#father peter x female reader

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hii so I want to ask if you could make some father peter x female reader ( innocent of course) dating headcanons?

Or how he shows his dominance in a natural way. Like making sure that she eats, always walking with his hand on her waist etc. Maybe spice it up if you want.

hello! thank you so much for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

You never expected to be with someone like Father Peter, it felt somewhat sinful. But he was also so sweet and dominant. 

He’d always make sure you were well-fed and warm. He wouldn’t let you go a day without the finest of things. You’d find nice chocolates and gourmet meals, alongside handpicked flowers and pretty dresses. 

Father Peter would always like to show his dominance, especially around others. You’d get chills whenever he’d gently place his hand on your waist, guiding you. Or when he’d pull you close, pressing you against his body so you know who you belong to. 

Your favourite would be watching him through hazy eyes as he’d sit and play poker, a cigarette lit between his delicious lips. His eyes would find yours and you’d feel your stomach erupt with butterflies as he’d wink at you. 

The best part was how jealous other women were of you, Father Peter would pull you onto his lap, pressing you against his hardened length to show only you could make him feel that way. It was why your relationship felt so sinful. 

No one could ever see the marks he’d leave beneath your clothes, never marks of abuse or harm. Only ones of pleasure, it was a secret between the two of you. 

Your second favourite thing about Father Peter was when he holds you, he’d pull you to your secret spot where there was a perfect view of the stars. You’d watch them, cuddling into him with so much love and adoration.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[thepoetsmanuscript13]

A football team ― Peter Pevensie modern au

author’s note: hello everyone! a weird first post honestly but i was feeling it after talking about it with my friend sooo... :) a totally out of pocket au in which the pevensies are all alive and well and live in this century and peter is a married man 🤭 i don’t know how i feel about this thing, though, like i’m having mixed feelings about it, but if i don’t publish it now i’ll never do it lol

pairing: peter pevensie x female reader

summary: Peter Pevensie had started being sure of things the moment he met you by accident during his first year of university. You two didn’t even study the same degree, but you’d happened to see each other frequently in the same spot at the library, and when he finally dared to ask you out, years passed in the blink of an eye. Nowadays, you’re happy to call him your husband and the father of your children.

warnings: female reader, reader is pregnant, modern au in which everyone is happy and alive (lmao), peter pevensie is a teacher and a football (soccer) manager, plot’s not even a plot (lol), too many children, fluff, english isn’t my first language (i don't think i missed anything)

word count: 1869 words

requests are open, i write for many fandoms (maybe i can make a list of them idk)

You couldn’t help but love your chaotic family. It was the best thing that had happened to you, along with marrying Peter. Your life was a busy one, but it was also full of love. You saw it in the mornings, when your household became a place of madness and your four children ran around the hallways while they got ready for school. You saw it when you got in the car with them―of course, one of those big cars with too many seats because you wouldn’t fit in a regular one―and your husband drove for more than twenty minutes to some place, leading to fights and shouts and cries. You saw it at dinner, when the six of you sat at the table and ate whatever Peter had cooked and they all talked about their day, screamed over each other’s voices, and protested about not liking peas or broccoli or carrots. You saw it at night, when you and your husband fell into bed completely spent once the house was, finally, silent and all of them were sleeping.

You had a lot to celebrate with a family like that. People―mums from school―usually asked you how you managed. How you and Peter could take care of a family like that and still have time to love each other. Your answer was that you loved each other while you took care of your children.

And, of course, leaving the kids with their aunts or uncle or grandparents when you two wanted to have a weekend for yourselves also helped.

But, most of the time, it was you and Peter, and you were happy like that. It was a life that’d been made for you. Because, being honest, you’d never wanted to get married or have children. You’d always said those things weren’t for you. That you’d be the single, cool aunt type.

Until you met Peter during your first year of university. It changed everything you thought you were sure of, and you realised you simply hadn’t wanted that kind of life because, until then, you hadn’t met a person you’d like to have those things with. With him, everything changed. You saw yourself walking down the altar. You saw yourself building a home with him. You saw yourself thrilled because you two were waiting for a child. You saw yourself growing old with him by his side.

You’d never believed in the “right person” thing until you met him. Once you had, everything fell into place. And now you were at the peak of your happiness after discovering you were pregnant with your fifth child. Well― Fifth and sixth. Twins.

It had been an accident, really. Well, kind of an accident.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you and Peter had agreed that this was going to be the last one. Four children were already a significant number. You two were managing quite well with your numerous offspring, and a fifth was already going to be a challenge. But you knew your man. You knew him well enough to know that he somehow would manage to trick you one last time.

He indeed did when the doctor announced that you were carrying twins. You remember Peter’s mischievous grin. And your first reaction―slap his arm and call him a bastard. But you weren’t mad. It was going to be a challenge, but you could never reject what was the product of the love you and Peter had for each other.

You sometimes regretted your thoughts, though, during your eighth month of pregnancy. Some days you felt like giving up and staying in bed all day. Your back pain was killing you, and those two babies were definitely Peter’s, because they knew how to kick to make themselves known.

“You don’t have to come, my love,” Peter told you, and pressed a kiss to your hair.

You scoffed. “But I will,” you replied.

Your husband grinned and leaned to kiss your lips tenderly. His hand snaked down your body to settle on your round belly, and he smiled in the middle of the kiss. Your babies kicked in that exact moment, like they knew it was their father greeting them.

A long “ew” was heard from the kitchen’s doorway, and you two turned your heads to look at your second son, Samuel, who was already wearing his football kit. A grin appeared in your face and you gestured to him to come closer.

“You don’t like seeing dad kissing mum, Sam?” Peter asked him while ruffling his hair. The little boy put his hands on your knees and pressed his cheek to your baby bump.

“No!” Samuel answered. “It’s gross!”

“Oh, baby,” you laughed and stroked his blonde hair―you were still wondering how it was possible that all your children had inherited Peter’s golden hair―while he interacted with his unborn siblings. “It’s not gross. We do it because we love each other.”

“You don’t kiss me on the mouth but you love me,” he replied, thoughtful.

His father chuckled. “‘Course not, lad. Those kisses are just for partners,” he explained with a smile, amused by his son’s reasoning. He was a clever boy, they knew that much.

“Hmmm…” he mumbled, and narrowed his eyes in deep thought.

You couldn’t help a grin. Samuel was always asking questions and making up his own reasoning about why something was one way or another. Peter said he reminded him of his brother Edmund, who used to spend the time with his nose buried in books, but with his youngest sister Lucy’s character, who was definitely much more adorable and less… Well, less “Edmund”.

Peter kissed his son’s head and went upstairs to get the girls, who were probably still playing with the last Lego they’d been gifted. Legos were a must in your house. Legos everywhere. In the bedrooms, in the bathroom, in the back garden, in the living room. More than once you had stepped on one, and they hurt a lot. You always told them to gather the pieces and put them in their box, but your words were often ignored and forgotten. As a mother of four, you were used to it by now.

You heard giggles coming from the upper floor. Your husband was such a girl dad. He did what was necessary to put a smile in Audrey’s, Ruby’s, or Emma’s face. From letting them do his makeup―the amount of pictures you had with Peter’s face covered in red lipstick was infinite―to buying them a little foam sword and teaching them how to use it. You were scared they would take an eye out with those, but he was chill about it. He said that his girls needed to defend themselves from the bad guys. You thought one day they would end up punching someone for real with all the things he taught them.

Football, swimming, using a sword, makeup… He’d even tried to teach Audrey how to bake―no need to say it didn’t end up very well, and he spent a whole afternoon cleaning the counters and walls and floor. To this day, you hadn’t seen a mess like that one.

Some minutes later, Peter came back with three little monkeys clinging to him, the monkeys being your three daughters. Emma, the youngest of them, was in his right arm, while Ruby, the one in the middle, was in the left, and Audrey, the eldest―seven already, how time flew!―was hanging from his back.

You were going to die from a heart attack one day.

“Audrey! You’re going to make dad fall!” you said, standing from the chair while Sam held your hand.

“No, mum! I’m Spiderman!” she said, making her father grin. Since they had gone to the cinema to watch the last Spiderman film, Audrey had been pretending that she had superpowers. It’d been funny until she tried to start climbing the walls and you almost had a heart attack.

You shook your head.“Peter, do something,” you scolded your husband.

“Audrey, darling,” he immediately said, and you smiled―so obedient―, “I wouldn’t like your mum to get mad at me.” When his daughter opened her mouth to protest, he added, “And we’re going to be late to the match if we don’t hurry.”

“Yes, football!” Both Samuel and Ruby cheered, while Emma mimicked her siblings’ words in her father’s arms. Your little girl was two years old and she was such a brilliant kid already. She loved to grab Mr. Badger, the cat, by his tail and to do all kinds of villainies to him. The poor cat endured too much with your daughter, but he also was extremely protective of her and always made sure she didn’t hurt herself.

“Football it is,” you declared, and winked at your children.

The whole of your family exited the house and went to the car. You sat on the passenger’s seat―not without great difficulty―while Peter took care of your children. With your big belly, you were grateful you could even walk on your own. You could barely wait until the birth day, not only because you wanted to see your babies, but also because it was exhausting, being pregnant with twins.

Once your husband had secured all of your children in their seats, he drove to the school. He worked there as a science teacher, and thought at first it hadn’t been an option, when the previous football manager―who’d been some maths teacher―had retired, the juniors didn’t have anyone to train them, and Peter, loving kids and football as much as he did, decided to take the responsibility. Now, you knew he couldn’t picture himself without being the manager of those kids.

When you arrived there, most of the team was already there, and so were their parents, and the rival team. Peter quickly kissed you and he, Samuel, and Ruby left to get ready for the match. Meanwhile, you, Audrey, and Emma went to sit at the stands. You couldn’t stand for too long, and you liked getting seats close to your husband so you could watch him close during the match.

It was adorable, watching him interact with the kids. He ruffled their hair when they walked past him, encouraged them to be their best, and treated them like adults. They liked Peter a lot and he liked them back, and all their parents, but especially their mothers, always told you that you had struck gold when you married him.

As if you already didn’t know that you were the luckiest woman in the world to have him in your life.

You were sure that Peter was almost like a second father for many of those kids. They spent a good amount of hours together every week, training and at the matches, and it was very easy to like your husband. Even if he got a little competitive during every football game.

“Pass the ball to your brother, Corin!”

Maybe too competitive.

“Eyes up, Alice! Eyes on the ball!”

But, whatever he did, it seemed to work, because the school’s team won most of their matches. After the game, the kids all cheered while their parents clapped. Peter’s eyes met yours for some seconds and you smiled.

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

Hello. I've sent in a request before but dunno if it got lost or maybe you don't want to do it which is totally understandable :)

But just trying once more just in case

I really am in desperate need of some father peter from sweet home 2 smut

Something like y/n being and him getting close to eachother then y/n and him start drinking, get a Lil tipsy then y/n says she wants to do confession with the priest

One thing leads to another and she confesses to having unholy thoughts of the priest

One thing leads to another and yeah, smut

Idk or just ant smut with that man in it

I need him so bad

Peter x Fem!Reader

Genre: smut

Warning ⚠️: Unholy 😭💕

Small summary: after drinking with your small group of friend you went to the small church met that Peter who so happened to be your crush since everything went down the only proble was that he was a priest.. but what if the priest likes you back?How do you think he would tell you exactly…?

It was late as you stayed back after the prayer service was over you’ve been here for a while and even got close to Father Peter to the point you developed a crush on Peter which you haven’t told anyone especially him but lately you noticed the crazy lady as she always tried to get close to Father Peter which made him visibly uncomfortable always making you scoff and roll your eyes turning to Father Peter as you see him pour two glasses of red liquid you knew it was some kind of alcohol gulping since you were slightly tipsy already from drinking with a friend you made a few days ago as she wanted to hang out you knew your limit but you didn’t want to not drink with Peter giving your self a small prayer in your mind hoping that you don’t say or do anything weird if you get to tipsy or drunk as you didn’t notice Peter now standing in front of you as he hands you your galas quickly taking the glass as you give a small thanks

Bring the glass to your lips as you take a sip from the glass making a weird face from the strong substance causing Peter to let out a small chuckle from your face as you freeze a bit looking at Peter seeing as he was looking at you before quickly turning your head blushing as you try to look at anything else in the room

After two more glasses you start to feel your self become more tipsy then you were before honestly you were probably drunk at this point , turning your head to look at Peter as you watch as he drinks the last drop of his drink your eyes watches as he flips in down in one go , biting your lip as you tighten your thighs feeling glad that you wore a dress hoping that he wouldn’t notice … but he did

“What’s the matter 공 주” Father Peter says words slurred as his eyes scan you movement a small smile growing on his face , quickly shaking your head as you held your head down trying not to make eye contact with Peter but failing miserably

“Come here..” Father Peter says voice slurred with every word as you stand to your feet slowly walking towards Peter trying to keep your balance as he leans back in his seat once you were standing on a few centimeters away grabbing your hand as he pulls you on his lap holding your in place by your plump thighs as he uses his other hand to move your hair behind your shoulder slowly leaning in to your neck as he gives your neck a soft yet wet kiss

“You know I like you for a while now ..” Father Peter continues as he leaves kisses over your neck causing you to let out a soft moan as he lets go of you thighs hand slowly moving under your dress as you feel his hand come in contact with your soaked panties letting out a slight groan as he slowly rubs your covered cunt causing your panties to become more soaked as you let out moans as father Peter smirks

“너무 젖어서 못된 여자야..” Peter slurs out as he lets out a dark yet deep chuckle groaning as you let out a loud moan quickly turning you so your back was against his chest as you leans back once again in the chair open your lips as his hand moves back to your soaked panties his other squeezing at your plump boob as he continues to leave wet kisses down your neck “can I ..” Peter whispers in your ear as you give him a small nod

Biting down on your lip as you feel him slowly pull your panties to the side exposing your now dripping cunt , gasping as Father Peter pushes two of his fingers past your fluids as you feel his fingers slowly enter your tight hole causing you to let out a soft moan as you head falls back slightly giving the priest move access to your exposed neck as he leaves behind love bites so everyone knew you were off limits only belonging to him

“M-More p-please…” reader moans out softly words slurred from how much she drank but not caring since you were to caught up in the moment as you open your legs wider giving Father Peter more access to your dripping core as he lets out a deep groan before pushing his two digits in and out your soaked cunt at a fast pace as you let out a loud moan causing Peter to give your a rough kiss now blocking out your moans as your tongues move in sync causing you to moan on the kiss

Mad you feel your self tighten around Peter’s fingers as he speeds up his pace now hitting you g-spot over and over causing you to feel the small knot form in the pit of your stomach pulling away from the now sloppy kiss as you grab his wrist with one of your hands back now arching as your head falls on Peters shoulder

“S-so c-close p-Peter..” reader moan out as Peter’s church pants became tighter then they were before causing him to become slightly uncomfortable but not paying it any mind when he had two of his fingers deep inside your soaked pussy , watching as your fluids drip from your soaked hole covering his hand

Groaning as he feels you dig your nails into his wrist , feeling as the knot in your stomach was so close to snapping , letting out a small whine as you feel Peter remove his hand as he lets out a chuckle grabbing both your legs with a tight hold as he stands to his feet holding you legs as they were still wide open

Quickly reaching behind you holding Peter’s neck with a tight hold scared that you might fall as he carefully carries you over to his small sleeping area coming to a stop once he was in front of his bed as he throws you on the bed causing your knees to hit the mattress as you face soon falls into the pillow before you could process that you’ve been thrown

Peter turns you on your back grabbing your legs as he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed watching as he lets go of your legs his eyes never leaving your small frame as his hands goes to unbuckle his belt soon unzipping his pants as he pulls them down boxers following soon after grabbing at your legs once more as he pushes you legs to your chest as he looks deep into your eyes , letting out a small moan as you feel his tip rub against your clit a couple times before stoping at your entrance but before he could go any further you put a hand against his chest

“Wait….what if someone comes in..” reader says quietly big eyes now poking up at Peter’s as you start to become nervous any alcohol that was in your system seemed to now be gone as the only thing now on your mind was having Peter deep inside you as he made you come undone but you didn’t want anyone seeing you since they would probably think your both committed a sin

“Then they can watch..” Peter says with a small grin before pushing his whole 8 inches inside you tight needy cunt as your back archs off the bed letting out a moan as you now felt full with Peter cock inside your needy hole , letting out a groan as Peter starts to pick up his pace hands not letting go of your legs as he thrusts start to become more violent leaving your a mining mess as you soon forgot about anyone else

“F-Fuck.. p-Peter” reader moans out loudly as she feels Peter’s cock moving deeper inside her soaked cunt as your eyes slowly roll to the back of your head groaning as he feels you tighten around him as he takes a hand from your leg letting you wrap your leg around his waist pulling him closer as you felt his thrust become faster and deeper now kissing at your cervix as Peter grabs your neck pounding inside your soaked cunt as you start to feel you legs shake from the amount of pleasure Peter was giving you as you felt a knot form in your stomach for the second time today

“S-so close..” reader moan out as she wraps her arms around Peter’s neck pulling him closer to her body as she feels like he was now inside her belly cashing her to moan out louder

“Cum for me pretty girl .. you’re all mine f-fuck s-so good for me” Peter groans out as he leans his head into your neck leaving wet kisses not forgetting to leave his marks over your neck only causing your to tighten around his cock more as he groans in your neck licking up your neck attacking your lips with a kiss as he pounds into you more feeling you cum over his cock as he groan thrust becoming sloppy as he gives your a few more deep thrust soon cumming deep inside your womb slowly pulling out of your now sensitive cunt as you let out a soft moan looking at Peter with now half open eyes as you see him bite at his bottom lip before his eyes lowly looks in to your giving you a small smile as he climbs in bed side you pulling the covers over your bodies as your soon fall asleep with Peter holding you close

[simpingforheros]

Jason’s Wife?!

Pairing: Jason Todd X Female! Reader

Summary: Meet Mrs. Todd?! Jason got eloped and he doesn’t intend on sharing his blushing bride just yet.

Warnings: SMUT, Fluff, Established Relationship, Eloping, Jason being an ass to his family (for good reason), Jason calling Reader Ma (can’t remember who wrote about that, please tag them because I love this headcanon), P in V, unprotected sex (don’t advertise for the unsafe sex, put some breading on yalls chicken before dumping it in oil) , Oral (m receiving), Body Worship, Phone/Facetime during the deed, Exhibition Kink, Mating Press, Slight Breeding Kink, Degradation, Praise, crying kink??,TOXIC-ish And POSSESSIVE! Jason Todd is back, Traumatizing Dick again.

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the praise I got on my last Jason Todd Fanfic! I didn’t know you guys would like my first smut that much so I made a part 2. Enjoy your next fix you horny bastards (jk I love you guys )

AN: This is Part 2 to Jason’s Girl??, so go read that for some context. Also a quick shout out to the mutual who started my spiraling decent into his madness, @jjenthusee , who was the main inspiration because of their amazing artwork! Also I’m sorry this was late and I don’t update as often, I’m in my second semester in a health major and I’m stumped man. I’ll update when I can I promise.

A/N: Part 3>>> Jason Broke What??

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jason Todd is a lot of things. He’s known for bad things and good things. It depends on who you ask.

A menace, a murderer, a zombie, an asshole, etc.

A son, a brother, a hero….

But there’s two things everyone can agree on.

1). He’s a good boyfriend.

For the last 6 months since Jason finally revealed his secret girlfriend of two years, the Bat Family learned just how much of a better person Jason was when (Y/N) was around.

His voice was softer and kinder to others. His temperament was more patient and his fists stayed loose. Her presence acting like a balm to sooth his soul as soon as he feels her comforting hand on his skin.

There were obvious moments of trouble, such as little squabbles or one gets snappy at the other, but normally they sort it out. Even if Bruce and the rest of the family didn’t know her for long, they knew that she had the backbone to handle Jason and give him what he needed without babying him.

Jason even shows his love for her in goofy ways, such as wearing matching shirts or color coordinated outfits. The two are now known for their Friday date nights and lazy Saturdays where they don’t wanna be disturbed. Their late night rides or their silent evenings where either a book or controller is in hand.

Red Hood is known for lingering around certain streets where she would be at when she had to work late, and he always had a bottle of water or granola bar he ‘mysteriously appeared’ out of thin air.

Jason was known for being proud of building the healthiest relationship he’s ever had with someone who didn’t fall in love with him because he was Bruce Wayne’s son, or Batman’s protege. She fell in love with Jason Peter Todd and all he was.

Which leads to the one thing that the family also knew him for.

2) Jason Todd would not tell anyone when he dropped down on one knee and asked (Y/N) to be his wife.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The proposal was a spontaneous to say the least.

Their usual Saturday routine of laying on the couch, too exhausted from the week to move. Jason laid on the opposite side as his beloved, her feet dangling off to the side of his hips as his own rested behind her shoulders. They both had a book in as they enjoyed their silence. The only noise coming from the soft patter of Frank coming over to lay on his adopted father.

The tabby cat that Jason claimed to not like despite the male cat clinging to him like glue. The cat jumped onto his stomach with a deep groan emitting from him. A soft giggle filled the room as she sets her book down and pulls the feline to her.

“I still don’t understand why my cat likes you more than me.” She comments as she strokes the tabby’s fur.

Jason scoffs as he carefully rolls off the couch and onto his feet. “Probably to spite me.”

He heads to the kitchen to grab them a drink as he hears one comment that seemed to change everything in one second.

“What’s gonna happen when we have a kid? Would you think they would prefer you over me or would we have another Frank?…”

The question was a hypothetical one, a normal one couples would ask just to make sound in the air. Jason would have probably answered light heartedly with a kiss or a smart ass comment to make her laugh, but it felt different. He felt different.

There wasn’t a ‘if’ in the question like it would or wouldn’t happen, but a definite of ‘when’ it would happen. Jason knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Hell, he managed to not fuck up a relationship he kept hidden for 2 years. He knew he wanted to marry her the moment he decided to open up and let her into his life by moving her in and introducing her to his family.

So, even if it was on an impulse, Jason returns back into the living room and as he placed their drinks on the coffee table as he kneels on the floor beside the couch. (Y/N) sits up as she smiles at him, unaware of the decision he made.

“Penny for your thoughts, Todd?” She asked playfully as she offers him an imaginary penny in between her pinched fingers.

Jason smiles as he takes her out stretched hand before kissing the back of it.

“Marry me.”

The seriousness in his eyes made her playful attitude dissolve to disbelief.

“What?…”

“I wanna marry you, (Y/N)…You are the everything I could ever want and don’t deserve. But I can’t imagine building a life like the one we have with anyone else. You are one of the few lights this dark world has and I wanna love and protect you for the rest of our lives.” Jason explains as he nervously massages her hand as his eyes shined with deep love and affection. “Even if I don’t have a ring yet and we are in our pajamas, will you accept me and let me become yours forever?”

Tears streamed down her face as she nods frantically. Her arms quickly wrapping around Jason’s neck and pulling him into a kiss.

Jason melts into her and begins to move to be on top of her on the couch until a sharp hiss makes him stop.

“Quiet, Frank…” Jason grumbles at the cat.

“Daddy is trying get some sugar from Mama~”

+++++++++++++++++

A week later, Alfred appeared extra peppy for the day. His duties were quickly done before the family was awake and his fidgeting gotten everyone concerned. Alfred was the normally level-headed gentle hand of the house, so seeing him so giddy made everyone nervous.

It wasn’t until he surprisingly left in one of his better suits and a gift bag that the rest of the Wayne Family just decided that he may be going to an event or some kind.

“Where do you think he’s going?” Tim asks his younger brother from behind a book.

Damian shrugs as he says, “How should I know?”

The answer wouldn’t come until later that evening. Alfred came back with both the brightest smile and red swollen eyes. In his hands were a single pale pink rose and a camera as he scurries to the study.

Tim, Dick, and Damian, who were scattered around the living room, followed out of curiosity. What’s gotten Alfred this way? An old flame? The thought of Alfred getting down and dirty made the boys shudder before they continue to the study and ultimately down to the Batcave.

“Yo, Alfred.” Dick calls out as he exits the elevator.

Alfred stood by the large chair over looking the Batcomputer as Bruce’s hulking form peaked over the leather. The clicking of the mouse playing in the background as Alfred turns his head to address Dick.

“Yes, Master Richard?” He says. In his hand was the camera with cables connecting it to the computer.

“Where have you been? You kinda left in a hurry…”

Tim jumps in as he says, “I mean, we aren’t trying to be rude, but you did seem kinda jumpy this morning.”

Damian’s words cut through the other two like ice as his eyes look at the monitor.

“Did Todd and his woman get married?”

Dick and Tim look back at Damian before their shocked expressions look up to the monitor. Their eyes widen in disbelief at the image before them.

Standing in a suit was a an absolutely beeming smile was Jason Todd with his hands interlocked with (Y/N), who was wearing a white dress. The dress didn’t look like the traditional floor length gown. Instead it was a backless chic dress with a bow on the back. Her hair was down and decorated with pearl ornaments as a matching ribbon choker was around her neck with a single aged pearl on it.

In their interlocked finders, a familiar set of rings shined . Martha Wayne’s sparkling diamond engagement ring and her wedding band was on (Y/N)’s finger as a matching wedding band was on Jason’s finger.

The surroundings didn’t look like a typical wedding venue with flowers and ribbons with a crowd of people. It was a courthouse, Gotham City Courthouse. On (Y/N)’s side stood Alfred holding a pale pink bouquet that was most likely the bride’s. What surprised them the most was a smiling Bruce on Jason’s side, a look of pride on his face that he rarely shown.

The boys break out of their shell as Dick complains.

“This can’t be real… Jason and (Y/N) got married without telling any of us….AND YOU LET JASON HAVE MARTHA’S RING!!” Dick snaps as his irritation grew. “You said I was gonna have it.”

Bruce sighs as he says, “I said that before you cheated on both of your girlfriends with each other.”

Alfred chuckles as he says, “And Master Jason specifically stated that he only wanted me and Master Bruce there.”

Tim frowns as he asks, “Why weren’t we invited?”

Alfred gives the boy a sympathetic look before reciting, “Miss (Y/N) and Jason only wanted a small ceremony and off what he said, ‘Damian makes (Y/N) uncomfortable when he calls her Jason’s woman and a distraction. Dick is plain out not invited because of reasons he knows why. And Tim can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life, so he’s not invited.’”

Damian tsks as he says, “I wouldn’t have wanted to go anyways.”

Dick was flustered as the images of the incident Alfred was referring to. He still can’t get her moans out of his head…

Tim pouts and says, “I’m gonna remember this…But why was Bruce invited then?”

Bruce responds with a smirk , “Because I was asked to give away the bride.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As soon as the newly weds returned their apartment, the lust sprinkled down like hale. Her well manicured hair was now messy as his hands held her head. His mouth devouring her moans as her own lips kept up with his pace.

Her fingers desperately removing his tie as the shrilling ring of Jason’s cell phone fills the air. He ignores it in favor of trailing tongue against his bride’s as she slings off the tie.

“Gonna answer that?” She mumbles as his mouth begins to trail down her jawline. Jason doesn’t answer as his hands scoop up under her thighs to pick her up. Her giggles were music in his ears as he says,

“It’s probably just Tim or Dick. Probably bitching about the wedding…”

Jason carries his wife through the threshold of their apartment hallway as his lips remained on hers. Their vows sealed in teeth and tongues as he expertly guided them into the bedroom.

His phone finally stopped ringing as he places her on the bed. Hands groping and pulling off of clothing as he unwraps her down to her underwear and stockings. His mouth hot against her breast as she pushes his now unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

His other hand dipping into her underwear as he flicks her erected nipples like a guitar. Her sweet music filling the room as he’s met with a creamy cunt under her white thong.

“Fuccck, ma..” He moans against her breast. Jason pulls away with a devilish smirk as he runs his finger over her sopping folds, carefully avoiding her hole and clit. “I can’t tell what I like more…your pretty tits or your sloppy cunt…”

(Y/N) feels the wave of shameful arousal fill her stomach as she whines out, “Stop teasing me, baby. It’s our wedding day and you’re acting like a jackass…”

Her body jolts as he pinches her clit. Her hips jerking as she moans at the sensation. Jason had a look of faux sympathy before mumbling against the valley of her breasts.

“Oh, you’re right…” His voice barely audible to her as he begins to rub heart shaped patterns on her clit, making sure to dip down to her gasping pussy as he dips down. “I’m not acting like a good husband, ain’t I? Let me make it up to you, Mrs. Todd.”

His lips attached to her unabused nipple before his middle finger finally dips into her pulsing hole. His groan accentuated by the scraping of his teeth against her sensitive flesh. The feeling of her cunt sucking his one finger in making him light headed as her moans ringed out.

“Jason…stop teasing me…I want you…” She begs as her hips try to meet the thrust of his finger. He growls at her bossiness before yanking his finger out of her pulling her panties down her thighs.

Her eyes glared at him for the loss of stimulation before he quickly pops her pussy lightly. The wet slap of skin making her cringe in embarrassment before Jason begins to leave a trail of open kisses and bites down her body. Making sure to pay special attention to the matching tattoo on her hip before he mumbles to her with a lazy smile.

“Your wish is my command.”

Before he could dig into his meal, the shrill ring of his phone invades the space. He yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen before declining the call. He tosses the phone onto the bed as he glares at the offending device.

“Stupid Dick..” He groans before a soft hand on his face draws him back to her. Her gentle touch bringing peace to his mind as she pulls him up to press a soft peck to his lips.

His mind goes blank as she gently lures him to stand before she kneels down, trailing kisses down his exposed chest and his scars. Her love poured into his body as her lips traced his autopsy scars. Her eyes shining so pretty as she presses an extra long kiss to his matching tattoo on his Adonis belt.

The silent vow that was made a year and a half into dating on a drunk night out with Roy.

‘I am hers and she is mine’

“Let me be a good wife to you, Mr. Todd.” She whispers against his skin. Her breath like hot fire before her hands snake off his belt and trousers. Her mischievous eyes gleaming in lustful delight as Jason’s lip curls in between his teeth. His eyes almost glowing as she presses her warm lips against his clothed tip. His hand fisting into her hair as he hisses at her.

“Don’t you fucking tease me…”

*RING* *RING*

Jason glares at the phone before he snatches it up. He sees the familiar notification as his own image shown on the phone. FaceTime.

“Answer it.”

“What?” Jason asks in confusion before looking down to her. His surprise was suppressed with a hiss as she pulls his hard cock out of his underwear. Her hand lazyily stroking him as she gives him a look of faux innocence.

“Answer it. It’s rude to ignore family..”

Jason feels a smirk curled onto his face as he realizes what she wanted. His dick hardened to iron as he remembers why he fell for her.

She was just as fucked as he was.

With that, Jason schools his face as he answers the phone with an annoyed expression.

“What?” He says as the image of his brother appears on his phone screen.

Dick glares at Jason before snapping at him. “You got fucking married?! Without inviting any of us?!”

“Didn’t Alfred tell you why we didn’t want you guys there?” Jason asked in as much annoyance as he can muster as he felt the wet pull of lips around his cock.

His hand gripping her hair kept her from getting more than his tip in as he hides his reaction. Her tongue licking his tip like a kitten wanting milk.

“But we are family for fucks sake.”

Jason’s actual annoyance getting the best of him as he hisses,

“I’m sorry, but I recall you trying to fuck my wife.”

“THAT WAS BEFORE I KNEW YOU WERE DATING HER!!”

Jason becomes distracted as (Y/N) starts sucking him off. Her drool and his precum slowly beginning to coat her mouth and hand as it strokes what she can’t fit into her pretty mouth.

His brow furrowed as his pleasure and annoyance started to mix on his face. Jason decides to get some payback on both his wife and brother as he slyly mentions.

“Oh but you had no problem rubbing one out when I sent those videos.”

He pulls her closer to his pelvis to muffle her surprised moan. If he wasn’t on the phone, he would degrade her like a slut with how she acts when she remembers being recorded. Her cheeks hollow as Dick’s jaw drops as Jason mentions the videos.

“I-I..”

“Admit it.” Jason says, his voice grew more taunting. “You probably still jack off to the videos because you’re nothing but a loser who cheats on any good woman he gets because you’re scared of attaching to someone.”

Jason can feel her eagerness grow as she sucks harder, actually pulling him as deep into her throat as she can. He almost wanted to both laugh at how cute she was as she gagged around him and coo at how proud he was of her. Her jaw was gonna be hurting like a bitch either way.

Dick’s baffled expression almost made it better as his eyes shined with shame over what Jason knew to be true.

“That’s why Bruce gave me Martha’s ring.” Jason says as he forces (Y/N) to take him all the way down her throat. Her nose pressing into his light patch of black hair as Jason says. “fuck…I can fuck (Y/N) like I fucking hate her guts and she would take it because she knows I would rather swallow glass than fuck anyone else like I do her. To even love anyone halfway as I do her would be a sin…”

The fluttering feeling of her throat as her nails digged into his thigh affirming his conviction.

“I’m not afraid to get attached… As long as she lives, I’ll never let her go…”

He hangs up before Dick can respond as he yanks her back by her hair. Her coughing and gasping for air as she whine painfully at both the lost of his cock in her mouth and the painful grip on her scalp.

Jason releases her hair before kneeling beside her on the floor. His expression tender as he cups her face. Her light makeup look from the wedding was now smudged off with her mascara flowing down her face with her tears. Her lips puffy and wet from his assault on her mouth. Her body littered in forming bruises from his teeth. Her cunt sloppy and leaking a clear sheen down her thighs. Her cheek leaning into his palm as her eyes shined at him with nothing but love and desire.

“Fuck…” He groans before crawling inbetween her legs as he pushes her to lay down on the floor. His mouth back on hers as his throbbing erection lightly dragged against her fluttering pussy. The head catching her clit despite the watery resistance as she whimpers into his mouth.

“You look so pretty like this…” Jason says before sticking his tongue down her throats. Their tongues tangling for a moment before his hands cup her face and pull her away. “You feel it, don’t you?”

She whines as his hips rolled against hers. Her cunt angry as it fluttered around nothing. His nearly red dick twitching as it desires salvation in her temple as Jason breathlessly whimpers.

“Feel how bad I need you baby? Fuck I can’t stand it. I wanna fuck you every day so I can see you look like this.” He says as he wraps his hand his member. He slaps her pussy with it twice before dragging his head over her entrance, the heavy appendage dipping in slightly as he says.

“I wanna ruin you so good. You’re such a good pretty girl that I want to ruin and make as fucked up as me…”

Her gasps fill the room as he starts to bully his tip into her. Even though they were both well experienced with each other, every time she takes him feels like the first time with that delicious stretch.

His unusually talkative mood doesn’t let up as he pushes his hips into her, forcing her to take him.

“You’re so gorgeous…” He whispers as he pulls her legs over his shoulders as he grasps her hips, forcing them up as he starts to fill her to the hilt. “God, this pussy is unbelievable…gonna fill her up everyday and eat her out every night…”

His thrusts start off slow but hard as her hands desperately held onto what bit of Jason she could as he fucked her like a doll. Her whimpers and moans filling the air as the sticky sound of his balls smacking her ass.

His hot breath tickles her ears as his hips develop the torturous pattern of pistoling into her like a hard buck before rolling in a deep and filling thrust. Her eyes filling with tears and brain fog as he filled her lust sick brain with praise.

“Such a good little wife…a sweet little thing with a nice soft body for me…” He groans as his pace becomes brutal. His precision and memory impeccably beats anything he learned as a vigilante as he assaults her G-spot. Her eyes rolling back as lighting strikes her the brain as she begins to cry.

“Fuck. Fuck. fuck…” she sobs incoherently as Jason licks the tears off her face.

“You look so hot when your cry…” Jason moans as his thrusts start to become more sloppy. His reaches between them as he rubs tight circles on her clit as he thrusts harder into her soft cunt.

“Will you cry some more please?” He’s asked in a cruel tone. His eyes blown out with desire as he lets his full weight pin her down under him. His added weight making her pinned as she cries. Her stomach tightening at the overwhelming presence of him and his cock destroying her insides.

“I’m gonna fuck a baby into you, Ma…” He says as his own whimpers fall through. “Gonna watch you get swollen and carry a little perfect baby and know that you’re mine…that no one can love you like me… ain’t that right?”

Her impending orgasm blocking off all rational thoughts as her mouth hangs open. His hand pulls from her clit to her frustration and grabs a hold of her jaw. Forcing her to look at him as he says harshly.

“Who do you belong to ,Pretty Girl?”

Her eyes widen as she says, “You…I belong to you baby…”

Jason smirks as he starts thrusting faster. Her shrieks just music in his ears as she falls off the edge. Her vision clouded as white flashes in her vision. Her body nearly convulsing as her cunt squeezes Jason into his own orgasm. His warm seed flooding her quivering womb as he presses a kiss into her neck.

The pair remained still for a moment as they gasped for air. The natural chill of the room causing them to tremble at the stimulation. Her small hand moving first as she grabs his hand, her fingers playing with the gold band on his finger as she whispers.

“My husband…” A soft satisfied smile on her lips as Jason grins widely into her neck as he mumbles.

“All yours, Mrs. Todd.”

**********************

AN: Yea I didn’t know how to end this. 😭 I hope you guys like it because I’m not too sure if the smut is good or not. Let me know what you think as I’m trying to clear out the drafts. Again, Thank you @jjenthusee for inspiring these two fanfics and for being a great mutual.

*******************

@simpingforheros fanfic. I DO NOT CONDONE THE THEFT, COPYING, REPOSTING, AND PLAGIARISM OF MY WORK ON THIS SITE OR OTHER SITES WITHOUT CREDIT OR PERMISSION.

[singmyaubade]

The Girl We Love

Poly!Marauders x Female!Reader

A/N: Hello! Long time no see; this came to me out of nowhere, and I just wrote it off the top of my head; I hope you enjoy it! <3 P.S. I have no idea what to think about this story.

Summary: Can all of them handle loving you at the same time?

Warning: Containing cursing, soon-to-be-smut, etc... Viewer discretion is advised.

--

The boys were enjoying their summer, basking in the hot sun and the chance to go in the pool anytime they wanted. Although it was just Remus, Sirius, and James, that was all they needed. Unfortunately, Peter was in France, but 3/4 Marauders was better than none.

"James, Sirius!" Euphemia yelled as James and Sirius groaned, not wanting to go downstairs due to their laziness, "I know you boys can hear me, and I am giving you five seconds," She yelled louder as the two boys looked at each other in fear as they both lunged to the door, James pushing Sirius into the wall.

"5..4...3.." The boys had rushed downstairs before two to see their Euphemia setting the dining room, "Why is Remus the only helpful boy in this house?" Euphemia huffed as Remus set down the dishes.

James ignored her, noticing the fancy table mats she would only bring out when people came over, "Uh, Mum, what's going on?" James asked, scratching his head, confused.

"Yeah, we never use this table unless James forgot he's human instead of dog," Sirius joked as James smacked him in his stomach, earning a groan.

Euphemia sighed, "Ms. L/N and Y/N are coming for dinner," She answered, setting the plates over the tablecloths.

James's mother and your mother were best friends, practically inseparable when you all were younger. Even when they didn't see each other, James would see her writing letters to your mom.

"Why?" James asked as Euphemia glared at him, "I just mean that we haven't seen her in so long, like since we were like thirteen,"

"You mean when you all would rough house and were into wrestling and Quidditch?" Euphemia hummed.

"The good old days," Sirius added, looking up in dramatics.

"Yeah, when you would tackle her and throw mud on us all," Remus muttered.

"Um yeah?" Sirius responded, "The good old days!"

Having you over was like having another brother around when it came to James. You always loved watching Quidditch and would yell with him when your favorite team won, chest-bumping each other.

You would always dress like the Marauders, wear whatever trend they were following, and play with whatever toys seemed remarkable to them.

You all ate like absolute slobs, and Euphemia and your mother would constantly reprimand all of you, but you didn't care because if you all did it, it was incredible.

When your parents divorced and you went to France with your Father, they all hadn't realized the switch in your presence as much. They would mention you sometimes but would only give it a short conversation. They were just kids; They didn't know much until later.

"This might be nice, you know?" Sirius said, "We haven't seen Y/N in so long, and I do miss having another one of the guys in the house," Sirius wrapped his arm around James's shoulders.

"Y/N is a girl," Remus corrected.

"You know what I mean," Sirius said, sitting in his seat.

"Wonder if she still plays Quidditch," James added, sitting beside Sirius.

"Can't wait to kick her arse in it," Sirius said, putting his hands together tauntingly.

Euphemia shushed them, "Enough of this talk, they should be arriving any minute now, and I expect the most from all of you," She tsked, moving near the door.

"She's talking about you two," Remus said, smirking.

"Oh shove it, Moony, you aren't a saint," James teased.

"Yeah, we know of your unspeakable acts in the bedroom," Sirius joked, winking at Remus as he bit his tongue.

James could hear voices from the front door as you stepped into view, hugging Euphemia, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing; none of them could.

Of course, you were different; the years did you well, but your hair grew past your shoulders, not the usual bob. You were wearing a lavender dress, a step away from your tomboy outfits. From what he remembered about you, your nails were painted in your favorite color, and you no longer wore a retainer everywhere you went.

Your dress hugged your waist perfectly, and none of the Marauders were perverts, but none of them could hide the fact that they were staring at you.

You looked at them with a grin, going over to James first as he stood up from his chair like a statue, "Jamesy!" You squeaked, the childhood nickname sounding different now.

You embraced him in a tight hug, your boobs pressing against his chest as he grew flustered. You pulled back, looking at him, "I missed you so much," You excitedly said, returning for a hug.

James could feel how soft your skin was, like a rose petal coated in shea butter. He had never felt something so gentle in his entire life like it wasn't real.

Once James squeezed you back, you moved over to Sirius, giving him a tight hug. His hands stayed on your back as your lips were on his neck accidentally. Sirius was never the type to blush, but somehow, you succeeded.

Sirius could smell home when he was near you, like cinnamon and hot chocolate, like a long day of Quidditch on the grass and Euphemia giving him a cold glass of Butterbeer kind of touch.

You pulled back, giving him a smile instead of words because moving over to Remus, pecking him on the cheek, and moving to a hug, "Remsy, long time no see," You giggled, giving him a hug as he smiled, trying not to let his thoughts get to him.

Remus could feel your happiness like sunlight as if it was glowing. When he hugged you, he felt happy like never before; it made him forget every stormy night or memory.

They all could feel your presence like a lightning bolt with each embrace, and it was hard to hide when you were up against them.

Euphemia and your mother were still chatting at the door, so you decided to talk with them about their social life as much as possible.

"I missed all of you so much," You cheesily said, sitting across from them all, "Please tell me how all of you have been," You looked at Sirius first.

You had developed a slight French accent, but only people would notice if they genuinely heard you.

Both Remus and James side-eyed Sirius, who looked shellshocked, "Well, I've just been focusing on school since graduation and just been enjoying summer," He awkwardly laughed, not knowing what to say, "I made Quidditch Co-captain with James,"

Your mouth fell open, "Oh my god, I am so proud of you guys; congratulations," You said happily.

"Thank you," James and Sirius said in unison as you laughed.

"What about you, James?" You asked, looking at him.

"I've been focusing on Quidditch and maybe becoming an Auror in the future when I'm done with my Quidditch career," James responded.

"I remember you always talking about being an Auror; I'm glad you still want to do it," You responded kindly, "What about you, Remus?" You looked at him.

"I've been focusing on becoming a healer or professor since I enjoy helping others," He said as you beamed.

"Well, considering you did help me when I cut my knee on the concrete when we were ten, I would say you are perfectly trained," You joked as Remus grinned.

"What about you, Y/N? What have you been up to?" James asked.

"Well, I hope to become a journalist or a write since it is a dream, but I was going to move back to London with my boyfriend," You said as all of the boys mentally punched themselves, "But then he cheated on me so I might just be alone," You said as the boys grinned from ear to ear.

"Yes!" Sirius said as you raised an eyebrow, "Yes, what an awful thing for him to do; I am so sorry, Y/N," Sirius said.

"Agreed, he must be a bloody fool," Remus added.

"I'm glad he's out of your life," James said, "Uh because, he's a horrible person,"

"Thank you, guys; I am glad I found out before I moved with him here," You said with relief.

Your mother and Euphemia approached the table, your mother sitting next to you and Euphemia sitting across, "I apologize, Fleamont couldn't attend; he has business matters in Rome," Euphemia said in a sweet voice.

"That man always focuses on business," Your mother tsked as Euphemia smiled before your mother looked at the three boys, "Oh my, how you guys have grown," She smiled dearly.

"You don't look like a day over twenty, Ms. L/N," Sirius winked as Remus elbowed him, causing the air to fall out of his lungs.

"Why thank you, dear," Your mother said genuinely as Euphemia glared at Sirius.

"First course is ready!" Minnie said, snapping her fingers to a variety of foods. Your eyes shot in amazement at the different dishes, even some being French.

"Thank you, Minnie," Euphemia said, nodding to the elf as Minnie bowed, disappearing.

"Y/n, how have your studies been at Beaubaxtons?" Euphemia asked, grabbing some potatoes.

"Delightful," You responded, "I know that it seems like a reform school for young girls, but I actually do enjoy it there, and we always watch Quidditch, surprisingly," You said as Euphemia grinned, "I do wish we had our own team though, I would love to play,"

"I'll play with you, Y/N," James said as the table looked at him, "If you ever need a partner," He whispered, digging into his chicken.

You cheerfully looked at him, "I would love to,"

James smiled to himself as Sirius side-eyed James, "And if you ever need another partner, I am here as well," Sirius added, making James kick him from under the table.

"Thank you, Sirius, I would love that as well," You said, still smiling.

Euphemia noticed the two boys rolling her eyes, "And your mother has told me you enjoy reading; Remus might know a thing or two about that," She said.

"I've needed a reading partner. The girls at Beaubaxton read, but they don't have much variety," You chuckled.

"Well, I can assure you that I do," Remus jokingly said as both James and Sirius glared at him, causing Remus to clear his throat.

"That's great! Considering I will be staying here, that sounds incredible," You said as James nearly spit out his dragon fruit juice.

"The cat seems out of the bag," Your mother said, eating another piece of meat.

"Oh, I apologize; you hadn't told them?" You said, looking at Euphemia.

"Not yet," Euphemia said with a slight smile, "Y/N and her mother will be staying with us for the summer,"

They all felt like they were in a dream that felt like reality; Sirius was close to pinching himself.

If they were thirteen again, they probably would've considered this a chance to have another Peter around, but now, it was entirely different.

You were sweet, still enjoyed Quidditch, and read while being entirely yourself.

You were like a dream.

"Trust me, they are all excited," Euphemia told you as the boys snapped out of the trance.

"That sounds amazi-" Remus started.

"I am so glad-" Sirius beginning.

"I can't wait to-"

They all said simultaneously, making you giggle, "I am excited too."

From then on, the conversations were light with laughs and banter, moving through the courses until Euphemia decided that all the kids needed to go to bed, to which James and Sirius protested.

They were all instructed to guide you to your room, to which you followed them up the stairs until they led you to a room with lavender walls and blue and white bedding.

You stopped them at the door, grinning ear to ear at the room, "Thank you all for leading me to my room," You said as they all said you were welcome at the same time.

You giggled, "I missed you guys so much," You said, hugging all of their tall figures with a kiss on each of their cheeks, "Goodnight, I will see you tomorrow,"

They all stuttered a goodnight as you closed the door.

And the Marauders didn't know they could ever want something so wrong.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Perfect Family

Pairing: Dark Peter Parker x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Peter knows you’re about to break up with him. So what’s the next logical step? Get you pregnant, obviously. 

WARNINGS: Babytrapping; Toxic relationship; Birth control Tampering. 

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

--

Peter knows exactly what you’re planning, after all he knows everything about you. You’re his other half, his soulmate. 

That’s how he knows you’re planning to break up with him. When he found out through the messages you had been sending your best friend he couldn’t believe his eyes.

How could you ever want that? You love him, he’s sure of that. 

You’re always telling him you love him, before you leave for your college or when you’re about to go to bed. Even if it’s with a blank face, rushing the words out of your mouth before you walk away, without a sincere smile. 

He makes sure to keep an update on the messages, his heart practically skipping a beat when you reveal your plan to break-up after your first-year anniversary, just a few weeks away.  

Peter forces himself to remain calm and to act as if he knows nothing, keeping up with the caring boyfriend’s character. He can’t raise suspicion now.

If his plan works out, you won’t be going anywhere.

“I’m pregnant.” you declare with a shaky voice. Peter stops, the plate falling off his hold and crashing into the ground. 

“Peter, I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know how this happened, I swear I took the birth control pills every day, I never missed them!” you exclaim, twisting your hands in anxiety.

Peter looks at you, his face completely expressionless and you fear the worst. You drop your head, panic starting to grow stronger. Peter is going to hate you for ruining everything.

You’re about to ruin both of your futures, but his especially. He wants to go to MIT, not become a dad so soon. 

“I’m truly so sorry and I-” Peter runs to you, elevating you into the air and swirling around as he lets out loud chuckles. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna be a dad. Fuck, that’s the best news ever.” he exclaims, carefully dropping you back onto your feet. You clean the tears with the back of your hand, a small hopeful feeling growing inside you as you look at him. He looks radiant, much happier than what you had predicted. 

“R-Really? You’re not mad at me?” you hesitantly ask. Peter fondly smiles at you, cupping your cheek. 

“I could never be mad at you for this. It takes two to make a baby. Besides, it was always part of our future plans, right?” he says, dropping the last sentence with a lightly sketchy tone as if he’s waiting for you to agree but you ignore it, it’s probably your imagination acting up.

You can’t be a single-mother, you already know you won’t be able to deal with it and your child deserves to have both its father and mother together in their life, it’s the least you can do.

You can’t abandon Peter anymore. 

You nod as Peter drops on the ground, pressing his head against your belly. Your hand instinctively goes to his head, caressing his brown hair and his hand comes to cover your own. 

“This is perfect.” Peter whispers, pressing kisses towards your belly, where your baby is developing. “You, me and our baby. A perfect family.” 

[lotus-n-l0ve]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐞𝐞

— Peter Parker x Stark!Female Reader

☯ SYNOPSIS : When Peter's girlfriend pays him a little visit in Midtown High School and meets his long time bully, Flash Thompson.

☯ WARNINGS : Au, stark!reader, Peter is barely present in the fic, cursing.

☯ NOTE FROM LOTUS : Hey guys. I have been having such a bad writer's block that I couldn't write anything for past few weeks. I'm writing this to, hopefully, get over my writer's block.

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 || 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

The red Saleen S7 car, parked outside of Midtown High School, gaining curious glances from the students and passersby. You wait, sitting on the driver's seat, with your phone in your hand. The past week you were out of the country with your father so you had not seen him for the past seven days and barely got to talk to him.

So when you came back today, you wanted to give him a surprise visit. You came here, all confident, but now you were doubting your choices. Maybe you should just wait till school ends?

Fuck it. You are Y/N Stark, girl. Since when do you get nervous?

You checked yourself last time in the back mirror. Perfect as always. You throw yourself a flying kiss and put on your favourite pair of glasses. The car door opens with a click and you get down. It was not long before you were walking down the halls of Midtown High, making everyone stop what they were doing and gawk at you.

You chuckle in your mind. Of course you loved being the centre of attention. You were Tony Stark's daughter after all. Now there's one problem. You don't know exactly where Peter is. You look around the hall before your eyes fall on a boy, sitting with two girl on each side.

Without any second thoughts, you walk up to him, "Hey, do you know where Peter Parker is?"

Flash tore his eyes from the beautiful girls in his arm to the legs standing in front of him. He raised his eyes to your face. His gaze so disgusting that made you want to throw up.

"Talking to me, angel?" Flash stood up, abandoning the girls.

You roll your eyes at his pathetic attempt of flirting. At least he got the angel part right.

"I asked if you know where Peter Parker is." You deadpan.

"Peter Parker? Oh! You mean penis Parker. What do you need with him? I'm sure I can help you way more than he can." Flash wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving you a suggestive look.

You just stared at him, completely unimpressed and now angered. This pathetic flirt has the audacity to call your baby penis— wait a damn minute. Penis Parker? Something clicked in your mind.

"Are you Flash Thompson?" You ask before you could stop yourself.

Surprise flashed on his face before a smug smirk appeared on his face.

"Wow! I know that I'm famous but not much. Damn!" He said, running a hand through his hair.

You giggle at his ignorance as you take off your glasses. Folding it and keeping it safely in your hand bag, you step towards him, closing the distance between you two.

"Listen here you little shit." The smirk on his fell at your words, "If I ever hear from Peter that even got anywhere near him, I'll kidnap you, shave off your head, leave you on a deserted island and post your disgusting nudes all over the internet."

"Wh—"

"Shut up and listen." Flash gulped with fear, his face covered in sweat. The menacing aura around you looked scarier than the monster under his bed.

You say while jabbing on his forehead with your pointer finger, "Don't think of him, don't look at him, don't walk on his direction, don't breathe on his direction. Don't go anywhere around my boyfriend. Got it, you failed experiment of a chimpanzee?"

"Y-yes, I....um, I-I..... I under-understand." He nodded his head vigorously. Anything to get away from you.

"Good." You back away, giving him space to finally breathe in relief. Fuck! He didn't know Peter's girlfriend was this scary.

"Y/N?" The familiar voice of your boyfriend called from behind and your demeanour changed like lizards change colours.

"Hey, Pete." You walk up, giving him a quick kiss, "let's go, you are skipping class today. I missed you."

You linked your arm with him and started dragging him out of the school. Peter complied with you because he did miss you a lot too and skipping one day was not going to do any harm on him.

"I missed you a lot." Peter smiled down at you.

You left the school, leaving behind a embarrassed Flash. After you two left did Flash realised the crowd of students circling around him in the hallway. And they were chuckling while looking down at his pants?

Flash looked, "FUCK!"

His blue jeans were now dark blue, water spread on the floor around him. He had peed in his pants. His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He should not have fucked with Peter.

FUCK!

© 𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐔𝐒-𝐍-𝐋𝟎𝐕𝐄 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑, 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃 — all content rights belongs to LOTUS-N-L0VE. do not plagiarize any works and do not repost or translate onto any other sites.

All the rights and credits of the characters, gifs, songs and pictures used here belongs to their rightful owners.

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤

a/n: not too happy with how the beginning turned out, but the second half of this has to be one of my favorite things i’ve ever written

summary: natasha romanoff x female!reader. based on the movie “the notebook”; you’re allie, nat’s noah. fluff + angst

warnings: car crash, trauma, blood, memory loss

word count: 8.8k

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

The consequences of your actions couldn't have been sweeter.

Your parents don't end up approving of Natasha, but maybe that's okay. Even two years later, they refuse to talk to her. You don't talk to them, either.

You don't tell them the big news.

They don't get an invite.

They also don't see you in your wedding dress.

Your father doesn't walk you down the aisle. Instead, Peter takes over that job for him.

It took Natasha three months to figure out what to wear. To you, it never mattered — she would've look gorgeous in anything. But, when you see her waiting for you in her white suit, you're very happy about her choice.

It's a small wedding, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Just the closest friends, and a few distant relatives who were kind enough to show up — not many of those, obviously. But you'd always suspected your aunt Vivian would support your little act of rebellion.

She sits in the second row, beaming just like Peter. When she hugs you after the ceremony, she whispers: "Your mom will come around eventually. If she doesn't, then she's missing out."

You're not sure about the first part, but the second? That, you know is true.

Natasha doesn't let go of your hand the entire night. During the vows, the toast, your first dance as wives. Her eyes are on you, as well. You're not doing anything extraordinary, other than wear a wedding dress, but she's looking at you like you hung the moon.

Your honeymoon is just as special. After a few weeks in Italy, you make your way back to where you're happiest. Back to the place that keeps pulling you in like a magnet, back to your world of coffees and canoes and mornings in the lake.

You'll always return to this house, that much is clear. You remember what Natasha said when she first brought you here — for someday. Away from everything. Away with someone.

That someone somehow turned out to be you. As you watch her reach for the key and unlock the door, you couldn't be more thankful for that fact.

"We need a bed", you mumble. You still haven't upgraded from the mattress you've been using for years now.

She glances at you, the soft sunlight catching her hair. "I like the mattress. Very grounding."

"Haha." You smirk and grab her hand, letting her lead you inside. The smell of pine and dust is comforting. It feels like a home, even more so than the apartment you bought in New York City together.

The floorboards creak underfoot. You look around, taking the familiar space in. It's old and worn, the kind of place that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Natasha drops your bags by the floor, then stretches her arms above her head with a satisfied sound.

The surface of the lake outside shimmers. You step out onto the porch and grab the broom to remove all the old leaves and dirt that have accumulated during your absence. Inside the kitchen, Natasha starts cleaning the kitchen so she can get started on dinner.

"Feels good to be back", you call, wiping the chairs and table down with a rag.

"Feels like we never left", she replies, her voice distant from the kitchen. You hum to yourself and wring the rag through your hands. Natasha's right — it really does feel like slipping into a life that was already waiting for you. But getting here wasn't easy at all.

You straighten up and make your way to the small garden just in front of the porch. Potted plants are lined up on one side of the stairs, so you crouch down and check on them. It rains often enough out here, but they look a little dry — understandably so, since it's July — so you grab a watering can.

Being back here brings back memories. You still remember that day, that conversation with Simon that started with a simple "I think we need to talk."

The heavy silence that followed, his breathing quiet and suddenly uneven. His question whether there's someone else. Your admittance that, yes, there always had been.

Your carefully composed world crumbled within hours.

It's a blur now. Your parents' fury, their desperate attempts to reel you back in, your mother's sharp warnings that you'd regret this. Beneath her mask of composure was an insecurity, stemming from being defied by her own child for the first time in her life.

You were told you'd regret this. But you got on the jet with Natasha, your hand in hers, and you didn't regret a thing.

Two years later, you're still waiting for said regret to set in. You don't see it happening, though. Not now, not ever.

A clatter from the kitchen pulls you back into the present. You pull out a few weeds and toss them into the compost, then you make your way back inside. Natasha's boiling water for the pasta now, so you wash your hands and grab a few cans of tomatoes. Right as you put them into a pot, you feel the familiar weight of her arms around your waist. Her lips meet your neck, soft and unhurried.

"Quiet here", she murmurs, pressing another kiss to your jaw. You turn your head and she kisses your nose.

"It's always been like that."

"I like it." She pauses, her hands running up and down your sides. "It feels a little empty, though."

You open your eyes and look at her, eyebrows raised. Natasha smiles faintly. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It is empty", she mumbles, her nose nuzzling your cheek. "We should find a way to change that."

"Fill the house with pasta?"

"Maybe." Her hand slides to your stomach and slips under your shirt. Her palm is warm, but the wedding band feels cold against your skin. "Maybe not."

Whatever that's supposed to mean — you already know you'll need more room.

. . .

The drive from the airport feels longer this time. The once familiar road seems new, the trees look bigger. Inside the car it's quiet, save for the soft breathing coming from the backseat that has replaced the sound of the radio.

A turn, then another. Finally, you pull up in front of the space that, no matter what, is always one you can retreat to.

Natasha moves her hand from your thigh to undo her seatbelt, then she slides out of the car. She opens the door and gently scoops the little bundle out of her car seat. To your surprise, Masha stays asleep, even as Natasha adjusts her position in the crook of her arm. Her red wisps of hair stick out in all directions.

"She's getting heavy", Natasha mumbles, following you to the house.

"Well, she's not a tiny little newborn anymore. She's growing."

Your wife frowns at your words, despite knowing they're true. Maggie started crawling last week — she's anything but a newborn at this point.

"Still a baby", she mutters, glancing at your daughter. Her pacifier moves a bit as she sucks on it.

"Yes, still a baby." You drop your suitcases next to the bed — or rather, mattress. "Dammit, Nat. We really need to get a bed."

"Why?" Natasha bends down to place the baby on the middle of the mattress, lightly rubbing her tummy when she squirms in her sleep. "This is safer. For her."

You huff and kick off your shoes. "So what, we're just never upgrading? We'll just sleep on this thing forever?"

"You didn't mind back then", she mumbles, sitting down next to Masha. Her fingers brush over the baby's tiny sock-covered feet. "Besides, she can't roll off if there's nothing to roll off of."

"Can't argue with that." You join them right as Masha stirs again. Her eyes blink open, her pacifier falling out as she yawns and stretches. You smile and brush some hair out of her face. "Hey, honey."

Masha blinks up at you, fists clenching and unclenching, still caught somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Natasha scoops her up and holds her against her chest.

"Yeah, that was a nice nap", she says, kissing the baby's cheek. "You're all warm, Masha."

"Looks like someone is ready for a swim", you comment, already getting up to grab your swimsuits. Natasha looks at you and you pause. "What?"

"I think we should wait with that."

"What, why?" You pout and open the duffel bag anyway. Inside, you store your swimsuits and towels. "It's sweltering."

"I don't know how clean the lake is", she argues. Masha coos and Natasha gives her a quick smile. "She's too young."

"Oh, please." You slip your shirt off and momentarily leave Natasha speechless. But then she remembers that you aren't exactly alone, and that you also probably wouldn't take kindly to being ogled in front of your daughter, so she averts her eyes. "We went skinny dipping, like, dozens of times."

"Yes, but we're not 9 months old", she says, focusing on Masha again.

"You're sure?" You smirk as you catch the way her ears turn pink. "You get just as fussy when you're tired."

"I do not", she scoffs. But Masha, letting out a sleepy whimper and rubbing her face against Natasha's shoulder, proves your point. You raise an eyebrow.

"See? Identical."

"Oh, enough." She gets up, balancing the baby in her arms. "You're serious about swimming?"

"Very much so." You manage to close the clasp of the bikini top you're wearing and put your hair up into a bun. "Come on, we'll be quick."

Natasha narrows her eyes but doesn't argue, instead rocking Masha and rubbing her back. "We can take her down to the dock, let her dip her feet in. But that's it."

The sun is beaming down at you, but the trees surrounding the lake provide some shade. Natasha watches you as you jump into the water, then she sits on the dock. She keeps Masha cradled to her chest protectively, so you tread back to the dock and raise your eyebrows.

Your wife shoots you the most unimpressed look known to man.

"You promised", you remind her, splashing some water on her legs. The baby giggles, her arms flailing.

"What if I drop her?"

"You won't." You reach out and touch Masha's bare foot. "Just a quick dip."

She hesitates for another moment, but then sighs and adjusts her hold on the baby. Slowly, she lowers her from the dock until her toes touch the water. Masha's eyes widen, her entire body going stiff — but then she lets out a surprised little squeal.

"Oh", Natasha mumbles, watching the baby's mouth form an o-shape. She starts kicking her feet and gurgling in delight. "She likes it."

"Of course." You smile and lean back in the water. "I knew she would."

"Yeah, yeah." She scoops the baby back up and kisses her cheek, expertly ignoring her wails of protest. "That's enough for now."

"Oh, come on. What are you scared of?" You reach out and gently grab Masha's foot. "That the fishes are going to nibble at her little toes?"

"Hilarious."

The baby reaches out toward the water again, her hands grasping at the air. Her feet keep kicking, but Natasha doesn't budge. She's read too many horror stories about recreational water illnesses. Sure, Maggie is over the recommended 6 months old now, but your wife likes to be safe.

"It's time for lunch, anyway", Natasha adds, using the hem of her shirt to dry Masha's feet. "I bet she's hungry."

"Probably", you agree half heartedly. You sigh and get out onto the dock again, water dripping from your body. Natasha stands up as well and wraps one arm around your waist. She pulls you closer and gives you a kiss.

"We'll go swimming later", she mumbles, her hand drifting to your front. Her fingertips gently skim over the stretch marks there. "When the little fishie is asleep."

It's not the breeze that makes you shiver. You lean into the touch and press your lips against the corner of her mouth. "You better keep that promise."

"I always do", she teases. She grabs your hand and raises her eyebrows, a playful smile on her face as she starts leading you back to the house. "Come on. Milk for the fishie, and steak for us."

Later that night, when Masha's asleep, you take her outside in her stroller and leave it close enough so you're able to see and hear her. Then you pull Natasha to the dock, kissing and tugging each other's clothes off, giggling like teenagers whenever you need to part for a moment.

Your shirt ends up god knows where — in a bush, maybe, or in the old canoe. You don't really pay it any attention. You're far too focused on getting into the water again.

The lake is still warm enough from the sun that'd been shining all day, but now that it's windy and dark out, it almost feels cold against your skin. You gasp at the feeling, and Natasha quickly wraps her arms around your waist.

"It's freezing", she whispers sweetly, trailing kisses along your jaw. "I bet it'll take you less than twenty minutes to want to go back inside."

"A bet, huh?" You smile, but a shiver runs through you and the accompanying clattering of your teeth interrupts you. "If I win, you're on diaper duty for the rest of the week."

"Deal." She kisses your lips, her own plush and warm. "If I win, you're singing me a lullaby every night. The entire week."

"Oh god." You grimace, but Natasha kisses it off your face. Her hands run to your back and she tugs at the clasp of your bra. You quickly squirm away from her wandering hands. "Hey! Behave."

"No fun in that", she replies, her hands splaying out on your back. Then, without a hint of a warning, she pulls you under the water with her.

You gasp and close your eyes on instinct, your arms clinging to her. The water soaks into your hair and fully envelops you from head to toe, and when you surface again, laughter bubbles between you. It's a silent night, save for the sound of your giggles and the distant hum of cicadas.

You lift your hands to wipe the water off Natasha's face and she pauses. Her fingers tuck a wet strand of hair behind your ear as she studies you with that look you by now know intimately.

The lake around you ripples, but neither of you move. Then you hear Masha fuss in her stroller, and you both smile knowingly.

You lean in and press your wet lips to hers, the lake water as sweet as the day you first tasted it on her tongue.

. . .

"No!"

Your voice cuts through the silent summer air, loud and sharp in a way your kids aren't used to. Archer looks up, his eyes wide and his arms stretched out to the sides.

"Don't even think about it", you say, quickly walking down to the dock. Masha grins up at you from the water and waves innocently. You grab your son's shoulder and point a finger at your daughter. "You too. You're right in front of the dock, it's dangerous."

"I'm not that close", she protests, and Archer nods enthusiastically.

"I'm careful, mama."

"I wouldn't listen to them", Natasha calls. You turn to see her on the porch, carrying Lilia in her arms. She's wrapped up in a towel, her face sticky with strawberry ice cream. "Remember the tree incident last year?"

"How could I forget?", you grumble. "I can still hear your cries, Archie."

He pouts, his shoulders slumping. "That was different."

"You fell into a bush", your wife says, walking up to the dock. "Headfirst."

"You were stuck for, like, five minutes", Maggie adds, a grin on her face. She swims backwards to give Archer more space. "It was so funny."

"It was not funny. Your brother could've gotten hurt."

"Listen to your mother, bud", Natasha says. She adjusts Lilia on her hip and brushes her hand over his damp curls. "We don't need an emergency room visit this summer."

He groans and drags his foot over the wooden dock. For a moment, you think he's accepted defeat — but then he suddenly sprints forward and leaps into the air, yelling a triumphant "ha!" Water splashes everywhere, even managing to get into your eyes.

"Archer Romanoff!", you scold as you wipe your face. Your voice gets lost between Masha's and Lilia's laughter. "Alright, that's it. Do I really need to take away your ice cream-privileges?"

He surfaces again, water dripping down his face. "No fair! Lilia ate all my ice cream!"

"Kid's got a point", your wife mumbles, glancing at your youngest. She just looks up at her with wide, innocent eyes, her cheeks covered in the ice cream she's eating. "Great, it dripped on the towel."

"We'll wash it. What we can't fix as easily, however, is a broken skull. So no more jumping when someone else is that close to the dock!"

"Fine", Archer relents. He splashes some water at his older sister, who grimaces and slaps the back of his head. "Ow!"

"No fighting", you remind them and glance at Natasha. Your wife is busy cooing at Lilia, who's having the time of her life being coddled. "Seriously? Why do I always have to be the bad cop here?"

"Because you're good at it." Natasha kisses Lilia's nose and smiles, moving the child onto her shoulders. "Besides, they're just playing."

"He splashed water at her."

"And she retaliated", she argues. "No harm done."

You sigh and glance at the kids again, who seem more peaceful now. Or, as peaceful as a five- and ten-year-old can be. Archer's spinning in circles, while Masha has plopped into the inflatable donut you brought.

"Want ice cream", Lilia suddenly declares.

You want to argue, but then press your lips into a thin line and give Natasha a pointed look — your turn. First she hesitates, but then lets out a sigh and slowly shakes her head.

"No more today, bub. Too much sugar."

"But it's summer!", Masha protests. Ankles crossed and arms behind her head, she looks like the human form of relaxation. "Also, I only had two today."

"Two's enough", you say before you can stop yourself. "We're having dinner in about an hour, anyway. Any special requests?"

"Can we have pizza?", Archer requests.

"You sure can", Natasha says, "but you're making it yourself."

"What? On my own?" He gapes at her.

"Exactly", she confirms. "Come on. I'll even help you with the dough."

The kids scramble out of the water and start running toward the house. Lilia, clearly wanting to join in on the fun, squirms until Natasha puts her on the ground. She runs after them as fast as her short legs allow her to.

For a moment, it's just you and Natasha again. Hands intertwined, the setting sun warm on your skin, the familiar little house in front of you full of life now.

. . .

Sometimes, life isn't fair.

You can talk about karma all you want, believe in fate, hope for justice. Trust that, somewhere out there, there's a referee who'll make sure everyone gets what's fair to them.

Oftentimes, that's not the case. You can close your eyes and pretend the truth doesn't exist, but it will hit you straight in the face anyway.

You're distracted when you get into the car. A sleepless night due to your son who started yelling at his computer at 3am, eight hours of work in an overfilled office, a fight with your wife that you caused — now you're exhausted, irritated, and understandably so.

You step out of the building and toss your purse into the passenger seat before getting in the car. You check your hair in the rear view mirror, quickly spotting the dark circles under your eyes and the wrinkles forming around them.

Whether you believe it or not: you're getting old.

With a sigh, you fire up the engine and roll out onto the road. From that moment on, it's like you're moving through a fog.

The world is distant, your thoughts jumbled. You turn corners, the streets blurring in front of your eyes. Your fingers drum against the steering wheel restlessly. All you want is to go home — little do you know that you wouldn't be able to do that for a while.

You're not thinking about the road.

In hindsight, you'd like to say that all it took were a few seconds of carelessness. But no. It was more, way more. That one specific second, however, where your focus wavers entirely, is what changes everything.

A sudden swerve from the car in front of you. You hit the brakes too late. Then, your world shifts into chaos.

The screech of tires. Your body thrown against the seatbelt. A flash of metal. The sickening crunch of impact. Blood on your tongue, a ringing noise in your ears. Your own heartbeat, and the deafening silence that follows.

. . .

The harsh light is what you notice first. Bright, blinding you, making your head pound even as you squint. You try to lift your hand to block it out, but your limbs feel too heavy.

Then the smell. Sterile, clinical, unfamiliar. A soft beeping sound in the distance, rhythmic and insistent.

You blink rapidly, trying to shake the fog from your mind, but nothing clears. You try to swallow, but your throat is as dry as sandpaper. It feels like you haven't used your voice in days. Instead, you attempt to sit up, but your body protests with a dull ache. You somehow manage to turn your head.

Next to you, a silhouette jumps up from a chair. Her face is familiar and unfamiliar at once, but she looks worried — so worried.

"Hey, hey", she says, first reaching out but then pulling back her hand. "You're okay."

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out at first. In that moment, you don't know much — but you do know that speaking shouldn't be this difficult.

"...Where?", you eventually manage to get out.

"Hospital. You were in a car crash."

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, trying to remember, remember anything, connect some dots, fill the overwhelmingly large gaps.

You draw a blank.

"Who are you?", you ask, voice weak. The woman stiffens, then slowly moves to sit down next to you on the bed. Grey hoodie, dark circles under her eyes, unwashed hair. Clearly exhausted, probably hasn't slept properly in a while.

You search her face, and even if your heart beats faster at the sight — you don't recognize her. Not like you should.

"Natasha", she mumbles. "Your wife."

You nod again. "I...I don't...remember."

The words hang in the air between you. Natasha — your wife — hesitates before touching the back of your hand. Her touch is warm, comforting. Your brain may not recognize it, but your heart does.

"We have kids", she begins, quietly. "Masha. She's 17 now. Won a soccer tournament last month. Archer, he...he games a little too much. But he's a good kid. And Lilia is so smart. She's like you, you know."

You don't react. You try to assign faces to the names, but you can't. All you can imagine are three kids, faceless, practically strangers.

A mother, you wonder. I'm a mother.

You give her another pleading, disconcerted look. Everything about this is weighing heavily on your dazed mind. Why can't you remember who you are? Why can't you recognize the woman you supposedly married?

Natasha's fingertips trace the back of your hand as she starts to explain. A car crash, where the driver in front of you lost control of their vehicle. A traumatic brain injury. Retrograde and anterograde amnesia. Gaps in your memory, which are temporary (according to the doctors), but unsettlingly large.

"I know it's confusing", Natasha continues, her voice breaking. "But it's okay. It's normal. I mean, you were in a car crash. You need to recover, and you're getting better already."

"I don't feel better", you mumble. Someone knocks on the door and you look up. "What...?"

"The kids", she says, already on her way. "I asked Peter to watch them."

"Peter."

It's a statement, but it sounds like a question. Funny enough, you do remember that name. Your brain manages to flash you a picture of a teenager in an oversized shirt and Hello Kitty sweatpants, but then it's gone. You wonder whether it's a memory.

"I'll explain later", she says softly. She turns, her hand on the doorknob and her expression tentative. "Do you want to see them?"

Do you want to see them? No. Not in this state. Not knowing that you forgot your own children. The kids you carried, birthed, loved.

But you need to see them. Because you did carry, birth, love them. Because you owe it to them, in a way.

"Yeah", you murmur. Natasha nods and opens the door. One after the other, three kids enter the room. The oldest girl looks a lot like you, but her hair is entirely Natasha's. Then a boy — a middle schooler — with unruly hair and an expression torn between deep worry and mild boredom. The last one is a girl, only ten years old, who clings to Natasha's side.

They all stand there, staring at you, and you look at the woman who's supposed to be your wife. A silent call for help.

She quickly turns and nods at the kids. "Go on, say hi."

They hesitate, but then Masha steps forward. Being the oldest, she understands this situation the most — but even for her, processing this is difficult.

You can't blame her. You're an adult, and you can't quite process it either.

"Hey, mom", she mumbles. "You feeling okay?"

"I'm fine", you say, blinking a few times. You reach out and touch her hand, and while your brain may not recognize the girl in front of you, your body still does. "I'm sorry, I..."

"You really don't remember?", the little girl — Lilia, you remind yourself — asks. She's still half-hidden behind Natasha, who looks like she wants to jump in and shield you from all of this. But she can't. This is your moment, your choice.

You don't say anything for a long moment. You could either lie ("Of course I remember you, don't be silly sweetheart") but you know that Masha and Archer are both old enough to see through that. You shake your head.

"I'm sorry", you say, then add: "honey."

"It's okay", Natasha says again, almost as if trying to convince herself by repeating those two words over and over again. "Mom just needs some rest, yeah?"

"Sure", Archer mumbles. He gives you one last cautious look, then shuffles out of the room with his hands buried in the pockets of his cargos. Outside the room, a man — dark hair, friendly face that's lost its usual happiness — ushers them back into the waiting room. He glances at you and smiles weakly before turning and leaving.

Natasha closes the door and sits down next to you again. She pulls out a ring and places it in your palm. It's identical to the one she's wearing.

"You don't have to put it on", she says right as you're slipping it onto your finger. She swallows at the sight, her facade cracking. "Oh."

"Look", you murmur, cheeks red with a shame that's completely out of place in this situation, "I don't remember much about you. Or the kids. And I'm sorry for that. But you said you're my wife, and if you are, I'm probably really lucky because my heart keeps doing this weird thing when I look at you."

Natasha nods and exhales shakily. Her fingers touch yours, brushing against the wedding ring, and you stay completely still. You turn your hand so it's palm up and gently grab her hand.

"I am your wife", she says, voice breaking as she holds back tears. "You have no idea how lucky I am."

You close your eyes and squeeze her fingers. "For now, I'd like to be able to know who I am first."

She laughs and nods, tears making her vision blurry. "We'll get there."

. . .

The memories creep back in an agonizingly slow fashion.

Being back home does help, even if you struggle to associate anything major to the house you're in. Natasha told you that you bought this house right after you got pregnant with Archer, but you don't remember that. But, when you step through the front door for the first time after the accident, your brain provides you with the feeling of carrying your newborn over the same threshold years ago.

It's just a fragment of the memory, but it lays the groundwork for everything to come.

Recovery is frustrating and confusing and painful. You're physically stable, but mentally, you're in a fog.

Doing mundane, everyday tasks isn't an issue anymore. You make coffee in the mornings (even if your hands sometimes still feel like they don't belong to you; you've shattered more cups within a week than you have in your entire life), you shower, you even do Lilia's hair and make sure she gets into the school bus.

What else do you remember? Truthfully, not much. It's mostly fragments at this point, emotional recognition and muscle memory. One evening, when you're on the couch, you remember your first day of school. But looking at Natasha, not much comes to mind. All you know is that she's safe.

With the kids, it's similar. You don't remember anything, basically, but you can feel they're yours and you can feel you love them.

Masha is the most mature, being 17 years old already. She hides her pain well and, instead of wallowing, tries to bond with you — she knows how to make you feel included. She tells you about what happened at school, plays songs she claims are your favorites (sometimes, you do recognize the melodies), watches tv with you.

Archer is distant. He spends most of his time either playing video games or doing homework. His interactions with you are limited, but you'll catch him looking at you when he thinks you aren't paying attention. He's waiting for you to be his mom again, to be that woman who ruffles his hair and makes him eat his vegetables, who plays Mario Kart and goes to the LEGO store with him.

Lilia is too young to fully understand, too small, too hopeful. She curls up beside you without hesitation and hands you books you very well know she could read on her own. You still flip them open and read the stories to her, quietly hoping that it'll help. Sometimes, it does, and you suddenly see a much smaller version of her in that same spot next to you.

One day, you catch Natasha in her office. She's been spending more and more time in there, mostly when you're busy around the house. When you walk in, she closes the notebook on her desk and turns to look at you. Her eyes soften and she smiles and, oh, you forget about the weight in your chest. You feel the love between you, decades old and steadier than anything, and in that moment, it's enough.

You smile back and pause in the doorway. You still feel like you don't belong into this house, like you're an intruder. You know that's not the case, but your mind is as much of a traitor as it is a stranger.

"What are you doing?", you ask, head leaning against the doorframe.

"Writing", she replies and turns around in her desk chair. "You okay?"

There's that question again. You force another smile.

"I'm okay."

"Hungry?"

You should be. It's almost dinner time. You shake your head — you're rarely hungry these days.

"No."

Natasha nods, then gestures at you to come closer. You hesitate before approaching her.

Her eyes study you in a way that makes your skin tingle. The silence in the room is only adding to this strange, but not unwelcome, feeling. You avert your eyes before everything can become too much.

When Natasha speaks up again, she sounds choked up. "Come here."

You look at her.

"Please", she adds, almost pleading.

Another step. You sit down on her lap and glance at her. Her arms wrap around you, safe and solid. Something flashes in your mind, something warm and familiar, and you freeze to make it last.

"You know what this feels like?", you mumble when you're certain the feeling won't slip from your grasp again.

Natasha raises her eyebrows. Her hand gently runs up and down your back. "What?"

You rest your head against her shoulder. You know her scent, that much you're sure of. "A house."

"Mhm?"

"With a lake", you continue, struggling to explain. "I remember a mattress.”

She closes her eyes and turns her head, her nose nuzzling your hair. Tears aren't something to be ashamed of, but she won't let you catch her crying again. All of this hasn't been easy for her, either.

"Anything else, love?"

"A mattress on the floor", you mumble. "God, my back hurt."

"Yeah." She laughs, but it's a broken sound, muffled by your hair. "Mine did, too."

"Why'd we sleep on the floor?", you ask, still confused.

"Don't ask me", she murmurs and kisses the top of your head. It's an absentminded gesture, but her heart feels lighter when you lean into the touch. "We just forgot to buy a bed, I guess. We got used to the mattress."

"I think I liked it."

"You did?" Natasha smiles, her lips pressing against your cheek. "So did I."

. . .

A few weeks pass. The fog starts to lift, the haze thins. Things become easier, memories clearer.

Masha, still pink and squishy, wrapped into a towel. Nurses and bright lights. Salty tears on your cheeks, Natasha's hand on your head.

A canoe, old and shabby but staying afloat. Summer air on sunburnt skin. Aloe gel on shoulders and a wooden dock beneath your feet. Sweet kisses, slow and unhurried.

Seeing yourself in a wedding dress for the first time. Trying it on three kids later, with a body that's changed. Natasha standing behind you, closing the zipper. Fabric that feels much more snug. Her lips brush against your shoulder.

"You got even more beautiful. Must be magic at play here."

An elementary school. You can't tell whether it's yours or one of your kids's, but the fading chalk drawings are pastel and the air is musky after it rained.

A drive-in. A diner. A jet, with an odd symbol everywhere. Emergency room visits and first words, lullabies and a tattoo shop, stars and wilted flowers. Natasha and you in a dark hallway, Natasha and you bathing Archer for the first time.

Memories that come back gradually only to disappear again. They're not permanently gone — but sometimes, keeping them alive is hard. It hurts to look at your daughter's face and briefly forget her name, it hurts that you can't make pancakes the way you used to, it hurts you don't know your son's favorite movie or the name of the football club your daughter plays in.

Your photo album, some pictures faded, some corners creased from years of handling, helps. You sit on the couch, legs crossed and fingers tracing the images in front of you.

A picture of Natasha, her arms wrapped around a younger version of yourself. Trees in the background, and a blanket with a baby sleeping on it — Lilia, maybe half a year old. You squint, trying to remember that day.

A tap against the doorframe makes you look up. Masha stands there, arms folded, watching you.

"Hey", she says. "You okay?"

"I'm alright", you quickly say, blinking the sudden moisture away from your eyes. "What about you, honey?"

"Fine. Finished one of the books on my summer reading list." She moves to sit down next to you and peeks at the pictures. She taps the one you were looking at. "That's a good one", she says, smiling.

"I don't remember much", you admit.

"Yeah? Well, we decided to go on a picnic." Masha points at the trees. "A bird managed to crap on Lil's stroller."

"Language", you say without really having to think about it. Masha's smile widens. You can see something of Natasha's in her eyes.

"That was very you, mom", she says, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Come on, you gotta know what I'm talking about. Archer got chased by a dog. Mama had to grab that beast's collar. The owner threatened to sue her."

"Yeah", you say slowly. You glance at her and smile tentatively. "I think Archer climbed a fence."

Her eyes light up. "He did, yes. And mama dragged the dog back to its owner and absolutely bawled him out."

You nod, the weight on your shoulders having lessened. You remembered something else — not much, but it's a little step in the right direction anyway.

Maggie flips to another page and points at a picture. "Here. Try."

You study the image carefully. It's another one of you and Natasha, but this time, you're on a dock. You can barely see your faces, since they're turned towards one another — her nose brushing against yours, your smile wide, tiny wrinkles around your squinting eyes. A lake stretching out behind you, with a kid's head poking out in the distance.

"Oh", you mumble. You hesitate, but the warmth in your chest tells you to keep going. "It was summer. There was this- this house...and a lake. We spent our summer there."

"We spend every summer there", your daughter reveals. "Except for the one where you had Lilia."

"Right", you mumble. "Was there a storm that night?"

"Yes!" She nods, her red ponytail bobbing up and down. "The power went out. And-"

"And the kids were scared, so we lit candles", Natasha finishes the thought from across the room. You turn around, spotting your wife in the doorway to the living room. In her hand, the notebook. She tilts her head and smiles, something thoughtful glistening in her eyes as she watches you chase your own memories. "We told ghost stories."

"Archer couldn't sleep", you whisper.

"He slept in our bed", Natasha confirms. "He stayed there the entire summer, even if he kicked me all the time."

"Yeah", you mumble, looking back at the picture. Suddenly, it's all so vivid in your mind. You can pierce together fragments until they form something akin to a full memory.

When you meet Natasha's eyes again, something in them has changed. She looks resolute as she steps up to the couch, the notebook still in her grasp.

"There's something I want to read to you", she says, sitting down next to you. Masha gives her a curious look.

"Oh, really?"

"You're going to bed", she tells your daughter. "This is something I want to discuss with my wife, not your mom."

Masha looks like she's about to protest, but then her shoulders slump in defeat. She understands what Natasha means. She gets up, kisses you both on the cheeks and then heads upstairs. Once her bedroom door has closed, Natasha opens the notebook.

"I wrote this", she says, briefly glancing at the pages. "It's pretty long, if I'm being honest."

"What is it?", you ask, doing your best not to peek.

"Uhm..." She hesitates. "Our story. Beginning to end. The entire thing."

You stare at her, baffled. Your wife is telling you that, somehow, she managed to squeeze 23 years of history into one single notebook. Highs and lows, tears and laughter, everything you went through together to get here.

Then, you tear up. You remember pieces of those more than two decades. Natasha remembers enough to write a book about them.

"Okay", you mumble, sinking into the couch. Natasha squeezes your knee, looking like she's close to tears herself. She clears her throat and open the first page, skimming it.

"'We met at a fun fair'", she begins. "'You wore a dress. I hope you won't be too mad about me saying this, but you had zero aim."

You smile and shake your head, your hands covering your face. She keeps going.

"'I tried to ask you out. You resisted, obviously. You were stubborn, and so was I. There was a risk to going out with a complete stranger, but I loved taking that risk.'"

"Ferris wheel", you whisper, voice muffled.

"Yeah." She nods. "'You left again, with your friend. I felt like the most unlucky idiot in the whole world. But then I saw you again, on the ferris wheel, and I decided that it was now or never. I got up-'"

"And climbed." You brush the tears away. "Could've fallen and broken your neck."

"I didn't", she argues softly. "I made it over to you."

"You smelled like sugar", you add. "Like...beer and sugar. It was so odd."

Natasha lets out a quiet laugh, but it's a pleasantly surprised one. She looks up from the pages, her eyes searching your face. "You never told me that."

"I didn't?" You glance at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can still smell her scent from that moment, how sugary and bitter it was at the same time. "Huh.”

"That's good", she says, encouraging you. Reading about your memories seems to coax more of them out of you. "Want me to keep going?"

"Yes", you immediately say.

And so she does.

Your first date, in a diner. The first kiss afterwards. Nights of sneaking out, staying with her.

The house by the lake. The mattress. The three years of separation in between, and your engagement to Simon.

Peter telling her about everything. Meeting again, kissing, sleeping with each other.

Breaking off the engagement. Leaving town, heading to New York. Staying with SHIELD for a while. The weeks that followed.

Memory after memory. Some feel like echoes, others like dreams. Some pop between your fingers like bubbles, others seep into your bones, like they've been waiting for you to find them again.

You don't remember all of it. You've blocked many things out completely — like the fact that Natasha had dinner with your family once —, which leaves you feeling unsettled.

Some of it seems too meaningful to forget. But then again, you couldn't remember Natasha was your wife when you first woke up after the accident. Now, you can at least recall saying 'yes' in front of the altar, and how you danced afterwards, and how your lipstick had stained the corner of her mouth.

Eventually, she closes the notebook. She's only gotten through less than twenty pages.

"There's more", she says, looking at you. "A lot more."

You nod, rubbing your face. "I feel like I won't be able to remember half of it."

"You don't have to remember it now", she says gently, her hand reaching out. You grab it and keep it in your lap, playing with her fingers like you used to.

Like you used to — there. Another memory.

"It's hard", you admit. "It's like I'm chasing ghosts. Like...like I can't catch them before they disappear."

Natasha hums, staring at the wall for a moment. Covered in family pictures, many of them taken in that one beloved place. The one place you've visited almost every summer, where you've gone through so much, experienced so much. A place you've returned to at various stages of your life. A place that, without any doubt, will always be there.

"You know what might help?", she says absentmindedly.

"What?"

Your wife looks at you and squeezes your hand. "Being there", she says, her smile tentative but knowing. "The house. The lake. The dock."

You swallow, looking past her at the pictures. At this point, you feel like your brain is teasing you. You can feel the thick summer heat, hear the sound of cicadas and the water lapping against the shore. But the memories actually associated to those distant sensations? You can't grasp them.

"It'll help?"

"It might."

You hesitate, but something inside you pulls towards the idea. To the familiarity of it, even if the familiarity feels foreign right now.

"It can't hurt", you admit. "I mean, it's summer anyway."

"The kids don't have school", Natasha adds. She leans in and kisses you way too briefly. You've grown more used to physical affection again, but she's still scared of making you uncomfortable. Her hands feel warm and solid on your sides. "I'll pack, we're leaving in the morning."

. . .

It's you who points at that one roadside diner you've been going to for the past ten years.

The looks you get from your family make you pause. Nobody speaks, they all just stare. Finally, Natasha squeezes your thigh.

"Bet I can guess your order."

"No way", you tease, simultaneously trying to remember your usual. Cheeseburger? Maybe fries? Definitely no pickles.

But Natasha, knowing you better than the back of her hand, rattles down your order without having to think about it. The word 'milkshake' triggers something, and you smile softly as you lean back and gaze at her.

"You'll share your whipped cream?", you ask.

"Wouldn't be a proper date if I didn't", she mumbles, grabbing your hand.

Normally, a flirty little comment like this would be enough to earn gagging noises from the kids in the backseat. But they know that everything is still fragile, so they stay quiet.

Arriving in front of the house makes you close your eyes. The sight is painful, but it sparks so many memories that it's almost overwhelming. The porch, the wooden steps, the trees surrounding the house.

"We're here", Archer says, turning off his Nintendo.

"Yeah", Masha mumbles, looking at the house with a thoughtful look on her face. "Still the same."

The kids unbuckle and get out of the car. They're all eager to return to this place, this house that feels more like home than anything else ever could.

You look at your wife and open your mouth, but for a moment, no sound escapes from your parted lips. Her face blurs, and so does her name. You exhale and squeeze your eyes shut again, your hands trembling.

"Natasha", you manage a few seconds later. You forgot her name. Even if only for a few seconds, you forgot her name. She swallows and nods. She noticed — of course she did. She's been hyper aware of everything surrounding you since you got into that accident. "Oh god, I..."

"Hey", she says, leaning over to pull you into a hug. You bury your face in her neck and fight the rising panic. "You're just nervous. It's okay, I promise."

"It's so foggy", you mumble, breathing her in. "I thought this was supposed to help."

"We're not even inside yet, love." She pulls back and kisses you on the cheek. Outside, you hear your children's voices as they run around the front yard. Masha stops on the stairs and turns to look at you, the breeze tousling her red hair. Worry fills her eyes when she realizes you're still in the car.

"What if I don't remember?", you ask, your eyes meeting Natasha's again. "What if the memories stay gone? What if..."

She brushes some hair out of your face and smiles softly. The sadness in her eyes is unmistakable, but so is the steady love there.

"Then we'll make new memories. Come on."

She leads you out of the car and wraps her arm around your shoulders. The kids chatter excitedly as she unlocks the door to the house and lets them all storm in. Again, it's a small space — two bedrooms, one of which you added when you got pregnant with Lilia, as the space had started to feel a little too snug.

It's cozy, lived-in...and even familiar. The feeling of stepping into this space never changed.

It feels like a memory — that was your first impression you ever had of this house. Turns out you still remember that.

Your eyes sweep across the room. The kitchen you renovated, the little living room, the windows that provide a view of the lake. The dock. Even the hammock is still intact, though the pattern of the fabric has faded over the years.

"Where's the canoe?", you mumble. Before Natasha can answer, you speak up again. "It fell apart, didn't it?"

"It rotted", she says, nodding. "It was fine the summer before."

"Shame."

"I agree."

"Mom?"

You turn and look at Masha, who's holding a mug in her hand. A chipped mug.

"Yes?", Natasha says, rubbing your arm.

"Can I make coffee? I'm kinda tired."

"One cup", you murmur, resting your weight against your wife's side. She leans in and kisses your temple. Then she walks you outside, to the dock and the lake. She shows you the letters you carved into one of the wooden boards, which are the initials of all your names. She makes you sit down and dip your feet in the water, causing a memory of Masha doing the same thing — only as an infant — to light up in your mind.

You watch Archer sit in the hammock and stare up at the sky. Lilia joins him, and they squabble over who gets to sit in it. A cat appears from the bushes that are on the other side of the lake, and they both get up to try and lure it with 'pspsps'-noises and a bag of pretzels.

You go back inside and make dinner. You recall the first fight you had, which makes Natasha laugh and pull you into a kiss. You curl up on the couch, with Lilia in your lap and your head on Natasha's chest, and watch the same black and white movie you watched in the drive-in way back.

"Still old", she mumbles into your ear. You smile and tilt your head up. Her lips press against your forehead.

Once the kids are in their pajamas, you all gather in the main bedroom. Archer drags his mattress into the room, so Masha and Lilia follow in suit, and now you're all cuddled up. Your oldest daughter brought your beloved mug along, this time filled with milk instead of coffee.

Your voices are soft, the words hushed. The kids have started chattering quietly — well, Lilia not really; she's out cold.

You look at Natasha again. Her eyes meet yours, and you recognize everything your brain can't remember.

Can't remember yet, you remind yourself. You've gotten this far, and you'll get further.

"I love you", you mumble. "I know that much."

"I love you too", she whispers, her lips pressing against yours in a brief kiss. You close your eyes and sink into this feeling. It's a feeling you may not always remember, but will always recognize. "You don't need to know me for me to love you."

Masha and Archer both cuddle up at Natasha's side. Your daughter reaches for your hand and you squeeze it. When Natasha starts humming the tune of a Russian lullaby she used to sing to the kids when they were still little, you close your eyes and quietly hum along. The melody returns easily, and the memory comes to life again, vibrant and warm.

A nursery, a swaddled baby, a nightlight in the shape of a sailboat. Drops of warm milk on wrists, feverishly reddened cheeks, the uncertainty that comes with being a new parent.

Outside, the water laps at the shore. The moon bathes the room in a milky light. No light pollution out here, thankfully.

The kids go quiet. Natasha pulls out the notebook and opens it, finding the page where you left off during the car ride. You glance at it, then lean up to kiss her cheek. Her voice is a quiet murmur when she begins telling the story of your first months of marriage. Not all of the memories return as readily, but that's okay. Listening to her retell them may be enough for now.

You turn your head and bury your face in her chest. Her heartbeat is a rhythm you'd recognize in a thousand lifetimes.

You thought it all started at the fun fair, where you met. But lying here, with the lake outside and the mattress on the floor, with the chipped mug in your sleepy daughter's hand, you realize that this is where it began.

The walls hold secrets that never touched the notebook. 

It all started in a small house by a lake, and it ends there as well.

[simpcityy]

I'm Not Her Pt.2 (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This short One-Shot has made it into a series! Read part one please to understand the prompt better. (Linked Below)

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad for now. Other dimensional Miguel… Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up to the smell of bacon being cooked. Odd? Who is cooking if no one is home. Sitting up from your bed, you glanced at the time seeing it was 10am. Walking out of the room the smell of bacon got stronger. In front of you was your father Miguel cooking breakfast. You quickly rubbed your eyes wanting to make sure you aren’t dreaming. “Buenos días, cariño*” Miguel glances back at you hearing the creek of the floorboards. You only stood there in shock. He’s home for once and calling you with love and affection. “I…Um…good morning?” You finally replied back sitting down on the chair slowly. He placed a plate in front of you and took a seat across from you. “(Y.N) …Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre*.” He began. “I know I left you all on your own, but I have to man up and fix my mistakes.” He looks at you before slowly holding your hand “and I know it won’t be easy, but I’ll try my best.” He smiles before slowly releasing your hand. You only stood there stunned thinking about it. Did Lyla talk to him? Did Peter? So many thoughts were running around your head before letting out a sigh. “I …what made you have a change of heart…you know that yesterday was my- “he cuts you off, “I know it was your birthday and I’m sorry” he pulls out a box from under the table. You were so shocked about this new side of your dad that you didn’t even see the box when you sat down. “Happy Late Birthday “he smiles, sliding the box towards you. You slowly open it inside before gasping seeing the latest technology you’ve always wanted. You dug your hand till it hit the bottom and saw a ticket to your favorite concert. “How did you know I wanted this? I always begged you to let me see this singer, but you wouldn’t hear me out…I…” you are feeling so many emotions. “I told you I was going to try my best to fix this” he smiles before letting out a grunt as you tackle him into a hug “thank you! Thank you!” You chanted. Miguel only lets out a small smile rubbing your back affectionately. You let him go and walked to the top cabinet grabbing a glass to fill. “let’s have breakfast before you head to work “you smile enjoying this small moment with him. Maybe your wish did come true, to stop feeling alone. 

You walked down the halls of your high school. It was going to be your last year and you promised your friends you were going to make it a blast. Humming out a song you unlocked your locker. “Hey boo you’re in a much better mood.” Lyla appeared inside your locker snapping a selfie with you. “Glad you’re here, did you talk to my dad?” You asked her while collecting the items you’ll need on this day. “ wha? No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?” She looks at the selfie editing it. “He came home and made breakfast. He also got me tickets for the concert.” You smile enthusiastically looking at the AI. Lyla watches you “he did?” She was concerned, if she remembered correctly…Miguel was at the base this morning working but then again, he did slip out for a moment so maybe that’s where he went. Lyla only smiles “I’m so glad boo! Maybe Peter talked with him?” You nodded “I was thinking the same. Alright, I got to go Lyla.” You closed the locker going on to continue your education. Lyla stood in the pitch dark of the locker in deep thought “I’ll have to talk to Miguel” she mutters before disappearing. 

School for once was a day you enjoyed, maybe it has to do with the fact you're slowly getting your father back. You’ll have to thank Peter once you get the chance to visit the Society HQ. You start to wonder what made him realize he has a daughter here. All this thinking made you hungry, spotting your favorite empanada stand. You walked over and got in line. ‘Maybe I’ll order extra to bring home’ you thought before smiling, giving your order to the kind old lady. Once you reached home, you closed the door behind you. “Are you home?” You call out placing the bag on the table. “Ya has vuelto de la escuela*?” Miguel emerges from the kitchen door. He glances at the bag. “Y eso?” He walked over looking into the box. “ I got you some empanadas” You smile before letting it falter seeing him sniff the bag. His face of disgust was present, “I’m not hungry, you eat it.” He quickly replaces the face of disgust into a smile. Something wasn’t right here, he loved empanadas. He would never reject it. “But it’s your favorite?” You sat down and grabbed a couple for yourself. Miguel grabs a glass of water, his back turned to you. He panicked for a bit before adding on, “Yes but I think I ate too many last time that it just makes me dislike it” He walks over rubbing your head, “It will go away and I’ll go back to liking them okay?” He pressed his lips to the side of your head before sitting down next to you. “Cómo fue tu día en la escuela*?” He asked. You only nodded taking his excuse before smiling, feeling his lip on the side of your head. “ It went well!” You ate the empanada while telling him how your day went. 

Lyla stood behind Miguel watching him work away. “Hey Miguel” She appears in front of him. “Quick question” Miguel looks up at her and only grunts telling her to go on. “That was nice of you to get (Y/N) tickets to the concert” She sits on his shoulder waiting for his response. His answer only made her glitch and worried for you.

“What tickets?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Authors Note: Thank you so much! Your comments and likes made me see how this NEEDED to be a series. I'm still working on the other two projects hopefully next week I'll be able to complete the series for Location Status. So, I can focus on my other projects. Sorry for any grammar on the first part, I was using a tablet and it was all new to me. Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 66💕) Thank you for the likes and reblogs! Please reblog so others can be aware of my works! ILY 💕

Spanish Translation: (Remember some have double meaning or similar meaning) 1. “Buenos días, cariño: Good Morning Sweetie 2. Escucha, sé que no soy el mejor padre: Listen, I know I'm not the best father (Dad) 3. Ya has vuelto de la escuela: Are you back from school? 4. Y eso: And that or whats that? 5. Cómo fue tu día en la escuela: How was your day at school?

[certainlynotasimp]

Just A Bite.

(Miguel O' Hara x Female! Reader)

A/N: Hello~ I got another Miggy and Sunny post for my beloved readers, and I think you'll like it. I'm still working on the request too, but I had this idea and I had to write it. Also if you want to be notified about this series, please leave a comment on this post, and if you wanna read more then check out my master list.

Also thank you guys for 100 followers! I really appreciate you guys so much and I hope you all stay with me on this journey!

Warnings: Grumpy x Sunshine, Barley any use of (Y/N) ((Sunny is a nickname, not her name)), Female pronouns, Miguel being a teasing mf, Gwen being a snoopy spider, Establish Relationship?, Fluff, a little break in canon, and Google translate Spanish ((please give me critique if you guys are fluent in Spanish because I don't know how to speak it.))

Still haven't seen the movie yet so excuse any inaccuracies.

“So are they?” Jessica stops picking at her salad as the younger SpiderWoman peers over her shoulder.

Turning her head slightly, it didn’t take her long to discover what the young protégé’s attention is focused on. 

The signature blue costume hugged the tall Spiderman as he stood several feet away from them. His normally dangerous talons were hidden by the two trays of food in each hand. His eyes were narrowed in annoyance as he seems to be hyperlinked on something. It didn’t take long before Jessica figured out who she needed to spot as the source of Miguel’s irritation. 

The black and white costume of the tiny spider caught her eyes first before she realizes that Peter B. Parker had enamored her attention away from Miguel.

 Well, not so much him, but the one-month-old Mayday Parker had the Spider Society's sunshine orbiting around her. Her little hand grasps around the digit of an older woman as Sunny cooes. A look of awe and sadness filled her eyes as the whole world seemed to disappear around her.

“Are they what?” Jessica asks as she turns her attention back to her lunch, mildly groaning as her little bug certainly didn’t appreciate the diet their daddy put them on. 

“Is Miguel and (Y/N) together?” Gwen repeats her question as she analyzes Miguel’s body language.

It was odd to Gwen as Miguel appeared to be annoyed that he had to hold their plates while waiting on her, but he didn’t make a move to say to rush along the tiny spider. In fact, Gwen nearly choked on her drink as she sees the longing gaze in his garnet eyes.

“To be honest…” Jessica catches Gwen’s attention again as she starts packing away her now empty tray with trash. “I’ve been a part of the Society for a long time, but Sunny was here before I was. Her and Miguel are kinda a packaged deal, but I have no idea if they are together.” Gwen tilts her head with a confused look on her face. She knew the older Spiderwoman was one of the first members of the Society when Miguel created it, but she didn’t know the cheery spider was here longer than Jess. 

“She was here before you?”

“She was here before all of us.” Peter interrupts as he plops in the seat next to Gwen. The infant was now quietly sleeping against her father’s chest with webbing holding her up. Peter steals one of Gwen’s french fries off of her tray as Gwen looked annoyed by him. “Miss Sunshine was the first spider Miguel recruited from what I heard, and I should know.” He plops the fry into his mouth as he chats. “I was the second.”

Jessica chuckles at Gwen’s shocked face at the realization as to how long the futuristic spider man has had his cheery companion. “Little bit wants to know if the big guy and Sunny are a thing or not?” Peter raises an eyebrow as he teases Gwen, “Why? You got a crush on one of them?”

“Ew, no. They are old and I’m 16. It's just they are always together and they seem like a couple, but they don’t do normal couple things.” Gwen whines as her face burns in embarrassment.

“First off, they are not old.” Peter scoffs as he runs a hand through his own graying hair. “Miguel is 28 and Sunny just turned 27.”

Jessica giggles as a memory pops into her mind. The look on Miguel’s face when his smaller companion brought him a cake she made for his birthday will forever be Jessica’s favorite moment since joining this team. Well, the second greatest moment. The slight teary-eyed look the leader gave to the bouncing spider as he had to endure her butchering the birthday song was also very funny. At least she can cook better than she can sing.

“And adult relationships aren’t like the ones you’ve seen in high school.” Peter sighs as he remembers the regretful decisions he made in high school. “They aren’t gonna make out in the hallways or tell each other that they love each other every five minutes.” “So they are together?” Gwen slaps Peter’s hand away from her fries, which causes the baby to stir. Peter hastily bounces the baby as he throws Gwen a glare.

“Oh, I have no idea,” Peter answers honestly as Gwen plops her head on the table. “Why don’t you ask them?”

Jessica smiles fondly as Mayday stares at Peter as he finally starts eating his own food. Her hand wanders to the growing baby bump as she looks into Gwen’s frustrated gaze. “Never hurts to ask. But I suggest asking Sunny because Miguel will deny everything.”

~~~~

“Miss. (Y/N), are you dating Spiderman?” Gwen rehearses to herself as she wanders down the corridor, trying to find her cheery colleague. Gwen groans as rubs her face in frustration, hating all the ideas she came up with sounded childish. How do you ask a grown woman if she is dating her boss? Especially if you’re mutant superheroes who travel to different dimensions and fight anomalies in bright spider costumes.

Just as Gwen rounds a corner, a series of grunts fall into her ears as she draws closer to the combat simulator. One of Lyla’s ideas for the HQ was to include a training room with the ability to use advanced AIs to simulate how fighting in different dimensions. She also thought it would be a fun idea to make it a level system so Miguel can review their abilities and hand out missions appropriate for the skill sets. Gwen attempted to fight in there several times, but she always gets her ass handed to her once she reaches level 3. 

Reaching the door, she peers into the window and sees a disheveled Miguel as he stood in his spider suit in a barely lit simulation. His back to her, she can see his shoulders heave as he pants for a breath of relief in this difficult setting. Despite his lack of spidey sense, Gwen knew he was pretty agile and was one of the strongest Spidermen they had. His talons emerge as his mask disintegrates. His fangs shine in the dim lighting as he looks around the room, looking for something. 

Hunting for something.

She ducks when Miguel looks her way before peeking her head back up. Before she can realize what’s going on, a flash of white gets whipped at the menacing spider, causing him to shred the opposing webbing to bits. Miguel focuses on the direction the attack came from as a smirk rolls onto his face as he approaches his invisible prey. His eyes a dangerous red as his mischief and hunger grows at the anticipation.

“¿Dónde estás, mi pequeña araña?” The predator purrs as his gaze locks on a particular corner. Gwen could barely hear it, but a faint sound of panting, of his prey trying to catch her breath. “No me dejarías esperando demasiado, ¿verdad? Extraño desesperadamente tu dulce rostro, querida.”

Miguel saunters slowly towards the faint sound, a glint of victory shining in his eyes as the smell of her perfume floats into his nose. His smirk turns into a deviously sweet smile as he cracks the bones in his hand. “Especialmente cuando estás gimiendo tan dulcemente debajo de mí…” He mumbles as he finally lunges toward the corner. Gwen puts a hand in her mouth to hide the gasp as he pounces but tilts her head in confusion as his hunt turns sour.

Miguel looks equally stunned for a moment when he realizes that nothing was in his grasp. He pats around the corner to make sure before his hand gets caught on something. He growls as he tries to free his hand upon realizing that it was a trap. A flash of white traps the other hand to the wall above the other as the air rings with giggles. 

“Caught you, Miggy!~” A voice cheers from above as both Miguel and Gwen look up to the ceiling. In a faint glow of green, the victorious smile of the small jumping spider appears out of thin air. Unexpectedly, Miguel meets her smile with a warm chuckle as the hints of a smile appear on his face. “You certainly did, little one.” He sighs as the woman hops down and lands in a crouch position in front of him. Gwen smiles at the adorable display until the older woman leaned over to Miguel’s shoulder. Miguel flinches slightly with a flush of red covering his face as Gwen realizes what just happened.

‘Did she just bite him?!’ Gwen thought as she stared at the smiling duo in bewilderment. 

“Think its going to leave a mark?” He commented as he watches in amusement as his sunshine glares at him.

“It better! Yours are gonna take forever to heal.” She huffs as she stands up. Miguel rolls his eyes and chuckles at her attempt to appear annoyed. 

“It's not that bad…” “NOT THAT BAD?!” Sunny blurts out, interrupting the amused man.

The top part of her costume disintegrates, exposing her tank top underneath as Gwen had to stop herself from shouting in shock. Littering the small spider’s frame were 5 large bruising bite marks, each featuring two distinct puncture wounds. Gwen looks up at the panel beside the door and sees they are on level 6 of 1v1 combat simulation. The realization dawns on the teenager as her face turns an unflattering shade of red. Before she can witness anymore, Gwen teleports out of the corridor as the duo sees the flash of orange. 

“What was that?”

“I don’t know, but whoever it was is gonna be on trash duty for a month”

~~~~~

“So you ever asked her about if she and Miguel are-”

“No, and I’ll never try to figure that out again.”

~~~~~~

A/N: Please please let me know what else you guys wanna see or throw me some critiques. I love hearing from you all!!

~~~~~~

Taglist:

@ameliadraws 

@tojisrightnut

@whyareyoubored

@silly-lovestruck-em

@luvil1y

@chims-kookies

@himesuedi

@22carolina08

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

Female Company

Pairing - Shivering Soldier Dunkirk x fem!reader

Summary - You decide to give the shivering soldier some company in hopes to make him feel better, you do indeed.

Warnings - dubcon, handjob, blow job, rough.

Word count - 1.8k

Notes - Shivering soldier Cillian is underrated, also difficult to write so sorry if horrible writing as this felt rushed.

“Perhaps some female company would make him feel better” Peter, your brother suggested. All six eyes turned onto you, making your heart skip a beat. “Feel less intimidated and what not” Peter added. 

Since you had saved the shivering soldier from the shipwreck, he had been at mute, refusing to show any signs of communication with anyone. He was down below deck, getting warm and hopefully to become more comfortable around these friendly strangers.  

It was risky, you weren’t even really allowed on the Moonstone anyways. But you wanted to help, your father raised you properly, you were a qualified nurse for the army, you were here to help. 

“I’m sure I can be good enough company” George interjected. George didn’t like it, the thought of you being alone down there with the shivering soldier, but that was more out of jealousy than obligation. 

Mr Dawson shook his head towards George, then looked towards you. “I’m sure you’ll be able to make him feel comfortable enough sweetheart” your father gave you a pure smile. “And, God forbid if anything were to happen, we are all right here” Mr Dawson ached, raising his hands slightly at the thought of something bad occurring. 

But your father trusted you, you were a good person who followed pure morals. All your life you’ve helped others, what’s one more soldier to the list? George gave an iffy look but decided to remain silent, looking out the ocean with his fists forming under his sleeves. 

The small door creaked open as you stepped inside. “Hello?” You whispered as you lowered down the small ladder, you closed the small door behind you. 

The shivering soldier was lying on the small, uncomfortable ship bed, a blanket wrapped around his cold body. His eyes were closed but you could tell he was awake. Slowly peeking open, the soldier stared you up and down. The soldier repositioned himself, sitting up on the thin mattress. You sat down next to him, the room was swaying in motion with the waves outside. 

Sitting in silence for a while, you decided to break it. “Is there anything I can do for you? Water? More blankets?” You asked politely. 

There were already such limited services you could provide for him, being on such a small boat and all. You were used to being able to help people, especially in these desperate times, but right now you feel hopeless.  

After a short beat, the soldier mumbled his reply, “I’m okay, thank you”. You tried to read his expression, coming to the harsh thoughts that he didn’t seem to be amused to have you down here with him, that he just wanted to be alone after all, that you were intruding.  

He was beautiful, despite his worn out expression and dirty, wet appearance. There were dark bags around his ocean blue eyes, and a couple of scratches over his face. You felt horrible for him, it was unimaginable what trauma the war can cause upon a man. No one would ever understand how terrifying and ruining his mind had become over this short time. 

“Are you certain?” You checked, you’d hate that he would decline your help by either being too afraid or polite. There was no response from him. “Perhaps if you took off your jacket you could warm up faster” you suggested harmlessly, the soldier looked at you, his mouth was ajar open and eyes dark. 

War tested men’s temptations, it demonstrated how much they really depended on a woman's touch. Men needed something to feel good about in these horrible days, their urges took over their logistics if no one was there to keep them in line. And right now you were defenceless in the beast’s cage, and he was off his chain.

In his defence, you were asking for it. Why else would you ask such a thing twice and then practically beg him to strip? The soldier quickly leant in and kissed you hungrily, his arms snaked around your body to keep you still. You were frozen, not sure how to react to his assault, his tongue slipped down your throat, hands gripping against your lower back as if life depended on it. His left hand moved to your breasts and kneaded them dispairly.  

You’ve been kissed before, only once, but it was nothing compared to this, never so passionate and amorous. 

A moan struggled to break out of your combined lips. Swiftly, he picked up your body and laid you onto your back, not as gently as you could hope, your hand reached for the ache stinging from the back of your head. 

“Be a good little girl, and stay quiet, hm?” He ordered, his hand tapping your cheek to flatter you. 

What else were you meant to do? Call out for help? Start a domestic between an old man, two kids and a war soldier? Even if you did so, what would happen afterwards, you’re on a boat deeply within the ocean. 

The soldier felt your body with his rough hands, he was desperate to feel any touch, but too impatient to take it slow. Unbuttoning your shirt roughly, you were lucky that he didn’t rip off the buttons.  The shape and look of your breasts made him believe he was already in heaven. When was the last time he’s felt a woman’s touch? How many countless nights of him dreaming for intimate touch? His mouth landed on your right breast first, then the left. 

There wasn’t enough time, to properly feel you, to worship your body, to come over and over again. Your bodies felt the friction of the waves rocking yourselves back and forwards. Head in the palms of his hands, the soldier's hips were humping against yours, your legs wrapped around his small waist, he was groaning lowly, unable to contain himself, kissing your neck and side of your face. 

Lying stiff underneath him, you couldn’t help but to moan back quietly, the fabrics between your bodies was too thick to feel the sensations fully, but this is the most touching of a man you’ve ever felt before, your back arched on the mattress. 

“The fuck are you wearing pants for?” The soldier muttered, slapping the side of your thigh harshly. “How am I meant to fuck you without getting caught, aye?” He spat by your ear. 

A lot of people still considered it taboo for women to wear pants, it took away femininity, and in this case, the easy access. 

“M’sorry” you whimpered back underneath him, cheeks all flustered from the embarrassment and overwhelming situation. 

“Guess you’re just going to have to put that mouth to better use” he sighed and sat up, he pulled you down to the ground, you landed on your knees. Repositioning you to be directly in front of him, he flexed his hips towards you. “Do you know how to suck cock?” He asked smugly. 

“N-no” you whispered.

“Ever please a man at all before?” His eyebrow was cocked to you. 

“No sir” you replied and he chuckled. 

“That’s sweet, I’ll be quick anyways” he said with another tap to your cheek. 

He gestured for you to put your hands onto his crotch, you could see the bulge through his damp pants but you didn’t expect it to feel so solid. It was like playing with a knick-knack, your hands travelled all around it, feeling its shape and size. 

“Uh, alright, pull it out now, love” he purred, hand caressing the sides of your head with his eyes closed. 

Your stomach turned at the way he called you love, you didn’t realise how badly you craved that validation. There was this undying small innocent smile on your lips, he looked down to you and gave you a smug smile back and a gentle pat on the cheek.

With shaking hands, you undid his belt and tugged down at his trousers. The soldier ended up helping you, not out of kindness, only restlessness. You gasped as he pulled out his cock, you didn’t realise it could be so – big. The soldier's cock was hairy as the base, had a couple of veins popping out at his length and had a pretty pink tip. If you knew any better about sex, you’d say that he’s already about to burst. 

It was like natural instincts, he didn’t have to say anything, you automatically took his length in both hands, staring from the base and working your way up. He groaned and his head fell back, hands in your hair as you slowly worked your hands up and down his length. In another reality, he would have loved to have you take your time, worshipping his cock. 

“Okay, sweetheart, I need your mouth around me right now” he hissed, leaning his upper body forward easily to push your head towards his member with his hands. 

You pushed against him, your lips an inch away from his tip, okay, this was getting frightening now. The realisation of what you were doing below deck, could be interrupted at any moment, freaked you out. But that didn’t stop him, he pulled harder, making you yelp and your mouth pressed against his member. But you refused to open up for him, he rubbed your mouth and nose around his firm length, your hands pressed against his upper legs in an attempt to push free but it was pointless, you were whining. 

“Fucking open up, you dumb whore” he spat, you mewled quietly, too afraid to catch anyone’s attention on deck. Reluctantly, you slowly opened your mouth and he slipped his tip in. “Ah, fuck” he muttered, the rocking of the boat, thrusted him deeper in and out of your mouth. He had no shame in swearing, muttering and whining underneath his breath, his balls already tightening. “Christ, I’m not going to fucking last-” he was breathless, eyes almost rolling back. 

Forcing your mouth right down to his base, your cries were blocked by his size. There was no space to breathe, your jaw was aching and you were gagging. With how wide your mouth was, you were afraid that your jaw would lock, it was aching, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat over and over again. Tears were running down your cheeks as he was groaning under his breath, eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. 

Without a warning, he bursted right down your mouth, his legs shaking slightly, hands tightened around your hair. The soldier bit on his lower lip to silence his moan of pleasure as his cock was spurting out straight into your throat. 

It tasted salty and bitter, your face scrunched up at the taste, but he didn’t pull out his member until you swallowed it all, it was difficult to swallow with his cock covering the entirety of your mouth. Slowly slipping himself out, he tucked himself back into his trousers and ran his hand through his hair. 

Tears were slowly running down your cheeks, you felt your aching jaw softly and sniffled, the soldier pulled you up onto the bed and wiped your face clean with his bare hand. He sighed, looking you up and down. Giving you one last kiss, he murmured to you, “thanks for the company”.

[imyourbratzdoll]

Can I ask for father peter dating Hc it up to you if you want to make is spicy or fluff👉👈(my hand is shaking right now)

hi baby, I’m so sorry for taking forever to get to this:( you don’t gotta be nervous when asking me anything honey💗

warning - mentions of sex.

the gif I use isn’t mine, divider by @newlips

Dating Father Peter was definitely different to what you would’ve thought— he had two sides of him.

Sometimes you’d get the sweet boyfriend, where he’d bring you food or some warmer clothes. Holding you against him as you curled into his body. He’d pick flowers for you, hold your hand in front of others.

Other times he would be rough, become more dominant and closed—off. You’d find yourself pushed up against a wall in a secluded area, his hand up your dress, whispering in your ear how much of a dirty girl you were. You’d sometimes find yourself under him in your bed, taking him as he fucked into you.

He’d hold you tightly against him in public, gripping your hips so tight you’d gain marks, but you didn’t mind.

He’d make sure everyone knew you were his and he was yours.

Dating him was like a rollercoaster, you never knew what to expect or how you’ll react. But that wasn’t a bad thing cause he still treated you right.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[soleilnewspaper]

Home

The epilogue

Series

Summary: Remus revels his secret to you, and is surprised when you accept him so blindly. Sirius and you find a way to make him know how loved he truly is.

Pairing: Poly!wolfstar x female reader

Warnings: Talks of bruises and injury, feeling inadequate (Remus), crying, comfort and fluff, suggestive themes.

Word count: 2.7k

AN: I have rewritten this so many times over the past week because I had no idea how to finish it. That and I’m still ill at the moment. Hopefully I managed to do it justice. Thank you. If you enjoy, please, like, comment and reblog.

Remus had come accustomed to the idea of being a werewolf. It was forced upon him after Fenrir Greyback took that choice away from the boy before he could even reach his fifth birthday.

This hospital ward is a chrysalis in the worst of ways. Remus usually a kind and beautiful person had been melted down to liquid and reformed into the butterfly, conscious and feeling the process at work.

Remus lies in the bleach tinctured ward on the crisp but thinning sheets. A curtain hangs limply on the chrome railing, looking like it's been washed a thousand times. With eyes on the polystyrene tiles avoiding your gaze. If he were to look into them, his heart would break into pieces without a moments breath. His chest begins to crack his spirt as it tightens into a knot like a cramp and a quiet fear builds inside.

Though the room is unfamiliar to you, in that hospital bed is a soul that has been woven into yours since the first time you laid eyes on him at Kings Cross Station all those years ago.

The look in your eyes broke him. Still, you required confirmation from him before going any further.

“Remus, you’re scaring me.” Your fingers found his as you sat down on the edge of the hospital bed. Blankets shifted underneath at your weight.

“Have you heard of a little thing called lycanthropy?”

The head nod with wide eyes that Remus received from you was enough confirmation to continue his explanation.

“When I was four, another werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, he, well..bit me. He was angry with my father about what he said about werewolves. So he used me to punish my father in his own twisted way.”

Most wizards and witch’s did not take well to his lycanthropy creating a constant fear in Remus since he was a little boy. His ma and da felt it. Sirius, James, Peter and Lily felt it. Now you did too.

“Every month when on the full moon, I leave to avoid hurting anyone and the boys come with me-“

“In their anigmus forms.”

“You knew?” Remus chocked out from his tired body.

“Only that they were anigmi, nothing of your condition. Regulus, Pandora and I caught on quickly. They weren’t exactly subtle.” You wiped a tear before it could fall from your face, offering Remus a smile as you spoke.

“You never cease to amaze me, angel.” Remus hand cupped your check and gently he used his figure to wipe your tears. You couldn’t believe he was comforting you when he was the one in pain.

“I understand if you decide you cannot be with me, anymore. Just please don’t punish Sirius for my condition.”

The words left his mouth and left a sting down your throat. You bartered your eyelashes a few times in confusion.

“Why would I do that?” You asked frowning your brows together as if it was merely a simple question.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a look of disbelief and confusion, more so Remus than Sirius. The werewolf had decided he didn’t wish to condemn you to this life but Sirius had told him his lycanthropy shouldn’t change a thing. He was more than happy to defend him if it did, but he didn’t needed to. Within moments you had accepted him as is.

“Will you do me one favour.” Your eyes met his honey brown ones, an unspoken message of love spoken between the two of you.

“Anything, dove.” Remus’s voice was gently but betrayed a hint of desperation that left you feeling uneasy.

“Let me come, next time.” Your voice held warmth and your eyes were practically begging and pleading for him to say yes.

The thin injured werewolf dropped his hand from your face immediately like a chain reaction. His gentle face was replaced with one of pure and utter horror. A sharp wine escaped him a mix of pain and horror.

“No, no, no, dovie, you can’t.”

“Animals are safe to werewolves, are they not?” You didn’t mean to smirk but you couldn’t help it.

“Yes, but you-“

“Are an anigmus.” You chuckled under your breath, your eyes griming with joy for the boys having not figured this out.

“Damn, you little minx.” Sirius said through a smirk which you could almost hear in his voice.

“More like an angel reincarnated.” Remus winced when he moved to kiss you so you quickly adjusted your position to make it more comfortable for him.

“Nothing could make me stop loving you, Remus John Lupin.”

“You’re mental, you know that.”

“Mm, but you that’s like em, don’t ye.” You smirked leaning against his side. Remus adjusted his position to wrap his arm around you so you could lay into him.

“That he does.” Sirius chimed in a sense of joy radiating through him for you accepting Remus. Though he would have given you a piece of his mind if you didn’t.

“Come here, love.” You held out your hand to Sirius urging him to join you and Remus’s cuddle. Which he was more than happy to oblige to.

The cold ant-sceptic smelling air could not resist to nip at your exposed skin. Remus pulled you closer to combat the cold. The werewolf sandwiched in between his two lovers. Both careful of his bruises and injuries which still made you cringe every time he winced. You couldn’t believe he had to do this every month, your heart broke for him.

You titled your head to rest it in the crock of Remus’s neck giving you ample opportunity to admire him. In those brown eyes was the warmth of an everlasting hearth, as if they were the wood that could burn with golden flame yet be forever perfectly entire. Just bright enough to shine in the shadows They are a million hues combined together, the word “brown” does not even begin to describe them. They are the forbidden forest and the changing of leaves with seasons, the soil in summer and after the rains. How could someone ever reduce something so spellbinding to one word, when the colours invite us to marvel in their simplicity. Rich brown coloured curls framed his sacred face, reminding you of the sandy beaches back home at your vacation home.

He was beautiful you had thought. Even with bruises littering his body in shades of blue and purple. He was the kind of beauty that expands a moment into a personal eternity, a heaven you wish to be a part of.

A shiver of golden light would race down your spine, every time, every time when you laid eyes on him.

The good werewolf was the protector, as were the angel witches, yet man could not tell the difference between them and the evil degenerates and chased them all from our lands. You could tell the difference and so could Sirius. If and when Remus doubted that fact, you would be there to remind him.

For the two of you could see the mighty goodness within him.

He was sure once he had recovered he would begin to feel the shame and horror of condemning you to such a life. To which you would most likely reassure and reassure him until he came to terms with the fact that you nor Sirius were going anywhere.

Your eyes met Sirius, and you ran your fingers through his. Taking the chance to admire your second boyfriend. The hair that fell from his head was woven from the black heavens, fine strands of spacetime and starlight. Flowing as sweetly as a poet's ink and quill. It contrasted beautifully against his pale skin. His grey eyes had a settling effect, reassuring in their reflectiveness. They were the shine of a star in the nighttime sky.

The pieces of your heart that had been struggling to fit into these world became so quiet when cuddling with your two favourite boys; it was as if they had found peace in you, as if they needed your glue to bridge their gaps and connect. That thought allowed you to pass into a peaceful sleep, while Sirius watched over your shared lover.

No relationship is without trial and error. You knew that better than anyone. Yet you had thought things would become easier between the three of you after learning Remus’s secret.

However, you could sense problems still existed in depths and crack of your relationship. The way Remus would coil occasionally at your touch, the way he isolated himself from you. He hated that not only had he condemned his parents, friends, and boyfriend to a life of misery but he had now done the same to you.

Lycanthropy took away his chance at happiness but it shouldn’t take away yours. Yet it hasn’t, he was the one who had ripped that away from you. You didn’t desveres to fall for a werewolf. Or rather he did not deserve the love and affection that you had offered him so blindly.

The sounds of the black lake evaded your senses as the three of you took in its haunting beauty. Behind you was the outline of the statue of Hogwarts Castle. Sirius had managed to convince you to come down here to entrust your help to reassure your werewolf boyfriend of your shared standpoint surrounding his condition.

The lake met the sun with such grace that day, as if the three of you were so enchanted by this eternal dance that you barely noticed the cold of late autumn England air.

From its core, the lake, reflected the blue sky as the most sincere of smiles. A smile which could only he bested by the beauty of your boys. Underneath you felt the green canvas of the floral flash-mob, or what you imagined a flash mob would look like you weren’t completely sure what it was to be certain.

Tall silken ribbons resembling the ones you wore in your hair sheltered earth and beetle same.

The grass on your soles is soft on soft, warm on warm, a gentle tickle as each giving wand forms a cushion of green.

The meadow surrounding the lake meandered in all ways that are soft to the breeze, the green flowing in bonny waves as any river would be proud to do. You were so enchanted by it you had almost forgotten your entire reason for coming down to this lake in the first place. Sirius had been the one to remind you when he had called Remus’s name.

“Moons, me and Y/N want to talk to you.” Sirius brushed the stray curls from Remus’s face as he spoke gently into his ear.

“What it is?” Remus hummed in response trying to act nonchalantly but you could tell he was anything but that.

“You do know we’re not going to leave you, right?” It was your turn to comfort him after he had done the same to on numerous occasions before.

“Course, I do.” The honey brown hues of his eyes seemed confused at your question.

“You sure, love?” Sirius leaned forward to tilt your shared boyfriend’s chin to face him completely.

Remus remained silent for a while scaring you both. When he did spoke it broke both of you with every syllable. “You shouldn’t have to live in misery because of me.”

“Moons, we chose this, you think I wanted to fall in love with my one of best friends and than the girl I practically hated.” Sirius chuckled in a low breath.

“And do you think I wanted to fall for my best friend’s brother who I pretended to hate, and his gorgeous boyfriend.” You leaned in to settle your face on Remus’s chest.

“What are you both trying to say?” The voice crack in his voice held a hint of desperation mixed with fear.

“You ain’t getting rid of us that easy, Rem.” Sirius smirked before beginning to attack Remus’s jawline with kisses.

“Not. A. Chance.” You chimed in, playing with the ends of his curls.

“But..why?” Remus asked as he sat up to lean his back against the tree.

“Bloody hell, because you’re you. Rem-I-well-we know that everything you have to offer outweighs your little flaw-your condition-whatever you want to call it. Dosen’t change anything, it didn’t when you told me-“

“And it hasn’t now that you have told me.” You finished for Sirius.

“Fuck, how I’d get so lucky?” Remus threw back his head in laughter mixed with love.

“Well, you’re gorgeous for one thing.” Sirius smirked leaning down to Remus’s chest.

“You can say that again.” You rested your head on top of his chest.

“Hey, hey, stop loving on me, dovie here is deprived.” Remus pulled Sirius off him gently. You blushed at his words, checks reddened in embarrassment.

“He does have a point, darling. Get over here.” Sirius smirked and pulled you to his side leaving Sirius in the middle of the three of you.

“Now that is hardly fair.” Remus chuckled.

“Patience is a virtue, Monny.” Sirius said through kisses to your lips.

“When I have ever been a patient man.”

There is a casual grace to the grass near the lake, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun. That lake was a happy song, a poetry to eye and soul, bright in all the hues our Earth can dream of.

In his heart, Remus felt that he could survive anything if he felt loved, even these pains that come to explode within, these silent hand grenades. With kindness he could make it, as with compassion there is grace. For so long he had feared he would never be able to revive such a gift, but he was proved wrong by four Gryffindor boys and now again by you. Your smile was finer than any drug Madam Prompery could prescribe him. You were his medicine. The acceptance you offered was all he needed. As long as Sirius and you were there to remind him of that love, perphas maybe, he would keep his humanity. Be more than what he had been condemned to before even reaching school age.

The grass is taller than you had ever seen it, meadow-like but still green. All that's missing is the weeds that were so beautiful in the somerset fields. You looked forward to how it would look in the spring. The blue cornflowers, scarlet poppies, white asters and even the thistles. Next spring you hoped you would be able to scatter seeds in the newly softened soil with your boys by your side. This time next year the grass will be just as high, but a riot of colour in place of the uniform green – something to warm your soul as well as please the eye.

Nothing in your life could have prepared you for the whirlwind that came with falling in love for those two boys. No ballroom lesson, tutoring lesson with the finest teacher in the world, fencing, fine dining, conversation protocol, society rules, or anything your mother had told you. You had denied yourself of love for so long now, you had thought you were content without it.

Oh how you were wrong.

You couldn’t imagine why you had denied yourself this for so long. As Sirius made your giggles into fits of laughter when he picked you up while the both of you were knee deep in the lake. Remus watching the two of you from a distance, his black jeans scuffed by the wet grass. A camera around his neck, as he snuck pictures of the two of you when you weren’t watching.

The way your fingers found Remus’s beautiful brown curls as he made you giggle when gently placing kisses to your neck and down your jawline. Or when you had the privilege to watch the two boys cuddle up underneath a red plaid blanket because Sirius had shivered from the cold once he left the confines of the black lake.

The three of you sat there in late autumn, the grass moving in steady waves, those long heads of golden seed as calming as harbour waves. There was something about it, their movement synchronized yet independent, their hues so close yet unique. They danced in that way, came the song of crickets and the chirps of birds content to be warmed by gentle rays. You recall thinking of the days you had been so blessed just ti have made eye contact with one of your boys, and now, they were yours and you were theirs.

The feeling to the inner joy of anticipating the autumn colours. You love the reds and golds as much as anyone, yet the rich browns have a homely feel, something of the earth. You let your mind wonder when those changes will come, perhaps as early as next month or the one after. Then every day those changes bring an inner smile in rain and shine. Despite any doubt in your mind, this was the happiest you had ever felt.

No amount of pureblood society rules or lycanthropy stigma could ruin that for you. You were home.

They were your home.

Taglist: @maraudersforlife2005 @xlxnq @1-800-wh0re4reid @liviessun @ae3ther @de-duchess @wolf-phoenix-lover

[dadyscumslutprincess20]

Heads up I don’t know who requested it but sweet home 2 with the pastor is coming just got to brain storm a bit for this one 😩but we might need holy water😳I lost the request last time we not losing it again 😭

[lightwing-s]

𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐒 ― ♡ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

pairing: jason todd x female! reader

Jason Peter Todd

"You don't know half of what I've been through, Yn. And you can't imagine what I'd gladly go through to keep you two safe"

22y, gym rat, occasional biker, 30+ tattoos all over his body, only son, four siblings, complicated

Jason had a rough beginning to his life, but eventually things turned out... okay. He's healthy, happy, he's moving on, or at least trying to. Most of all, he's not what he seems, he's not the shell, the picture he sells to the world, but a kinder, sweeter, version not many get to see.

Yn Sn

"I never had a family, I didn't want a family, Jason. I don't think I can do it"

22y, former college star, busy, stressed, pressured, perfect

Yn seemingly always had everything, however don't let them look through the curtains, or they will find a broken house and a broken doll. She always had to be perfect, an ornament her family loved to flaunt around, but don't let they know their daughter was empty on the inside. Although Gotham supposed to be her freedom ticket, her father's shadow follows her around wherever she goes.

Elizabeth "Lizzie" Birdy Todd

"Uh-oh"

daddy's little girl, mommy's delight, the cutest and happiest baby on earth, indeed perfect and not at all complicated

Unexpected, unplanned, and even unwanted. Lizzie wasn't meant to exist, yet her sole existence changed her parents lives forever.

[scarletqueenx]

chapter one - lazarus rising

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Summary: After a few months dating, Dean abandoned you in a motel room without giving you any explanation, years later his brother and he saved you from a demon and now you hunt with them discovering every day new mysteries about your family and the destiny that awaits you. Heaven, hell, demons, angels, vampires, witches and much more.

A/N: English is not my first language. This is my first time writing in the readers perspective, as i'm used to write oc´s.

series masterlist

Time passed, but for you everything froze at the very moment your eyes met Dean's lifeless body. The shock of losing Dean had hit you hard, more that you had imagine, and you found yourself moving through life on autopilot, simply going through the motions of each day without truly living.

At first, you tried to be there for Sam, to be there for him in what you knew were the worst days of his life. You also tried to stand by your father and your worried little brother side. You tried to help Carter, Maddie and Harper get their lives back to normal. But every second that passed was like a dagger of pain piercing your body.

Two weeks after Dean's death, you disappeared. You left without a word. You received millions of calls from your family, Maddie and Bobby but they all ended up on voicemail.

You tried to keep busy by hunting and not think about the pain that constantly weighed down on you. But no matter what you did, the pain was always there, a constant, dull ache in your chest.

You couldn't breathe.

The days were endless and agonizing, so much that you found yourself withdrawing more and more, isolating yourself from the world and from others. You didn't want to be around people who were happy and carefree; it only made your own suffering much more unbearable.

Nightmares haunted you every night, replaying the image of Dean's lifeless body in your mind over and over. It was a torturous cycle, one that left you feeling weak and shaken to your core. But it wasn't only the dreams that haunted you.

Lilith's possession of your body and mind had left its mark. Even now, you could feel the demon's presence lingering within you, a constant reminder of the evil that had touched you.

The world seemed to lose its color, fading into shades of gray. Every sight, sound, and feeling was tainted by sadness, and the only way you felt you could cope with it was to drown your tears in alcohol. It was the only thing that brought you any comfort. At night, as you closed your eyes, you hoped that your dreams would transport you to a better place, a world where Dean was still alive and by your side.

You fell into a routine. Hunt, sleep, drink and repeat. All while looking for some way to bring Dean back to life.

Meanwhile, trying to adjust to the routine of living with his father, away from his sister and Maddie, Peter was trying his best to reach out to them. Maddie had decided to sell her mother's house and, following Bobby's invitation to stay with him, was now helping the hunter with research. You barely answered your phone, if you weren't hunting or drinking, you were sleeping or just didn't want to talk to anyone.

Harper was another mystery to the boy, the mystery in which he had decided to refuge in the absence of his older sister and the shock of discovering that he also had an older brother. Carter had disappeared from the map after that night, so Peter had only Harper to rely on.

It wasn't just curiosity that drove Peter's interest in Harper, but also a deep sense of empathy. After all, he understood what it was like to be a young person trying to find his place in the world, especially in such unusual circumstances. But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her story than met the eye.

Harper Kenner, daughter of Grant Kenner, had lived nearly fifteen years trapped within herself, without aging more than a couple of years and unable to control her own body and mind. That would leave its mark on anyone. Peter longed to know what supernatural being had possessed her. His initial theory had been a demon, but the compassion she exuded and her apparent powers didn't align with typical demonic behavior.

Now Harper lived with Bobby and Maddie, hiding under a different name and trying to make sense of everything that had happened to her over the past years. While also trying to grasp what her father's death while possessed by the demon Dorian meant to her and her now new life.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

September 18th, 4 Months After Dean's Death

A new day awaited while you were still asleep, curled up in that musty motel room. The bed was particularly comfortable compared to the other motels you'd been in, but that hadn't helped for your night to be peaceful and free of nightmares.

When the harsh sunlight hit your face, you woke up grunting and wincing. Your head ached from the alcohol you had consumed the previous night, and every one of your senses felt heightened and painful. You knew you had a tough hunt ahead of you, but all you wanted to do was stay in bed and ignore the world. Still, you knew from experience that trying to rest would only bring memories of Dean to your mind. So, despite your wishes, you forced yourself out of bed and stumbled towards the bathroom to take a hot shower.

The coffee at the motel wasn't the best, but it did its job of waking you up completely so you could get to work on that case involving a nest of vampires. You had been chasing them for several weeks from Florida, to Nashville, Tennessee, when you finally felt you could take them down once and for all.

You sat at the small table in your room, looking over everything you had researched as you finished your cup of black coffee and prepared your weapons. It was the ringing of your phone that brought you out of your thoughts. Thinking it was Peter, you didn't even bother to look its screen as you ignored the call, but when it rang once again, you decided to answer as you let out a sigh.

"What is it?" Your voice came out sharp and full of annoyance, but there was also a trace of concern. You didn't want to be bothered, but if it was an emergency and your brother was in danger, you would leave everything for him.

However, no one answered on the other end of the line. The only thing you could make out was the shaky sound of someone's breathing.

"Hello?" Confused, you pulled the device away from your ear to look at the caller. It wasn't your brother, your father or anyone you knew, it was a completely unknown number. Frowning, you spoke once again. "Hello?"

The lack of response from the other end of the line only increased your unease. In a burst of anxiety, you ended the call without a second thought.

Barely a minute later, that unfamiliar phone number called you again. With your jacket on and ready to go hunting, you answered in exasperation.

"Listen, if this is a joke, it's not funny. Stop calling me or I swear I'll come after you." You stated firmly before hanging up.

The person on the other end stared at the phone in astonishment at your aggressiveness.

Surely you weren't the only person Dean had called from that empty gas station after waking up in his own grave in the middle of a perfect circle of dead trees, laying on the ground as if an unearthly powerful blast had felled them. But at least with Bobby he had managed to open up and tell him what had happened, but the man hadn't believed a single one of his words.

Upset with himself for not being able to talk to you and frustrated that Bobby didn't believe him, Dean found himself forced to steal a car to travel to Sioux Falls, where Bobby's house was located.

Things there were very different compared to how Dean remembered them. Bobby's house used to be an uncrowded place. Bobby hardly had any visitors or guests other than the Winchesters, but now Maddie and Harper occupied his only other bedroom. Having them with him was like a breath of fresh air despite the hard time the hunter was going through with Dean's death and yours and Sam's departures. Bobby didn't have children, but those two girls were certainly becoming his family.

On top of that, Peter had shown up at his door the night before, backpack over his shoulder and a tired expression on his face. The Holloway boy had run away from home, tired of watching his father lock himself in his office and practically ignore him to avoid the big elephant in the room which he still hadn't wanted to talk to him about his brother Carter.

Maddie's food had improved Bobby's eating. He could cook, but if it weren't for her love of photography, Maddie might as well be a chef. Meals were also the only time Harper talked to them at all, since most of the time she was quiet, lost in thought or reading one of Bobby's supernatural lore books.

Due to the long trip from San Francisco, Peter had spent the morning sleeping in, missing even lunchtime. When he finally awoke, overcome by a nightmare, Peter descended the stairs. The house fell into an uneasy silence, sending a shiver down his spine with each step he took.

"Bobby? Maddie?" He called, peering into the kitchen, which was impeccably clean and empty. "Bobby?" He called once more, walking into the living room. "Don't ask me why, but I think my sister needs our help."

Peter stood speechless as he walked up to the entrance of the house. There was no sign of Maddie and Harper, and Bobby seemed too calm considering the other person there. Across from the young Holloway stood Dean Winchester, in the flesh, and breathing.

"I thought you were supposed to be in a pine box?" Peter stared at him in shock, eyes narrowed and body slightly tense. Dean couldn't help but chuckle at his playful comment. He hated to say it, but he had missed Peter's smart-ass comments and their little bickering relationship.

"Yeah, it surprised me too." Dean admitted, turning back to Bobby. "You had to bury me, really?"

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it." Bobby explained.

Dean nodded as he looked back at Peter, who was scrutinizing him with his eyes while tilting his head to the side.

"How do we know you're not a demon or a shapeshifter or a...?"

"He already passed all the tests." Bobby said, cutting him off.

"All?" Peter raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, all."

"It's me, kid." Dean assured him.

"If that's true, then we should tell my sister."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean nodded, not wanting to wait another second to see you. "What were you saying about her needing help, by the way?"

Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. I just woke up with this strange feeling."

"Let's take it one step at a time." Bobby said, walking into the living room. "Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit-"

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." Dean noted. Peter chuckled as Bobby nodded.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much." Dean shrugged. "I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..."

"Oh, he's alive. As far as I know." Bobby sat down.

"Good... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?"

"I haven't talked to him for months."

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?"

"He was dead set on it."

"Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For any of us." Bobby looked down. "He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found."

"Same with my sister." Peter added.

Dean's face fell as he took in the words. His heart ached as he thought about you, struggling alone and refusing any help. He couldn't imagine what you must have gone through, how much pain and confusion you must have felt. The thought of you struggling and alone, not wanting to be found... it was almost too painful to bear.

He felt a pang of guilt and regret for being gone, for not being there for you. He could only hope that now that he was back he could find a way to make it up to you somehow.

Still, Dean tried his best to shake off the flood of emotions that had come over him at the mention of your struggles. Right now, his priority was Sam. He needed to find him and make sure that he was safe.

"Oh, damnit, Sammy." He muttered.

"What?" Bobby looked up at him.

"I don't know what he did for me to be back, but whatever he did, it is bad mojo."

"What makes you so sure?" Peter frowned.

"You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." He added, stripping off his jacket to roll up his sleeve and reveal the handprint burn on his left shoulder.

Peter's eyes widened as Bobby stood up.

"What in the hell?" The man asked.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Dean explained.

"But why?" Peter asked, confused. That didn't sound like the topical demon behavior.

"To hold up their end of the bargain." Dean answered.

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby assumed,

"It's what I would have done." Dean admitted.

Minutes later, Peter sat on the porch of the house with a comic book in his hands. His attention however wasn't on the comic but on Harper, who now sat in one of the cars in the junkyard reading another of Bobby's books.

She and Maddie had returned from running errands shortly after Dean had shown up. Their reactions were completely different. Harper didn't know Dean, but she knew he had been a sore subject at Bobby's house. Maddie had barely spent any time with him, but during her time as Peter's babysitter she had grown very fond of you and the two hunters, especially knowing how much they meant to you.

Maddie's caring nature and empathy made her drop the shopping bags all at once and throw herself into Dean's arms to wrap him in a tight hug. The girl couldn't help but think how happy his return would make Sam and you, also selfishly hoping the two of you would get back in touch.

When the door behind him opened, Peter rose quickly to his feet, directing his gaze toward the two men now descending the porch steps.

"Did you find Sam?" He asked. Dean nodded.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois."

"Isn't that where you...?

"Yeah, right where I popped up." Dean replied as he walked behind Bobby toward his car. "Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?"

"I wasn't going to say that, but it's certainly weird." Peter said, putting away his comic book. "I'm going with you."

Dean stopped in his tracks, turning on his heels to look at him. Peter looked so much like you it hurt to have him in front of him. The memory of your voice echoed in his head, reminding him of the pain and exhaustion in your tone.

"I don't think that's a good idea. Maddie offered, but you and Harper are better off here."

"You don't even know Harper. You don't know what happened that night. We can handle whatever happens." Peter assured him.

"You'd help more by finding out what the hell possessed Harper."

"As if we haven't been looking for that the last four months." Peter snorted in annoyance.

"Then find your sister." Dean pleaded, holding him by the shoulders. Peter took a deep breath of air, ready to argue, but the look Dean was giving him was a completely new one. Dean used to display this arrogance and that easygoing attitude, but now that look was completely gone and it had turned into one of desperation. Peter couldn't say no.

"Fine." The boy agreed.

Dean sighed with relief.

"Thanks, kid." Dean cracked a smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Peter nodded in silence as he watched him go.

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

The reunion with his brother wasn't what Dean had expected. He was taken aback to find a half-naked girl accompanying Sam in his motel room. Dean's joy at reuniting with his brother was tainted by his concern for him and the dangerous and reckless act he had likely performed to bring him back to life.

And for Sam, even after Bobby had assured him that the tests had confirmed it was really Dean, he couldn't shake off his confusion.

"So tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean asked, standing above him, arms crossed as Sam sat down.

Sam smiled, taken aback by his question.

"The girl? I don't pay, Dean."

"That's not funny, Sam." Dean replied. "To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?"

"You think I made a deal?" Sam frowned.

"That's exactly what we think." Bobby nodded.

"Well, I didn't."

"Don't lie to me." Dean asked, looking at him with suspicious.

"I'm not lying." He scoffed.

Despite his insistence, Dean didn't quite believe his words.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy?" Dean asked, walking towards him. "I didn't want to be saved like this."

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?" Sam stood up, angrily.

Upset and confused, believing his brother was lying to him, Dean grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

"I tried everything." Sam assured him, breaking Dean's grip. "That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean took a step back, believing his brother. "You don't have to apologize, I believe you."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question." Bobby spoke.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean said.

Taking a deep breath, Sam sat back down and asked them if they had talked to you.

Bobby and Dean share a look and shook their heads.

"She wouldn't have made a deal." Dean assured.

Sam chuckled.

"She was even more determined than me to do so. It hadn't past even a few hours before she started looking for ways to get you back."

Dean sighed.

"So, what? We have to travel all the way out to California?"

"No need. She disappeared two weeks after you died. She's been driving around the country focused on hunting all kinds of supernatural beings. And her father's nearby, as a matter of fact. He has a conference in Chicago on Greek mythology tomorrow. Maybe he knows where she is." Bobby told them.

"We can also call her." Dean suggested. "She answered my call yesterday."

"So you did talk to her." Sam noted with a frown.

"Not exactly." Dean replied. "I... Bobby didn't believe me and when I heard her on the other end of the line... She didn't sound like herself."

"If she'd gotten you out of hell she'd be expecting a call from you." Bobby said. "Maybe it was something else or someone else that got you out of there."

"Yeah, right. What?"

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know. But maybe she could help us. Henry must know where to find her."

"I doubt it." Sam said. "I called a week ago, Peter answered, but he assured me they hadn't heard from her for about a month."

"I asked him to look for her while we were here. Maybe he found something or got in touch with her." Dean noted.

"Okay, I'm on it." Bobby nodded, pulling out his phone to call Peter.

"So what were you doing around here if you weren't digging me out of my grave?" Dean looked back at his brother.

"Well, once I figured out I couldn't save you, I started hunting down Lilith, trying to get some payback." Sam explained.

"All by yourself. Who do you think you are, your old man?" Bobby glared at Sam.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, Bobby. I should have called. I was pretty messed up." Sam sighed. "Anyways, uh, I was checking these demons out of Tennessee, and out of nowhere they took a hard left, booked up here."

"When?"

"Yesterday morning."

"When I busted out." Dean sighed.

"You think these demons are here 'cause of you?" Bobby asked.

"But why?" Sam asked.

"Well, I don't know – some badass demon drags me out and now this? It's gotta be connected somehow."

"How you feelin', anyway?" Bobby looked back at him with concern.

"I'm a little hungry." Dean shrugged.

"No, I mean, do you feel like yourself? Anything strange, or different?"

"Or demonic?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Bobby, how many times do I have to prove I'm me?"

"Yeah. Well, listen. No demon's letting you loose out of the goodness of their hearts. They've gotta have something nasty planned."

"Well, I feel fine." Dean assured.

"Okay, look, we don't know what they're planning. We got a pile of questions and no shovel. We need help." Sam noted.

"Maybe we can do something about that." Maddie spoke through the phone, for she had been listening to their conversation since Bobby had called. "It's good to hear your voice again, Sam."

Sam smiled slightly at the sound of the girl's voice.

"Same here, Mads."

Dean looked at his brother before asking if they had heard form you.

"No, but Peter can find her." Maddie answered.

"I've been studying magic behind my dad's back with some of his books, I think I can do a quick and easy locator spell." The boy explained.

Dean shifted uncofortable. The idea of using magic, good or bad, wasn't really something he liked.

"I don't know... Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just need something from her or her blood and I've got both, so."

"This is a really bad idea." Harper muttered in the distance.

"If you don't like it you can always call your friend." Peter said in annoyance.

"How many times do I have to tell you she's not my friend?" Harper complained.

"Surely you care about her or you would have told us who and what the hell she is by now. She possessed your body for years, you have to know who she was."

"I told you it's not important. Forget it."

"Forget it?" The boy scoffed. "Lilith possessed my sister that night, I found out I had a brother and that a demon was the one who killed my mother. I can't forget, Harper, that being was the only one who tried and helped me."

"That being let my father die at your brother's hands after promising to protect us." She argued, annoyed at his insistence. Dean, Sam and Bobby couldn't help but share a glance at her response. It was the first time in four months that Harper had said anything about who had possessed her and it certainly wasn't what they had expected.

"Demons lie, Harper, shocker." Peter rolled his eyes.

"It wasn't a demon."

"So what was it?" He looked back at her.

"Will you two stop arguing?" Maddie complained before Harper could said anything else. "It doesn't matter now. Peter, find your sister."

"Okay." The boy nodded.

"It matters if she knows who got me out of hell." Dean said. "Harper..."

"I told you I don't know anything." She interrupted him.

"If she didn't keep her promise, why are you protecting her?" Maddie frowned, looking back at Harper.

"I'm not. It's just..."

"I got it." Peter interrupted her, gaining everyone's attention. "She's in Nashville, Tennessee."

"Didn't you just say you were in Tennessee chasing some demons?" Dean turned to his brother.

"I was, but not in Nashville. She must be there hunting something else."

"There are records of people missing around Nashville." Maddie announced, looking at her laptop. "It looks like a vampire case. Several hospitals are reporting loss of blood supplies and people with piercing wounds on their necks."

"I know a psychic. A few hours from Nashville." Bobby spoke. "Something this big, maybe she's heard the other side talking."

"Hell yeah, it's worth a shot." Dean nodded.

"I'll be right back" Bobby said, taking his phone before exiting the room.

Finding himself alone with his brother, Sam finally decided to ask him the question that he had been pondering since their reunion.

"Hey Dean, what was it like?" Sam tried to remain calm and not sound insistent as he looked back at Dean.

"What, Hell?" Dean asked. Sam nodded. "I don't know, I, I must have blacked it out. I don't remember a damn thing."

"Well, thank God for that." Sam sighed.

"Yeah." Dean replied looking down. "There's still one thing that's bothering me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, the night that I bit it. Or... got bit." He chuckled at his own wit. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to kill you."

"Well, she tried. She couldn't." Sam answered.

"What do you mean, she couldn't?" Dean frowned.

"She fired this, like, burning light at me, and... didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something."

"Immune?"

"Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that." Sam said before explaining everything about Lilith possessing you and scaring Ophelia of when she saw Lilith in your body.

"That's odd."

"Yeah." He sighed.

"How did she take it?" Dean asked with concern.

"I don't know. She didn't say anything to me. You should ask Peter, but I think she's been distant even with him these last few months."

Dean nodded as his concern for you only seemed to grow by the second.

"Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" Dean asked after a few seconds.

"Dead. For now."

Dean bit his lower lip, as if he wasn't sure whether he wanted ask the next question.

"So you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?"

Sam turned back to him, confuse.

"No." He assured.

"You sure about that?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Well, I mean, now that you've got... immunity, whatever the hell that is... just wondering what other kind of weirdo crap you've got going on."

"Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I didn't go down that road. It was practically your dying wish."

"Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Bobby stood in front of your motel room, next to him, leaning against the wall were Sam and Dean, each feeling a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as Bobby finally knocked on the door. After a few moments, it creaked open, revealing you—disheveled and battered—on the other side.

Seeing him, your eyes widened in confusion. "Bobby. How... How did you find me?" You whispered.

"Peter tracked you down." He answered. "We need to talk."

Your shoulders slumped slightly, and you leaned against the doorframe.

"We have nothing to talk about." You said, crossing your arms on your chest. "I told you I needed time."

"I heard you, but things have changed."

"What do you...?" Your words trailed off as Sam appeared next to Bobby. Your confusion quickly turned to disbelief, especially as your gaze landed on the green-eyed man next to him. "Dean?" You mumbled.

Dean took a step forward, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. He reached out a hand hesitantly, as if trying to convince himself that you were really there. Dean tried to take another step forward, his eyes pleading you to believe him, but your gaze narrowed.

"Don't come any closer." You warned, your voice hoarse from disuse as you took a step back.

Dean froze, his outstretched hand hovering in the air.

"It's me." He said, his voice laced with heartbreak.

Your breath hitched, and your eyes widened with disbelief. "That's impossible." You whispered, your voice laced with shock. "You're dead."

Bobby and Sam watched anxiously as the tension thickened in the air. Dean took another tentative step forward, desperation in his eyes.

"I was." He gulped, his voice hoarse. "I woke up in my on grave two days ago. I don't know how or why, but I'm here. It's me."

Your breathing grew ragged, your body shaking with a mixture of emotions. You leaned heavily against the doorframe, your eyes flickering over Dean's face and body as if searching for some sign that he was lying.

"How?" You asked, your voice cracking. "How is this possible?"

"We don't know yet. We were actually hoping that you would have some idea on how." Bobby replied.

"You think I made a deal?" You raised your eyebrows, looking back at him. "No. I... I tried, God knows I did, but they wouldn't have it."

Sam and Bobby shared a look at your response as you continued to watch Dean with doubt in your eyes. Dean looked back at you, noticing your clear exhaustion defined by the dark circles under your eyes.

Suddenly, your expression hardened, and you pushed yourself upright, your body tense and alert. "Prove it." You then spit. "Prove that you're really you."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and hurt at your hostile tone, but he understood your distrust. He raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of surrender. "How?" He asked gently. "What can I do to prove it?"

Sam and Bobby exchanged worried glances as they watched the standoff. Your eyes flicked from them back to Dean. "Tell me something only you would know." You asked.

Dean let out a breath, wracking his brain for something you and him had shared that would convince you he was truly him. After a moment, he spoke. "You have a tiny scar on your right hip, shaped like a star." He said quietly. "You got it when you were five and fell off a swing."

Your eyes widened in shock, and your tough exterior wavered for a moment. You remembered the accident vividly and had never told anyone but him about the scar. The realization that only the real Dean could know something that personal rattled you. But still, you weren't fully convinced.

Dean seized on the flicker of uncertainty in your eyes, taking another slow step forward.

"And your favorite movie is Dead Poets Society." He said gently. "You cry every time you watch it."

"He passed all the tests. It's really him." Bobby assured you.

Tears welled up in your eyes as the memory of watching the movie together came flooding back to you. You had never told anyone that either. Dean's words hit you like a freight train, and your defenses crumbled slightly.

Dean took another couple of steps toward you, his expression earnest. "Please, sweetheart." He pleaded. "You know me. You know it's really me. I don't know how or why I'm back, but I am. I'm here, and I'm real, and I'm not going anywhere. Not ever again."

Your eyes flickered over his face, your heart at war with your head. Seeing and hearing him after thinking he was dead for so long was overwhelming and impossible to comprehend. But the details he had given you, things only you and him knew, they were undeniable proof he was telling the truth.

You took a shaky breath, your voice barely more than a whisper. "It's really you?"

Dean nodded, his own eyes glistened with unshed tears. Tears barely perceptible, except you. "It's really me."

Unable to hold back any longer, you rushed forward and threw yourself into his arms, hugging him fiercely. Dean stumbled back a step, but he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around your trembling figure.

You buried your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent, trying to convince yourself that he was truly there. For a moment, all was silent except for the sound of your shaky breathing and the steady thump of his heartbeat.

Bobby and Sam felt relief as they watched the emotional reunion unfold before them.

Dean held you tight, his own emotions swirling in his chest. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. As you pulled back, your eyes roamed over his face as if memorizing every detail. A mixture of shock and joy danced in your gaze.

"How is this possible?" You asked, your hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. "You were gone. I saw your body... I mourned you. How are you here?"

Dean's expression darkened as he remembered the strange circumstances of his resurrection. "I don't know." He replied. "Believe me, I've been trying to figure it out since waking up. But, either way, I'm glad I'm back."

A smile tugged at your lips as you replied. "Me too."

Dean pulled back further, suddenly noticing the injuries on your skin and the exhaustion etched into your features. His hands dropped to your sides, and a frown tugged at his lips.

"You look tired." He murmured, his voice soft. "And wounded. What happened to you?"

Having been caught up in the intensity of the reunion, you suddenly became aware of the stinging pain in your own body. You winced as you shifted your weight. You sighed and let your hands slide from his waist, but you kept your gaze fixed on him.

"I'm fine." You said, though he could tell you were lying. Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing glances, silently cursing themselves for not having noticed your injuries earlier. You caught their looks and shrugged, attempting to downplay your pain. "It's just a scratch."

Dean's eyes widened as he noticed the blood that was staining your shirt.

"It doesn't look like 'just a scratch' to me." He said firmly, stepping forward to examine the wound.

Reluctantly, you lifted your shirt, revealing a deep gash in your abdomen. Dean sucked in a breath, his face paling as he saw how serious the injury was and how recent it looked.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked, gently running his fingers over the wound.

"It's not that bad." You protested, but the pain in you was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Dean shot you a frustrated look. "Not that bad? You have a gash the size of a dinner plate in your stomach. That's worse than 'not that bad' in my book."

You opened your mouth to protest again, but your knees buckled suddenly, the pain becoming too much for you to bear. Dean and Sam were quick to catch you, propping you up between them.

"All right, that's it." Dean said firmly. "We're getting you patched up."

He and Sam each took one of your arms, carefully guiding you toward the bathroom. Bobby followed closely behind, already gathering supplies for makeshift stitches.

In the small bathroom, you leaned against the counter as Dean examined your wound more closely. Sam stood nearby, his brow furrowed with worry. Dean doused a piece of cloth with antiseptic, readying himself to clean the wound.

"This is going to hurt." He warned you.

You braced yourself, gripping the edge of the counter tightly.

"I can handle it." You replied through clenched teeth.

Dean began cleaning the wound, his touch firm but gentle. You winced, your eyes squeezed shut, but you didn't pull away. Sam watched silently, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to contain his worry and anger.

Once the wound was cleaned, Dean took the needle and thread that Bobby handed to him. He began stitch the gash, his fingers steady and precise as he worked. You bit your lip to try and stifle the pain as best you could, your knuckles turning white from gripping the counter.

Dean's focus was completely on the task at hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continued to stitch the wound. Bobby stood nearby, his concern gaze flickering between you and the Winchesters.

Finally, with one last stitch, Dean tied off the last stitch.

"All done." He announced, stepping back. Bobby handed Dean a roll of gauze, and he began wrapping it around your abdomen to secure the stitches. As he worked, he couldn't help but ask. "So, you gonna tell us how you got this injury in the first place?"

You exhaled deeply, the pain already lessening now that the wound had been properly treated.

"I got it fighting a nest of vampires." You said, your voice slightly raspy from pain.

Sam and Dean exchanged surprised glances, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief.

"A nest?" Sam echoed. "You took on a nest of vampires by yourself?"

You shrugged nonchalantly.

"I've handled worse." You replied, though your weariness suggested otherwise.

Sam sighed in frustration as he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling inevitably responsible that you had ended up like that. After all, he hadn't stopped you from leaving, nor had he looked for you afterwards.

Dean shook his head. "You're lucky you didn't end up worse off. Or dead." He scolded, finishing up the bandage.

As Dean finished wrapping the bandage, he noticed the look in your eyes, a haunted acceptance of your own mortality. It was a look he knew all too well.

"You didn't care whether you lived or died, did you?" He asked, his voice gentle, but layered with concern.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze.

"You were dead. I didn't care about anything else."

Dean's expression darkened at your blunt response, both pained and frustrated with your dismissal of your own well-being.

"That's stupid. You had Peter, your father, Maddie, Sam and Bobby" He grumbled, carefully helping you off the counter.

"They didn't matter without you here. Nothing mattered."

"So that's it, then? You just stop caring about everyone if I'm gone?" He asked, the pain of your words stabbing through him. "You'd just throw your life away like it doesn't matter to anyone else?" Dean's jaw clenched at your admission, a storm of anger and hurt swirling within him. "You don't get to throw your life away like it's nothing." He continued, his voice rising. "Dammit, sweetheart, you matter. You've got people that care about you. People that need you."

"I need you."

Dean's breath caught in his chest at your words, the raw honesty sending a shiver down his spine.

"I'm here now." He said softly, his anger fading.

Your eyes welled with unexpected tears at his gentle response, the weight of your own loneliness and grief finally catching up to you.

Dean pulled you gently into his arms, holding you tightly.

"I'm here now." He whispered, burying his face against your hair. As he held you, he could feel the tension slowly leave your body, your head resting on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, both lost in your own thoughts.

Sam and Bobby, now standing just outside the bathroom, watched the tender scene unfold. Bobby's expression softened as he observed the moment between Dean and you.

As the moment stretched on, reality slowly began to intrude once more. Sam cleared his throat, and both Dean and you looked up, a mixture of embarrassment and tenderness filling the small bathroom.

"You guys gonna come out any time soon?" Sam called out, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes, reluctantly releasing his hold on you. You looked up at him, your expression a mixture of embarrassment and vulnerability.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming." Dean called back, shooting a annoyed look at Sam as he gently guided you out of the bathroom.

"Feel better?" Bobby looked at you.

"Yeah. Much better." You replied as Dean guided you to sit down on the couch.

Dean shot Sam a sharp look when he saw his amused smiled.

"Shut up, or I'll shut you up." He grumbled, taking a seat next to you on the couch.

Too tired to protest, you leaned your head back against the couch, closing your eyes.

Sam took a seat in a chair across from the couch, a smirk still on his face. "Just saying, I never thought I'd see the day my brother turned all sappy over a girl." He teased.

"Keep it up, and I'll show you sappy with my fist in your face."

"All right, you idjits, enough. Save the fighting for the monsters." Bobby spoke, crossing his arms.

Half-dozing on the couch, you opened your eyes just enough to speak. "Shut up, all of you." You mumbled, your voice tired. "Trying to sleep here."

Bobby raised an eyebrow at your words, his expression becoming serious.

"Sorry, kid. No time for rest."

Sam nodded in agreement, his humor disappearing as he remembered the gravity of their situation.

"Yeah, we need to know who got Dean out of hell"

You sighed. "Right. So what's the plan?"

Keep Reading: Chapter Two

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