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entomolog-t · 3 months

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Bitten- Part II

Back to back posting ? Its more likely than you think! Can't keep you guys waiting too long 💕 I've been having so much fun with this AU while trying to actually get ahead with Bite Me

In this part we see that though the dynamic might have changed, these two most certainly have not.

Taglist: @smallsday @ratcatcher0325 @not-a-space-alien @bittykimmy13 @naive-bias

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First Part

Next Part: Tuesday!

Word count: 2030

CW: Nudity (non-explicit), Adult language

Aedes, thought June, was indescribably fucking hot.

Her heart pounded in her chest as if it were dying to throw itself at him. A wash of emotions swirling in her chest as she stares up at the man in front of her.

What the fuck is going on? This has to be a dream, right? A wildly vivid dream brought on by a guilty conscience? Her eyes wander, catching sight of his … lack of clothing.

Perhaps this was a different kind of dream.

“June…” his whisper came as a low rumble. June’s breath caught in her throat, heat rising to her face as if she were a kettle reaching its boiling point- though, thankfully, she refrained from screaming. Since when did he know her name?

At her non response, his brows knit together, the massive landscape of his face shifting to that of concern. A shiver ran down her spine at his gaze, so overwhelmingly locked on her. It was… stripping in a way, seeming to take so much of her in that it left her feeling bare.

It took her brain an awkward second to realize that the feeling was not exclusive to her mind. June Murphy sat there, in a bed that seemed like it could have hosted a football game, let alone her, completely and utterly bare naked.

Aedes watches June as her hands, so unfathomably small, grip her blanket and slowly pull it to her chest.

His brain freezes at that last word.

Her… naked chest.

Heat rising to scorch his cheeks, Aedes turns his head, a muffled noise escaping him as all at once the awe and strangeness of the situation evaporates- like a fog being lifted by the heat of the rising sun, or in his case, the heat of his rising embarrassment. Gaze averted, his mind races.

Just what exactly was going on? He’d avoided seeing her, let alone speaking to her since… they met… a meeting he certainly wasn’t keen on revisiting… Yet now, in the unprecedented strangeness of whatever the fuck was going on, it was clear he couldn’t just go back to avoiding her.

Aedes swallows, a nervous lump forming in his throat at the thought of just how he was supposed to navigate something like this.

Should he apologize?

Did he even have something to apologize for?

She was the one who defiled his pride.

She was the one who poisoned his mind with whatever sickness she’d put him through.

Sure he’d yelled at her, insulted her, but - His ears perk up at the sound of her voice, far softer than he could have anticipated.

Far softer than he liked.

“Did… did you do this to me?”

Aedes’ eyes widen, his rising frustrations deflating in an instant. She thinks I've done this?

Stunned, Aedes slowly shakes his head.

“No. I…” His voice trails off. Even with her mostly covered by the blanket, Aedes can barely look at her. The sight of her shaking filled him with guilt, seemingly for his very existence. Even as he averts his gaze, he doesn’t miss how her heart hammers in her chest. Aedes grits his teeth.

He hates this.

“Here.” His voice nearly cracks, words sticking awkwardly in his throat. Aedes stands, though his heart fills with lead upon hearing June’s gasp.

God, he hates this so much.

June Murphy, however bizarre and terrifying the situation, could not say she hated it.

Perhaps, five minutes from now, when the reality of the situation sunk in… maybe then she would hate it. Maybe then she’d be completely and utterly terrified.

But at this moment in time her mind was completely and utterly occupied with the very large, very handsome, and very naked vampire man who’d turned to rummage around her room.

Why? She had no idea, and frankly- she wasn’t sure her mind had the capacity to care.

She would panic later.

Aedes turned back, seemingly a little more aware of his lack of modesty as he made an awkward attempt to cover himself as he reapproached. Again, he kneels down, his piercing gazing locking June in place for the briefest moment, before he turns his head away, not wanting to look at her like this. Slowly brings his hand to her. In it, his shirt, now embarrassingly small. It was uncanny to see his clothes like this… to imagine what he had looked like in them... What he had looked like to her.

She doesn’t take it.

It doesn’t take Aedes long to reason why.

My hands… His throat constricted at the realization of what his hands, blackened and clawed, must look like at her size. Why would she take anything from hands like mine?

Before he can pull his hand back, June speaks.

“Thank you.” Her voice, far too soft for his liking, is all the warning he has before he’s met with the strangest sensation. A shiver runs down his spine as he feels her touch, warm and feather light, take the shirt from his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Aedes begins, still averting his gaze, his hand moving to hide his teeth as he spoke, “That's the only clothing I have to offer-”

His apology is interrupted by a sound Aedes had not anticipated.

June laughed.

“Oh no- You’ll have to forgive me, but I think I have even less I can offer in the clothing department.”

Aedes remained frozen in place- stunned. She was laughing?

How could she be laughing?

His ears twitch, faint sounds of fabric being shifted and slid against soft skin pricking at his senses. Slowly, he turns back, a look of confusion on his face. He wants to ask her why she’s not panicking- Why hasn't she hid from him? He wants to ask her a whole myriad of questions, but at the sight of her sitting there in his shirt, the only sound that manages to escape him is a sharp inhale.

It was a peculiar sight, seeing his clothes too large for her frame. His shirt hung loosely on her, hanging off her figure in a way that somehow seemed more lewd than her bare form. Ears hot, Aedes swallowed- quickly excusing himself to route through her wardrobe.

----

“You really don’t know what's happening?”

In lieu of speaking, Aedes, clad in June’s loosest pair of baby blue shorts and what was supposed to be an oversized t-shirt, shook his head. He’d heard smallfolk talk of legends, of human blood giving his kind power but those were… vague superstitions? Or at least, he’d always assumed so- just some overly mystified explanation of his nature.

Sitting on the floor beside June’s bed, Aedes frowned. He’d been drinking blood all his life and nothing more abnormal than a full stomach and some blood drunk thoughts had ever occurred.

Just what exactly was going on?

Here he sat a hundred times the height he’d been the night before, and there she sat- magnitudes smaller.

His frown only deepened.

Had he…? He couldn’t have…

Aedes rests his head on the bed, trying desperately to grasp at a situation that, even now, seemed far too big for him to handle. He eyed June, her once imposing frame now dwarfed by her surroundings, the pillow she leaned against threatening to swallow her whole.

Serves her right. He thought bitterly, his eyes lingering on her hands. Though he couldn’t ignore the itch that persisted at the back of his mind, an itch that gnawed at whatever mental fortitude he’d summoned to banish it from his conscious thought.

You’re lying.

Aedes sighed, as if he could somehow expel the invasive thought from his mind. He didn’t miss the way his breath ruffled her hair- nor did he like it.

She has no knowledge of the way my world works… She’ll trust humans-

Worse yet- she trusted him- at least enough to stay put. Once again, Aedes’ scowl deepens.

How would she live like this?

How would he?

His size was what allowed him to feed unnoticed. Like taking a sip from a lake- a way for him to hunt without killing. As meager as his stature had been, he’d had his stealth, his ease of access… he'd had plenty- his feedings a relative bounty every time.

Aedes chest tightens, a groan threatening to push past his lips. He runs his hands through his hair, trying and failing to ignore the growing sense of unease.

How would he feed like this?

Brow furrowed, his ears flicked in agitation. This was bad.

This was dangerous.

He was dangerous.

Was this his life now? Aedes bites his lip, only to quickly cover his mouth a moment later, lest she see his teeth as she was. So close to being human, to having some shred of humanity- no longer something that could be seen as a pest, yet now someone that could be seen as something far worse. He tries in vain to swallow the growing panic rising in his chest.

He wouldn’t be seen as something worse, because he would be worse. He-

As he stared daggers into the comforter, Aedes caught movement from the corner of his eye.

June stood.

Aedes froze.

She walked towards him.

He didn’t even breathe.

As June moved closer and closer still, Aedes remained motionless, a deer caught in the headlights of a, very small, oncoming car. As she draws mere inches from his face, Aedes moves to pull back, but instead is stopped, the soft hum of her voice anchoring him in place like a leash around his neck.

“Stay still.”

So he did.

Ears folded back, he stayed, unmoving, as she brought herself so close to his face his eyes wouldn’t focus. So close he breathed her in on every inhale- sweet cream and carnal spice. So close if he so chose to, he could taste such a luxury.

“You’re not… afraid of me?” His voice is low- hesitant even.

Her touch makes him flinch. Gentle, as if he were still mere inches tall, June brushes back the stray hairs his frustrated mussing had garnered. She hums thoughtfully, and he finds himself wishing that sound would once again rattle his bones.

“Should I be?” Her voice didn’t carry a hint of doubt. Though concerned, her voice felt …warm.

Aedes hesitates for a moment.

“... yes.”

He wanted to lie- like she did. To tell her she would be safe with him. That he wouldn't hurt her. Yet he couldn’t bear to entertain this sad little fantasy where he pretended not to hear the way her heart raced, or see the way her hands shook- and selfishly, he couldn’t bear waiting for her foolish bravado to run out, lest he start believing he was anything but what nature had made him to be. He knew what he was- A monster.

It was time she learned that too.

If this illusion had to be broken, it would be on his terms.

June swallowed, biting her lip as his head, like a monument come to life, rose from where he rested it on the bed and closed the nearly nonexistent distance between them. He tilted his head just so, the way one does when leaning in to steal a kiss. Her knees felt weak, as did her resolve. As he moves closer, his nose brushes past her side, slowly, until it was his lips brushed up her frame. The wash of his breath as his lips part sends a shiver down her spine, a shiver that only grows as very large, very inhumane, teeth were revealed.

“Don’t be foolish.” He whispered, voice silky and stern, lips brushing intimately against her body as he spoke, “Do you not think I’m tempted?”

There's a pause, his question hanging heavy in the air before his lips pull back into a sneer, teeth bared as he adds, “I could have you in a single bite.”

June inhales, breath shakey as her thoughts run wild. Before she can even contemplate a response, she's already speaking, the words seeming to fall from her lips as easily as breathing.

“So bite me then.”

#WOOO didnt forget the page break this time #Freaks being freaks #whats new #Theres no way June hasn't read ice planet barbarians #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #entowrites #gt #Giant/tiny #size difference #gentle giant #size tumblr #gianttiny #AedesOC #JuneOC #Bite Me

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delicatebarness · 2 months

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good graces: a cry baby story | chapter two

Summary: Steve has a rat problem.

Warning: Threats of Violence. Physical Intimidation and Rough Handling. Coercion and Psychological Intimidation. Aggressive and Menacing Behavior. Corruption and Betrayal. General Threatening and Menacing Language, Steve is a meanie.

Word Count: 2030

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Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I would just like to thank my angel, @lanabuckybarnes for helping so so so much with this story and this chapter, saved my sanity and life with this one. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Closing the door behind you, your heart pounded but you managed to keep your face from betraying the tension you felt. “That’s right,” you replied, keeping your voice even. “And you must be Steven Grant Rogers. Can I help you with something?”

Slowly, he stood up, his movements deliberate as if he had all the time in the world. “Just wanted to meet the new person poking around in my business,” he stated, his tone deceptively casual. “I hope you’re smart enough to follow Fury’s lead, we had an understanding, you see.”

You refused to be cowed by his presence as you met his gaze. “I’m here to do my job,” you said, your tone firm. “I’m sure you understand.”

Taking a step closer, the space between you shrinking to an uncomfortable proximity, his smirk widened. “Let me give you a piece of advice,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, threatening whisper. “Stay out of my way. We don’t want any trouble, do we?”

You felt the intensity of his gaze and the unspoken menace in his words. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you said, never breaking eye contact. “But, Mr Rogers, I will not compromise my duty.”

He let out a soft chuckle, however it held no warmth. “Duty,” he repeated with a mocking tone. “Just remember, Doll, duty doesn’t protect you from consequences.” He turned, walking towards the door as he continued. “You don’t want to make an enemy out of me, Officer. Trust me on that.”

As he reached the door, he paused again, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, a colder edge carried in his voice. His eyes narrowed as he turned back to face you. “I heard you visited the art gallery the other day.”

Stiffening, you tried to maintain your composure. “Just appreciating some local art,” you replied, your tone measured.

Steve’s expression darkened, and he took a step closer, his presence loomed over you. “My sister doesn’t need your kind of attention,” he spoke, low and menacing. “She’s got nothing to do with this, and I’d hate for her to get caught up in something that’s not her business.”

You held his gaze, refusing to show any sign of intimidation. “I was just making conversation,” you said evenly. “She’s a talented artist, her work is impressive.”

His lips curled into a mirthless smile. “You see, I don’t think that’s all you were doing. So, let me make this perfectly clear: stay the fuck away from her. If I hear the slightest whisper that you've been around her again, it won't end well for you. I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me? You'll regret ever setting foot in my city."

His words and their intensity sent a chill down your spine, but yet you didn’t flinch. “I understand,” you said with a steady voice. “But know this: I’m not here to play games. I’m here to do my job, and nothing will stop me from doing that.”

A hard, cold look replaced Steve’s smile as it vanished. He was so close now that you could see the muscles in his jaw tense, and you could hear the barely controlled rage in his breathing. “We’ll see about that,” he retorted, a final, chilling warning. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of your office, slamming the door shut behind him with a force that made the walls tremble.

The pieces of the puzzle slowly began to come together over the next few days, you worked tirelessly with Hill. The pair of you poring over records and conducting discreet interviews. A web of corruption and loyalty, stretching deep into the precinct began to reveal itself.

Approaching you with a file in hand, Hill called you before you left the station. “I think I’ve found something,” she said, her voice urgent. “One of Fury’s old contacts– an informant who might be willing to talk.”

“Who is it?” you asked, taking the file from her.

“His name is Clint Barton. He used to run with the Avengers but fell out with them a few years back. He might have valuable information.”

You noted Barton’s last known address as you glanced through the file. “Let’s pay him a visit.”

Later that evening, you and Hill arrived at a rundown apartment building on the outskirts of the city. The smell of decay and neglect was thick in the air. You felt a growing sense of unease as you climbed the creaky stairs to Barton’s apartment.

Hill knocked on the door, and after a moment, it creaked open to reveal a disheveled man with sharp, wary eyes and tattoos covering his skin. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice rough.

“We’re not here to cause any trouble,” Hill said quickly, flashing her badge toward him. “We just want to talk.”

He eyes you both suspiciously before stepping aside. “Fine. Come in.”

The apartment was small and cluttered, he motioned for you to sit as he closed the door behind you. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

“We’re looking to the Avengers,” you said, meeting his gaze. “We know you used to be close to them. We need information, anything that can help us bring them down.”

A bitter laugh escaped Barton’s lips. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. These guys are untouchable.”

“They’re not untouchable,” Hill interrupted. “We know about the corruption and the bribes. We just need proof.”

Leaning back in his chair, Barton’s eyes hardened. “And, you think I’m going to help you? You think I’d betray my friends?”

“They abandoned you,” you said, testing the appeal to his sense of betrayal. “They left you out in the cold.”

Barton’s expression darkened. “You don’t know a damn thing about what happened,” he snapped. “Yeah, I had a falling out with them, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to turn my back on them. We were a family. You don’t just walk away from that.”

Glancing at you, Hill’s expression was one of frustration and determination. “Clint, we’re offering you a way out. A chance to start fresh. Help us, and we can protect you.”

Shaking his head, a bitter smile played on his lips. “You’re wasting your time. I don’t need your protection. If anything, I should be calling Rogers right now to let him know you’re sniffing around.”

You knew he wasn’t baffling, the weight of the threat hung in the air. Standing up, you tried one last time. “Think about it, Clint. They’re going down, one way or another. You can either be on the right side of this, or you can drown with them.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “Get out,” he said coldly. “And don’t come back.”

Hill sighed as she made her way over to you. “We’ll be seeing you, Clint. One way or another.”

The door slammed shut behind you. Barton’s loyalty to the Avengers was unshakeable, however, you couldn’t let that deter you. There had to be another way.

Tony Stark made his way to Steve's tattoo studio. The place had its usual buzz and hum of tattoo machines filling the air. As he walked in, he caught Steve’s eye as he tattooed a design onto a young woman’s ribcage.

Not looking up immediately, Steve stayed focused on the intricate details of his work. “What brings you in, Stark?”

The mechanic smirked, his tone light but it carried an underlying seriousness. “I hear you have a rat problem.”

Sighing, Steve glanced up, his eyes narrowing toward the young woman. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t mean here.” Turning his attention back to the tattoo, he finished up the last line before wiping down the area. He wrapped it up with practiced efficiency as the girl began to protest.

Leaning against the counter, Tony’s gaze shifted to the woman lying across the chair. His smirk widened as he eyed her.

“Hey, I booked a whole day! This isn’t done, yet!”

“I’ll give you a discount if you come back tomorrow,” Steve replied, his tone leaving zero room for argument. The young woman scowled, yet she didn’t push further. She along with many knew better than to argue with Steve Rogers in this mood. Gathering her things, she shot a curious glance at Tony on her way out.

Cleaning his station meticulously, his movements as deliberate as ever, Steve finally turned to Tony. The expression etched into his face was dark. “Alright, Stark, what’s this about a rat problem?”

Tony’s smirk faded slightly, and his demeanor switched again, back to serious. “Barton stopped by the garage,” he said, his voice low. “Mentioned questions being asked about you and the Avengers. Cops, to be specific.”

Steve’s frustration was evident as he muttered under his breath. “That fucking dumb little bitch.”

Tony’s expression grew more somber. “He didn’t spill anything, but we need to handle this before it gets out of hand.”

With a clenched jaw, the tension in Steve’s body was palpable. “I’ll deal with it,” he said with a tone of finality.

Tony trusted Steve’s capability, but he was still uneasy about the situation. “Just make sure it’s clean, Rogers. We don’t need any more attention than we’re already getting.”

“Hey, Stark. I’ve got this, trust me.” Steve replied, his voice low and deadly serious.

With a final nod, Tony left, the door closing behind him with a soft clock. Standing there for a moment, Steve knew he needed to act fast and decisively. You were getting too close, too quick, and he wouldn’t allow you to jeopardize everything he had built.

Your mind was preoccupied as you walked home from the station. A tangled web of information you and Hill had been piecing together, flooded your thoughts. Not hearing the initial roar of the motorcycle until it was almost upon you. The sound shattered the quiet night, and you barely had any time to react before the bike swerved onto the sidewalk, coming to a screeching halt in front of you.

Dismounting the motorcycle with a fluid grace that belied the menace in his eyes, Steve stalked toward you. His towering presence cast a long shadow. “I thought I made myself clear,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Standing your ground, you ignore the pounding of your heart against your chest. “You did,” you replied, your voice staying steady.

“So, what part of your dumb little doll brain didn’t get it, huh?” he sneered, bending down, his face only inches away from yours.

“You told me to stay away from your sister,” you said, meeting his gaze. “So… I stayed away from your sister.”

A mixture of anger and grudging respect flickered in his eyes. You had followed his warning, but he knew you were still digging into his affairs. “You’re a conniving little bitch, you know that? Sniffing around my business like a little rat.”

Lifting your chin defiantly, you challenged him. “Do I look like a rat to you, Rogers?” You refused to show fear as your heart hammered in your chest.

Reaching out, his rough, calloused hand brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was almost tender. Then suddenly, his fingers tightened around your jaw, pulling you up onto your toes. “No, you’re not a rat,” he whispered, his breath hot against your face. “More like a little mouse, a terrified little mouse. I’ll warn you once more, Detective– stay out of my fucking business.”

You struggled to breathe, his grip painfully tight against you. “I’m here to do my job,” you said through gritted teeth. “And, I won’t be intimidated by you.”

Letting go of your jaw with a shove, you stumbled back as his eyes darkened. “We’ll see about that,” he said coldly, turning back toward his motorcycle. Before mounting it again, he paused, looking over his shoulder slightly. “Keep pushing me, and you’ll regret it. I promise you that.”

He started the engine, and the roar of the motorcycle echoed in the night as he sped away. You stood trembling in the same spot he left you in, yet you were resolute and weren’t backing down.

---

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whencartoonsruletheworld · 10 months

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explanations under the cut

Elizabeth Afton is actually the Youngest Sibling - as @birdsareblooming pointed out, when we see her room in fnaf4, she has a torn-apart mangle toy. mangle was stated to be made to entertain toddlers. would also explain why she's not in the gameplay, she's at daycare/with her mom

The Vengeful Spirit is Michael Afton - another one where cori convinced me and I might have an entire essay that I will publish after I finally sit down and edit through the Security Logbook section but until then here's a bullet point post

Mimic = Burntrap - i dont think i have to explain this we're all talking about it i just know people are gonna be mad at me for it

The Girl in Drowning is representative of Charlie, not Cassidy - She's literally got gray skin, black hair, gray clothes, and neon green lighting, much like a certain gray-skinned black-haired pixel girl with a green bracelet who died in the rain (water motif). Her dragging Kara down because she doesn't want to be alone could be seen as a metaphor for Charlie trying to give life but instead kinda sticking them all in robots

FNAF AR had some BANGIN re-skins - come on. look at them. Clockwork Ballora? Bangin. Broiler Baby? Bangin. Catrina Toy Chica? BANGIN. Springtrap as an actual fucking clown???? BANGIN.

Vanessa is an Afton in the Gameverse, too – Cori's workin on a whole explanation diagram for this but the most BASIC evidence is "her last name starts with 'a' and she's a nepo baby." I dont think she's William's DIRECT daughter cause man died in the 90s and she was 23 in the 2030s so. grandkid or smth

If Edwin/David is a metaphor for anything it's William/CC and not Henry/Charlie – listen i understand the whole "single dad building the robots and then breaking one in a rage" thing from TSE but also the mimic likes to mimic its creator and child before all else and who is it mimicking? afton and the little boy in sb who happens to look a shitton like cc. also game!charlie is never indicated as having a special plushie that followed her everywhere but cc very certainly did and hey if mimic can grow and shrink to fit in anything whos to say it didnt shrink into the fredbear to repeat stock phrases to cc such as "tomorrow is another day." also in the character encyclopedia art of cc he is holding his fredbear plush the same way burntrap positions his arm to imitate holding something. an

They're not gonna pull the Charliebot twist again. Nobody's a secret robot – first off from a writing perspective that's not the kinda twist you do twice. second off with the... less than stellar reception to the twist in the first place i dont think theyre gonna pull it again

"Cassidy" isn't the Golden Freddy Kid's name, it's Crying Child's – the logbook has Crying Child communicate through manipulating the text, while the spirit he's talking to speaks in faint writing; the second spirit never has a confirmed identity, but CC is most definite considering the stuff referenced around him. The "ITS ME CASSIDY" is revealed through.... manipulated text. The clues are in........ manipulated text. "It's Me" is CC calling out to Michael. The other spirit says "My name is..." a couple times BUT they also ask CC if he remembers his name just a few pages before. Granted this might just be us not understanding something but also if Cassidy is CC's name then who the fuck is Golden Freddy Kid. is Michael Brooks still canon

The nightmare gas didn't "ruin the lore" it's just kinda funny – look guys literally all of this lore is fucked, the fact they just threw in "also William Afton was doing nightmare gas experiments on kidnapped kids and then abandoned it for shits and giggles" in the eighth book of their second anthology series and then moving on like nothing happened while the fanbase collapses in on itself is like THE funniest thing they could've done

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #fnaf spoilers #fnaf 2023 #mine

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phoebepheebsphibs · 5 months

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What does the bad timeline au look like for your boys 👀

OOOOH, here we go!

(So, I did hint to this in the NFIF/UIFY Crossover when DvD met Omega, and Omega ran a simulation to see what DvD's future would be like. It was a general explanation, but I'm gonna go deeper into detail now --)

2020: So, first off, the Krang attack in 2020, same as in canon. Leon, 'Phael, Mikey, and DvD manage to survive the invasion by some miracle. For the first year, they just focus on staying alive and hidden from the aliens, but by the end of that first year the reunite with April and their friends and discover the beginnings of the Resistance. (Karai was separated from them all as well, but no one has seen her yet and so they all assume she's dead.)

2023-2025: Several years pass, and there is still no sign of Karai. While the boys are out doing a supply raid, they get ambushed by a Krang attack and are caught in a collapsing building. 'Phael freezes in panic and Leon takes a hit to rescue him, though the two are trapped in rubble together as they wait for Mikey and DvD to dig them out. However... Leon doesn't have that long, and encourages Raph as the leader of their family to stay strong and take care of Mikey and Donnie and April and everyone else...

Leo dies, having saved Raphael.

2025-2030: The three mourn their brother, but do their best to help lead the Resistance. In 2026, Cass gives birth to a son, and 'Phael helps her to raise the child. However, during these five years, tragedy strikes again. Michelangelo's hypoglycemia has been acting up due to the low rations, and in spite of their promptings to take care of himself, Mikey has been intentionally skipping meals so the others can take his rations, effectively starving himself. That, coupled with the injuries he gets from his ninpo overdrive, finally takes its toll on his frail body.

Mikey starves to death.

2030-2035: After Mikey's death, Donnie and Raph have a hard time staying cheerful. And to add to the grief, Cassandra dies in battle as well. But some good comes to light, as the group receives word of a lone stranger roaming New York and saving survivors while battling the Krang. After investigating, they discover that Karai has survived and become something of a folk hero! She joins their Resistance, bringing her own group of survivors with her. During this time, Raphael has grown to be a force to be reckoned with, and even the leader of the Resistance! Donatello is working around the clock to create weapons and grow nutritional, non-contaminated plants that they can eat safely. It's hard work, but no one said the end of the world was easy. DvD discovers a formula and equation that may work for time-travel, but he is unsure... he starts to build the machine.

2035-2044: The Resistance is not looking good. They can barely go above ground anymore without being picked off and slaughtered. The food and supplies are running low. 'Phael realizes that the end is coming, and there may be no escape. He has Donnie work full-time on the time machine, as it is their last hope. The Resistance grows smaller and smaller with each passing month, until it seems like it's just Raph, DvD, April, Karai, and Casey Jones Jr., along with a few special people like Big Mama Frida Kahlo. Finally, in 2044, the Krang find their hideout and begin to slaughter the last of the Resistance. Raph has CJ and Donnie evacuate into the labs with the time machine, and while Raph holds them off, Donnie begins to power the machine with his ninpo and what little electricity they have left. Raph instructs Casey on what to do, that he's sending him back in time -- not necessarily to stop the Krang, but more importantly to save Casey from the attack. If nothing else, Casey must survive. If Raph can do nothing else but make sure that his boy sees a world without war, where he is healthy... that will be enough for him. That will redeem his mistakes, how he let his brothers die because of his failures and fear. Casey has to live. He tells him to find his family, warn them, and to find his sister as well, because she -- Suddenly the Krang break into the room, and Casey is thrown into the time machine. Dee's ninpo goes into overdrive and powers the machine, though it costs him his life. Raph manages to hold the Krang off until the machine does it's duty, and then...

Raph and Donnie die sending Casey Jones Jr. into the past.

And yes, I did cry writing this.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tutant meenage neetle teetles #until i found you #until i found you au #rottmnt until i found you #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt casey jr #bad timeline #rottmnt bad future #rottmnt bad timeline #writing angst #rottmnt fanfiction

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cillivnz · 1 year

Text

tidal [murphy macmanus]

PAIRING — MURPHY MACMANUS x F!READER

GENRE — SMUT, SLIGHT ANGST, FLUFF.

WORD COUNT — 2030

WARNINGS — established relationship, cursing, mentions of physical fights, deep cuts (cleaning = pain), bruises, blood, injured!murphy, reader cleans his scars, pet names, sexual innuendo, oral sex (m! receiving), smoking, p in v sex, cowgirl, creampie, slight breeding kink, breasts/nipple play.

A/N — wanted to write fluff, but my horny ass can’t sway from smut. so, enjoy.

NOTES; Leannán — lover

"Fuckin' cocksucker." You hear your boyfriend yell as he entered the apartment. Glancing over your shoulder to see he hasn't yet reached the living room, you proceed with making coffee for the two of you. "What's wrong, baby?" You call out. When no response followed, you decided to pause your coffee preparation and look for Murphy.

Your eyes widened when the sight of him revealed, silhouette first. Murphy was leaning agonisingly against the wall which his bloody hands stained red. The same crimson dripped out of a slick cut tainting his still flawless skin, knuckles reddish blue with incisions.

"God, darling! What happened?" You rushed over in a frenzy, almost falling to the floor, Murphy with you. He chuckled slightly at your reaction before groaning when it ached to laugh.

"He-he, you shoulda' seen the other guy." He said when you began stroking his cheek just below the cut, he winced softly at that. You let your exasperation be known at his pride.

His shirt was torn from places near and above his abdomen which turned out to be slashed as you took a closer look; even, superficially, drawing blood. Your brows furrowed together in pain. You had (through great difficulty) come to terms with his and Connor's way of living, but seeing Murphy in physical agony was something your heart could never grow accustomed to. You knew he was in the best of spirits knowing he let 'justice prevail' yet another time, but you knew he'd feel guilty letting you take care of him. Seeing the pleading look on your face, Murphy gave you a weak smile, the helplessness evident on his face.

"Oh, baby—" you slowly trailed off, kissing the unharmed portions of body. When your kisses trailed off to his abdomen, and finally down to his v-line, you understood where this would end up, and you weren't in the mood right now.

Boy, were you wrong.

"—let's get you cleaned up." You grabbed his hand and gained composure, a tear escaping your eye, unnoticed by Murphy. He let out a sigh before limping slightly, and following you to the bathroom.

You grabbed the medical kit from the cabinet, back facing him as you ordered, "Go sit on the slab, I'll be with you in a minute."

Though the sight of you right now was inviting; tight jeans hugging your curves perfectly, and one of his old t-shirts which was a little raised due to your stretching to reach the topmost shelf, which Murphy would've done for you, if he wasn't the patient; Murphy obediently sat on the slab.

When you turned around his eyes immediately landed on your tits. The shirt was so loose that your bare shoulders were visible, as was your tainted collarbone from Murphy's kissed and your tits. It seemed significantly low-cut, more than needed at the moment. You saw him shift in his pants from the corner of your eye; eyes rolling in disbelief.

He's horny. Broken, beaten up, and horny.

Taking antiseptic and pouring it on some cotton you began to address his wounds.

He seemed to be taking the pain pretty well; his high pain tolerance came to you as no surprise, considering how many brawls he's been in, but he did wince a little as you moved to the slashed flesh of his face. "This one's deep — I'm sorry for the sting, baby." It saddened you to see him in this state, but he did his best to show you he's alright, chucking softly, before coughing in pain.

"I hope I ain't broken somethin'." He groaned, beginning to shift to his side so he could look at you better. "I hope it's not a rib." You sigh softly.

"What was it this time?" You asked, not facing him while rummaging through the drawers to find gauze. "Hm?" He halfheartedly questioned. His eyes were on your body and your body was on his mind; thoughts of you were cut short when you, yourself asked him, "Why did you fight?"

"Rocco." He said less and you understood. You chuckled when he said, "He's a troublemaker, wee lad." You were about to leave the bathroom, looking for a substitute to the hidden gauze, when he grabbed you by the arm. "Come 'ere for a sec," he pulled you closer. You stood between his legs, arms on either side of him.

"You're not even gonna kiss your patient, doctor?" He massaged your curves. "Might be the only cure for me—" His eyes trailed to your lips, oh, how he'd want nothing more than those plump, soft, crimson lips to paint his skin! "You'd make a naughty patient, Murphy." You teased in a sultry tone, "Can't help it," he replied, "My doctor's the sexiest."

"Oh, yeah?" You teased, giggling, "Tell me more." He grinned.

"See, she's the prettiest lass ever. 'Never seen beauty like hers." You blushed, "She's got sexiest eyes that look into my soul when she's sucking my cock. She's got a cute little nose that scrunches up when she laughs at my jokes. And don't get me started on those lips of hers..." You inched closer, softly kissing his neck, and around the tender skin above the cut on his cheek.

"And if her kisses are the cure to my wounds, I'll let myself be slashed over and over." He breathed out, eyes closing in relief when you began sucking on his sweet spot. He placed your hand on the bulge in his pants. "Look what you do to me."

"I didn't do much..." Your voice trailed off as you kissed along his jaw. "You needn't. I could never get over you. Even when you're not around, I'm like this— at the sheer thought of you— it's paining me."

You were at a loss of words; never able to compete with him when it came to vocalising your love, but he never complained. You made up for it by staying. He'd expected you to walk out the first time he got into a fight — but you didn't. You stayed; kissing his crimson scars and watching them heal by your love.

"I'll have the water running for you." You pecked his lips, he nodded, smiling into the quick kiss.

He sat curled by the sink while you filled the bathtub for him. As it filled, you grabbed his hand, and gently stripped him off his rags. Once bare, he let you guide him to warm waters. He was hesitant in sinking in, shivering a little. It wasn't the water though, he trembled from pain and his state devastated you.

"Try to relax, honey." You cooed; he simply sighed in response. "Would you like me to help you?" You asked, an insinuating smirk plastered on your face.

He knew your looks of sexual innuendo like the back of his hand, for he elicited them.

"Please, have your way." He whispered. Even Murphy was surprised at the fact that his hard-on was now noticed by you, not when you removed him from his clothing. "Is this for me, baby?" You asked as you slowly stroked his cock. "All for you, my love. It's made for you." He groaned, head fall backwards as you applied more pressure and hastened your movements. You hummed, licking a long strip from the base to the slit at the tip. "God, you're killing me."

You hum in satisfaction— the sound sending shivers down his spine, causing him to twitch in your mouth. When he began fiddling in the bath— hands not knowing where and what to grab, you began stroking his length instead, free hand gently pressing him down so as to lay him. "Relax, Murphy. I want you to relax for me." Your tone was soothing, nonetheless sultry.

He then let the warm waters consume him. You were all he needed in this cruel world of injustice and dirty politics; to find something as sweet as you, the Lord really did consider him a Saint for blessing him like this.

"That's it darling, I'm gonna cum for you." He grabbed your hair and began hastening your movements. You sucked determinedly, eager to satisfy, and your efforts bore fruit when he hit the back of your throat and let his seed flow down.

"Oh, sweet angel..." He grabbed your face to kiss you. It was damn near impossible for you to not touch his face— his black eye, and slit cheek preventing you— nonetheless, the kiss was passionate and loving.

"Let's get you cleaned, my love." You helped him bathe.

After drying him, you gave him warm clothes to wear. The Boston winters were cruel, and the rain outside was merciless, too. He wore a cozy grey sweater, and sat in front of you, on the couch.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The first puff was passed to you, as became his habit; lighting it for himself, yet he'd always let you have it first— something you've always found endearing, though he doesn't realise how much these little make you fall harder in love with him, as if being more than head over heels as you are was possible.

"What are you thinking about, baby?" You asked him, when his gaze darkened. "I wanna fuck you so bad right now." His voice, barely audible.

"Murphy..." You look at him pleadingly. He knew, too, he couldn't even walk without your support and he wants to pound you. But his hard-on was back, and it throbbed for you.

And, that's how you ended up like this.

Riding him fervently, while his hands practically ached to touch you, still, placed on his sides. His grip on the sheets scrunched the bed-sheet; you were desperate to touch him, too, but your own hands were pinching and playing with your nipples.

You bounce on his cock; the lack of support making your movements sloppy, yet so hard and deep, your thighs ached every time you would lift yourself till only the tip remained inside and then pushed back down as your cunt squeezed him in like a vice.

"That's it, baby, cream on that cock." He looks up to you, your messy hair framing your face perfectly as sweat began to form in your cleavage. Your lips were swollen from kissing him, your breasts bounced with every thrust and your knuckles turned white, gripping the sheets instead of running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair.

He was in so, so deep— his tip kissing the top of your walls rhythmically every time you'd shove down on his cock. You were mesmerised even more so by his face. Those pale blue eyes looked at you, pleadingly; aching, for you to cum. He needed release, of modern worldliness and sexually, and you've become that release for him.

It only took a few more thrusts before he plunged inside you and began grinding your hips together. "Yes, fill me up!" You moaned like a pornstar, causing Murphy to continue thrusting into you, while his mouth ravenously devoured your tits. The overstimulation driving you into a frenzy; you shivered uncontrollably as he stilled, having his fill of you, and letting your excruciatingly hot walls drain his cock.

“I love you so much,” You moaned, as you began to pull yourself up, away from his cock, but it seemed like your cunt's vice-like grip had other plans. "I love you too, leannán— so much." He whispered, out of breath. His swollen lips wet at the sight of you— dripping in his load and your own cum. He pulled you in for a fervent kiss before he could get hard again and fuck you more than both of you could handle right now.

You laid him down whilst kissing, and he weakly pulled the blanket up for you. The minute you snug in, his strong arms wrapped around your waist; one hand tracing circles around your nipples, as if hardening them would put you to sleep, but the little erotic feeling satisfied you.

And your tidal love sweeping Murphy's shores of sins clean was all this Saint could've prayed for.

So you drift off to sleep, in each other's embrace.

TAGLIST — the sweetest, @takemetoyourbestfriendshouse <3

to join, interact with this post.

main masterlist. more from ‘the boondock saints’.

#the boondock saints #murphy macmanus #smut #norman reedus fanfic #murphy #norman reedus #minors dni #the boondock saints x reader #murphy macmanus x reader #the boondock saints smut #murphy macmanus smut #norman reedus smut #the saint’s sinner #the saint’s sinner on wattpad #murphy macmanus x reader smut #daryl dixon

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brittle-doughie · 11 months

Text

Off to Wish Camp! | A Look into CROB’s 7th Anniversary Update

Wait, has it really been 7 years holy shi-I’ve been around since Season 3, so to see the journey come this far feels nice. So let’s see what’s in store for us.

We’ve got a Star Candy Comet to see, something that only comes once every seven years! Will we get a part 2 to this event in 2030 lol? Not just that, but we’ve got a name for this lass, Cannoli Cookie! I like the fact that her sleeping bag is a roll cake.

Rest in peace, in peace to every single S’mores Cookie OC that people will now have to rework and rename.

I’m such a huge fan of the CGs they make. Yoga Cookie is E N L I G H T E N E D up there. Poison Mushroom sleeping again it seems, just don’t be spreading spores this time!

Hype. The Infinite Chests were top tier and I’m happy to see that a variant of them is returning for such a occasion!

As you guys know by now, I LOVE when there’s an event or mechanic that allows you to have interactions with your Cookies, so the fact that this is a thing and EVERY COOKIE is able to be met is so wonderful! Fans of everyone can be satisfied and no one is left out! Plus it might hits give me material to work with! ;)

At least it’s not a legendary magic candy and it drops in part two of the update.

It’s not really a fair contest for the other costumes since this one has a CG, but I don’t care, Cannoli’s SE outfit is the highlight for me. Currant’s and Butter Pretzel’s are sweet too, who knew Pretzel could rock blue so well! S’more Cookie will also be joining us for part two..too!

Oh right, there was something else that was posted before this. If there’s anything post worthy (I’m going to anyway lol), I’ll definitely post later about it! I don’t mind the new faces for now, but I’ll probably warm up to them eventually!

Let me tell you, this is definitely a step up from the…interesting events of the 6th anniversary. Seems like the Devs know what they’re doing for this one and I hope this means nothing but good stuff for the years ahead! I’ve had memories with this game, both good and crummy, but I could never drop it ultimately regardless. I’m too attached to this world, the stories told, the CUTENESS of it all. But what I treasure most were the characters, the Cookies…

…and I’m sure the Cookies treasure you as well.

All the times you’ve had fun with them, all the times you’ve ran with them, all the gifts you gave them, the care you have for them…they have nothing but you to thank for.

The Cookies care about you, Baker….

They always have!

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #crob #cr ovenbreak #cookie run update #cookie run: tower of adventure #cookie run x reader #cr x reader #cookie run x you

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sgiandubh · 5 months

Text

The telling hashtag

So S is willfully disclosing his LHR location, with a story and a post to boot, as expected:

📌at Bourne Offices, 11 Richmond Buildings, in Soho:

Literally round the corner from Soho House, on Dean Street. Of course:

Also, this - very telling:

#gifted. Before *urv starts her demented Fitness at Dawn - The London Hyrox Edition fanfic, let's unpack:

S chose to wear, in this post, one of the sunglasses models from David Beckham's eyewear collection. Price tag is a bit steep (twice my Ray-Ban Wayfarers), but still democratic:

But why the #gifted hashtag? Before you think C or Scottish Xena lovingly picked those up the shelf for his birthday, you might like to check a bit around for context. You see, all dbeyewear collections are manufactured by a single Italian producer based in Padua, Safilo Group. Hashtagged accordingly in his post, by the way.

A couple of days ago, Safilo Group and dbeyewear's commercial partnership reached a new, very important milestone:

[Source: Safilo Group press release, https://assets.ctfassets.net/cmstik7jzbvm/2lwJmoKJR7x3ydijfpi7c6/9870e11fbb2c040a89a6d8acb4ed25ea/20240502_Safilo_firma_un_accordo_di_licenza_perpetua_per_l-eyewear_di_David_Beckham.pdf]

On May 2nd, Safilo Group and Authentic Brands Group (ABG), the corporate side of Eyewear by David Beckham signed a 'perpetual licensing agreement, replacing the current one that would have ended in 2030'. Authentic Brands Group and Safilo Group have been working together since 2019, when Beckham started to design his own eyewear collection. Now, they are taking their collaboration one step further, with ABG (or the licensor) granting Safilo Group (the licensee) perpetual (unlikely to be retired, unless something goes really, awfully wrong along the way: breach of contract, etc.) exclusive right to produce, use, advertise, sell its merchandise.

Something like this needs proper promotion, so Safilo Group and/or ABG graciously sent S those sunglasses, in the hope he will sport them in one of his posts with a potential 3+ million subscriber views.

A word on the UK pretty obscure regulations on promoter advertising and the use of the #gifted hashtag. There is not one, but two competent national regulatory authorities: the Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) and the Competition and Markets Authority (CMA). The ASA is a bit more lenient in its approach and they clearly say that if the promoted product has been sent to the influencer on a no strings attached basis, then it is ok to use that #gifted hashtag. They will not pursue, based on the lack of #ad, however they will name and shame you - not a pretty picture, after all:

[Source, heh: ASA's Influencer Guide to making clear that ads are ads, https://www.asa.org.uk/static/uploaded/3af39c72-76e1-4a59-b2b47e81a034cd1d.pdf]

But the CMA is way more vigilant. They consider that any freebie can and must be monetized, based on its retail value and as such, must be clearly labeled as an #ad, when promoted on socials by an influencer. And yes, they can and might pursue, at any given moment: that must be proportional with the offence and in S's case, it might simply mean being served with a cease and desist notice or a removal and prohibition order. I'd rather not be in those shoes, mind you:

[Source: CMA's guide Hidden ads: Being clear with your audience, 2022; https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/social-media-endorsements-guide-for-influencers/social-media-endorsements-being-transparent-with-your-followers]

If he wants no further headaches, he should simply edit that post and add the right hashtag. It will be interesting to see if and when he will do it.

As for Fitness at Dawn, well... not even sorry.

Gracias a ti, ❤️. Siempre.

#fandom #shitshow #ad hashtag

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cryscendo · 2 months

Note

Hi, how about an abrupt, heated kiss during the middle of a fight for Klaine?

i bet you didn’t think i would ever respond to this!! well i will say that i kinda ran away with this plot a bit. does it fit the prompt? only vaguely. BUT it’s another thrilling installment to my angel/demon au with a bit more lore thrown in. dedicating it to you as well as @porcelainvino for their various art pieces for this au <3 hope you love it and sorry for the wait!!

Paring: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 2030

Rating: T

AU: Angel/Demon AU

fic can be read under the cut <3

There were a lot of things that turned out to be just as unpleasant about falling, not including the actual falling part.

For one, he was weaker than he used to be. He did suspect that would happen, but it still hurt his ego a bit. He used to have so much power that he often didn’t even know what all to do with it. Not that he really could do much with it anyway; the big men upstairs never allowed much fun to be had. More time was spent existing as a militant entity than was spent actually basking in the alleged splendor that was heaven.

If given the option between going back to that or experiencing the pain of falling all over again, Kurt would choose to fall every damn day.

Besides, angels don’t get to play with humans like they’re Barbie dolls. And that’s way more fun.

The man before him, unsuspecting and ignorant, saw Kurt at a bar and thought he’d be an easy target. Kurt knew he perfectly looked the part of a young man getting his first drink at a bar as a twenty-one year old. Aging was such an earthly concept and Kurt was not burdened with it. But to an older man, the illusion of wide-eyed innocence was all too compelling.

Kurt claimed he ‘knew a spot’, which was just as cliché as it sounded, but it was effective nonetheless. Apparently intelligence didn’t always come with age.

It wasn’t long after he got the man to the abandoned storage facility that he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. Not soon enough, though, for Kurt had already made quick work of knocking the man out and handcuffing him to a chair. When he came to once more, it was in a fit of panic.

“Look, I didn’t sign up for this kind of crazy! So just let me go, okay?” The man pleaded with Kurt and it was charming if nothing else. Kurt leaned over him, one knee braced against the chair in a way that could be seen as provocative in any other circumstance.

“What, am I too old for you?” Kurt asked in a mocking whine. “I swear, I’m only twenty, maybe thirty centuries old!”

“Whatever game you’re playing here, kid, I’m not interested so just let me-”

“Let him go, Kurt,” a voice spoke up behind him. Kurt grinned as he straightened up. Of course he would show up. It was impossible for him to stay away. He made a bit of a show of turning around to face the new arrival — his favorite little angel.

He turned towards the voice, maintaining his flirty tone. “Just can’t stay away from me, can you?”

“You could say that,” Blaine replied and that’s when Kurt saw it — the glint of a blade held discreetly in his palm. He recognized the weapon, as it was a piece from Heaven’s arsenal. See, a regular knife couldn’t kill Kurt.

But that one could.

Kurt’s grin dropped as he backed away from the man strapped to the chair, and subsequently also away from Blaine. “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“You attract too much attention to yourself.”

“Well, I can’t help but pull focus,” Kurt responded in a rather clipped manner. The man in the chair began to panic even more upon being approached by Blaine.

“Listen, man,” the guy began quickly, “you don’t need to kill him or anything! Just let me go and I’ll be on my way!”

Blaine’s eyes flickered down to the stranger, eerily calm. “You don’t need to see this,” he said simply and before the man could even begin to reply, Blaine rested his palm to his forehead, immediately knocking him out. Putting a human to sleep rather than killing them; that was so painfully just like Blaine to do.

“Why do you have that thing?” Kurt interrogated the second that the man was unconscious.

Blaine turned the knife a bit in his hand as if observing it. “Come on, Kurt, you know exactly what this is.”

Kurt maintained a semi-safe distance. “Why do you need that thing to kill me? You’ve never needed that for a demon before.” It was true. Blaine could take down a demon easily. It made them cruelly unmatched. Blaine had never threatened to kill him before, but it would be undoubtedly easy for him to do so should he want to. For Blaine, a demon is an easy target. He was an easy target.

Unless…

Kurt’s grin returned. “You can’t kill me, can you?” He asked coyly.

Blaine remained serious, but Kurt could see a crack in his expression letting on that he was nervous. Kurt seemed to always have that effect on him. “Not at my rank, no,” he said simply, but Kurt knew what he meant. He wasn’t strong enough to take out Kurt. An ordinary demon, he’d have no problem. But as luck would have it, Kurt wasn’t an ordinary demon.

Kurt took a risk. He moved a few steps towards Blaine and the weapon he possessed. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“I could.”

A few more steps. “But you won’t.”

“I might.”

“But you won’t.” Kurt was directly in front of him now. He knew it was a dangerous game, but he had a point to prove. “Because if you were going to, you would’ve done it already. So tell me angel, was this a direct order from one of your bossmen, or are you just simply that obsessed with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Kurt,” Blaine spoke, gravely serious.

“Or what?” Kurt challenged. He could feel Blaine’s steady breaths from just how close they were. Blaine’s gaze met his evenly. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it. I’m wide open.” Kurt tilted his head a fraction, his eyes alight with the rush that comes with toying with Blaine. His tone shifted into something devilishly flirtatious as he spoke again. “So, y’know, take me, I’m yours and all that.”

It was then that Blaine sprung into action. With quick work, he managed to securely grip onto the collar of Kurt’s shirt, using his strength over the other to force Kurt backwards. There was a time where Kurt may have been stronger than him. But Kurt gave all that up, and he still refused to regret it.

That didn’t mean he loved Blaine constantly using that fact against him.

Blaine got him against a wall with one particularly rough push. Kurt felt the brittle wall crack slightly behind him. Fuck, Blaine was strong.

Blaine was strong.

Once Blaine has Kurt pinned defenseless against the wall, he brings the blade down. Kurt doesn’t know whether it was thanks to adrenaline, or his own sense of speed in the face of self-preservation, but he reached up and circled his fingers around Blaine’s wrist before he could manage to connect the weapon.

The blade stilled, suspended in the air between them. Kurt imagined the scene was almost picturesque in a way — him pressed between Blaine’s firm body and the unforgiving wall, his long fingers locked around Blaine’s wrist. Angel and demon. Lovers. Enemies.

Blaine really was going to kill him.

Their shared breathing revealed the exhaustion that their overexertion had caused. Kurt knew, given his current position, he was fully at Blaine’s mercy. The mercy of an angel who just tried to kill him.

That gave Kurt little other choice. Slowly, he tugged at Blaine’s wrist until the blade was sitting just above his throat. He leveled Blaine with a steely look, deathly serious. “Well, go ahead, angel. Do what you gotta do.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Kurt,” Blaine clarified, but didn’t pull the blade away.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he bit out before he could even think to check his tone. This was, in large part, his own doing. He opened the door for Blaine to corner him, he really had no right to be upset about it actually occurring. Even in his current position, Kurt couldn’t refrain from looking down his nose at Blaine, hoping to properly demonstrate his distaste from his present circumstances. “I’m guessing you got assigned a job from one of the big men upstairs?”

“You’re lucky that it’s me and not someone else.”

“Oh yeah, I sure feel lucky.” Kurt’s fingers twitched around Blaine’s wrist as he continued to hold the blade close to Kurt’s throat. But hasn’t pressed in yet, and Kurt cannot fathom why. He has the perfect opportunity. Kurt is basically giving him a free pass, so why isn’t he going for it? “Well?”

Blaine’s grip on the weapon slacked just a bit. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“So why don’t you take care of the problem?”

Blaine said nothing, did nothing. He only stood and continued to watch Kurt in silence, and Kurt could practically see the flurry of thoughts swirl around in Blaine’s head. Kurt almost felt bad for the guy; he knew that he didn’t make Blaine’s job simple, and admittedly, does very little to combat that fact.

Eventually, though, Blaine shakes his head. “You’re right. I won’t do it.”

The sound of the metal blade clattering to the ground reverberated discordantly off the walls of the warehouse.

Kurt took no time to ponder Blaine’s decision to spare him. Instead, he kicked the weapon away from the two of them and then, in quick succession, flipped their two positions. Blaine didn’t put up any fight with being pushed up against the wall himself. He could break free if he really wanted to. He chose not to.

“Do you still love me, Blaine?” Kurt asked, not ready for the words to fall from his mouth before they did.

“Are demons even capable of love?”

Kurt wasn’t sure. Maybe demons who never experienced love aren’t. Love is formed from soul, grace, and humanity, of which demons have none.

But Kurt wasn’t always a demon, and he still didn’t really fit the mold of one. Fallen angels are different from regular demons. They still possess morality, at least to some extent. It was just like Kurt to never really fit in anywhere.

“Do you? Still love me?”

Honey colored eyes gazed at Kurt with something akin to sympathy, which would burn his blood if it weren’t for the fact that he so desperately needed a response.

Blaine nodded.

Kurt kissed him. He didn’t even hesitate. With Blaine pinned up against the wall, it was easy for him to leverage a searing, bruising kiss against soft lips. Blaine always tasted the same, like coffee, — such an earthly pleasure that he achieved no benefit from and only chose to indulge for its luxury — and something else a touch more divine. Kurt couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it tasted vaguely familiar from the holy kingdom that he was no longer welcome to.

Kurt pulled away with a sigh. Blaine panted quietly, a faintly pink blush forming under tanned skin. Kurt was right about one thing, Blaine was an angel — in every sense of the word.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to disappear for your own safety?” Blaine eventually asked.

Kurt smiled. “Not a chance in hell.”

Blaine nodded in understanding, as if he already anticipated Kurt’s response. “You always were stubborn to a fault.”

Blaine wasn’t wrong. And as much as he would love to stand here with Blaine forever, it wasn’t wise to hang around angels for too long — even if the angel in question was Blaine.

He finally stepped away from Blaine, allowing the man some space. Kurt glanced over to the man tied to the chair. He had forgotten that guy was here. He was simply a means to an end, afterall.

“You may want to wipe that guy’s mind, angel. Or else he’s going to be a real problem when he wakes up.”

Kurt headed towards the exit of the building, but not before Blaine called out to him. “Suddenly not so keen on sticking around?”

Kurt grinned, if not mostly to himself. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find me again. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually have it in you to kill me next time.”

#my fic #my stuff #angel/demon au #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #annepi-blog #porcelainvino #klaine #glee #glee fic #this took way too long and its also way longer than a drabble but hey at least im writing #i plan put all the angel/demon au fics into a collection on ao3 at some point #i love these two and i love this au

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miela · 1 year

Text

Shattered Memories • Chapter I: The Expo & The Files • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: Angst Chapter Warnings: Flashback Death (writing it hurt me lmao), Mentions of substance abuse and alcholism. Masterlist

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

DIARY / Dream Log #3 / 10 NOV 2024

Dear Diary,

I dreamt of him again last night…the faceless boy

For the past few nights I've been dreaming of this boy. I didn't remember the dreams but I remember him. I can't remember what he looked like. It's like I remember the essence of him. Like he existed but he's nowhere to be found.

Only this time I remembered.

We were at the studio on a rainy day. I was wearing a long sleeve fitted crop top and matching leggings with my ballet shoes on.The pink of my slippers were a stark contrast against the black of my outfit. He was wearing a black fitted muscle shirt with black leggings under a pair of loose fitting Midtown Tech PE shorts. He was wearing a pair of star wars socks, which I found quite adorable. We were dancing playfully around the studio as we laughed at ourselves for not dancing so seriously but instead sliding across the floor and twirling each other as if we were ipart of a dance number in a musical

I wish I could remember his face.

I remember loving his smile. It's such a pretty smile, that much I know…but I don't remember what it looks like. I just know it brought me comfort and joy. His hair is soft and curly. He has such lovely hair. It feels soft and silky in my hands as I ran my hand through them a few times just to feel them. His eyes are puppy-like but I don't know what color they are. I just…know how they are.

It's strange to dream of someone and have no idea what they look like, but knowing little details that explains what they look like. It’s like running to a destination and then having no idea where you’re going.

He likes to kiss my cheek and his lips feel velvety on my skin. He calls me different pet names too.

"Baby, you’re going to hurt yourself."

"My little Lovebug."

"Are you hungry, Darling?"

"Princess, you’re doing great!"

"There’s my Pretty Girl~"

His voice is soft, just like everything about him. (Well…minus his arms and chest and abs…) but his voice is like music to my ears. I would respond with my own pet names for him.

“Don’t worry, My Love, I’ve been doing this my whole life.”

“My Sweet Boy~”

“No, I’m okay, Baby.”

“It’s like you’re my own Disney Prince.”

“And there’s my Handsome Boy~”

We danced around the studio for about an hour until we laid on the floor facing each other tiredly. His fingers traced over my hips and waist several times causing my skin to react to his touch. I scoot closer to him until our faces are centimeters apart. I could hear his heartbeat and I’m pretty sure he could hear mine. We have a special connection that is different from most. It was a biological connection that I couldn’t place.

I wish he was real. Then maybe I wouldn't feel so fucking lonely.

I leaned in to kiss him before something happened. He glitched. He glitched and my head felt like it was splitting in half with a migraine so painful that I woke up dizzy, shaking and sweating.

How strange…and terrifying.

[END NOTE]

The night was in good weather and the streets of New York City were bustling and busy, as per usual. Life was moving on as usual. The sun and moon cycled as usual.

The year is 2030.

Five years had gone by after the incident at the Statue of Liberty. Five years since you were forced to forget him along with the rest of the world.

No one knew who Peter Parker was. Not a single soul. To anyone that would be a terrifying thought, but it was something Peter himself had to accept.

He was swinging across buildings in the city one night, as usual. He was on his nightly patrol doing the same thing he's always done—protect the little guy. He figured it would be a somewhat busy night considering today was a special day so, he would probably have to protect some of the…not so little guys as well. He only stopped when he saw one of the big screens in Time Square and decided that this was a good spot to watch from.

It was showing the Stark Expo.

It had been awhile since he'd been excited about the beloved and annually anticipated event. Before, it hurt too much to bear with everything that happened but he was particularly intrigued with this one this year because this is when you made your official debut as the new owner of Stark Industries, and he knew you always wanted to make a big entrance. Much like your father, Tony Stark.

Only you wanted to do it bigger. Better.

Peter remembered different ideas you came up with for when the tech company torch was passed down to you. You said no to fireworks because the constant loud noises bother you and it was disrespectful to veterans, animals and those who are like you and sensitive to sound, even more so as a mutant human with super hearing.Other ideas you thought of were outlandish like setting something on fire or blowing something up (which Peter reminded you, contradicted your statement about the fireworks) and some were outrageous like blasting out of a giant cake. Eventually you came up with a solid plan that seemed to have fit your personality and mission as the legacy. You had it all planned out in a digital notebook with blueprints, lists, distributors, catering options and many more categories. Peter loved to watch you while you were fixated on something. It showed how much passion you had. He wondered how you felt leading up to the event.

He wished he could have been there.

There was a countdown on the screen for when the Expo was going to begin. Peter's friends invited him to go with them to see the Expo but he decided against it and used the excuse of having a lot of work; for school, for home and his job. Really he just couldn't handle the crowd right now he didn’t think he would be able to handle being so close to and yet so far from you.

Also he's Spiderman. He's got his hero duties to do.

With school, work, trying to function as an adult and being Spiderman, he was a busy guy, and that was the only thing that kept him distracted from thinking about his friends, his family, Mr. Stark, you…

Especially you.

There were times when he looked at the necklace you gave back to him and remembered what you had said to him.

"Give this back to me, I'll remember you."

But he knew it wouldn't be that simple.

Five years ago, he had full intentions of calling you at seven like he promised but...he didn’t. He went to your window later that night instead. You were sitting on your bed sadly looking at a picture of you and your dad. It had been a year since you both lost Tony but it was taking you a longer time to move on for obvious reasons. He was your actual father and you knew him much longer. Tony was like a father figure to Peter, but he's been to this rodeo four times already.

This was the first time you lost someone so close to you in such a way.

Peter recalled that day. He remembered how you were.

Pepper had her arm around a crying Peter’s shoulders. Rhodey had given you a sad and apologetic look as you went over to Tony. You kneeled down by him.

"Dad, we did it." You said going up to him, your voice shaking as you put your hands on his shoulders. "Pops, we won. You did it. You…you…"

You paused when you saw the state of him. Half of his body was fried from using the infinity stones and he was taking his last breaths. Peter put his hand on your shoulder and you glanced at him with a fearful and hopeful look in your eyes. He pressed his lips together in a thin line giving you an apologetic and pained look. He had that same look you had in his eyes a moment ago.

“No,” you shook your head and looked back at Tony. “Dad, please. We….we….we won.”

Tony looked at you one last time and weakly pointed to his heart before pointing to yours. You understood what he meant by it and you sighed deeply, nodding before he forced a small smile on his face that was barely there and took his final breath.

Your lip quivered and you leaned your forehead on his. “I love you, Daddy. I love you so much.”

Then the arc reactor light on his chest went out.

Peter sat next to you after a moment and you instantly wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug and you hugged him back both of you crying your eyes out and attempting to comfort each other. Peter had to carry you back and he didn’t put you down until you had cried yourself to sleep on his shoulder.

Remembering that moment and then remembering how you were afterwards, it dawned on him how things played out. Peter was your rock, and you were his, but he had already made his decision.

Your name was called and you perked up before quickly wiping your eyes and softly calling “Coming!”

You put down the photo on your end table and then walked out of your room. Once it was safe to do so, Peter climbed into your window and gathered any trace of his existence and put it in a box and left with it.

Would he regret this? He had no idea.

He had run into once or twice or three times after that but as Spiderman and when he was saving your life from any danger. Nothing too eventful.

And that is how he ended up here five years later with a new life so different from yours.

The countdown made it to the 10 second mark and Peter was knocked out of his thoughts to pay attention to the screen. Once the mark hit zero the intro began.

Instantly he recognized the song. Back in Black by AC/DC.

Different forms of tech and inventions were brought onto the stage in an almost cinematic way. Lights flashed, sparks flew, and the crowd went wild. Fireworks went off in the sky to Peter’s surprise but he was even more surprised when they made no sound. He concluded that you somehow made soundless fireworks. He wondered when and how you came up with that one.

Once the platforms finished forming on the stage he spotted something flying in the sky. He didn’t sense danger from it but it was headed towards the expo.

“Hey Karen, zoom in on that thing in the sky.”

“Okay, Peter.” and with that the lens of his mask zoomed in on the flying object. It was red and gold and mechanical…

Wait, could it be…?

“It appears to be an Ironman suit.” Karen stated.

“Who is it…?” Peter wondered.

“Activating X-Ray Scan Function.”

“Wait a minute…!” Peter panicked. “What if they’re naked…!”

“Be serious, Spiderman.” Karen retorted while deactivating the x-ray scan.

Peter was taken aback by his AI. “Wow, Karen, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“All Stark Industries AI have been updated with a Bestie Feature created by (Y/N) Stark.”

Peter smirked to himself. “Classic (Y/N/N).”

You landed on a mid-rise platform on the stage as it lowered to the regular height. The crowd was cheering loudly as you stepped out of the iron suit and Peter was taken aback.

You looked amazing.

You wore an oversized blazer with a black dress underneath and knee high combat boots. Your lips were painted a bright red color and your nails were a teal blue that Peter recognized you always wearing. Under the dazzling lights of the Expo. You looked happy, healthy and lovely as ever.

Just how Peter hoped for you.

You danced your way across the stage before you stood poised at the podium, your confidence radiating, much like how Tony was. The audience hushed, anticipation hanging in the air as they waited to hear from the new owner of Stark Industries, Tony Stark's eldest daughter, (Y/N) Stark.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests and partners," you began, your voice steady yet carrying an echo of nervousness that Peter recognized all too well that others wouldn’t. “How are we all doing tonight?!”

The crowd went wild and you grinned in response.

"Good glad to hear it because today marks a significant milestone – not just for Stark Industries, but for a legacy that my father, Tony Stark, entrusted me to carry forward."

The crowd erupted in applause, the memory of Tony Stark's genius and charisma still fresh in their minds, even five years after his passing. Your presence on that stage, the spitting image of confidence of your father with a twist of your own determination, stirred a mix of nostalgia and curiosity in everyone. Even people on the street stopped and watched curiously and anxiously. Once the crowd calmed down, you continued on with your speech. Peter sat on top of the tall building that was right across from the screen that he was watching. You looked a little different but you were still as beautiful as he could remember.

“Tony Stark was many things; a visionary, a genius, a multi-billionaire, a philanthropist, an American patriot, a playboy, a raging smart ass…”

The crowd laughed, and you continued.

“But to me, he was my number one supporter, my greatest mentor, my biggest inspiration and my best friend."

You looked back at the Ironman Suit that you arrived in longingly for a moment before turning back to the crowd.

“When I was nine years old, my dad was taken by terrorists. He told me those three months were a huge awakening for him and changed the trajectory of his life. Through those dark times he went in a man, and came out a hero. A year later, he had learned that he had made enemies and then one day, our home in Malibu was blown to pieces. Each and every attempt to knock him down only made him come back stronger and stronger...and each time he became more and more my hero.”

Peter agreed with you from his sitting place in the building and the crowd cheered once again.

“Obviously, I began to notice at a young age what was happening. I did inherit his genius after all. And I began to ask questions, lots of questions.”

“One day he pulled me off to the side and He told me, ’(Y/N/N), one day this company will be yours and I want this to be a learning lesson for you. I want you to learn from my mistakes, instead of your own. I want you to grow to be a better person than I am’... I still hold those words close to me and I wonder how I can even be half of the genius and a fraction of the hero that he was...and still is to many people? I don't think I ever could. But because he believed in me so deeply, I will be. Even though he is gone from this world, he's still in my heart, guiding me.”

"Change is inevitable, and with change comes the opportunity to create a brighter future,” you continued, your eyes alight with determination but Peter could tell that you did it to hide the pain. "My father once said that his suit was a cocoon, and he emerged as Iron Man. Stark Industries is my cocoon, and I am committed to guiding it toward new heights of innovation and impact.”

“I remember his speech here at the expo, after he revealed himself as the iron hero and how he said ‘it's not about us, it's about legacy’. I stand before you as a testament to my father's belief in progress, innovation, and the power of human potential," you stated. "Tony Stark was more than a genius inventor; he was a visionary who saw challenges as opportunities, who dared to dream the impossible and then turn those dreams into reality."

The holographic screens around the stage displayed images of Tony Stark's greatest creations: the Iron Man suits, the Arc Reactor, the revolutionary technologies that had changed the world and his one of his greatest creations stands in the middle of all of it.

You.

“So I will go on with this genius mind and this heart made of gold and iron that I inherited from one of the greatest people I have ever known and be the heir of legacy that he believed me to be.”

Peter looked at the screen, his heart swelling at your words and the emotion and passion in your voice. He could only imagine how this was for you.

"As the new owner of Stark Industries, I take this responsibility seriously," you asserted. "My father's legacy was not just about technology; it was about making a difference. And that is what Stark Industries will continue to do under my guidance, because with great power comes great responsibility."

Peter could have swore that his heart exploded. That was what his Aunt May had told him right before she died. He wondered where you heard it from. “Now, just because I came down in the suit, doesn’t mean I’m trying to be the new Iron Man. Oh no, I’m trying to be a different kind of hero…but I will work hard to find someone who will be suitable to wear it.” You stated and the crowd seemed to look at you understanding.

After that, you spoke of a renewed commitment to clean energy, sustainable technologies, and global initiatives aimed at improving lives.The audience was captivated, witnessing the torch being passed from one generation to another, seamlessly transitioning from Tony's leadership to your vision. Peter was also captivated by the strong and determined person you have grown to be.

Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was better that he was out of your memories and your life.

“Now a few words from the man who walked and the man who ran so that I could fly.” You smiled.

Your words resonated deeply with the audience as you concluded your speech. The applause that followed was thunderous, a testament to the faith they had in your ability to carry on your father's legacy. Peter couldn't be anymore proud of you than he already was.

He just wished he was by your side, supporting you.

As you stepped down from the podium, Peter couldn't help but feel the weight of the moment.

The Stark Legacy was in your hands now, and you were ready to honor it and not by imitating your father, but by carving your own path while staying true to his spirit of innovation, determination, and a desire to make the world a better place. Just as you had told Peter once before.

Peter pressed his lips together under his mask as he watched you. He watched as you walked off stage as a video of Howard Stark began to play. He talked about the initial mission for Stark Industries. Then Tony’s video came on, and he spoke about legacy and the future. It sure seemed like the future of Stark Industries was bright with your mission to push it even further with technology for space exploration of the solar system, and making technology that can advance cybernetics and construction tools.

Peter wished nothing for the best for you, but he couldn’t help but wish he could be by your side while doing all of it. Something told him to go to you and tell you everything but another part of him told him to do the opposite and stay as far away from you as possible, but he had decided a while ago that he would just let you have your own space to grow before he attempted to come back into your life…before he would return the necklace to you, but the more he thought about it the more he feared doing it. He had tried once with Ned and MJ before they left for MIT, but he also chickened out. He couldn't even get close to Celina since she was training with Doctor Strange. He figured by now it would be a dead end anyways.

So he promised to support you guys from a distance. A big one.

The wail of sirens echoed down below fading in and out as they passed by and that was Peter’s signal to resume his duty as the beloved web slinging, wall crawling hero that he was meant to be.

You had left the Expo early.

You left after you actually gave your speech. You had better things to do than to pretend that everything was okay. These five years were tough on you. You have lost so much and so many people and even five years later it deeply affects you. You were definitely better than you were years ago though. You pretty much flew off the handle and went off the deep end. You did some dumb shit and did some bad shit, took some dumb shit and took some bad shit and now you’re trying to forget all of the dumb shit and the bad shit. Lucky for you, you always kept a low profile.

Everyone knew Tony Stark had a daughter but he kept you out of the public eye for good reason.

You preferred it that way anyways. It made life and school easier. You went as far as to take up the name (Y/N) Jarvis and take the bus home from school to keep your identity a secret. You were in no way ashamed to be a Stark, in fact, you were proud of it. You just didn’t want the unwanted attention that comes with being a famous person’s offspring. You could already hear the nepo baby accusations for everything (not that they were really wrong…).

So, when you went on a bender for a year, no one knew who you were. When you decided to take things to forget your pain, no one batted a pretty eye.

Except those who did know you of course.

You’d rather not think about how you broke Pepper and Happy’s hearts seeing you like that. Or how selfish you had been. It wasn’t until you were at your worst one day, where you finally decided that you were gonna get your act together. It wasn’t easy…it was far from easy. You had spent the first half of the first year utterly depressed from the loss of your father and the next half was your party girl bender era, much too young from doing anything that you were doing. The year after that was recovery and the years after that was making amends with everything you made crash and burn.

This year you worked. A lot.

You spent most of your time in your lab at the avenger’s compound creating and inventing while also scolding DUM-E, the help robot your father created, for doing too much. Which is where you were right now instead of networking with people you really didn’t give a flying fuckaroo about at the expo.

You had more important matters to attend to.

Usually you would be working on a new AI format (that wasn’t the debauchery that Ultron was..) or the car you were supposed to build with Tony before he passed, but with the world in near shambles all the time, you have a different project you were working on.

The NAI— New Avengers Initiative.

After the fight with Thanos and the blip coming undone by the hands of your father’s sacrifice, shit went sideways in your eyes. You recalled how people reacted when the world went back to normal, you recalled Sam and Bucky going on missions to stop a literal child from causing a mass murder attempt on government officials, you recalled Sam becoming the new Captain America and his beautiful call out speech to those government officials, and you recalled the day five years ago at the statue of liberty.

Sort of.

You had remembered a battle, you had remembered being there with Ned, Celina and MJ, but you honestly weren’t really sure why you were there and you didn’t understand why you were crying so hard.

Come to think of it, why were you crying at all?

You fought all types of enemies including the Big 3 (Aliens, Robots, and Wizards) as Sam likes to put it. You have fought terrorists, governments, hell you have fought in the civil war of the avengers, and yet you had the waterworks about a battle you couldn’t even remember. You blamed it on the realization that you would have to fight big battles without your biological family and chosen family the same way anymore, but…you felt like something else was missing, like a big part of you was carved out of your life. It was like there was this big hole in your chest and you tried to fill it with everything imaginable. You failed miserably.

It must be the dreams you were having.

You kept dreaming about a boy, and everytime you dream about him you’re super happy. The happiest you have ever been. The only problem is you couldn’t remember who he was and why you kept dreaming about him. Since those dreams began you have been having terrible headaches and nothing has been really fixing them. Morgan would tease you in her oh-so-annoying-little-sibling-way and basically say that your brain is trying not to be stupid for once.

God forbid she knew you were dreaming about a boy. You wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“FRIDAY,” You stated as you sat in your chair in thought. “Pull up all the files on the Avengers.”

“The remaining ones or All of them?” the voice asked.

“All,” you replied. “Minus me, I know me. Very well actually.”

“Pulling up Avenger’s database right now, miss.”

Holographic screens appear in front of you. “Spread them out. Circular please.”

The screens surround you as if they were a council meeting. You walked to each one studying them as you reminisced on your past relationship and current stance with each of them now.

You heavily looked up to Natasha Romanoff and she was like a big sister to you.

Now she’s dead.

You deeply admired Wanda Maximoff, and even had a mini crush on her.

But she went rogue and is now nowhere to be found.

You adored Vision, since he was the personification of AI Jarvis.

But you don’t know what happened to him either.

You also admired Steve Rogers, and he was like a big brother to you.

But he decided to go back to the past and live his own life.

Thor was like your goofy uncle and you loved him like one.

But he has his own thing going on in New Asgard and with the Guardians of the Galaxy.

Doctor Bruce Banner you felt so much for. You honestly admired him too. You were one of the only people who didn’t fear him as the Hulk but rather felt pity for him.

You decided he needed to be left alone, even though he was better now.

Scott was cool. He was also like a cool uncle figure.

But he has other matters to worry about. Including a family.

Same with Clint. You learned alot from him.

But he only came out of retirement by force. You didn’t wanna bother him.

Doctor Stephen Strange you found amusing.

But you currently hate magic, that’s more of Celina’s thing. Possibly Ned too apparently.

You look at each of them as if this is the only way you could send them off with good riddance…for some of them it was true. Some of them you expect to never see again. You long accepted that already and wished nothing but the best for the rest of them and you hoped they all could find peace as much as they could. You sighed and smiled as you looked over all of them, but your eyes landed on a screen that would change the trajectory of your life.

You let your eyes scan the face of a puppy-eyed figure with brown curls and boyish features. There was something vaguely familiar but so foreign about him. It bothered you. You read the name.

“Peter Parker…” His name tasted familiar on your tongue, like you had spoken it many times before.

Could it be…?

“FRIDAY,” you asked. “Give me all the information on Peter Parker that we have.”

“Certainly,” she responded and pulled up more screens. “Peter Parker. Age: 21. Would have been 26 but he was part of The Blip. Hair Color: Brown, Eye Color: Brown. Ethnicity: Some sort of European descent, seems to be English by the last name.”

“Okay, okay but like ...who is he in the Avengers?”

“He is Spiderman and he was taken under the wing of your father.”

Your face twisted in confusion. “Huh? How…?”

You knew Spiderman. You remember Spiderman as your partner on Missions. You two bonded over the fact that you both had Spider powers. You even built his and your suits and begged your father not to tell him that it was you for some odd reason…oh yeah you had a major crush on him. Your suits synced up to each other making you both the Iron Spider.

Two Spider Mutants + Stark Tech = Iron Spider.

As you scanned your neurons for memories, you tried to remember his face. Surely, you knew his face…but you couldn’t place it. Really, all this time you just thought Spiderman was Harley Keener, but now that you think about it…nothing in that thought process would make any sense. After all he’s from Tennessee and has been in the same room as Spiderman. You recall sleeping on the Quinjet with Spiderman with your head on his shoulder and his head on top of yours. You recall even fighting “against” him in the Avengers Civil War.

That’s a different story for a different day.

You went through a plethora of memories but you could never remember his face and it peeved you to no end. Did he just hide his identity from everyone? He was young and honestly you did the same thing for a while, so you don't really blame him. After you gave the heroic works, he continued being the friendly neighborhood spiderman, helping the little guy. But things weren’t adding up in your mind still.

Especially if he knew your father on a close level to wear he took him under his iron wing.

“Peter Parker,” you said softly again. “Who are you? How did you meet my father…? Are you the boy in my dreams…?”

“The Database says he was part of the Stark Internship. Which was a Pseudonym for his Avenger call.” FRIDAY responded.

“Something isn’t adding up,…” you said, chewing your lip, vexed. “Why don’t I recognize him?”

“Would you like me to do a deeper search, miss?”

Invading his personal information? You thought.

“How deep are we talking, Fri?” You squint your eyes at the picture of Peter Parker, as if you were addressing him.

“I can go as far back as to the day he was born and as deep as to where he is right now.”

You nearly fell out of your chair. “FRIDAY…!”

“It’s the way I was built, miss. You can’t blame me.”

You snorted.

“FRIDAY, that is stalker behavior,” You respond, thinking no more than ten seconds on the idea. After all, if you knew each other personally I’m sure he told you most of this stuff already.

And if he’s the boy from your dreams…

“Do it.”

And this is how everything changed.

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