that big smoky hole where nothing but poison has spilled out for the longest time?

My phone rang. It was a fellow that I had met and hung out with in San Francisco while I was stranded there, and I was stunned to hear from him, especially at that moment. “Hi Dave… well, right now I’m on the riverfront looking at the damnedest thing… [I just wanted to make sure you were ok] hey, thanks for checking in… yeah, take care bud.” I closed the phone and started walking south along the riverfront, toward the light beams.

When I got there, I saw the massive banks of klieg lights assembled in their arrays, a strange and unfamiliar (unwelcome) echo of the shapes and the placement and the footprints of the place I loved so well.

The faces of the artists who surrounded the lights were intense, focused, sober. I still didn’t quite know what was going on, but there was profound reverence in the air, on those faces, at that place, as the beams of pure white light soared upwards, past the point of naked-eye discernment, unending, likely petering out tens of thousands of feet off that spoiled piece of ground, perhaps piercing the ionosphere, did they get clearance from the Federal Aviation Administration for this? Are pilots being disoriented by these columns at 45,000 feet? Do they touch the feet of God?

II.

And I kept walking south, my back to the light,

Down to the oldest part of the civilized island,

Past the Battery, the bronze bull, the buttonwood tree,

The Port of New York dead ahead,

The Staten Island Ferry terminal, ramshackle, ancient,

Entry restricted by terror tape and armed sentinels

No two uniforms alike, a panoply of enforcement,

Heavy weapons at the ready, so jarring in my neighborhood,

And the working dogs with the keen snouts, the trained muzzles,

Jumping up to paw at the brown bag in the soldier’s hand

Is that peanut butter? Apple? Hunk of cheese?

Let’s play! You’ve been so serious, so worried,

You smell sad and scared, are you lost? Let’s play!

Even Cerberus needs break time, belly rubs, treats!

For the first time in weeks, I smile to myself

As I round past the ferry, those strange lights at my back.

Hope I can sneak past the turnstile downstairs,

I won’t have to hike back up three hundred blocks

To that awful low place. Did you know roaches bite?

They shit on you too. Try to sleep, fully dressed,

Watch cap pulled low on my head, long sleeved shirt

Buttoned up to the collar, heavy pants tucked in boots,

Gloves on my hands, one more night without food

Half-bag of speed takes my mind off the pain

Sleep comes in fits if at all. – On the train

Dreading the stop: ninety-sixth street and Broadway.

Tomorrow, this city will jack itself off

In performative weeping and gnashing and cursing

Oh, how we loved them! I snort in derision,

You didn’t lose nothin', you pieces of shit!

Let the dead bury the dead. Beams of light

Don’t feed this refugee reeking of ashes -

What, do I smell bad? So sorry to stink up

The place where you’ve laid out the feast for your friends

Who still have their jobs, their high homes in the towers

Behind the glass doors where your larders are stocked

With the food that you bought with your government money

That flooded your midtown Manhattan apartment

With all the new clothes, electronics, the sausages

Fresh from Enrico’s, Zabar’s, D’agostino’s,

Bought with the Victim’s Fund money you stole

When you filed your claim. “OMG, it was awful!

“I couldn’t get up to the fifty-fourth floor,

“I had to find shelter on Upper Park Avenue.

“Power was out. I was homeless that night!

“So glad that my friend who was shopping in Gramercy

“Gave me the number to call for my claim

“September 11th was horrid! I told them

“I couldn’t go home for two nights! Oh, thank God

“The claim got approved with a wink and a nod

“And no one’s the wiser – I’ve never been south

“Of the Plaza Hotel! That all happened on Wall Street,

“Who goes down there? Jesus Christ, are you kidding?

“That’s four miles away! Christopher, are you coming

“Or what? Reservations at Nobu won’t wait

“For you or for me, so quit primping!”

The pain

In my stomach, relentless. My gorge won’t stop heaving.

Am I gonna make it? Damn, *ouch!* What the fuck…

The tooth that I hoped would hold out just gave way,

Fuck me. Another huge hole in my grille.

When I made six figures and lived in a high-rise,

Fuck buddies laughing on Saturday night,

Nobody told me that one hundred minutes

And two hijacked jet planes would make such a difference.

No one will laugh with me now – my best friends

Are yelling and angry, how dare I show up

Sweaty and toothless, a walking reminder

Of September tenth. No, I’m not gonna feed you.

III.

Now, twenty years later, they’ve retooled their memory:

“Animal! Damn, dog! We’ve missed you, you know,

“Wow, you’re alive! You look fabulous! Listen,

“I never gave up on you. Give a call

“When you come to the City. I want you to meet

“My beautiful husband – he remembers you too!”

IV.

Twin beams of light where the Towers were anchored,

Okay, not exactly precisely those spots,

But who’s gonna criticize? Look and recall

How majestic they were. Yeah, the new One World Trade

Is cool, I suppose – no one mentions the absence

Of Two World Trade Center. Insurance, you know.

Not enough money or civic ambition,

And Bloomberg discouraged it. Why add a target?

“Don’t you think sixty or seventy stories

“Are more than enough? Hell, let’s just get it done.

“The sooner we finish construction, the better.”

V.

*There will never be lumens of adequate volume

Sufficient to seal that hole in the sky,

But the hole in my heart I will finish, I tell you.

Walk with me as I go forward. Tomorrow

I’m back in the studio. Tonight, we can play!

You smell like apples and – damn, is that chocolate?

(our light beams shine upward forever)

"Good boy!"

Animal J. Smith San Francisco, California September 10, 2024

[chiwhorei]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐞 - 𝐏𝐭. 𝐈: 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Miguel and Peter have been best friends since grade school. You’ve been in love with Miguel for about that long.

He’s messed with every girl on campus, all of your friends, any girl with a pulse except for you- Parker’s adorable little sister. Even so, there’s plenty of ways to get fucked.

|| 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐃 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ||

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Parker!reader, Peter Parker Tags: Explicit- MDNI, College AU, Brother’s best friend, friends-to-lovers, house party, alcohol, voyeurism with a third party, sloppy oral, degradation, yearning, sarcasm, shared Marbies and the insurmountable melancholy Word count: 3k cross-posted to Ao3!

Thank you for your patience and encouragement, I survived my first case of writers block since being back. -xoxo, chiwhorei

You wobble forward on a pair of heels that pinch a bit too tight. Your favorite pair was lent out to a friend, they matched her outfit better anyway. The runner in the hallway slips under the balls of your feet.

The bathroom, that’s your excuse. His room just happens to be right next to the bathroom. You’ll just peek in to see if he’s hiding from the pounding music and drunk college students trying to talk over it.

The fruity drinks Peter keeps making you are starting to tingle in your cheeks. Miguel calls you a lightweight, but you’ve hardly seen him at all tonight. He’s not a very good host, you think, leaving his party guests to mill about without his company.

Most everyone seems plenty boozed enough to not notice, but you would miss Miguel even if you were sedated. You’re certain you could miss him the same, even if you’d never met him. You curse your own hyperbole, God, drunk you is annoying.

“Mmph,”

A muffled groan spills out of the creak in his bedroom door. Sober you probably wouldn’t creep any closer, but she’s long gone. Plus, you have to walk past it anyway, you remind yourself, to get to the bathroom.

Your eyes wander from their strained focus at the end of the hallway and catch on a familiar complexion. Strong arms hold Miguel’s meal against his bed as it whimpers and squeals, muscles flexing underneath the remainder of his summer tan. The space between the door and its fame is just enough for your face- too much, by far, but the blood under your skin seems to pull you as close as possible without it squeaking open any further.

“Calm down, Mami,” He shushes against her, you can hear how wet his lips are, “we’re not going to get anywhere with you squirming.” Miguel’s voice knocks the air from your lungs, it escapes past your lips in a clumsy gasp.

His stare, deep and unblinking, pins you to the doorframe. You’ve gotten Miguel plenty mad, riled him up more times than you could count- but this is different. It’s red-hot, soldering you to the ground below. It’s not anger, not surprise, not the mixture of both it probably should be.

“P- please, I can’t,” her voice is familiar, even broken around a cry, “I can’t cum again, Miggy.” He kisses up her leg, licking at her ankle as it’s pinned to his chest. Pink strappy heels sit limply against the dip in Miguel’s collarbone- the pair you leant her a few hours prior. They matched her dress better, but that doesn’t seem to be a concern anymore.

Miguel doesn't stop, doesn't flinch. You can hear his mouth as it purrs into her again, see his cheeks sitting high on his face- even behind the thighs that obscure your view. Instead of yelling at you to close the door, Miguel smiles wildly. Evil, in the sweet, tooth-rotting kind of way.

“Aw, Pobrecito,” he coos against her, but the words are shot towards his voyeur, “you can give me one more.”

It feels like a bullet in your chest, friendly fire.

“You’re my good girl, aren’t ya?”

“Hey,” A finger and thumb snap in your blank eyeline to rip you from your thoughts, you jump in your seat at the sound, “Are you listening to me whatsoever?”

“Claro,” Your accent lacks any semblance of confidence. Miguel scoffs, at least some of his work is getting through.

You clear your throat and focus back to the textbook in front of you to read off the next prompt, “Write out a response to the following question, ‘¿Qué haces este fin de semana?’

Miguel snorts in response, and your eyes narrow across the kitchen table. He swallows back the snicker he holds in his mouth, hands up in feigned innocence.

“Vale, but this one’s easy, ‘No tengo planes, porque soy pinche abborito-” You clip his last word, throwing the first thing in reach, your textbook, towards his head- hoping to land a papercut.

Your tudor’s braced for impact, catching it with one hand and laughing at your outburst. You huff, arms crossed and posture falling. Miguel and Peter have your parents old dining room set, your chair wobbles as you sink back in it. Just like it always has.

“I got that, asshole.”

“Well, you could have fooled me,” Miguel slides your book back across the wood between you, “You tested out of Spanish 101 and now you're going to flunk out of 205. What was it, hermanita, clerical error?”

God that nickname digs past your skin and into the nerve endings, eating its way outwards. It wasn’t always like this, was it? You can’t seem to remember a time where his voice didn’t ignite every cell of blood.

He must have a talent for house fires, you think, or maybe you’re just more flammable in the days following your little run-in. You retreat ever further into the wobbly dining chair to create some distance, digging your shoulders into the spoked back.

It feels the same as when you were kids. Slinking into your chair and puffing your chest when you and Miguel would pass insults over the table. Your cheeks feel just as hot, your blood just as cold. You’re 13 again and Miguel just told you that boys aren’t going to want to kiss you and get stuck on your braces.

“I did well on the stupid placement test because it was on paper.” You feel like you’re speaking around that mouth of braces again, “I can understand the vocab and stuff, but our final is all oral.”

“If the final is oral,” Miguel chirps, pulling you closer by the leg of your seat with a splintering screech against the floor, “you might as well just drop the class, mija.”

He’s far too close, your skin might start sizzling. This was a horrible idea, one you’re sure you’ll be paying for later. He might as well put it on your tab.

“I’m just going to go to the tutoring center tomorrow, or try to drop, or fail and lose my spot on the dean’s list.” You go to slam your textbook closed but Miguel’s fingers curl over the spine, spreading out to keep it open.

“Cálmate, you’re not doing any of those,” instead of looking dumbly into his stare, your eyes fix on the rings Miguel wears; one for every long, beautiful finger. He mixes silver and gold, and you can’t decide which metal looks better against his gilded complexion. The things those fingers could do, your eye threatens to twitch at the thought, the places those fingers have been. Nearly all of your friends and the majority of Sorority Row.

“I promised you I’d help, I’m a man of my word,” his tone feels earnest for a beat, and you watch a pointer finger come out to barely graze the hand you’ve still got holding your book. It’s hypnotizing, maybe you shouldn't be so hard on the girls that hang off of his every sentence. All of these years you should’ve been inoculated, and you’re still no better. You might even be fatal.

“Plus, your brother bet me that you’d fail your final.”

Fuck him. And every perfect plane of skin. And that lopsided, toothy grin. And that goddamn laugh that makes you feel undercooked and mushy.

You pull your hand away, moving to stand up but those dangerous fingers curl around your wrist. His touch is so familiar, so easy to get sucked in to, like a rerun of your favorite movie. A physiological horror, maybe.

“C’mon, I bet him that you’d ace it. You’re my smart girl, mi nenita.”

The opening you have to throw a smart remark, or maybe another book, is wasted thinking about if you’re the only one who gets called that.

Miguel drops his grip on you as the front door opens. From the corner of your eye, you see his tongue lick over his bottom lip, just like he does every time he’s won. He must like the taste of your turmoil.

“Is our girl fluent yet, Mig?” Your brother’s presence is booming and a more than welcome distraction. Peter’s hands wrap around your shoulders, pressing his stubbled cheek against your face hard enough to squish your mouth to the side.

“Oh absolutely, she’s on her way to nailing that final. We’ve just got to work on her or-”

“Peter,” your voice interjects, a few octaves higher than what would pass for normal, “you got a lighter? I need a break.”

Your brother pats his jacket pockets a few times before tossing you his zippo. You fumble the catch, nerves rubbed raw and bloody. Don’t give him a reaction. You reclaim a bit of your composure and swipe the pack of Marblo reds from the table.

“Hey! Those are mine,” Miguel’s protest dosen’t reach his eyes, and you can’t hide the pleased smile that he pulls up over your teeth, “fucking brat.”

“Put it on my tab.”

The cement fencing around your brother’s apartment is cold against your ass. Your brother’s lighter sparks a few times before you can light up the cigarette. He should get a new one, but you know he won’t. Peter hates change.

Must run in the family.

It wasn’t always like this, you think against the first pull from Miguel’s cigarette, maybe if I keep ignoring it, we can both pretend it never happened.

What’s longer, death, or a life sentence?

You would have gladly lived and died a lovesick puppy, following your brother and his best friend around like Miguel was leash training. Living in between the moments of your life where he was, where he’s always been. Wrestling in the living room, pretending to hate when he’d gain the upper hand and pin you down helplessly under him. Playing tag, playing house. Calling shotgun in his old mustang, giggling every time your brother tried to argue. “It’s her seat, Peter,” he’d say with his arm over the back of your seat, pulling out of the driveway as if he hadn’t just ripped out your bleeding heart, “get over it.”

You couldn’t tell at first, but that open bedroom door was the last straw bending. The last few moments before the break, the aching stretch as you’re snapped in half. You’re not just Peter’s clumsy kid-sister anymore, you’re the drunk college girl that watched Miguel fucking his tongue into your freshman-year roommate.

You’re the still-drunk girl that walked home alone and touched herself to the memory of his wet smile and lashing tongue. The sobered-up girl that came hard on a toy named after him.

Heavy boots stalk forward, tracing the sidewalk and landing in your eyeline. You take another drag, blowing out into Miguel’s face.

“No fucking manners,” Miguel pulls the cigarette from where it sits between your lips, “what am I going to do with you.”

From where you’re perched, you meet his gaze without having to crane upwards. Miguel’s lips wrap around the stain your lipgloss left. You wonder if he notices, if he likes that taste too.

“I think I’ve had more than enough of you today.” Your quip is half-hearted and falls flatly on the pavement between you.

“Ya know, for someone with a stick shoved up her ass,” Miguel steps closer, taking up the space between either knee, “your posture sucks.”

You straighten your back in protest, but a low tree branch pokes into your spine. A yelp splinters from your throat as the wood catches where your leggings meet your sweatshirt.

Miguel laughs, but leans forward and reaches around your middle to snap the branch from where it’s stuck against your tailbone.

“Told ya.” He flattens his palms against the cool cement, you can feel the warmth of his thumbs on either side of your thighs. Rule number three, Don’t let him get too close. But you’re trapped already, surrounded in three of the four directions.

“I think we need to have a little chat, Mami.”

Maybe if you fall backwards into the tree behind you, you could try to make a break for it. A few scrapes and bruises sounds significantly more palatable.

“I think I’m good, I’ve met my heart-to-heart quota for the year.”

You try to stand, but Miguel’s hands keep your hips down where you’re sitting. You can feel the ridges of his fingers where his rings lie, the warmth of his skin, the slight tremor in his left hand.

“Ay coño,” Miguel tilts his face up to give you a smile, his canines look sharp enough to break skin, “no need to play coy now.”

Flashes of wet lips and borrowed shoes run past your vision. There’s no way you’ll make it out of this conversation in one piece, you feel yourself chipping already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you yank the cigarette from Miguel as he exhales, blowing his smoke from the side of his mouth. What a gentleman.

“I see,” he tuts. You watch him swipe his tongue across his teeth, it takes every ounce of will to keep you from thinking about how your lip gloss tastes in his mouth.

“Maybe I should bring in an outside perspective, I wonder if Peter saw anything on Saturday.” Miguel stands up straight and spins around to feign walking away, “He can help us track down the creep that was watching me fuck your little friend-“

“I don’t know what you want me to say, O’Hara,” your jaw is clenched hard enough to snap wire, “That I’m sorry? I promise I didn’t see anything? I promise I won’t tell anyone?” At least anger is a little easier than shame. Even if you’re the one in the wrong, it feels evil for Miguel to play with his food like this.

“O’Hara?” He laughs, turning back to face you with crossed arms.

“Well, Parker, I guess I’m just wondering,” Miguel takes the spent cigarette from your hand, pulling the last of it with a final inhale and dropping it onto the ground. You hear the crunch of his boot as he puts it out.

“Did you like what you saw?”

His face is only as far away as your eyelashes, two hands coil around your legs, hiking them up behind your knees. His lips are so close to you that you can taste his gum- cinnamon. A flavor so specific to him, you swear that’s the only reason he likes it.

“No,” your voice is barely above a whisper, speaking to someone you wish couldn’t hear it, “I mean, I wasn’t trying to… watch you. I was going to the bathroom and-“

“And you thought you’d stop by for an anatomy lesson? I only promised I’d help you with Spanish.”

Your eyes prick with frustrated tears, it’s either fess up or fall backwards and make a break for it.

“I was drunk,” your voice is louder than it should be, the arch in Miguel’s eyebrow seems to agree with you.

“I was tired, a- and drunk, and when I walked by your room I was… curious, I guess.”

His hands loosen from where they press into your leggings. He hasn’t let go yet, thumbs now drawing circles into the thin spandex. If his touch wandered any farther, you’d be done for- the damp heat spilling from your center outwards is mear inches from the tips of his fingers.

“Little Parker was curious,” his voice croons, “about what exactly? The birds and the bees? What mommies and daddies do when they love each other?”

Miguel’s waist blocks your legs from twisting over each other, there’s no relief to be found, it seems there never is- for you at least.

“I know what the-” his patronizing widdles down any sharp comeback you’ve got holstered until the points are dull, “I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I’m plenty versed in that area of study, and I definitely don’t need any notes from you.”

You’re not as hopeless as Miguel thinks, your first year of college was spent on any ‘anatomy lessons’ you had still been missing. Underwhelming, unsatisfying, clinical even, but the specifics would be buried next to your grave before you’d give them to Miguel.

“Hey Mig, ya ready to go?” Your brother’s voice almost knocks you from the cement ledge you’re perched on.

Miguel doesn’t falter for a second, whispering into the shell of your ear and punctuating with one last malicious smile. Your skin feels sticky, like you’ve just crawled out of a mouse trap.

The words he moved around his lips are left to echo in the now-empty space in front of you. His Mustang whines as it pulls out of the driveway and you try to shake loose from the grip still searing your thighs.

“Just let me know if you need help studying those more private subjects, I’m known to be quite the tutor.”

©️chiwhorei.2023 || don’t fuck with me I’m so serious

[delic7te]

lazy sunday × ( tasm ! ) peter parker

— peter parker x reader

— summary : you and peter wake up from a nap

— A/N: missed writing:) this has been sitting in my drafts and i wrote this cause i'm stressed (regular sunday)

After a long, hard week of constant studying and always being out somewhere in a rush, the weekend finally arrived and you and your boyfriend could spend time together, peacefully in the comfort of each others arms.

There was no pressure as you both finished all your college classes and work and Peter came home after regular patrol over the city. Only gloomy weather outside, a candle and lamp burning on the coffee table and a book in your hands as you drape your legs over Peter's lap, head resting on his shoulder in the living room of his apartment, tangled together on his couch.

Previously, you started explaining him the plot of the interesting book you were currently reading because he knew you loved doing that, and he loved listening to you talk about whatever was on your mind. As you continued reading he tried doing the same but eventually dozed off with his hand over your shoulder, his head above yours. You were too preoccupied by the book to notice, but eventually the calm surroundings had your eyelids start feeling heavy and the words on the pages began merging together. Sleep slowly reached you aswell, as you gave in.

Peter's hair fell over your forehead, leaning into each other comfortably as you slept in peace.

It was already dark outside when you woke up from your nap, confused but still comfortable and half asleep. That was until you saw what time it was on the clock by the television, suddenly snapping back to reality.

Your head rose from Peter's chest abruptly, the movement pulling him to consciousness. His hand searched for you, turning to the side with closed eyes.

"Hmh?" He mumbled your name when he saw you sitting up, visibly dissapointed and stretching your arms.

"We were asleep for three hours" you yawn. "I could've got so much stuff done. Like read this" you pick up the book that fell forgotten during your slumber. "Now I won't have time."

Peter sat up too, smiling despite your complaints. He looked like he just had the best sleep of his life.

"Aww", he cooes, "don't be upset. It's Sunday. What else were we to do?" He kisses your hand, his lips soft on your skin.

You weren't pleased with his excuses. "Not helping", you whine, preparing to crawl out of the cushions and stand up but Peter disapproved. He mumbles something, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you back on the couch.

"No, not yet, learn to enjoy the moment", he lectures you. "You'll survive, believe me, for Christ sake."

This makes a laugh slip out of you suddenly, although still annoyed. Now that you thought about it, it actually wasn't so bad at all.

Your hand finds its path to his cheek, leaning down to kiss his nose before placing your head on his chest. He looked stunning, messy brown hair and big dark eyes. It was a weakness of yours.

"Sundays are actually stressful", you state with a sigh, burying your face into his sweatshirt.

"I don't think they're so bad." His fingers run through your silky hair.

"Yeah, 'cause you're a lazy ass."

He pretends to be offended by that comment, frowning and dropping his jaw. "That's mean."

"I mean, all you wanna do is snore and sleep all day, dragging me with you and passing your laziness on me", you roll yours eyes jokingly, hugging his waist.

"Guilty as charged, can you blame me?" He looks down on you and as you look up at him with a smile, he swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You appeared as a godess before his eyes.

"And also", he shakes his head slightly, "since when do I snore ?"

You giggle, putting your hands over your face, causing his cheeks to go burgundy red. He just wanted to kiss you right now and never stop.

"Maybe you got too comfortable, I don't know." You were amused by his slight embarrassment, feeling strong fondness for him in that moment.

"You're mean, I'm not napping with you anymore", he looks away from you, trying to appear nonchalant but still joking around.

"Yes, do me that favor."

That sentence felt like a slap as he glared at you, knowing he should step up his game now, not let you win.

But you seemed to be having a lot of fun now, all the worry from earlier brushed off, laughing and enjoying yourself. After all, that was all he cared about. Just you being happy as you deserve.

"If that's what you really want, I'll manage somehow", he shrugs giving you the fake-sad doe-eyed look. That actually did the trick, unintentionally.

"No, I would never", you let go, taking his hand in yours as you sat up a little. You fiddle with his slender, pale fingers. "I had a good rest."

Peter was satisfied, admiring you under the weak lamp light. "Me too", he confirms, a wide grin on his face, stroking your hair. "And I just guilt-tripped you."

You scoff, lightly punching his shoulder as he laughs. You take a second to observe him. A strange feeling of gratitude flooded over you, feeling lucky to have him as your boyfriend.

You shake your head. "I don't care" You place your hands on each side of his face, bringing your lips to his, capturing them in a loving kiss.

Peter melted instantly, putty in your hands. He let's out a small sound against your mouth. A few moments after, you pull away to catch your breath.

His lips stretch into a smug smile. "I love Sundays."