#Peter:*deliriously giggles*

[lazyjellyfish300]

The Woman He Didn't Choose Part 5 🥀

AU Bachelor!Miguel O'Hara x Fem Contestant!Reader

Synopsis: You're on the show: Singles in Paradise. Former Bachelor!Miguel has some heavy news to break to you about your new relationship with Peter B., along with contending with his lingering feelings for you. He's racing against the clock as the rose ceremony is about to commence that night, and all of the drama is approaching a boiling point. Word count 6.4k

A/N: If you're unfamiliar with the show Bachelor in Paradise, here's a clip to give you an idea. Basically, it's another dating show usually in a tropical location where single people couple up, and new arrivals come in every so often and ask people on dates to shake things up, leading to drama and chaos, and couples can choose to stay together or break up in the end and there's typically an engagement. DISCLAIMER: I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO THE SHOWS THE BACHELOR OR BACHELOR IN PARADISE, ALL RIGHTS TO THE OWNERS. I CHANGED THE NAME OF THE SHOW IN THE STORY.

Part 1(contains links to previous parts)

TW: MINORS DNI, ANGST, DRAMA, DRUNKENNESS ,MISCOMMUNICATION, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CHEATING, BULLYING(NAME CALLING, TRASH TALKING BEHIND BACKS), FIGHTING(PUNCHING, SPIT IN FACE, CAT FIGHT) MILD VIOLENCE, BLOOD, MENTION OF ORAL SEX BUT NO SMUT, MENTION OF DADDY ISSUES

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You and Felicia were at least 3 strawberry daiquiris deep, and they were working their tasty magic. You both were giggling loudly, slapping each other's thighs, trying to hold each other up on the couch you were lounging on in the common area when an unwelcome visitor made his way into the room.

"Well look who it is!" Felicia says in a goofy voice, making you nearly spit out your drink.

"PPPFFFFT", You let out a mixture of a guffaw and cough as she pounds your back with her palm in a drunken effort to help you regain composure.

Miguel's face softens a little bit at the sight of you two enjoying yourselves. Thank God for the cocktails otherwise you wouldn't have even let him be in the same room as you.

You look at Miguel with teary eyes. "Whaddup big guy? What, what can I do you for, on this....the night of the grand rose ceremony?" You channel your inner Godfather as you slur your words, which makes Felicia nearly choke on her drink this time.

Miguel shakes his head. "We need to talk."

"Ahhhh...." you say, shaking your head back at him, tutting your teeth. "Too late, Muscles. Can I call you Muscles?"

Miguel rubs the back of his neck and tries to stifle a sigh. "Sure, that's fine. Now can we go talk?"

"Whoa, whoa." You bring a finger to his lips, silencing him and he lets out a defeated sigh. "I won't leave here with just anyone. I'm in a relationship."

Miguel gently reaches down, removing your hand from his face in a delicate yet firm grip, "Yes, I'm aware..."

At that point you almost fall off the couch. Felicia's laughing too hard and trying not to pee in the fetal position to help. Miguel catches you, helping you up with both of his forearms underneath your armpits. You catch a whiff of his scent as you fall back against his chest, making you a little delirious.

"Be more careful..." Miguel murmurs to you. "Here." He plops you on an empty chair, his hands gentle as they run up your calves and remove your tall wedge sandals and takes them in his hand, offering you the other. Your heart skips a beat at his touch but you attempt to conceal it with an eyeroll as you let him help you stand up.

"Be right back girl!" You call to Felicia, who raises her cocktail glass to you.

"Mkayyyy!"

The beachy evening breeze of the nighttime hits your face a little bit, making you close your eyes and sigh. Despite all the drama that had been plaguing you as of late, it sure felt good to be in such a gorgeous place as this.

Miguel's walking silently next to you, his mind agonizing over the distressing news he needs to break to you but stops and stands next to you, his shoulders relaxing at little at your content disposition, how endearing it is to watch you wiggle your toes in the sand. A smile on your face for once instead of tears.

After several moments, your eyes flutter open and you go to take a step forward, however your abrupt movement doesn't mix well with the liquor still running in your veins and you trip a little, Miguel catching you once again.

"Alright, that's it..." Miguel sighs and sweeps you into a bridal style carry, effortlessly cradling you in those beefy arms of his as he walks you further down the beach.

You look at him with heavy eyelids, an expression of amusement and impression with his strength on your face. "Well damn, I knew you were strong, Muscles, but I wasn't expecting that," You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Just how many shots were in those daiquiris? Miguel wonders as he continues to saunter forwards with you in his arms, trying not to focus on the growing heat in his face as you nuzzle a little closer into his chest.

Once you come closer to an unoccupied daybed near the pool, you give him a little tap on his arm to signal you want to be put down. He sets you carefully on the cushions and plops down next to you in silence, pressing his fingertips together in concentration as he looks at his feet, trying to form his words.

You look lazily at the changing underwater lights in the pool, as it hypnotically changes the water from green, to blue, purple, pink, and red, tropical winds gently brushing the palm trees and the distant sound of rushing waves coming from the beach down below.

Miguel finally speaks, his tone serious. "I don't want to do this, but there's something important you should know before the rose ceremony."

You blow air out of your cheeks, the liquor still had a hold on you but you were starting to get annoyed by this unwelcome interruption by this...guy. Whoever he was, he was majorly cramping your style and killing the good mood you were in.

"Look mister, if you're trying to get a rose and not go home, you're a little late for that," you say with a yawn, standing up.

Miguel stands up too, saying your name in a stern voice then cursing and turning around with his hands on his head muttering to himself. "She's way too drunk for this...okay."

He turns back around facing you, starting over from scratch again. "I'm not trying to get a rose from you." He says, looking into your eyes. "I'm not expecting anything from you tonight. You made it very clear earlier that you were upset with me, which I don't blame you for... even though someone completely got it wrong and told you before I could explain myself..."

You let out a loud groan, clasping your temples with your fingertips. "Give me the condensed version, Muscles, please. You're giving me a migraine."

Miguel exhales quickly with a small scoff then shakes his head. "Okay, okay..." He makes a small sigh of displeasure and continues, slowly as if he were approaching a sea of eggshells.

"I...just need to get this off my chest and tell you the truth so you don't make the wrong choice tonight, that's all." His hands move to the surrender position and you tilt your head.

"What do you mean?"

Miguel exhales slowly as the camera zooms in on his face, his heart pounding so tremendously against his ribs it was a wonder how the sound didn't leak through the microphone he was wearing.

"After you and Felicia left, Peter B., Dana, Ben, and I were at the bonfire. They were all drinking. I got up, and went to the bathroom and was walking down the main path back to the fire pit. You know where I'm talking about right?"

You nod, going to fiddle with a loose thread on your dress, a slight anxious twinge in your belly that sets your heartbeat on a gradual acceleration. Where is this going?

"Anyway, I saw Peter B. and Dana in the bushes tonight...they were together."

You blink.

Miguel looks at you with the same blank expression, but he's in disbelief at your lack of reaction.

"He was going down on her... he's playing you behind your back." He waits, his eyes searching yours, hoping you got the message, on the edge of his seat.

Your eyes flicker up and look back into his. "And I should believe you...why?"

Miguel's face turns red with emotion, taking a step closer to you. "Why would I lie about something like this?"

His tone is quiet, but it's laced with frustration. "Look, you have to make this call on your own but I'm telling you right now. I saw him with her, he's cheating on you. He's not the guy you think he is and frankly, giving him a rose tonight would be the biggest mistake of your life."

"Miguel..." you whisper closing your eyes.

Miguel exhales, the alcohol released its hold on you a little. "There, see...you do understand me." He gets a little closer. "I'm just trying to look out for you."

"Yeah, and you also told me you didn't like Dana yet somehow she ended up all over you in the pool right after I told you I'm going to stay with Peter."

"Oh my God..." Miguel shuts his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "For the last time, I'm not interested in her. She threw herself at me...I don't know who told you otherwise but whoever did got it completely wrong. I swear to you."

"You're saying Ben's a liar?"

"Ben?!" Miguel goes silent as he tries to do calculations in his head, but you already start walking away.

"Okay, I don't know why Ben of all people is telling you that, but he's wrong." Miguel speeds up, walking backwards quickly next to you, still facing you. The camera man once again struggling to keep up with you two.

"I don't like Dana and I've been trying to tell you that. And I'm trying to tell you right now, Peter's not right for you."

"Uh huh, and you also told me that I'm the one in Thailand and proceeded to run over my heart the next day."

"Wait! Ugh....please!"

You stand at the tiki bar on the beach, grabbing the bartender, James' attention. "Strawberry daiquiri please..."

James nods and lowers his head, trying to mix you a drink but can't help but remained tuned in as he works.

Miguel sighs and sits on one of the bar stools. He addresses James. "A beer when you get a chance please? Thank you..."

You two sit in silence for a moment. He speaks again, his voice more quiet. "I needed to tell you because I'm going home tonight."

You look at him, confused. "Why do you say that?"

He sighs. "Nobody here to give me a rose. And it's ladies choice."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm serious."

"What about Dana?"

"If Dana gives me a rose I'm only accepting it so I can stay here and keep an eye on you."

"Miguel, I can handle myself just fine."

"No, you can't. You keep falling for the wrong guys and you're about to make a mistake."

"You were one of them."

Miguel blinks a little rapidly and looks off, trying to act like that didn't sting. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm the upset rising in his body, blaming the alcohol in your system and your stress for your scathing remarks.

"I don't know if this is a weird jealousy thing, or you're trying to get back at me, or..." You continue, counting off your fingers as you speak, making some sort of drunken list.

"I'm not jealous." Miguel mumbles, picking at a random notch in the wooden bar.

"I'm gonna just pretend like you literally didn't just lie to me again," you say, also turning away.

"What? Ohhh my God." Miguel takes a deep breath. "Okay, yes, of course I'm jealous of you and Peter. Watching you guys kiss and go on dates. How seemingly happy he makes you when I know I couldn't make you feel like that? Yeah, of fucking course I'm jealous. It hurts."

The corner of your eyes soften a little bit. "Why now though, Miggy? Why do you only chase me after you've hurt me and after I'm trying to move on?"

"I don't know..." Miguel says quietly, rubbing his face. "Because I'm a dumbass? Because I had shitty judgement and I took you for granted. Because I didn't realize how much it would actually hurt to go through everything I put you through this last year?"

You look down, trying to hold in your tears.

Miguel gives you a sorrowful look, "Look... I'm only being stubborn right now because I see myself in you. You're about to make the same mistake I did and choose the wrong person like I did. I don't want you to walk away from this with any regret that'll come back to haunt you later..."

He pauses, running a hand through his hair and looking into your eyes. "And no, I don't expect you to come running back to me after this. No matter how badly I want you to..."

After letting one tear escape, you blink furiously, wiping your eyes, taking care not to ruin your eye makeup any more than it already is. You sit with his words for a while, letting them sink in.

Part of you doesn't feel great hearing that, but a larger part doesn't believe him. No, Peter wouldn't do something like that? Sweet Peter? And with Dana of all people? He clearly dodged her when everyone was in the pool together. There's no way...

Somehow you know you're being overly optimistic, but you decide to tuck it away for now, since there were more pressing matters like the impending rose ceremony which was due to commence at any moment at this late hour.

"Thank you for telling me. But let me handle it on my own. I made tons of allowances for you, Miguel. And I'm going to do the same for him. But if it turns out to be true? I'll deal with it when I deal with it. Have a safe trip home, Miguel."

At that moment, Jason Donner comes around the corner. "There you two are... we're all waiting on you. Cocktail hour's been over for 20 minutes. It's time to head on up to the rose ceremony. You okay?"

Jason tilts his head when he sees your obvious upset on your face.

"Yeah, I'm good." You mumble, quickly shifting past Jason's curious expression, forgetting the daiquiri you were waiting on, Miguel watching you walk away yet again with a solemn face and his heart split in two.

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The group is hanging out outside of the rose ceremony room. Ben and Felicia are talking in hushed voices with Felicia every so often leaning her head towards Dana and Peter B., attempting to eavesdrop their conversation as Dana talks his ear off.

Peter is hardly reacting to her and looks rather nauseous, looking around with glazed, sullen eyes avoiding Felicia's suspicious, piercing gaze, his quickly-sobering thoughts making him slowly realize the gravity of the sin he just committed earlier.

You walk up to Peter, your eyes narrowing and your stomach dropping a tiny bit when you see Dana is standing next to him.

"Oh hey!" Dana says with phony niceness. "Peter and I were just talking about you. Have you been drinking? I can tell. God, that's embarrassing."

"Um, what?" You say, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh my God, I'm just kidding! I didn't mean it in a bad way. Peter was telling me how cute you look when you get all tipsy. Doesn't she look cute right now Peter? Oh my God, now she's getting embarrassed, awhhh that's adorable!"

You roll your eyes and put yourself physically in between him and Dana. Peter's eyes light up a little bit when he sees you, his hand reaching out to take yours and pull you closer, however his expression fades to slight worry when you whisper to him.

"I need to talk to you..."

Unfortunately, your words are cut off when one of the producers takes you by the shoulders. "Sorry, Pete, I'm gonna need to steal her. Hey, we need you to get lined up with the other women now."

You huff out a breath of frustration.

"Everything okay?" Peter asks quietly. You just nod curtly and give his hand a squeeze then allow the producer to usher you away.

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The five men are standing in the middle of the common room, the dim lights cast an aura of seriousness. All the men are cleaned up wearing mostly nicer button down shirts, pants, and shorts. Sunkissed faces painted in a stoic expression with quiet nervousness rippling underneath.

All of their faces light up when the four women walk in: You, Felicia, Dana, and MJ, all dressed in different flowy dresses that make you all look like beachy queens of the night. You exhale and look at Peter B., who gives you a small smile, his hands balled into nervous fists in his pockets. Miguel is looking at you too with a neutral expression on his face, his jaw tensing as he looks down.

Dana smiles at Peter B., who quickly moves his eyes away from her back onto you, trying not to be obvious. Immediate guilt and regret eating him from the inside out. George and Patrick, aka Web-Slinger, stand there with relaxed looks on their faces, seemingly unphased by the tension hanging in the air. Ben gives a small wink to Felicia who beams in return.

Jason Donner enters the room. "Welcome, everyone to another rose ceremony. Now, as you all now, it's ladies choice this week. There are five men remaining, but with only four roses to be handed out, so, gentlemen, one of you will leaving paradise tonight."

The five men quietly nod their heads in acknowledgement and Jason turns to MJ. "MJ, whenever you're ready, you'll start."

MJ nods and steps forward, clad in a tight red dress with a curly ponytail. She picks up the first rose boutonniere laying in the tiny pile on top of a small wooden stand. A somber tune begins to play as she takes the rose in her hands. Her eyes land on Peter B. for a brief moment, her face still deadpan, but then she looks at George with a smile.

"George?"

George breaks out into a cocky grin and he steps forward, standing in front of her.

"George, will you accept this rose?"

"Course..." He grins as she pins it to his breast pocket of his blue button down shirt. Peter B. exhales and looks away as this happens. You notice and your lips part a little bit, a slightly odd feeling announcing itself in your gut that you try to press down.

Felicia goes next, taking the rose in her hands, wearing a black halter top dress tonight and she doesn't hesitate for one moment. "Ben?"

Ben walks forward, a shy grin on his face.

"Ben, will you accept my rose?"

"Always." He whispers, as she pins the rose to his Hawaiian shirt with a giddy smile.

Your turn next. You step forward, still wearing the light blue kimono style dress from your date with Peter B. earlier. One of your shaky hands takes the second to last rose and you look up, your eyes finding Peter B. first. He flashes you a smile in return, giving you a hopeful look.

Miguel is looking at you too, he takes a deep breath in and closes his eyes, his head leaning back towards the ceiling. He knows he's not getting your rose tonight, he's just preparing himself for the gut punch of hearing you choose someone else, and falling for Peter B.'s false act.

Somehow, saying his name doesn't feel as right as you thought it would.

"Peter..."

Peter nods and walks forward with a smile, pulling the breast pocket of his white button down shirt forward for you to pin the rose.

"I just want you to know, this isn't just a rose to me. I take it really seriously..." You whisper to him. Dana rolls her eyes and lets out a scoff. Your eyes shoot her a slightly peeved look. The others look around somewhat nervously. Miguel tries to crane his neck a little to try and make out your soft words.

Peter's smile falters and his eyes dart to the rest of the group for a moment before he looks down at you. He wipes a little bead of sweat that began to form on his forehead.

"Peter, is there anything going on that would make you feel like you cannot accept my rose?"

The silence lasts a little longer than you'd like it to but he finally answers,

"N-No...I'm here for you. I have genuine feelings for you and I want to see where this goes. I mean that wholeheartedly, baby..." He says in a soft voice.

You nod slowly, then pin the rose to his shirt and he steps back into his position among the rest of the men. Miguel closes his eyes. Felicia mouths to you,"What's going on?"

"I'll tell you later." You mouth back to her.

Jason Donner re-enters the room. "Gentlemen, it's the final rose tonight. Dana, whenever you're ready."

Dana steps forward, wearing an orange two piece dress. She looks between Web-Slinger who's relaxed and Miguel who still has his eyes closed. She pauses then finally calls out a name.

"Miguel."

Miguel opens his eyes a little puzzled but steps forward, straightening his black polo.

"Will you accept..." Dana starts but is cut off by Miguel waving one of his hands.

"I'm sorry, but if I accept your rose I'd only be staying here for someone I'm still in love with." He looks over at you who's just as shocked and confused as the rest of the group.

Dana huffs quietly and looks down at the floor for a moment, placing the rose back on the stand. Jason Donner enters, "Dana? What's the hold up?"

Dana shakes her head. "He can't accept it. He's still here for..." Dana clears her throat as though your name was physically revolting to say.

Jason looks at Miguel. "Miguel, are you sure about this?"

He nods solemnly in response, not tearing his gaze from you.

Jason nods and says, "Well, Patrick, Miguel, since there isn't any more roses being handed out tonight, I'm so sorry, but you both are going home. Take a moment, say your goodbyes."

Web-Slinger aka Patrick, pulls George into a bro hug. He was kind of there to just party anyway, no sweat off his back.

Miguel gives a goodbye to George and Ben, but when it came to Peter B. he gave him the cold shoulder, pointing an accusatory finger,

"Don't fucking pull any shit like that again. If I find out you hurt her again, I'll deal with you personally."

"Wha-?" the others react to the abrupt switch up, the mood turning into hostile energy. Peter's face turns bright red.

"What's he talking about?" Felicia asks out loud as Miguel starts to make his way to the exit.

"Miguel, what do you mean by that?" Felicia asks again louder this time, concern in her voice.

You look down at the floor. Miguel says in a sarcastic tone, "Ask Peter, he can tell you."

"Miguel, I have no clue what you're talking about." Peter speaks up, standing up a little straighter in false confidence, deciding to play it cool.

Miguel hisses in annoyance and points at Dana. "Ask your new little friend, you two seemed to be getting close enough."

Dana points at herself, seemingly gobsmacked, "Me?!"

"Yes, you." Miguel says crossly. "Tell the truth, Dana. Tell the truth that you and Peter were hooking up in the bushes tonight, and that you threw yourself on me in the pool, completely unprovoked, and I didn't come onto you like everyone here believes."

Dana turns red with anger, and everyone else's mouths fall open. She tries to speak but just babbles incoherently. Your eyes narrow, a sick feeling pooling in your stomach.

"Now hold on..." Ben steps forward. "I was the one who saw Miguel and Dana in the pool earlier. I clearly saw both of you all over each other. Dana was holding him around the waist like this-" Ben awkwardly lifts his leg in some kind of demonstration, straddling an invisible man. "...and Miguel, you had your hands on her waist. I saw it when I went back for my towel."

"Well, check your facts again." Miguel says in an annoyed tone. "She jumped on me. I was minding my own business tanning on the inflatable."

"But why was it only after all of us left?" Ben asks, his eyebrows raising. "Same thing with Peter and Dana. Somehow all of these things are happening with nobody around and it's your word against everyone else's."

"Well why should we believe you about Dana and I?" Miguel shoots back at Ben.

Ben's eyes widen as he gestures to himself. "I have absolutely no reason to lie. But you do." He points to Miguel. "You're not over her and you know it." He nods in your direction. "You're trying to sabotage Peter's relationship, but yet you're trying to have it both ways with Dana too."

Miguel scoffs and laughs, but there's zero humor to be found in it. "Are you serious, Ben?"

"Miguel, I think you need to just worry about your own relationships right now." Peter B. says, taking a step towards Miguel. "You didn't get a rose tonight. Just take back what you said and exit peacefully and we can all forget this ever happened."

Miguel's eyes flash with anger, "I'm not going anywhere yet because I refuse to be made out to be some liar when I'm not!"

George steps in this time, "Hold on, let the man speak." He gestures in Miguel's direction.

Miguel takes a huge breath of relief. Even though George could be a douche, at least someone here was willing to hear him out, although it may have been mostly motivated by the fact that George didn't care much for Peter B. anyway.

"How about you stay out of this one, George?" Peter snarls, turning on him.

George smirks, the tension between them had been built up for weeks due to the jealousy over MJ.

"Oh yeah, and just what are you gonna do about it?"

"Guys!" Ben gets in between George and Peter, nearly tripping over backwards into George when Peter keeps surging forward, knocking Ben off his balance.

Miguel tries to insert himself between the two men as well and remove Ben, however Peter gives him a sharp shove, knocking him backwards, "Get back!"

Miguel's face flushes red with fury, taking a step towards Peter, however George beat him to it, shoving Peter, then causing Peter to lunge forward , only to be abruptly stopped by several security guards rushing the scene to restrain the heated men from ripping each other apart. Everyone is panicking now with several people from both on and off set running around, all this pent up drama and frustration nearly coming to a boiling point. The women scurry out of the fray.

"Hold on!" You yell at the top of your lungs, turning to Dana this time. "There's two sides to every story. So, is it true?" You ask, your voice slightly shaky. "Did you and Peter hook up?"

Dana's eyes narrow at you, "I don't see why it's any of your business?"

"Umm, considering the fact I'm dating him, I would say it is. It's a simple question, yes or no, Dana." You say, crossing your arms.

Dana scoffs. "I don't answer to people who don't know how to address me in the right tone, first of all. And I don't need to apologize or admit to anything when I haven't even done anything wrong."

You and Felicia look at each other with bizarre looks.

"Besides, if I wanted your man, I could have him." Dana taunts.

You throw your head back with an unamused cackle. "Puuuhlease! If you can take my man, then he's not my man. You can take my problems, not my man let's get that straightened out right now."

Dana throws her head back with an over exaggerated mocking laugh. You look at her with disgust.

"What is your fucking problem? I have seriously tried to be nice to you SO many times, Dana. You never apologized or owned up to your behavior."

"Oh like what, what did I do that was so bad, honey, tell me?" Dana bats her eyes sarcastically.

"Brag about wanting to fuck Gabriel, bullying the other girls in the house. Talking so much shit about me behind my back. You literally said the only way I could've gotten in the final two is if I slept my way to the top, and you slut shamed me, saying I was some type of hoe you'd find at a gas station."

Dana blinks. "I don't remember that."

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A clip plays flashing backwards to Miguel's season, of Dana sitting begrudgingly in her camera confessional shortly after you won a group date rose during week 2.

A producer from behind the camera asks Dana, "So, what are your thoughts on her winning the group date rose?"

She scoffs and shakes her head. "I don't have any. Girls like her can't make guys fall in love with them. Like, I think she'd have to sleep her way to the top to even make the final two...I-what?! Sorry...it's true... Like it's all in the way you carry yourself and she carries herself like...I don't wanna be rude but, a slut. I mean, just look at the way she talks and dresses!! It's giving...gas station prostitute."

She giggles furiously, laughing off the producer's playful scolding in response. "Oh please...I'm sorry, I'm sorry okay?! I'm just being real. Just uh...just edit that one out." She shrugs and smirks.

🌹🌹Back to the present🌹🌹

Dana blinks innocently again, "I don't remember saying that. I might have said something to that effect but those weren't my exact words."

"Dana! Nobody on this beach even fucking likes you!" Felicia yells, her blue eyes aflame with frustration.

"Well sweetheart, I didn't come here to be liked, I came here to win." Dana replies in a honeyed tone.

"We've given you SO many chances to try and be friends with us and you act like you're better than everyone else here. You have zero respect for any of the women on this beach and throw yourself at all the guys. So just admit it, you hooked up with Peter. Be a big girl, put on your big girl panties, and OWN YOUR.SHIT!" Felicia claps in her face with every word.

Dana gets in Felicia's face, screaming back, "I do own my shit for your information. How about you take a chill pill and watch who the fuck you're talking to, bitch??"

"Hey!" Ben stops trying to play referee to the men and rushes over to Felicia's aid instead, the security guards too preoccupied with calming down an enraged George, Miguel, and Peter to jump in the brewing storm amongst the women.

"Leave her alone!" Ben hisses at Dana. But Felicia's getting worked up, trying to wriggle out of Ben's grasp.

"Bitch?! Who the fuck are you calling a bitch?!" She shrieks.

"You, bitch!" Dana says in a taunting, sing-song tone back.

"Dana, you're the last person to be calling anyone on this beach a bitch!" You speak up, putting yourself in between Ben, Felicia, and Dana.

"Yeah, um I wasn't talking to you honey. Mind your business, please and thank you, mkay? Thank you darling!" Dana replies in a snarky tone.

"Well I'm talking to you!" You answer, not taking your eyes off Dana. You can feel your blood pressure steadily rising. "I'm not gonna sit here and let you disrespect my friend. And, you didn't even answer my question, did you hook up with Peter?"

Dana rolls her eyes and turns around, "The ones with daddy issues are always the worst."

"EXCUSE ME?!" You charge forward, her low blow setting off a switch, making you see red. You were open about your family struggles on the show and never thought you'd see the day when someone would be cruel enough to use it as ammo against you.

"Get. Out. Of. My.Face," Dana spits, a thick, gooey drop of her saliva landing on your jaw.

You black out into a blind rage of fury, your right hand balled into a fist wound up behind you, knocking Dana on the left side of her face. You follow with your left, socking her in the jaw, then your right again, leaving her almost guaranteed with a fat lip.

"Fucking-BITCH!" Dana screams, grabbing your hair.

You fight to keep your head raised, using all the strength in your upper body as your hands seize her wrist that has a good hold on your hair, also using your knees to try and throw one into her torso to encourage her to let you go. You hit her with one of your knees, causing her to yell, making her loosen her grip a little so your hair is finally free. You get in one more good shot to her face before another security guard seizes you around the torso, picking you up and carrying you away off to the side.

Miguel's attention is shifted away from Peter and the security guards blocking him and he looks over to see you mid-fight, his eyes going wide when he sees Dana grabbing you by the hair and was running over to save you before the security guard beat him to it.

You're sobbing and shaking with leftover fury and frustration, your lip trembling, your hair and dress a little disheveled and a lightly sore scalp from where Dana grabbed you but otherwise unscathed. The security guard sets you down on an empty couch in the common area. Felicia bolts over to you, she can't help but smile a little with satisfaction but it turns to worry and comfort at the sight of your tears.

"Dude....you got her good...oh my God don't cry, don't cry..." She pulls you into a hug, rocking you. Miguel sits down next to you.

"Hey....hey....what happened? You okay? She put her hands on you? Are you hurt? What can I do, what's the matter?" He shoots out the questions a mile a minute, Felicia pulling away for a moment to wipe your tears. Miguel gently pulls up the straps of your swimsuit top you're wearing under your kimono style dress that threatened to fall down and expose yourself. Both of them diligently working to fix you up.

"She needs tissues, Miguel!" Felicia orders. "Get her some ice too."

Miguel nods. "Don't let her get up okay? You two stay right there!"

"I h-hate her...I hate her..." You sputter and lament. "How can someone be so rude and evil...m'm-s-soo sick of t-this...." You sob and tremble, holding your knees in a ball.

"She's gone." Felicia whispers.

"Yeah, she's gone. You don't have to worry about her anymore, sweetie. " Miguel soothes.

"Dude, you got her so good too, oh my God." Felicia mutters to you in a low voice, the sound of Dana whining and screaming at the security guards and crew coming from the other side of the room. "I didn't even know you could fight like that. She deserved that after pushing you that hard, I didn't know she'd go that far..."

"Yeah." Miguel agrees, letting out a soft chuckle. "You defended yourself, there's no need to be upset. She's gone, she's throwing a fit so I think they're gonna take her to the hospital just to get her checked out..." Miguel sits up, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of what's happening, then grabs tissues off the counter, handing them to Felicia. "I'll be back with the ice."

Felicia nods and starts gently dabbing your eyes as you blow your nose. Ben comes up and sits next to you and Felicia. "You okay there, cookie?" He asks you softly.

"She's okay, just shaken up." Felicia answers while you continue to take shallow breaths.

"M'....M'okay...." You breath out slowly.

"Ben get her some water. Miguel's gone to get her ice."

"I'm on it." Ben leaves, on his way to fetch you water.

"Thanks, bestie...I-I'm scared they're gonna send me home..." You mutter through your tear soaked voice.

"Hey, that's what friends are for," Felicia whispers, stroking your arm and pulling you into a hug. "Dude, fuck Dana...don't worry about her dude, you did nothing wrong. She started it by insulting you and spitting in your face. I saw the whole thing and I can vouch for you. I'm sure Miguel and Ben will too."

Miguel and Ben arrive. Ben hands you a glass of ice water with a curly straw and some freshly squeezed lemon in it. Miguel has an ice pack and your favorite blanket that he wraps around your shoulders, putting his arms around you while Felicia holds your hand.

Peter B. comes walking up to your group, his shirt unbuttoned, hair frazzled, and face disheveled from all the action. Miguel hisses and Ben jumps up, putting his hands on Peter's chest.

"Not now, man." Ben says quietly.

"I just wanna make sure she's okay. I just wanna make sure she's okay!" Peter protests, his face turning red again.

"Peter...fuck off!" You yell over them.

Peter freezes, looking at you sadly. "Baby, I..."

"Peter, beat it!" Felicia yells. "You've embarrassed her for the last time. You tripped and your face landed into some other girl's cunt tonight. You're done!!"

"I wanna hear it from her." Peter says firmly, a lump in his throat.

"Just leave me alone, Peter..." You softly whimper out. "I'm tired, and I'm done..you lied to me, you made me look fucking stupid, and I need space right now."

Peter goes to protest again but Ben shakes his head, "Bro...come on, man. Leave it alone."

Peter shoots a glare at Miguel, then gives you one more sad look before he sulks off, headed towards his room with a loud sigh of defeat.

You hear the ambulance sirens and get a glimpse of Dana being escorted by two security guards, her slightly limping. Her short hair was tousled with a giant puffy bottom lip that's turning red and slightly purple with a bruise, several tissues stuffed up her nostril for her bloody nose. You can't hear what she's saying but it sounds like she's running your name through the mud some more and berating the EMTs as they help her onto a stretcher.

Felicia squeezes your hand while she sits cuddled up against Ben. You rest your head against Miguel's chest as all of you sit on the couch together and stare off, the future of your paradise experience uncertain at this point after such a dramatic night.

The host, Jason Donner, speaks in a voiceover: "stay tuned for another drama-packed episode of Singles in Paradise!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

Tags🖤: @miguelhugger2099 @kodo1221 @mimiemie @laysmt @cheerrioeoz , @spicydonut25 @thisistotesnotspam-heart , @famouscattale @thekidscallmebosss , @librababe99 @ce3stvu , @irishbl0ss0mz @nommingonfood @mauvecherie-writes , @royale-skeleton-key , @thesilenthill , @dimitri-needs-therapy , @a-lil-whore @aisyakirmann @sylveon-of-heart , @hobiebrowns-wife @weirdothatwritess , @reader-1290 , @thesmutconnoisseur , @koyukilove

@hardlystrictlystarwars , @lareinamorgan , @serpentineaerodynamics

@envyjmoney , @clementines-valt , @the-pan-liquid

@stellasloth @migueloharasoulmate , @cynwing

@ddreabea , @what-the-jams @loaves4me , @p1nkliquor , @mcmiracles , @tojishugetiddies , @1-800-choke-that-ho @idfciluvsmut

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel atsv #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #spotify #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #Spotify

[missgryffin]

lying in wait

Randomly listened to some Hamilton over the weekend, ended up with "Wait For It" stuck in my head, and wrote this in a couple hours today. I think it's angst, but with a nice dash of crack? Idk 😅 But I hope it makes you smile! 🫶 below + AO3

November 3, 1981

The cottage is silent, save for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall, and it’s already pitch dark, with only the faint glow of street lamps and budding moonlight shining in through rain-slicked windows. 

Lily draws up her knees to her chest where she sits on the sofa, peering mindlessly into blurry windowpane. She doesn’t remember the last time she walked aimlessly down a road, or went into a shop. Sometimes, on stormy autumn nights like this, she wonders if she ever will again. 

Footsteps tumble down the stairs, then come to an abrupt halt. 

“Lil?” She can see his shadowed outline, one hand in his hair. “You just…sitting in the dark?”

She shrugs, though he probably can’t see, and asks, “Harry went down alright, then?” 

James chuckles to himself as he crosses the room, picking his way around the furniture until he drops onto the sofa next to her. “After reading every book twice and playing the Snitch game for thirty minutes…yes.” He leans closer, grinning. “Our son is asleep.” 

She rests a hand on his scruffy cheek. “It’s only supposed to be ten minutes of the Snitch game,” she teases him. 

“I know,” James sighs. “But he asked for ten more.” 

Lily snorts. “What, and then ten more after that?” 

He throws his hands weakly in his lap. “Wha—am I supposed to say no to the kid? He looks just like me!” 

She falls into him, a laughing heap, and for a moment, they simply giggle deliriously together. It’s nice. It’s normal. Or at least a sliver of it.

James cuddles her into him, and Lily breaths him in. They’ve lost so many over the few years since Hogwarts, but they still have each other. She clings on to that, to him.

“I love you,” she says into his chest. 

He kisses the top of her head. “I love you, too.”

A stretching silence; a heavy sigh. “It’s his birthday.” 

“I know,” James murmurs. “I can’t stop thinking about him.” 

Lily peels herself off his chest and swings a leg over his lap, sitting with her arms looped around his neck. How many conversations have they had over the years while sitting just like this? How many more will they get? 

“He said he’d be in touch by today.” Her mind won’t stop racing. “What if this was a bad id—” 

“It wasn’t,” James cuts her off. “Besides.” A heavy sigh. “It was…our only idea.”

“Do you think…” She pauses, plays with his hair. “Do you think we…did the right thing?” 

He sits up straighter, pulling her closer against him. “You’re the only two people in my life I know I can trust completely,” he says. “So yeah, I think we did.” 

There’s no use rehashing it again; they’ve done that enough. Yes, he now has a target on his back, but it’s not like he wasn’t already a target before. No, it couldn’t have been anyone else—not Albus, who knows more than he’s saying; not Remus, whom Albus and Sirius both suspect; and not Peter, who’s been looking exhausted and strung-out from the night-shift reconnaissance he’s been assigned. Yes, he had to leave. And no, it wasn’t cowardly to do so.

Granted, that last bit had taken a not insignificant amount of convincing (damned Gryffindor), but he eventually came around to their idea. Staying around in England with Voldemort sure to be onto him was certain death. But why not take advantage of being top of Voldemort’s mind? Why make it easy, when instead he could make it hard? Give the Order a leg up? Let them use him (or rather, the idea of him) as bait to lure and manipulate all the Death Eaters looking for him, and maybe even root out the spy in the process? And really, if anyone was going to lead Voldemort on a wild goose chase, setting traps and lying in wait, who better than Sirius Black?

Still, she worries. She can’t help it. And she knows James worries too, even if he does do a better job of hiding it. 

There’s only one thing left to do, really; only one way to pass the time sufficiently distracted from racing thoughts. James must read her mind, because he’s all eager hands and excited tongue when she kisses him. Maybe it’s unhealthy, how much they’ve used sex to cope the past year. But when his mouth feels like this and hair’s in her hands…she’s not sure she cares.

“Prongs!”

They jump, springing apart like they’re fifth years caught after curfew. James swears under his breath as they fumble to right the clothes they’d started shoving aside before he reaches for the small mirror sitting on the coffee table.

“Padfoot!” 

Lily frantically feels around the sofa for her wand. 

“Why’s it so dar—oh, don’t tell me you were just—”

“We were waiting for you,” James covers. 

“Mate. That’s worse. Just say you were shagging.” 

“Well, we weren’t yet.”

“Hi, Sirius.” She brandishes her now-glowing wand, recovered from the seam between the cushions. 

“Lily! Looking rumpled as ever!” 

She yanks her cardigan back up her shoulder as she scolds, “Shut it.”

“I miss you, too.” 

They can only see Sirius’s chin in frame, and it seems like he’s moving around. 

“Happy birthday, man,” James says.

“Thanks.” 

“Where are you?” 

“Hang on—I have to show you—ready?” 

“Yeah?” 

His face comes into view and Lily instantly gasps. 

Sirius grins. “Like it?” 

His once shoulder-length hair’s been chopped off stylishly short in a fresh cut that makes him look like old Hollywood charm in that loose button-down he has on. 

“Damn, Pads!” 

“I…barely recognize you,” Lily stammers. 

“Well.” He adjusts the mirror closer to his face. “That’s sorta the point.” 

A heavy pit settles in her stomach. 

“How you been?” James asks. “Travel go okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve been doing things the Muggle way—that Muggle Studies N.E.W.T.’s finally paying off, who woulda thought.”

“Where are you now?”

The mirror turns around, panning over an ocean-side city lit up with lights through a set of patio doors. “Cannes,” he says, and Lily hears the grin in his voice. The mirror turns back to his face. “I have access to money here, dad’s side of the family, in the French bank. And I figure…” He flops back atop a hotel bed, one hand beneath his head. “If Voldemort wants to come get me, he’ll just have to bring his snakey arse down to the beach, won’t he?”

They all bust up into snorting, wheezing laughter. It’s not normal; none of it’s normal. But laughing with her husband and their best friend like this is the closest to normal she’s felt in a long time, and she thinks, if this is how life has to be for awhile, she can live with it.

#missgryffin writes #jily #jple #james x lily #jily fanfiction #alternate ending #not really sure what this is it just happened #everyone lives au #justice for sirius black #getting the adventure story he deserves

[3mcwritingmcuhcs]

How the Avengers Would React to You Falling Asleep on Their Shoulder (Part 2)

The last one was Thor and Wanda, this one is gonna be Bucky and Yelena, and I may do another with Peter and Steve.

Just like with Thor, Yelena is someone who is BIG on physical affection. Hugs, friendly little cheek kisses, squeezing your hand whenever she's excited about something--which is basically always--and just generally being a big bundle of sunshine.

Similar to her sister, she has her own problems with physical affection, but unlike where her sister prefers to preserve her personal space, whenever Yelena is around people she truly trusts, she is constantly giving some sort of physical affection.

The two of you will be walking to training and she'll hold your hand and swing it constantly, not caring if she hit anyone nearby--in fact, it was a plus to her, just to see the way you let out a startled laugh.

Now, it was one of your and Yelena's usual game nights that turned into the two of you staring at her ceiling while laying on the floor.

It was four in the morning, Yelena was rambling about her newest vest and all the pockets it had.

You had been nodding along, half delirious from lack of sleep, but determined to listen.

As Yelena found out, you had not managed to.

You had nodded off, your head sliding off her shoulder and falling into her lap. The pillow on her lap should've made that okay, but she also had some candy wrappers that crunched at the movement.

She looked down at you, startled, and lifted your head to clear the wrappers from under.

Not quite thinking, she just dropped your head, giggling at your disgruntled face.

She poked your nose.

"You're so cute, you know that?"

And then immediately passed out.

Natasha found the two of you in the morning, used to the both of you missing breakfast because one or both of you decided to go skiing despite the fact that there was no snow or hills nearby.

GIF by sebastians-stan

It was coming back from a mission.

It had been a long one, and the ride back to the compound in the quinjet was near nine hours.

You were good at getting along with most of the people on the team, but Bucky had always been rather guarded compared to the others.

You didn't blame him, and you still always made sure to say hi and ask him how he was doing, but you had never gone much further than that.

That plane ride though, you had been exhausted, and you happened to sit next to Bucky.

You had greeted him at the beginning and for the rest had stayed quiet, reading a book.

Two hours in though, your head had lolled and ended up on Bucky's shoulder.

He stiffened, looking at your unconscious face. He could tell you were sleeping, and he felt a little weird about it.

Not uncomfortable, but moreso just confused.

He had a reputation for being pretty unapproachable, and he knew that his past was common knowledge to the people around him, so he understood why so few people talked to him.

Of course, you were always polite, and maybe the smile you sent him did make his day, but he never pushed for any sort of conversation because he didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

After all, he had done some bad things.

But here you were, completely at ease, at your most vulnerable, and leaning on him.

He stayed stiff, not wanting to wake you up, and at some point, for the first time since he had fallen off that train, he fell asleep without a problem.

In fact, he fell asleep too easily, and slept too well.

Because when the quinjet landed and he was woken up, he found out that you'd been awake for the last hour and a half but hadn't moved from the uncomfortable position because you hadn't wanted to disturb his sleep.

The agents at the compound all though they'd been drugged that day because holy shit, was the Winter Soldier blushing as he exited the quinjet????

#marvel x reader #mcu #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky x you #winter soldier #james buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #yelena black widow #yelena belova #yelena x reader #yelena x y/n #yelena x you #yelena belova x reader

[pie4444]

penis serious penis delirious

you mean dick, cock, phallus, member, manhood, schlong, dong, willy, johnson, shaft, sexcalibur, pecker, heat-seeking moisture missile, wiener, tool, wang, beaver basher, joystick, prick, wee wee, boner, peter, plonker, virile member, knob, one-eye wonder weasel, pisser, todger, weenie, willie, pizzle, pocket rocket, puts, pork sword, rod, tarse, tockley, whanger, chopper, john thomas, junk, sausage, skin flute, tadger, ding dong, ding-a-ling, dork, giggle stick, pillicock, runnion, thing, trouser snake, dinky, disco stick, donger, equipment, krull the warrior king, lingam, love muscle, love stick, middle leg, one-eyed monster, one-eyed trouser snake, pintle, piss weasle, prong, stiffy, third leg, whang, winkle, cucumber, ding-dong, dipstick, dude piston, fire hose, flesh flute, fun stick, helmet head, hog, horn, lap rocket, leaky hose, loom, love rod, master sword, meat popsicle, meat thermometer, mickey, netherrod, pee-pee, peen, pego, pink torpedo, piston, ramrod, rig, schlort SERIOUS dick, cock, phallus, member, manhood, schlong, dong, willy, johnson, shaft, sexcalibur, pecker, heat-seeking moisture missile, wiener, tool, wang, beaver basher, joystick, prick, wee wee, boner, peter, plonker, virile member, knob, one-eye wonder weasel, pisser, todger, weenie, willie, pizzle, pocket rocket, puts, pork sword, rod, tarse, tockley, whanger, chopper, john thomas, junk, sausage, skin flute, tadger, ding dong, ding-a-ling, dork, giggle stick, pillicock, runnion, thing, trouser snake, dinky, disco stick, donger, equipment, krull the warrior king, lingam, love muscle, love stick, middle leg, one-eyed monster, one-eyed trouser snake, pintle, piss weasle, prong, stiffy, third leg, whang, winkle, cucumber, ding-dong, dipstick, dude piston, fire hose, flesh flute, fun stick, helmet head, hog, horn, lap rocket, leaky hose, loom, love rod, master sword, meat popsicle, meat thermometer, mickey, netherrod, pee-pee, peen, pego, pink torpedo, piston, ramrod, rig, schlort delirious

[underoooos]

Tony : What's your type?!

Peter, slurring: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially

Tony :*desperate as Peter bleeds out* YOUR BLOOD TYPE!

Peter: Oh! B positive

Tony :*veins popping out* DON'T TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE!!

Peter:

#do not reblog as starker #peter parker #spiderman #tony stark #iron man #ironfam #Peter:*deliriously giggles* #incorrect peter parker #incorrect tony stark #irondad #spider son #irondad and spiderson #iron family #shut up tony #marvel #incorrect mcu quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #ironman and spiderman #ironspider

[fuddlewuddle]

Not to toot my own horn, but sometimes I can be pretty fucking funny with my writing (or funny to me anyway).

A few examples from my latest fic Playing nursemaid to the Devil:

-And Peter wasn’t there to stop Matt from being a dumbass and trying to do lawyer stuff when he was clammier than the Little Mermaid’s sweet sixteen birthday party.

-“Peter?” Matt mumbled into Foggy’s hair as he sort of half-draped himself over Foggy whilst Foggy tried to get the keys from Matt’s pocket to open the front door. It was like his limbs were becoming noodlier by the minute (and yes, that’s a word, he’s sure of it), and any minute now Matt was going to be a pile of idiot lawyer spaghetti on the pavement.

His glasses could be the meatballs, he supposed, giggling to himself internally.

-“Foggy?”

“Mhmhmm.”

“When you’re not here, you’re mist.”

Foggy sighed. “Was that a weather pun?”

“….No.” Matt giggled, sounding very high-pitched and rather delirious.

If you fancy reading some fun (I think they are anyway) stories about Charlie Cox's Matt Murdock and Andrew Garfield's Peter Parker (with some appearances from Foggy, Karen and Tom's Peter), then maybe give my Spiderdevil series a try.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2719108

You won't regret it....hopefully :D

#my fics #spiderdevil #matt murdock x peter parker #matt murdock #peter parker #spiderman no way home spoilers #spiderman nwh spoilers #spiderman no way home #spiderman nwh #andrew garfield #charlie cox #marvel fanfiction

[starbuckie]

𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

challenge: time travel challenge by @justagirlinafandomworld​

prompt: “we’re divorced?” 

pairing: sirius black x reader

words: 5.7k words

warnings: FOURTH WALL BREAK!!(sorry im very excited about that), lots of angst, almost smut(hehe), sirius lowkey has a breeding kink, sirius is an asshole for a bit, the smallest bit of fluff, fix-it, and the same time travel theory as back to the future

summary: an unnatural occurrence lets a woman go back in time to try and change everything she’s known for the past twenty years.

a/n: wow, i normally don’t write for harry potter so this was a nice change. anyways, this is for yvette’s time travel writing challenge, and everybody say HAPPY BIRTHDAY YVETTE! i’m so sorry this is late, it got deleted and i needed to re-edit, but i truly appreciate your friendship and your lovely, amazingly beautiful self, and I’m so so glad that we became friends :)  this fic is not beta-read at all, so if you see any mistakes tell me, but otherwise i really hope you enjoy this fic<3

main masterlist || harry potter masterlist

It still wasn’t over. After all she had lost, more specifically everyone she had lost, and the shitty cycle that she had to call her life, it still wasn’t over. The people she had watched the life drain from, the screams of those suffering from the loss caused by the Dark Lord, and yet life still hadn’t had its fill of torturing Y/N. Grimmauld Place felt empty without the kids, without the Weasleys, but they had gone back to their home and soon enough she would have to as well. Harry had gone back to Hogwarts with Dumbledore, though she’d argued to hold onto him just a bit longer after-

After Sirius had died. 

Time had passed, maybe two or three weeks, but no matter what the woman couldn’t bring herself to get out of Sirius’ old bedroom, simply staring at the ceiling with her tears at bay. Her and Sirius had been a complicated thing, to say the least, a topic nobody had brought up since 1983, when she had banned it. Not as if there was much to talk about after the divorce and Sirius going to Azkaban. After Lily and James had died, after she had fought with Dumbledore for custody of Harry, after she had become a professor at Beauxbatons and moved to France without a second thought. Sirius had been locked up after he’d hurt her in the worst possible way, and Y/N’s heartbroken soul found no other reason to return to England. 

But, she pushed those bad memories to the back of her mind. It seemed so trivial, looking back on it. Not the broken house, of course, that had been his own mistake. But Y/N had many regrets, all of them seeming to revolve around the mischievous black-haired man who she had fallen in love with as a teen. The night it went down, the night their relationship had fractured at the seams and fallen down, was her greatest one however. It had been so stupid, so, so stupid, but they’d both gotten caught up in the moment, and Y/N had let him die without knowing how much she was sorry for that night that they let their fears consume them. 

The cries that she had tried so hard to contain finally broke free from the restraints of her heart. “I’m so sorry, Siri,” she whispered into the air, “I couldn’t save you this time.” As the hot, salty tears ran down her cheeks, Y/N shuffled across the room, letting her feet drag her to the old Black family room, the dark green walls embracing her rainy emotions. 

A little gasp escaped her lips as she looked at the portraits among the wall. The Black family tree was faded along the age-old wall, but what she was really looking for was the burned out image of her raven-haired love. There, right next to Regulus, was a black spot, scorned and scarred by the prestigious family for being a blood traitor. Y/N smiled and traced the burn with her finger, remembering their fourth year when she had accompanied him home for the holidays so he wouldn’t be completely alone in the hellhole he had to call his house. Sirius had snuck them up to this room and spent the night talking in hushed whispers sworn secrets. “I’ll be yours forever, Siri, and I’m sorry for fighting with you. I wish-” she sniffled, glaring at the spot in the wall as she tried to garble out her words, “I wish, I could go back in time, and just fix it. Just me and you, and that stupid night, with the bloody fight about children because you deserve it all, darling.”

“Ah, I think you can.” 

Y/N turned around, her eyes wide with fear. That was not Kreacher’s voice. There stood a younger woman, around nineteen, a scroll of paper and a quill in her hand. There was a whisper of a smirk on her face, brown eyes glittering even in the dimness in the room. “Who the hell are you?” Y/N looked at the door, which was still closed as she left it. She cast her wand out, pointing it at the stranger who did nothing but smile. “How did you get in here? Are you with the Lord?”

“With Voldemort?” The woman simply laughed. “Dude, I’m not with ‘the Lord’,” she added with air quotations. “Also I’m not really even here, so don’t you worry about that. My name’s Malia.”

Malia held her hand out, but Y/N kept her guard up. “You’re American. What brings you here? Are you a muggle?”

“Oh, nope, not a wizard, I’m just the author of this story.” Malia confided. “I’m here to tell you that you can fix this.”

“Fix… what?” Malia just rolled her eyes and sighed, staring up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

“God, did I write you to be hard of hearing now, too? I ought to fix that when I get back.” The woman blankly stared at the strange girl, wondering what the actual fuck she was talking about. “I can give you the chance to go back in time, Y/N. It won’t be for long, it’s really not gonna be interesting for more than two hours at most, but that should be enough time to tell the gang about what’s to come with Voldemort.”

“Like... time travel?” Y/N asked. The only way she knew how to time travel was the time turners. “But all of the ti-”

“Time turners were destroyed in the Department of Mysteries, I know, I know. Trust me, I’ve read Harry Potter more times than I’ve said ‘I love you’ to my parents.” Malia smiled. “I’m the author, I make the rules, and my rule is that I’m giving you two hours in 1978 to talk to Sirius so he can fix the emotional fucking mess left behind by J.K. Rowling.”

“Who’s J.K. Rowling?” Malia shuddered at the name.

“A raggedy-ass, transphobic bitch who wrote y’all into existence, but she’s not of importance right now.” She checked the small, rectangular box in her hand, which glowed and provided little light in the darkened room. “Let’s see, it’s currently eleven-forty, so you have until one-forty to find the Marauders and fix this future. It may not be fixed in the books in the future, but if you are able to do it here that’s all that matters.” Malia’s brown eyes were downcast, her bright and loud personality dimming for just a moment before returning to Y/N’s confused gaze once more. “Try not to screw up too much while you’re there, just enough that you defeat the Dark Lord the first time. Tell Sirius all you know and that should be enough for him to fix all the mistakes, but do not under any circumstances let him or anyone else know who you are. I wish you luck, Y/N, it was nice to meet ya in person.” 

And with a peace sign in front of her face, she disappeared into a flash of neon pink light. 

“Bloody hell! Fix my future? Talk to Sirius? If this even is time travel, then how am I supposed to get there- AH!” Y/N’s body felt like it was turning inside out, her guts being torn from her stomach and back into it again. A delirious giggle arose from her lips in the black void she was pulled into, and a soft chatter could be heard, like voices at the end of a tunnel. 

“Blimey, looks like we got ourselves a nutter on school grounds.” Y/N’s arms flailed around, desperately seeking some sort of grounding surface to hold on to when her back hit a rough surface. There was an audible crack somewhere in her body, but she felt so sick that she couldn’t tell where. 

“Are you okay, ma’am? You just appeared from the sky and hit the ground.” Warm, brown eyes met Y/N’s, a familiar mess of black curls resting atop of the boy’s head. Large, rounded glasses sat perched on the tip of his nose, and an impish smile, one she used to know so well before he died, met his lips. 

“James,” she sighed. The boy stared at her strangely, and only then did she notice the three other boys and girls each behind them. Remus, Peter, Sirius, Lily, Marlene, and Alice. 

Sirius.

The sight that met her eyes made her nearly emotional. It had technically been only three weeks since she had seen him, but here was the young boy she had fallen in love with. The one who charmed her with his smart words and witty retorts to her brush-offs, who used to hold her in his arms in the most intimate and gentle ways. His grey eyes sparkled with curiosity, the infamous Marauder mischief swirling within the silvery pools.  

Seeing him so young tugged at her heartstrings, and though she wanted nothing more than to hold him in her arms and never let go, a small, niggling feeling at the back of her head held her back. Was there something wrong?

“You know me?” Oh right, she was currently thirty-five. Looking around she noticed that she was outside the quidditch pitch, and there were other students, staring at her with widened eyes. No one knew she was Y/N L/N, their fellow schoolmate and probably one of the very few of them that survived the Death Eaters attacks. None of them were aware how it ended, or how it was currently going for them back in 1996, and in this time there was the first Wizarding War going on and they had every right to be terrified for their lives.

James now took a more defensive stance, standing tall and holding his wand out. “Who are you?”

She couldn’t give him the answer, instead letting her mouth gape open as she stared at him with wide eyes. Y/N looked across the grounds for the nearest exit, which was down by Hagrid’s hut and into the Forbidden Forest. It was her only choice at this point, to hide in the dark, creepy space, maybe just until the students went away so she could find Sirius and talk to him alone. It’d be hard to separate him from the boys, but if Lily were occupied with James it sure would be easy. 

Her younger, seventh-year self didn’t seem to be in the audience, thank Merlin, and with that knowledge, she got up and ran, ignoring her screaming muscles. That time travel really did a number on her. 

As she ran through the crowd, shoving people aside, she heard the students mutter, too much in shock and disarray to stop the crazy, old woman who knew James Potter.

“This is dodgy.”

“Someone ought to tell Dumbledore about this.”

“She kinda looks like Y/N L/N.’

“Don’t insult the poor girl like that, that wonker is ages old.”

“Come back here! Who the bloody hell are you?” Y/N’s heart beat quickly in her chest, threatening to burst out. Only three minutes in the past and it was all going straight to shit. “Stupefy!”

Shit. “No, James, please don’t-“ Her body hit the ground and her eyes closed, the last thing she saw being the pumpkin patch by the hut.

-

“I see you’re awake now, Ms. L/N.” Dumbledore stood above Y/N in the hospital ward bed, his grey beard dangling in front of her face. Her first instinct was to start blaming him for everything that had happened, starting from Lily and James’ deaths to Sirius’, already opening her mouth to call him an old, senile cow, but then she realized that Harry hadn’t been sent to the Dursleys yet, much less been born yet, so none of it would have an effect on him. Y/N’s second instinct was to question how Dumbledore knew who she was in 1978, but her former Headmaster started to speak before she could do so. “I must admit, it’s very courageous, that stunt you just pulled. I don’t think Ms. Louie will be too happy about that.” Y/N sent him a questioning stare. “Malia, the girl you met earlier. Malia Louie.”

“Headmaster Dumbledore, how did you know it was me?” She was dressed in a white gown that went to her knees, and behind him she could see her blouse and jeans folded and clean. Ah, the Hospital Wing. She had brought the boys here more times than she could count in her years at Hogwarts. “I don’t exactly look as young as I used to.”

“Ah, don’t worry Ms. L/N, you’ve kept your good looks quite nicely, even in your older age.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his wrinkled eyes sparkling with joy. “And speaking of young, if you are still worrying yourself about your younger self, you can put that to a stop. I am aware that you are not able to tell anyone who you are, and time travel is exceptionally dangerous if you are seen by the other version of yourself. I’ve already told the students that you were just a stray witch, misguided in your ways and that you were well taken care of. However, I think that brings us to the question of what your intentions are in the past, Ms. L/N.”

“Headmaster, I don’t think I can tell you about my business here. I’ve already messed up by letting the school see me by letting everyone see me, I don’t know why that girl even sent me here, it’s clear that this was a mistake.” Y/N sat up on the headboard, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. The tall arches of windows let the sun in the room, and she could see the specks of dust swirling around in the golden light. It had to be close to the end of the year for them, maybe sometime around April or May, near the end of N.E.W.T.s at least. She could imagine that it’d be easy for her to get out of Hogwarts for the day, with all the students studying for the stressful exams in the library, maybe she'd make her way to Hogsmeade and walk around or visit Hagrid under a false name to have some tea. He was always open for a nice cuppa with strangers on any free day he had. “Thank you Headmaster, for your kindness, but I really ought to be going. I-it was nice to see you.”

Y/N started to help herself out of the bed, swinging her feet over to touch the cool stone ground. Bones cracked with pain and fatigue, her muscles stretching sluggishly. Merlin, that she was not expecting that much hurt from the fall, but she should have never underestimated James Potter. No one ever should if they want to keep their good mind and sanity. 

Dumbledore handed her her clothes, cracked lips set in a straight line as he nodded solemnly. “I hope you accomplish whatever it is you are here to do, Ms. L/N, but I have no doubt that you will.” With a sly wink, he added, “You were always one of our most ardent and bright students.”

Y/N let herself smile, and with a wave, swiftly brought herself to the door. “Thank you, Headmaster.”

After slipping outside, she ran down the corridors, echoes of her feet ringing lightly behind her. The courtyard proved to be empty and she quickly ducked behind a column and tugged her jeans on hastily, making sure that no professors came walking past. Though the sky proved to be bright and cheerful, a slight breeze carried through, making her fall off balance and fall on the cemented ground. 

“Are you okay, darling? You look like you’re in need of a little help.” Y/N looked up to the speaking figure, one that she both loved and dreaded to see. 

She gathered herself quickly, her mind running fast and heart beating out of her chest as she tried to get out. “Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I think I’ll just get up and going now, I don’t need to take time out of your day like this-”

“I know who you are, Y/N.” 

Y/N came to a full stop, going against her brain that screamed at her to run away. Sirius looked downtrodden, his grey eyes watering despite the small hint of a smirk on his face. Though he was always one for playing around and not taking anything seriously, she knew when it was time to stop pretending and get real. “How’d you know it was me, Sirius?”

“You really don’t look bad for your age, darling.” He offered her a hand to help her up and she took it graciously, eyeing him nearly guiltily and forgetting about her promise to Y/N. But that was useless now, this moment with her first love was much more important. “Also you have the tattoo on your chest. I knew it was you the moment you landed on school grounds.”

She traced his gaze to her left collarbone, where a paw print, just barely visible beneath her low-cut blouse, sat. It was his, or Snuffles’, paw print, and at this point in time they had probably gotten it done about three months before. He had one for her too, a horseshoe for her horse patronus, right on his left side of his chest too. So they’d always be right next to each other’s hearts, as cheesy as it seemed.

But they were dumb, lovesick teenagers, and they acted the part well too. Their love was all-consuming, shagging in under the bleachers at the quidditch pitch and making out under the stars. It was fast, everything was fast, decisions, ideas, classes, all of them under the impression that they had to do everything right then or they’d be dead before they got to actually live. They had dreams of marriage, and a big, big family, obviously so far away from his family so they could never hurt their children’s lives the way they had hurt his. 

They were fantasies, Y/N had known that well enough when she and Sirius got divorced, but it was something that eighteen year-old Sirius Black held close to his heart. No matter how shitty his life got, he was always a firm believer in a happy ending. In their happy ending. 

“How am I right now?” They now stood over the Black Lake, staring into the glittering depths of the water where some mermaids could be seen sneaking peeks at the handsome boy and the strange lady who had fallen from the sky. 

Sirius stared at her questioningly for a moment. “How are you doing right now? I mean, I believe that I should be asking you that ques- oh, Merlin, I’m such a git, you meant your younger self.” Y/N laughed at that, her heart lifting with the goofiness of the old Sirius relieving an ache in her heart that she had had for so long. Not that old (it felt weird to say that) Sirius had been anything less than silly and snarky, but it was never directed towards her. It was nice to have the resemblance of their old relationship back, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. “I suppose that you’re okay. You didn’t see, well, your big moment on the field, but at this point Lily has probably opened her big, fat mouth and told you. N.E.W.T.s are just finishing up, so you’re much more light-hearted than during the study season.”

“I really did have a stick up my arse during exam time, you always told me to loosen up-” 

“Y/N, cut out the small talk, I think it’s okay for me to ask how and what is happening.” Sirius cut in.

So she told him. Y/N had always been upfront with people about everything. Or rather, she had learned how to be upfront with people after her and Sirius’ divorce. Without details of the deaths, she explained how she was sent back into the past to fix it in some conceivable way. However, she did tell him about the fall out. Maybe she wanted him to understand her pain, even though it was a younger him, but she had to admit to herself that it was because she just wanted Sirius, in whatever form life gave her to hear out her grievances and apologies. 

Since her Sirius was dead before she could.

“We’re divorced?” Sirius looked about ready to break down into tears, almost as if the concept of them breaking up or separating was foreign to him. “What exactly did we fight over, Y/N? That doesn’t seem normal for the two of us.” Sirius asked.

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t a normal predicament for us. either…”

Sirius slammed the door shut, efficiently pinning her against it with his white button up ruffled up, navy tie hanging from his neck loosely. Y/N’s arms were held down tightly against the oak wood, the sensation of the cold door burning into her rather warm skin making her squeal. Her husband’s tongue worked its way through her parted lips, low groans rising from the back of his throat from the way she moaned in tandem with his hips pushing into hers. Legs wrapped around his tapered waist, the pink, floral skirt Y/N wore rising high on her thighs, revealing more of her flesh to the lust-filled man. Both of their giggles echoed off the hallway walls of their small cottage home, just four miles west of their best friends’. 

As the twenty year-old man threw his wife unceremoniously on the bed, he shed himself of his shirt and swiftly unbuttoned his slacks, throwing them haphazardly across the room. Merlin, Y/N looked ethereal laying spread out on the bed, panties around her left ankle, swollen lips parted with short puffs of air leaving them. “You just get right down to business, don’t you, Black.” 

Crawling over his body, his hot breath hit her neck as he growled against her skin. “Could say the same thing about you, darling.” Sirius’ lips made their way down every inch, every curve, nook, and cranny of Y/N’s body, smoothly slipping her clothes off as he did so. Her sweet gasps filled the bedroom, back arching off the bed to meet his chest. “I’m going to put a baby in you tonight, sweetheart, we’re-”

Y/N sat up straight, her eyebrows trained in confusion at her husband. “What? A baby?” 

Sirius’ heart pounded in his chest. “Yes.” He remarked in a clipped tone. “Is that not what you wanted?” 

Her mind recalled her words from earlier that day, as she chatted happily with Lily about the news of her pregnancy. “Siri, I said I may one day enjoy having a kid of my own. Not right now, of course, but later. After all, we only got married a few months ago, don’t you think we should hold off a bit on that? We’re twenty years-old, Siri, there’s so many years for that.”

Rage filled Sirius’ blood like a spreading fire. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much about his anger as it was his hurt and fear. Fear that she had realized how fucked up he truly was, fear that she realized what he had known all along- that she deserved better than him. “So you don’t want a baby with me?”

“I never said I didn’t want that, Sirius, I just said that I’m not ready!” Y/N yelled back. At this point both of them stood on opposite sides of the bed, faces hot with tears. “We’re in the middle of a bloody war, people we know, people we love, have lost their lives, and it is not the ideal environment to raise a child, Sirius! Just because James and Lily are ready to have one doesn’t mean that I am too!”

“When will you be ready, Y/N? When will it ever be enough time for you? When will I be enough for you?” The heartbroken girl tried to interject, but her voice was cut off by her husband’s quickly enough. Sirius climbed onto the bed, holding her chin harshly with one hand. “Tell me, did you ever want to be with me in the first place?”

“Yes, Sirius, of course I wanted to be with you.” His heart hurt looking at the love of his life in tears, but even that was able to melt his cold facade. “I love you more than anything in the world.” 

“Then fucking prove it, Y/N.” With that declaration, he removed his hand from her face and gathered his clothes, slamming everything in their shared room as Y/N quivered, knees ready to buckle on the spot. “I’m going out, don’t wait up for me.”  

As soon as the front door shut, she fell to the ground in tears, the laughter that once filled their home replaced with the sound of her shattered heart. 

Y/N had done her best to not tear up during her explanation of the events that had taken that night, but Sirius' eyes watered, refusing to believe the truth. “No. No. I didn’t do that. Y/N, tell me,” he gripped her biceps with trembling hands, “please tell me I didn’t really do that. I can’t believe that I-I, that I-”

“You were drunk, Sirius, I don’t think you truly knew what you were saying at the time.” She sighed, “But people always say that drunken words are just sober thoughts.” Y/N rubbed her arms, just shivering slightly in the Scotland breeze. “You came back two hours later punching the wall and breaking it, and that’s when I knew that we wouldn’t last.” 

The raven-haired boy’s head started to shake, even more mortified of the actions that his future self, the man he’d be in just two years' time, had done. “I packed up my things, not that there were many, we’d only moved into the house a month before, left, and I sent the divorce papers a week later. It was probably better that way, you would’ve divorced me if I hadn’t done it first.” Y/N had gotten used to telling her sob story to colleagues at Beauxbatons, to her family, but it felt different with pre-divorce Sirius. Of course, she had never thought she’d be in this citation either, so no one could really blame her for feeling weird. “You signed them easily, and my lawyer made sure that I never had to see you again.”  Until Lily and James died.

“Until…” Sirius led on.

“Merlin’s beard, Sirius, you’ve always been able to read my mind. Shouldn’t have doubted it for a second.” He smiled at the sentiment, gesturing for her to continue. “I can’t tell you, Sirius, I hope you can understand that.”

“Why, Y/N, what happens that can be any worse in the future?” Oh dear, Sirius, you really do not want the answer to that question. She needed any way out of this conversation, after all running away was what she did best, and her eyes already searched for several routes to which she could run. Not that Y/N could ever outrun Sirius in his animagus form, but it was nice to have the belief that she could. The boy sensed her distress and grabbed hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me, darling, but I have to admit that I am a bit worried, just in the slightest.”

Y/N let herself calm down, squeezing Sirius’ hand and noticing his watch. She had actually given him that watch, gold-plated and dark grey metal, but it wasn’t the beauty of the gift that caught her eye, but rather the actual time on it. One-thirty. 

How had that much time gone by so quickly? She was going to be sucked into the black void of time travel again in ten minutes, and that wasn’t nearly enough time to unload nearly twenty years worth of history onto Sirius. No, he would go insane from that much knowledge, which was exactly against what Malia had advised. 

“I don’t have enough time to tell you everything that happens in the future, Sirius. But what I am about to tell you is vital, absolutely vital for the good of all of us in the future.” Sirius nodded with a serious sort of smile on his face. “Don’t let Peter be Lily and James’ secret keeper. When the time comes that they move away, I’m not going to tell you where yet, do not under any circumstances let Peter be their secret keeper. I know he’s one of our best friends right now, and do not tell anyone about this, but he’s going to betray us in the worst way possible.” 

While Sirius was shocked, he nodded solemnly and ran a hand through his long hair. “I won’t tell anyone, Y/N. Can I fix us, Y/N? I don’t know if you should be letting the key to a happier future rest in my hands.”

“I full heartedly trust that you’ll do some good, whatever the outcome may be. As for fixing us, I hope you can, but depending on what happens we’ll just have to wait and see.” She sighed, “If you want my opinion on it, I think that we both should have waited longer to get married. It was right after James and Lily got married, but we aren’t and never will be them. We both had a lot of growing up to do, so I would take it slowly. Communicate your wants and needs in the relationship and in the end it may not even be us together. But I know you, Siri, don’t let this get in the way of your entire life. The most important part is that you tell James and Lily about Peter.”  

She glanced back up the school grounds where students could start to be seen leaving their classes. “You better get back to the castle, Sirius. McGonagall is going to come for your arse and this time the boys aren’t going to be able to cover for you.”

“If they knew where I was, darling, I don’t even think they’d believe me.” Sirius chuckled.

Y/N nodded in agreement and pulled Sirius into a tight hug. “You can do this, sweetheart, and even if you can’t, it will not stop me from loving you any less. Maybe the future wasn’t meant to be changed, but regardless of whether that is true or not, I know that you will try your hardest, Sirius. Just try not to die, okay?”

The boy was still clutching onto her tightly, his tears soaking her rose-colored blouse. “I’ll do my best, darling.”

With one last kiss on the forehead, she smiled at him. “I know you will, Siri.” 

-

Y/N’s arse hit the floor once again, her spine cracking once again. “What’s the year?” She yelled out, reaching for the walls of the black family room. 

But it wasn’t there. Upon opening her eyes, she saw James, Lily, and Sirius sitting at a wooden table in her old white cottage. A nice tea set, her grandmother’s as she realized later, sat in the center, along with a large stack of letters. “Y/N, what the bloody hell happened to you, I’ve been worried sick!” 

Her red-headed best friend scurried over to her, brushing invisible dirt off her shoulders and pulling her up abruptly. James fixed the glasses on his nose, cleaning them off with his striped jumper. “You look a little disheveled right now, Y/N, what ran you over?” 

“You know who she reminds me of right now, Jamie? That crazy witch friend of Dumbledore’s that made her way onto campus back in seventh year.” Lily giggled as she hugged Y/N.

“Merlin’s beard, you’re right!” James walked over to the woman of the hour, ruffling her hair with a smirk on his face. “If you were about twenty years older I’d have no trouble believing you were the same person.”

While Lily and James recalled their memories from the strange woman all those years ago at Hogwarts, Sirius pulled Y/N aside, an arm wrapped around her waist. The warmth radiating from his body was nice, embracing her in a comfort she hadn’t felt in so long.

“I’m going to go ahead and believe that I did something right?” Sirius grabbed her hand, and only then did she notice the coolness of metal sitting on her left ring finger. There sat the single band of gold, a small ruby encased in its plating. She had once joked that diamonds were too overrated, and he went out and got her the most vibrant gem he could find, claiming that it was just like her. But regardless of its shape, size, or type of gem, it was there.

“Yeah, Siri,” Y/N replied with tears in her eyes, “you did good.” 

“Oi, Blacks, stop making out and get over here, we got a letter from Minnie!” James yelled, making both wives chuckle. “Harry’s gotten himself in detention for punching Malfoy again.”

“Oh, thank Merlin, the boy deserves a few more good hits.” Sirius laughed. 

“McGonagall still talks to us?” Y/N asked in amazement. “You’ve got to get me caught up.”

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world.” Sirius gently placed his lips onto hers, and for once in nearly twenty years, Y/N felt at peace. There were no more hasty warnings of the future, no psychotic old men coming after her family, no young girls rushing in to tell her how to fix her screwed up life. Cracked, pink lips moving against her own, his tongue delving into her mouth, and Y/N knew she was finally off the clock.

#sirius black x reader #harry potter fanfiction #yvettestimetravelchallenge #harry potter #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #young marauders #sirius black is really just a beautiful man #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius orion black #sirius x y/n #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter headcanon #marauder era #fanfcition #fanfiction #fanfic #Self Insert #reader insert #readerinsert

[supersickies]

Summary: “Surgery was something that Peter Parker was used to. With his job, he really had to be used to going under the knife, and truthfully the more he experienced it the easier it got.

What Peter was not used to, however, were post-surgery infections. Of course, he knew that it was always a risk when going into procedures, but with the overly careful and competent medical staff in the med bay of Stark Tower, it was rarely something he had to worry about.

But nobody was perfect, accidents can happen, and that’s how Peter found himself in his current situation. Feverish, achy in more ways than one, and utterly miserable.”

OR

Peter can't sleep after a surgery gone bad. He needs his Lukey...if Tony can figure out what that is.

A/N: Here we go @sicktember day five! I was pretty excited for this prompt but for some reason had a tough time putting something together for it that I really loved. But hope this fic suffices and if you read it you enjoy it! This was pretty much that last prompt fill I have completely completed for Sicktember but I’m hoping to get some more finished so I may be back with those, we’ll just have to see! Either way, hope you enjoy this fic! You can read it below the cut or on Ao3!

Surgery was something that Peter Parker was used to. With his job, he really had to be used to going under the knife, and truthfully the more he experienced it the easier it got.

What Peter was not used to, however, were post-surgery infections. Of course, he knew that it was always a risk when going into procedures, but with the overly careful and competent medical staff in the med bay of Stark Tower, it was rarely something he had to worry about.

But nobody was perfect, accidents can happen, and that’s how Peter found himself in his current situation. Feverish, achy in more ways than one, and utterly miserable.

His left leg, the cause of all his anguish thanks to an unwelcome bullet wound, was currently being elevated and his body was being pumped with an IV cocktail of anti-nausea, anti-fever, anti-pain, and antibiotic medications. Suffice to say, Peter was not just exhausted but he was loopy as all hell.

And he just couldn’t fucking sleep.

For some reason, despite his delirious and debilitated state, sleep would not come to him. So instead, he laid in his med bay bed with tears streaming down his face, as he begged whatever god there was above to just give him at least a minute of rest. The med bay staff, alongside Bruce and Dr. Cho, had been doing their best to synthesize a sedative for the spider-kid but they had yet to be successful, much to Tony and Peter’s disappointment.

Tony, of course, was by his side the whole time, and seeing his kid in this state was similar to experiencing his own personal hell. But he’d be dammed if he left Peter even for a second.

“Shh, Petey. I know bud. Just take some deep breaths kid.” He soothes the teen, just as he had been doing all night. It was nearing two in the morning and he had no idea just how much more either of them could take. He had tried everything from reading to the kid to making fucking ocean sounds with his mouth. Yet still, no sleep.

Peter doesn’t respond, just continues to moan and wail as Tony sighs. “Gimme something kiddie, please. How can I help you, bambino?”

Peter looks to Tony, his eyes feverish and hazy. He takes a shaky breath before finally finding the energy to murmur, “M-May.”

“May? You want me to get May back down here?” Tony asks. May had been down in the med bay with the two for most of the day, only retiring to a guest room in the tower after Tony had begged her to get some rest before her early hospital shift.  

But even after giving his answer, Peter still didn't seem appeased. “No!” He whines. “I-I need Lukey.” He says with a sob.

Tony’s brows can only furrow. “Lukey?” What/who the fuck was a Lukey?

“Please M’ster S’ark, I need him.” Peter begs.

“Okay! Alrighty kiddo I…I will do my best to get…Lukey.” Tony reassures the boy as he stands from the uncomfortable med bay chair, running a nervous hand through his hair. “Just hang tight kiddo, I’m gonna figure this out.” He grabs his phone, quickly but quietly leaving Peter’s room.

He was gonna get this kid to sleep if it was the last thing he did.

Tony doesn’t understand immediately, but using the context clues he was given, he figures that if anyone knew what a Lukey was it would be May.

He could only hope that she wouldn’t be too pissed at him for waking her up at this hour.

The dial tone only sounds twice before she picks up. “Tony? What’s wrong? What happened?” She asks in a panic, ever the protective aunt.

“May! Everything’s okay! Peter’s…well, he’s um, still awake. I can’t really get him to calm down and-and I think I need your help?”

He can hear May flip on the bedside lamp and sit up. “W-What is it Tony?”

“Peter is asking for someone named Lukey? Something named Lukey? I-I was hoping maybe you know Lukey or-or can get him here at this hour? I just…he still can’t sleep May and I don’t know what else to d-“

He’s cut off by a snort. An honest to god laugh.

“…May?”

“S-Sorry, I um…” She giggles a bit more before continuing. “Yes, I can get Lukey here at this hour. Just…give me thirty.” She sighs, but Tony can’t sense any annoyance in it. She almost sounds like she’s smiling?

“I- okay then? See you in thirty I guess?” And she hangs up.

Tony doesn’t know if it’s the lack of sleep or what, but he feels absolutely crazy. “Still don’t know what the fuck a Lukey is.” He mumbles to himself, before heading back into Peter’s room.

Sure enough, after thirty more minutes of doing his utmost to calm the distraught spiderling, Tony hears May coming down the hall. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding with the hopes that May and the elusive Lukey’s arrival will calm the kid enough to send him right to sleep.

May enters the med bay room quietly. And alone? Where was Lukey?

Peter turns his head to the sound of the door shutting, his bleary eyes able to make out his aunt standing next to him. “May.” He rasps, fresh tears spilling over his cheeks. There really wasn’t much that wouldn’t make Peter cry at this point.

“Oh, my poor baby.” She coos, her kind fingers pushing the hair off of his overheated forehead. “You’re having a real hard time, huh tough guy?”

Peter nods miserably. “I-I need Lukey, May.” He whines.

The woman smiles warmly. “I know honey. He’s right here, I got him.” She reaches into the tote bag on her arm and pulls out a small blue blanket with a silky trim. It looked old but ultimately well-loved.

Oh, Tony thinks. Lukey.

Peter takes the blanket eagerly and is quick to hold the fabric lovingly to his chest. His thumb rubs the trim soothingly. Almost like magic, the boy’s crying has basically stopped, replaced with soft hiccups and shaky breaths.

Tony looks up at May, puzzled yet…impressed. He holds his tongue, though, not daring to interrupt the moment or disturb the finally calm spider-kid.

After a few moments of hushed reassurances from May, and of course the comfort of Lukey, Peter is finally asleep. The room is now overwhelmingly quiet, and Tony takes a much-needed deep breath.

He glances at the blanket that is now wrapped tightly around Peter’s shoulders, before looking at May. “So, Lukey?”

“It was a gift from Ben’s mom— Peter’s grandmother. She gave it to him the day he was born. She passed not long after but…she loved him a whole lot, him being her only grandchild and whatnot.” She explains.

Tony’s heart clinches. He knew May was the only family Peter had left, and to hear about other Parkers just made Tony remember how much the kid had lost.

May continues. “He had a connection to the blanket pretty instantly, only ever really stopped crying when he was wrapped in it. It was the only thing that would put him right to sleep.”

They both look at the snoozing boy. “Still is apparently.” Tony jokes quietly.

May hums in confirmation. “We joked that this thing was magic when he was younger, but honestly I’m really starting to believe it.”

Tony nods, reaching up to touch the blanket softly. He had to admit was kinda nice. “And…Lukey?”

“Star Wars. Luke Skywalker.” May explains. “We all called it his blankey until he was old enough for Ben to show him A New Hope. It was Lukey from that point on.”

Tony feels a bit stupid for not realizing sooner, that goofy space movie was all the kid ever talked about.

“I should’ve known he would’ve needed it. Really wish I’d have brought it earlier.��� May sighs tiredly.

“Hey you-you’re exhausted too May, please go back to sleep. I said I’d take Peter duty for the night and you have your shift in a few hours.” Tony offers.

May stands from her spot by her nephew. “I guess I should, huh? If you all need anything else though—“

“I’ll let you know immediately, May. Swear it.”

May smiles warmly. “Thank you, Tony.”

“Good night, May.”

She leaves the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Tony lets out a deep breath, giving Peter’s hair one last pet before deciding it was about time he retire to his cot in the corner of the med bay room.

As he drifts off, he thinks of his mother and the stuffed elephant she gave him when he was a young child.

He makes a mental note to look in the tower’s storage units, see if he can find it.

#sick peter parker #peter parker whump #iron dad #sicktember2021

[aph-honk-kong]

Sylfiden - Akt I

Alastair should be grateful that his future is secure - he has a large house, bountiful crops and will soon be married to the prettiest girl in the village. But on the morning of his wedding day, a sylph appears in his living room and dismantles every aspect of his perfectly-planned life.

[Written for day three of @aphrarepairweek2021​ with the prompt “culture” - granted, this is kind of inaccurate since the source this was based on was produced by a Dane in 1836, but I guess it still kind of shows Scottish culture]

This fic was based on the Romantic ballet Sylfiden, choreographed by August Bournonville of the Royal Danish Ballet. 

Here’s what Alastair should look like:

(This is Jon Axel Fransson, photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

And here is the sylph, though you can always imagine them wearing something else:

(This is Ida Praetorius, also photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

...

  Alastair awoke to whiteness.

  At first he thought it was another of Dillon’s pranks, and there was cotton over his face again, but he looked longer and found the tint before his eyes resembling fabric a little more. Had he somehow fallen asleep over Marianne’s wedding dress? No, that couldn’t be, for was it not bad luck to see the bride’s gown before the ceremony? Then Alastair looked up and saw a face.

  He was as regal as he was pale, snowy cheeks dusted with the faintest pink that mirrored the shade of his lips. He was not smiling, at least not with his mouth, but his eyes — blue eyes, Alastair noticed — held laughter. And he was so close that his white-gold hair was tickling his cheek.

  He jolted to his feet. The man moved backwards, too, and stopped by the living room window with his arms poised delicately. “Good morning.”

  “I — ” Alastair looked him up and down again. The white he saw turned out to not be from a gown, but a thin white blouse that floated whenever he moved. “What are you doing here?”

  “To visit you,” he replied. Then he turned around, and he saw on his back a pair of small, translucent wings. A sylph, he realised. A wind spirit was in his house. “I hear you are getting married today, and I wanted to wish you luck.” 

  “Oh.” The sylph moved away when he tried to get close; well, “moved” was hardly the right word for it. He glided across the floor, it seemed, wings fluttering softly each time he evaded Alastair’s grasp. “Thank you, er…?”

  “Stellan.” The sylph leapt away once more. “That is my name.”

  And a peculiar one too, Alastair was tempted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and merely watched, entranced, as Stellan drifted past the chair he had fallen asleep on. He did not seem entirely real. 

  “I wanted to look at you, I suppose,” he sing-songed, “before you got married. Some say that the hours before a wedding are a man’s last moments of freedom. Do you agree?”

  For some reason, the question made his ears prickle with heat. Was he implying that he did not want to get married? Indignantly, Alastair opened his mouth to reply when Stellan elegantly hopped away from the chair. “I must go now. I will see you again soon.”

  He stepped backwards into the fireplace, and the flames rose higher. When they faded, Stellan was gone.

  Not a minute after Stellan disappeared, Dillon stamped into the room with a grin. “My, you’re already awake!” He exclaimed. “After all the planning last night I expected you to be out ‘til noon.” He lowered his voice. “Best look presentable, now. Marianne will be here to get ready soon.”

  “Wait, really?” His hands flew to his head and began trying to flatten his hair, which was probably a rat’s nest after just waking up. “Goodness, I’m still in my clothes from yesterday.” Something white flashed in his vision, and he started. Had Stellan returned?

  “You alright there?”

  “Just thought I saw something,” Alastair said tiredly. “Did you see a sylph last night? I swore one came to visit me when I first awoke.”

  Dillon stared at him as though he had grown another head. “Have you been drinking already?”

  “No?”

  “Of course I haven’t seen a sylph!” With a bark of laughter, he clapped Alastair on the back. “And neither should you. It’s probably just cold feet. Have some breakfast and warm yourself up, and you ought to be alright.”

  He glanced at the window once more. Nothing. “Yes,” he settled, “I was probably just a bit delirious.”

  His cottage door opened again and in flowed distant giggles. Breaking away from her mother, Marianne swept into the living room and into his arms. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Good morning.” Alastair kissed her forehead. She smelled like heather. “How did you sleep?”

  “Very well.” Marianne rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. “Dreamt of you all night long.”

  He leant down, ready to kiss her, when a shadow moved near the fireplace. He broke away and ran towards it, ignoring his bride-to-be’s indignant huff, and bent down. Had Stellan returned to offer more blessings? Would he wish him luck again with his soft, sweet voice? Alastair searched the figure, ready to look into blue eyes —

  They were green.

  “What the Hell are you doing here?”

  Dressed slightly less odiously, scowling as usual, Arthur glared back at him. “Ah, it’s the inattentive groom. Are you leaving lovely Marianne for me?”

  Dillon snorted behind him.

  “I am not, and I find it insulting that you would even think I would,” he replied furiously. “And you are not attending my wedding. I don’t need somebody to perform magic tricks.”

  Arthur scowled even deeper in response. He was constantly trying to convince the village that he was, in fact, a witch with the ability to do magic, but everyone had come to the conclusion that he was probably a raving fool who had been exiled from England for some reason, hence his name. “I wouldn’t disrespect my craft, if I were you.”

  “It isn’t disrespectful if it’s true.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As if you can really cast spells. Will you leave, please?”

  Now he looked positively murderous. “Don’t you dare talk to — ”

  Marianne reached the fireplace before Arthur could finish his sentence. “Why don’t you predict our fortunes?” She asked with a pacifying smile. “If your predictions are good enough, we’ll let you stay.“

  Arthur stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “All right. Gather your ladies.”

  The first of Marianne’s friends came forward, and the witch took her hand roughly. After peering at her palm for a moment, he proclaimed, “you will find love soon.”

  “You will lose something dear to you,” he informed another. 

  The third fortune he whispered in the girl’s ear, and when she turned away she had tears in her eyes. Arthur watched her leave with a smug smile forming.

  “Hey!” A little boy Alastair recognised as Dillon’s nephew ran forward. “Look at mine next!”

  He had barely touched the boy’s hand when Dillon reached them, scooping him cleanly off his feet and carrying him away. “Don’t you talk to him, Peter! You will take part in none of this nonsense!”

  Marianne went to Arthur next. He took one look at her palm, and his smile grew. “There is love in your future.”

  She stretched her other hand to hold Alastair’s, and he leant down to kiss her once more. “I already know that.”

  “But!” And now he looked positively gleeful. “That love will have nought to do with your dear fiancé. He will leave you for someone else!”

  He frowned. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

  “Say, look at my palm.” Dillon strode forward, having deposited Peter as far away from Arthur as possible. He winked at Alastair. “Maybe I’ll turn into a frog tomorrow.”

  Arthur took one look at his hand and gave a short laugh. “You will find love very soon, too,” he cackled. “In fact, you will marry lovely Marianne!”

  Irritation flickered deep within him, only growing as Dillon stared at Marianne in shock, pink creeping across his cheeks. “I will what?”

  “You will not fall for Marianne, that’s what you’ll do.” Alastair pulled her into his arms, glowering first at Arthur then at Dillon. “I’m the one getting married to her.”

  “Or so it is now,” Arthur mused. “Who knows what will happen at the end of today?”

  The tiny sparks of annoyance turned into mild anger and he left Marianne’s side, leaning down to grab Arthur by the arm. “You are going to get out,” he retorted, voice growing in volume, “and you are going to stay out. First for slandering me by implying that I am — that I am attracted to men, and more so for accusing my best friend of stealing my bride!” He ignored his yelp of pain, dragged him out of the living room, opened the door and quite literally threw him out of the house. 

  He slammed the door before he could get back in, and stamped back into the living room. “Well then.” He announced, trying to sound cheerful, “shall we continue preparing?”

…

  Once Marianne had left to get dressed and her bridesmaids had finished preparing, Alastair was once again left alone. He stared at his wedding suit, which he had yet to change into, and sighed. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, the day he had been poised for since childhood, and that wretched witch had to try and ruin it.

  The whole village had known that he and Marianne would be wed for practically a decade. She was one of his closest, dearest friends, and he couldn’t imagine himself getting married to anyone else. Alastair ran his thumb over his engagement ring. This was his duty, and he would stick to it, no matter what Arthur’s idiotic palm-reading had predicted.

  The window creaked open.

  Feather-light, Stellan hopped from his perch on the windowsill onto the floor. He was smiling now, if one could call that tiny curve of his lips a smile. “Nervous?”

  “A little bit.”

  “I hope you considered my question.”

  He sighed; why were these strange magical fellows so determined to aggravate him on his wedding day? “I find it rather insulting that you think I’m being forcibly chained to Marianne.”

  Soft eyelashes fluttered. Stellan leapt again; he seemed incapable of staying in one place for long. “That was not what I meant. I simply want you to consider this question: are you getting married because you truly love the lady, or because you feel obligated to?”

  “Are you accusing me of not loving her?”

  His eyes flashed; his wings fluttered. Something about him, ethereal and soft, made Alastair feel warm. “No, not at all. I can see that Marianne is very dear to you, as a friend. But is she really somebody you wish to be wed to?”

  “Y-Yes,” he said instinctively.

  Stellan raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine yourself kissing her in the years to come? Waking up every morning next to her? Raising children with her? With her?”

  With her?

  And suddenly Alastair was six years old again, playing family with Dillon. “I’m going to marry you when we grow up,” he’d declared. “I’ll put a ring on your finger and we’ll have lots of children!”

  He had not understood why his mother had run to shush him, informing him with a tight smile that he ought to marry a lady instead.

  Then he was fourteen, learning to dance for a festival. His friend had laughed, watching him blunder, and grabbed his hands to place them in the right positions. His skin had tingled, and his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his performance.

  And then he was nineteen, running to the market to sell the week’s produce when he bowled into somebody — a newcomer to the village, supposedly an Englishman. He’d looked into grass-green eyes and pouting lips and pushed him away with a shout, but his gaze burned into him forevermore.

  “No!” Alastair said aloud, a strange heat pricking at his eyes. “That is not the man I am anymore. This marriage is proof of that.”

  Stellan was quiet for a while, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

  His heart sank. “Why are you crying?”

  He breathed out shakily; a delicate white hand moved to wipe the tear away. “I am reminded, once again, how little freedom humans have,” he whispered. “How can you live knowing that you cannot truly be yourself?”

  “I am myself,” Alastair insisted. “I know who I want to be, and it is not —” He could not even say that word — “Not whatever you think I am.”

  Those lovely blue eyes glimmered, as though there were more tears to shed. Stellan blinked hard, approaching a chair and scooping up a scarf that was resting upon it. “Will you be truly happy hiding who you are for the rest of your life?” He unfolded the scarf and draped it over himself, blue tartan over ghostly pale tulle. Alastair realised that it was Marianne’s scarf, which made it a strange sight indeed — here was a beautiful, knowing man who had fluttered his way into his life just this morning dressed in his betrothed’s clothing.

  “Today’s marriage is my duty.” He could not tear his eyes away from Stellan, who was pacing around the room, snuggling into the scarf. “I have known this would happen for many years now.”

  Those beguiling eyes caught him then; triumph shimmered in them. “So it is something you must do, but not something you want to do.”

  “Why do you care?” Alastair questioned brusquely. “It is not as though you are jealous of Marianne, and would marry her instead.”

  Stellan glided towards him once more. His cheeks were slightly more flushed now, making him look more like an actual human being rather than a fleeting spirit. “Because, as the winds blow past the fields you work in, I have watched you. Day in, day out, you live as dictated.” Stellan’s blush deepened more so, and he pursed his lips. “And I came to grow fond of you.” He gently twisted the scarf. “Very fond.

  “How could I bear to see somebody I am fond of so caged in?”

  Suddenly, Alastair’s ears felt rather warm. So that was why Stellan was so against all of this. “So you have that sort of feeling for me. What makes you so sure that I am like you?”

  Stellan neared Alastair, though he dodged playfully when he reached out to try and touch him. “Because,” he said, voice much lighter now, “I saw your face when you first laid eyes on me. I doubt you have ever looked at Marianne that way. At the very least, I have never seen you do so.”

  His breath caught. “Did I really look… lovestruck, or something-or-other?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Now the heat had spread from his ears to his entire face, and Alastair prayed that his cheeks were not as red as his hair. “I don’t think I meant it.” Then Stellan neared, and he leant forward to try and catch him once more, suddenly wondering what his touch felt like. 

  The door creaked open, and from the doorway came, “Alastair?”

  The shock cut through the rest of his battling thoughts, and he ran towards Stellan. “You have to go.”

  He tugged the scarf off himself, glancing at the door. “What is happening?”

  “They cannot see you!” Alastair nudged him to the window. “Go now, please, I will meet you again soon.”

  Dillon burst into the room, seeing Stellan in all his beauty by the window, and froze. 

  Before he could stop him, he rushed out of the room, and Alastair whirled to Stellan. “Please. I don’t know what they will do to you, I don’t want you to get hurt — ”

  “There!”

  He spun to see Dillon back in the room, alongside Marianne and her mother. “I saw him there, with a man in white.”

  “Don’t be silly now.” Marianne sailed to the window. “All I see is my scarf. I think you’re just taking Arthur’s fortunes a bit too seriously.”

  Alastair’s shoulders sagged in relief, realising that Stellan had flown away just in time. “I do hope you do not actually believe that lunatic’s words.”

  Marianne’s mother laughed. “I think he’s just jealous that his best friend got the loveliest girl in the village.”

  “Mother!” She laughed, high and sweet, though it did not warm Alastair’s heart the way he thought it would. “Dillon will find a wife of his own soon, I just know it. There is no need to fight over me.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” Dillon said gruffly.

  Marianne wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come on, now. Let Alastair get changed. Go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

  Bride-to-be and mother-in-law watched him like a hawk as he changed into his wedding suit, then led him outside where the many wedding guests were assembled. Standing aside was a cluster of bards, bagpipes at the ready. Dillon came up to him, all shock and envy from before gone, and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s your last hour as an unmarried man. We ought to celebrate!”

  The bards began their playing, Marianne pulled him into the crowd and he began to dance.

  It was freeing, for a while, to lose himself in the wild blur of limbs and laughter and simply move without thinking. Alastair had danced this way before, and it would never stop being exciting to him. He laughed, hooking an arm around Marianne’s waist and spinning her ‘round. Little Peter danced in front of him and nearly tripped over his uncle’s shoes.

  They danced, carefree and jolly, and Alastair nearly felt ready for the wedding. But then he saw white again.

  Once more he released her, searching the crowd of people for the one man he knew would stand out. He saw nothing. She took hold of him again, and they continued dancing.

  The next time he slipped away, it was a pair of gossamer wings he saw. Stellan glanced back at him, cheeks pink once more as he sailed elegantly past the partygoers. Unthinking, Alastair reached a hand out, a part of him perhaps hoping to touch his soft hair, but Marianne grabbed his wrist and he was tugged back.

  Throughout the song they played their silent, musical game of cat-and-mouse. Stellan wove in between the dancers, somehow evading notice, while Alastair tried to catch glimpses of him without arousing any more suspicion. Occasionally, when he got bored of spinning and gliding, Stellan flapped his wings a few times to make his jumps higher. His slender arms stretched out in front of him, flowing like a scarf in the wind. In his white clothes, dancing something entirely different, Alastair had never seen someone so graceful.

  When the dancing ended, and Stellan had vanished once more, he was given the ring that would adorn Marianne’s fingers during the ceremony and left alone once more. Alastair ran his fingers over the bronze band, watching it glint in the faint sunlight. Less than an hour later, he would slip this ring on her fourth finger, and she would do the same to him, and that would be it. They would be bound to each other for as long as they lived, and what was left of his nameless, forbidden love would be stamped out for good. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For his desire to finally be suppressed? In that case, the rings would be less like rings and more like shackles.

  Dillon and Marianne’s mother were keeping an eye on him from his spot by the hedges, though they didn’t know he could see them. With his parents no longer with him and her father gone too, her mother was the one who had held fast to the arranged marriage. She wanted security for her daughter, and how better to achieve that than marrying a young, well-off farmer? Alastair clenched his fist around the ring, Stellan’s words were really getting to him.

  A white-clothed figure was lingering behind a tree, peering out at him.

  Speak of the devil.

  Stellan poked his head out, looking so sweet and curious that Alastair nearly laughed. He had woven himself a circlet of white heather, as though fancying himself the one to marry him. He nodded at his hand and tilted his head.

  Oh. Alastair pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and lifted it up. The sylph raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ring finger in question.

  He nodded.

  Quicker than he had ever seen him before, Stellan leapt out from behind his tree towards him, wings spurring him forward so he was nearly a blur. He grabbed the ring, admired it for a moment, then swiftly fled before he could catch him. “Hey!”

  He slipped the ring on his own finger, glanced back at him and smiled teasingly. Hopping lithely onto his garden fence, he perched on top of it for a moment, winked, then tumbled off and made his escape. Alastair could hear someone yelling at him from behind, but did not turn back. Before he could stop himself, he raced after Stellan into the forest beyond.

#aph scotnor #aph scotland #aph norway #aphrarepairweek2021 #aph fanfiction #my writing

[stuckonstarker]

there’s no real reason for this other than i felt like i needed to practice writing smut.

Tony enters Peter slowly, entranced by the sight of his cock filling Peter’s sweet body, and he groans once he reaches his hilt within the tight warmth.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Tony says, voice rough, “you’re so good for me, honey.”

Peter gags on the pleasure, nodding full of eager-to-please bliss. 

“Yes, Tony,” Peter pleads, voice broken, “please keep going!”

Tony says, pulling out before leisurely filling Peter again, “Yeah, you need this cock, huh? You need my dick, baby boy?”

Peter nods frantically.

Every thick inch teases Peter, pushes him closer to the brim. It’s near indescribable. All he can do is cling and claw at the sheets, utterly helpless to the terrific torment he’s receiving. Every movement of Tony’s thick dick sends his mind reeling.

Tony groans, “So fucking sweet for me, baby, all for me, huh?”

“Yes,” Peter moans, “yes, Tony, just for you.”

Tony smiles something sinister and thrusts into Peter. The head of his hard cock brutalizes Peter’s sensitive insides. He slams into Peter, ruthless in the most perfect way. 

“Gah-!” Peter calls out. 

He’s unable to handle the endless tidal waves of pure, fiery pleasure. He’s mindless to anything else besides the massive dick that stretches him out. It fills him to his brim until there’s little room left for anything else within him.

Tony’s cock is a glorious thing, it might be blasphemy to say otherwise, and it fucks into Peter so perfectly. Every thrust is rhythmic and hard, so fucking hard, and Peter struggles to breathe.

Hot, scorching pleasure scalds his insides. He’s light-headed and finds it difficult to form words other than ‘please’ and ‘more’. 

Peter’s body, sensitive to every touch, spasms and shivers underneath Tony. He’s entirely helpless as his body reacts on its own. His fingers twitch and dig into the duvet and his legs tighten and clench over Tony’s shoulders.

He can hardly contain himself, the ecstasy overwhelming. Tony drives deeper and deeper within him and it makes it impossible to think about anything else.

A heavy, pleasant fog fills Peter’s mind. All he’s able to comprehend is the neverending, unceasing euphoria that unrolls in his mind.

“More!” he calls out, though he’s unsure of what he wants more of.

Tony obliges. He fucks into Peter harder, rougher, and much more calculated; his cock never failing to slam into the sweetest spot within Peter.

Pleasure, something feral and untamed, sparks throughout Peter like an exposed outlet. It drags wild noises from his throat, making him scream until his voice is hoarse.

Tony holds Peter’s legs open, spreading the boy wide so that he has no choice but to accept the dick that’s taking him so fervently.

Peter’s dizzy, his words slur, and his mind struggles to form a coherent thought. He whines and pleads through the haze of his fucked out bliss, but it’s all meaningless. 

There’s a feeling tight within him, hissing like a coiled snake threatening to pounce. It grows tighter and tighter and tighter. The pleasure is so intense that it is unbearable, almost painful at this point.

It runs through him, through his veins like molten lava, and it spreads throughout his body.

Tony’s hands pin Peter’s against the bedsheets, leaving the younger man entirely restrained; completely at the will of the man above him. Though Peter hardly has any complaints as he takes Tony’s cock like a well-trained slut.

“Please!” Peter begs, tears forming in his eyes, “Please, Tony, please!”

He repeats it over and over again like a chant, like they’re the only words his mind can come up with now. 

The room around him fades away entirely. He can’t take it. His body’s at its brink.

Peter heaves in desperate breaths, he clenches his eyes shut, and he grits his teeth. Every muscle within him tightens as he deliriously moves back to meet Tony’s thrusts. 

The pleasure within him builds and mounts until it can no longer and he makes one last blissful, broken noise as he cums on Tony’s thick length.

His mind is wiped entirely. His eyes cross and his mouth hangs open - small, pitiful noises leaving those gently flushed lips - as he rides the wave of his glorious orgasm. He’s trapped in a blissful prison, completely unaware of the world around him.

Through the buzzing of his ears he can hear Tony saying something, though he isn’t quite sure what. It sounds a bit like a question.

Peter whines, “Hm?”

Tony’s deep, baritone voice replies and Peter can only vaguely make out the request. Though, he giggles and nods in affirmation anyways because Tony’s the most trustworthy man in the world. At least he is to Peter’s dick happy brain.

#starker #nff

[marauders-venting]

Spin The Bottle

pairing: wolfstar (remus x sirius)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

words: 1754

a/n: you can probably tell from this fic that I have not played spin the bottle once in my life.

also i put ‘---------’ in between paragraphs when the perspectives change just to make sure that’s clear

“Hey, you guys are early,” said Peter, checking his watch as Lily and Remus came into the portrait hole.

“Yeah well, we got bored,” Remus said. “Prefect rounds are fucking useless, honestly.”

“Exactly,” Lily said, dropping into an armchair. “If people who are out of bed after hours are dumb enough to be caught by prefects then it’s not even worth reporting them. So what are you guys doing?”

“Literally nothing and I am very bored,” Sirius said.

“He’s been complaining nonstop for the past hour and a half,” Marlene says, rolling her eyes.

“Let’s play a game, then,” Dorcas suggests.

“Hold on,” Sirius says. “Let me call James, he’ll want to play.” He pulled a mirror out of his pocket. “Prongs,” he said into the mirror, “you there?”

“Yeah, mate, what’s up?” James said, holding the mirror way too close to his face.

“We’re playing a game. You coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second.” Within a minute, James was walking down the stairs of the boys’ dormitory.

“How was flying?” Sirius asked.

“Sirius! You just exposed me to our prefects!” James said, smirking. “Are you guys going to report me?” he added, to Lily and Remus, his smirk only growing as he ruffled his hair. Remus rolled his eyes.

“You know we wouldn’t,” he said.

“I would,” Lily said. “If I had the energy to go to McGonagall’s office right now.”

“Aw Evans, so sweet of you to spare me detention,” James says.

“It doesn’t make much of a difference, does it?” she said. “You probably already have detention this weekend and no doubt you’ll do something stupid tomorrow and get another detention for next weekend.”

“Ah, how well you know me.”

“So what game are we going to play?” Sirius asks.

“I have a game,” Lily says. “Spin the bottle but with a twist.”

“What do you mean?” asks Mary.

“Basically, you pick like a judge or whatever you want to call it and everybody else is blindfolded. The blindfolded people spin the bottle and you have to kiss whoever it lands on but neither one of you knows who you’re kissing. So like the judge taps you on the shoulder and like… leads you to the person you’re supposed to kiss so you’re right in front of each other and then you kiss and then you keep playing.”

“Can’t we just play regular spin-the-bottle?” Marlene asked. “Why do we have to make it so complicated?”

“Cause it’s more fun this way,” Lily said.

“Yeah, yeah let’s play this version,” James said, with a side glance at Lily. Lily narrowed her eyes at James, arms crossed.

“I want to be the judge,” she said. James sighed.

“Fine by me,” he said and everybody else nodded in agreement.

---------

Lily had a plan. She’d been trying to think of a good plan for ages with no result. But tonight when Alice asked what they should play, it came to her in a second. Lily had been trying to get Remus and Sirius together for the last half a year. And it would have worked too if they weren’t both so dumb. Soon enough, Lily had figured out that James was trying to do the exact same thing she was and they agreed to work together. (Lily liked to call it their first and last alliance; James liked to call it the start of something bigger. They didn’t argue over who was right, though, because their main focus here was Sirius and Remus). Lily wasn’t sure that James had quite picked up on her plan but it didn’t really matter. It’s not like he was a part of it.

So they all sat down in a circle, placed a bottle in the middle and put their blindfolds on. Lily stood outside the circle and waited as Sirius spun the bottle. He had insisted on going first which incidentally suited Lily’s purpose pretty well. The bottle did not land on Remus. It landed on Mary. But nobody needed to know that. Lily tapped on Sirius’ shoulder and tugged his arm upwards. He stood and she led him to stand outside the circle. Then she went to get Remus. She didn’t need to do this. They could have managed perfectly well just crawling into the middle of the circle like in regular spin-the-bottle. But Lily felt that in order for her plan to have a better chance at succeeding, it would be better if she separated Remus and Sirius from the group a bit. She led Remus to stand right in front of Sirius and then backed away, hoping this would work.

“Ok. Kiss,” she instructs when neither one of them moves.

---------

At Lily’s word, Remus reaches out a hand to try and find the person standing in front of him. His hand closes around a wrist, a sleeve, and his heart drops. His only thought is fuck. The sleeve is made of leather. And only one person here is wearing a leather jacket. Sirius.

---------

Sirius moves forward towards the person whose hand is around his wrist. He reaches a hand out in front of him to try and find a face but all he finds is a chest. He goes higher and higher until his hands are cupping the person's face. Holy shit, Sirius thinks, this person is so fucking tall. And suddenly Sirius realises who he’s about to kiss. It’s Remus. Only Remus is this tall.

Sirius had been half-hoping half dreading that the bottle would land on Remus. The chance was pretty small so he hadn’t really been expecting it. But now his heart was hammering in his chest so fast and hard that he was sure Remus could hear it. But his hands were cupping Remus' face now so he couldn’t not kiss him. He wanted had to. So Sirius leans in, standing on the tips of his toes, and kisses Remus. And a warmth Sirius had never experienced before spreads through his body as soon as his lips make contact with Remus’. Sirius is kissing Remus. He’s kissing Remus. I’m kissing Remus fucking Lupin. And Sirius doesn’t ever want it to end. And Remus isn’t pulling away. So neither does he. He just keeps kissing Remus, memorising everything about him. The way his lips feel, soft and tender against Sirius’; the way he tastes, like chocolate (no surprises there). Sirius just wants to freeze this moment.

---------

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius isn’t pulling away. He doesn’t understand but he’s not complaining. Remus thinks of all the times he’s imagined his first kiss with Sirius in his head. What he would say, where they would be, Sirius’ reaction. Whatever he had been imagining, he definitely hadn’t thought that it would end up happening through a game of spin the bottle. But Sirius’ kiss feels exactly the way Remus had imagined Sirius would feel, all those times he was staring at Sirius(’s lips). And Sirius’ hands are on his cheeks, cupping his face. The touch is gentle but that doesn’t stop it from making Remus' pulse rate jump so high that he’s genuinely worried he might have a heart attack. But Remus doesn't care right now. He really could not care less. Because he’s in Sirius’ arms. And maybe it’s this delirious state of excitement and joy that makes Remus do it because he didn’t think he would’ve ever dared do what he did next if he wasn’t high on happiness. He puts his hands on Sirius’ waists and pulls him closer. Sirius’ body moves into his and his hands slide down on Remus’ neck so he brushes Remus’ jaw with his thumb. And then Remus does the worst thing he could have possibly done. He sighs into Sirius’ mouth. Fucking fantastic. Now you’ve gone and done it.

---------

When Sirius heard the sigh escape Remus’ mouth his heart skipped at least ten beats. Remus blushes so hard Sirius can feel the heat and colour rising to his cheeks. And suddenly, the question Sirius had refused to even consider for months pops into his brain. What if he likes me back? Sirius thinks of Remus putting his hands on Sirius’ waist, of how he pulled Sirius towards him, of how he’s still kissing Sirius. And then Sirius comes to a realisation. I think he likes me back. Holy fuck.

So in the split second that Remus’ lips part in that embarrassing sigh, Sirius makes a decision; he slips his tongue into Remus’ mouth and kisses him harder. He feels absolutely no objection. Remus’ body shivers against his and a noise like a small moan escapes his throat. And Sirius likes that. A lot.

---------

And as Remus and Sirius are locked in this embrace, hands all over each other, Lily is just watching and trying to stifle giggles. She walks over to James, taps his shoulder and whispers, “Take off your blindfold.” He does. And then his jaw drops. He looks over at Lily before pulling his blindfold firmly back over his eyes.

“Fuck, Evans, I don’t want to see that,” he whispers back. But he’s smirking. And he holds out a hand for Lily to high-five. So she does. Quietly. She keeps her eyes on James to give the lovebirds some privacy.

---------

When Remus and Sirius finally break apart, Remus tears off his blindfold and stares at Sirius breathlessly. Sirius does the same, his expression of awe is exactly the way Remus feels. Remus is struggling to comprehend the impossibility that Sirius might actually like him back. That he might want Remus in the way that Remus wants him. But Sirius had just spent several minutes (or at least that was how it felt) kissing Remus. So he must like Remus back.

Remus smiles and takes Sirius’ hand, raising his eyebrows at him in question. Sirius smiles back and nods. He links his fingers with Remus’ and Remus feels a spark shooting up his arm. And then he hears a giggle and turns to see Lily, smiling and giggling at them with this evil, knowing grin. Remus points a certain finger in her direction, at which she rolls her eyes, but he’s smiling at her. Because he knows that Lily planned this. Maybe the bottle Sirius spun didn’t even land on him. That would explain why Lily wanted everybody to be blindfolded.

Remus tugs on Sirius’ hand and jerks his head towards the portrait hole. Hand in hand, they walk outside the common room to make out talk things over.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #sirius black #sirius black fluff #moony #padfoot #wolfstar #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar oneshot #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders one shot

[underoooos]

Pepper: How long does it take before you start hallucinating from sleep deprivation?

Tony : I think-

Peter: Seventy-two hours

Tony : *alarmed* How do you know that?

Peter: *giggling deliriously* There's a clown behind you, Mr. Stark

#peter parker #incorrect peter parker #tony stark #incorrect tony stark #incorrect peter parker and tony #peter and tony #incorrect ironfam #incorrect irondad quotes #irondad and spiderson #funny spiderman #marvel spiderman #marvel incorrect quotes #mcu spiderman #incorrect mcu quotes #peter parker and tony stark #dad tony stark

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Ferris Wheel

Pairing: Danny Rand x Reader

Word Count: 1234 words

Warnings: None

Anon asked:  Danny rand x reader where the reader has healing powers, and Danny has a huge huge crush on them, and the whole team knows. They all decide to go to carnival or something and everyone’s trying to put the reader and Danny together which the reader is oblivious to and Danny’s trying to impress them or something and then they finally admit their feelings on the Ferris wheel. Love ur work!!

A/N: Sorry it took so long to post! I initially started it out as a headcanon but it didn’t really work so then I had to scrap the whole thing and start from scratch again. Anyway, I hope you like it

The only thing that Danny could hear was the sound of people screaming on the rollercoasters and his own heart beating in his chest.

He was practicing his lines in his head, ‘(Y/N) I have something I need to tell you.’

You turned to him with a beam and pointed towards the rollercoaster. He nodded absentmindedly before letting you pull him along and he continued to rehearse his confession, only pulling his hands from yours when he had to wipe them on the sleeve of his hoodie.

Luckily for him, you just assumed that he was scared to get on the ride and comforted him gently. He just smiled at you and continued to get lost in his thoughts.

‘(Y/N), I fell for you.’

You screamed out of fear beside him and he deflated. He knew you were screaming because of the rollercoaster but it seemed like a bad omen to him.

When the two of you got off the ride, you raced to the desk where they showed the pictures taken and laughed at how deep in thought Danny looked.

“Were you meditating?” You teased and he indulged you with a smile, “Yeah, I was so scared.”

“You have a job as a superhero, and this scares you?”

He just chuckled when you grabbed his hand and pulled him once again, mind fading to the moment when you both first met.

You were part of the Beta team of the junior superhero programme, who consisted of superpowered people with powers that couldn’t be used in combat like telepathy, vision faculty and in your case, healing abilities.

S.H.I.E.L.D. took you in and trained you in combat so you could go for on field missions and such and for that purpose, they would pair you up with the superheroes from the Alpha team for training.

You had briefly met Danny only during introductions and you were partnered up with Spiderman, so there was no need for the two of you to interact. He was indifferent about you and never really thought about you outside of training.

But that all changed very soon.

It was after a terrible mission. Danny had taken a fatal blow and was red lining, they needed to speed up his healing to save him and that’s where you came in ever though you weren’t completely trained yet.

In his dazed and delirious state, all he remembers was your beautiful face hovering above him with your hair framing either side. The fluorescent lights behind you seemed like a halo and like you where an angel.

He didn’t remember whispering ‘wow...’ before he lost consciousness.

When he woke up next morning, it was like a case of the Little Mermaid, the only difference being that he remembered who had saved his life and he fell head over heels.

You were none the wiser to his lovesick gazes across the training room and how he was just more attentive to you, always offering you water and helping you up on the floor.

Just because you were oblivious though, doesn’t mean the rest of both teams turned a blind eye.

Immediately, the mission to bring you both together had begun. Spiderman switched with Iron Fist to train with you, they would invite you to hang out with them after school and such and whenever they would get a chance to talk to you, they would only be talking up Danny.

Unfortunately, you still seemed clueless about his feelings for you and just assumed that he was just a very caring guy. Which he was.

As a last try to get Danny to confess to you, everybody decided to go to the carnival, and you were all too excited to notice the way they were plotting behind your back.

Of course, you entered as a group but little by little, they kept going their separate ways until only you and Danny were left alone together, all according to plan. The plan being that you and Danny be given some time alone together so he could confess to you.

But so far, the moment never seemed right, it was always too noisy and crowded and he was also afraid that you would reject him. You were much like him as well, kind-hearted and caring and it was difficult for him to distinguish your feelings from your nurturing personality.

But he thought that he could finally get the opportunity to when you had tugged him along into the line for the Ferris Wheel. Alone, and away from all the noise and chaos would be the perfect place to confess to you.

As the cart kept rising, so did his heartrate and you sat quietly beside him, just watching the people on the ground get smaller and smaller.

You turned back to him with a small smile, “I know I was super excited to get on this but now that we’re actually here, it seems kind of boring.”

You weren’t even close to the top yet, so it would take some time before we had to get off.

He smirked at you, “Well if you’re that bored there is another way down.” Before gesturing at the window and you giggled, slapping his arm.

“If that’s the way we go then I’m using you to break my fall.”

“You would hurt me?”

“I’m the only one who could heal you! There’s no good in that if I’m dead!”

The two of you were laughing so hard now that the cart began shaking lightly and you froze, grabbing onto Danny’s arm. He chuckled lightly, pulling you closer so you wouldn’t feel scared.

“You’re a superhero and this scares you?” His voice was soft and spoken right by your ear, making this moment a lot more intimate that you had expected.

“What if the cart just falls off?” You murmured quietly, playing with his fingers that were wrapped around your waist. He chuckled again and you felt the deep rumble that erupted from his chest.

“It isn’t going to just fall off.”

“Don’t jinx it!” You whispered harshly, slapping his arm again and he laughed, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you watched the world get smaller, in each other’s arms and heard the crowd get faint.

“Is the ride still boring?” He asked gently and you shook your head, “Not with you.”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah,” He was sure you could feel his heartbeat pick up in his chest, but he just swallowed it down painfully and continued, “I like you, (Y/N).”

“I’m hoping this isn’t in a platonic sense.”

He chuckled again, letting you turn in his arms to face him, “No, very much in a romantic sense.”

You gave him a blushing smile before pecking his lips lightly. Danny felt like time was frozen and that he would never come down, “I’m glad.”

He was outright grinning when he kissed you again, cupping your cheek and winding an arm around your waist.

When the ride finally ended, the two of you were still grinning ear to ear but when you turned to get off the cart, all you saw was the team standing outside with huge grins. Peter was sending you a thumbs up while Sam was making embarrassing kissy faces.

Cringing, you turned to the person who was working at the ride, “Can we have one more ride?”

#ultimate spider-man #ultimate spiderman x reader #ultimate spider man #ultimate spider man x reader #ultimate spiderman #danny rand x reader #danny rand #danny rand x you #danny rand headcanon #iron fist x reader #ironfist x reader #iron fist headcanon #ironfist headcanon #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel one shot

[babybatscreationsv2]

A King on a Leash ch15 (Epilogue)

Marvel | Starker

Tony Stark is a powerful man with a beautiful husband and a loyal crime family, but it looks like he didn’t keep his husband on a short enough leash. After turning Peter lose on a Cuban gang leader, Peter’s life is  in danger. The real trouble is that Tony now realizes that Peter is the  only thing in this world that he cares about and he never meant for that  to happen.

Sequel to A Doll on a String

Rating: Explicit

Full Fic

A Doll on a String

Warnings under the cut*

Warnings: mafia au, murder mention, daddy kink, semi-public sex

The ocean waves were gentle, soothing, like the rocking of a cradle. The sound of the waves breaking against the hull of the boat brought peace over his mind. It was warm. The sun beat down with the occasional cloud moving by to offer a moment of relief. Life was perfect, calm, impossible.

On board was himself and Peter along with twelve of his crew. The yacht was more than big enough that they never saw anyone else. His men made a point not to enter any area with the two of them in it as they were usually having sex. They were taking a little break, stretched out like cats in the sun. Peter was sun bathing naked. Tony had coated his soft skin in a low grade spf and if they hadn't been so tired, it would have led to another round.

Pepper and Happy's wedding had been lovely with only a minor issue occurring when Happy lost track of his tie. Tony had taken off his own and given it to him, crisis averted. Though, Pepper certainly noticed that Tony's tie was missing. He and Peter had even managed to be perfectly respectful and chose not to have sex in the bathroom. They at least waited until they were back in the car.

Tony looked at Peter, at his sun kissed skin, at the way his breathing was even and slow as if sleeping. He watched him for a while and he thought about their own wedding. The both of them wore white. Peter had asked to do it beautiful but small, so they had held the ceremony on their private beach. At first the wind was so loud that they could hardly hear the minister, but it settled as they spoke their vows. Peter beamed like it was Christmas morning. Tony cried. So did Happy. It started to rain as they had their first dance. Everyone ran inside and they danced around the living room instead. Their honeymoon was spent in every major country in Europe followed by a tour of Africa. Peter had wanted to see it all. So they did.

Peter's face turned his way. He smiled. "I thought you were watching me."

"Always, angel." Tony smiled back. How could he not. He reached his hand out and Peter caught it.

"What were you thinking about?"

"I was just trying to count how many countries I've had you in."

Peter got from the lounge chair and came to straddle his hips. "Oh yeah? What are we at so far?"

"So far? Are you planning a world tour?"

Peter rolled his hips down and Tony wondered why the fuck he bothered to put shorts on. "Whatever the number is, it's not enough."

Tony reached around behind him to find his hole slick and sticky with lube. How he could stand to lay around like that was impossible to understand, but Tony couldn't complain when his fingers slipped easily inside him. "Slutty little thing."

"Fill me up, daddy, please." He batted his eyes. So pretty. Tony traced the line of his jaw. Peter turned his head to kiss his fingers. Tony grabbed his hair and pulled. He smirked, listening to Peter moan, watching him squirm, making him pull harder, trying to get his fingers deeper. "Daddy please," he begged.

"Do you need something, angel?"

"Your cock, please, daddy." He panted opened mouthed and slutty. "Use me, please. I'm all yours, your toy."

Tony pulled his fingers from his squeezing hole. He scooped Peter up in his arms and dumped him in the lounge chair. He climbed over top of him and bent back one leg to get snug between his thighs.

"Such a needy thing," he teased.

He laid his head back against the chair. His pretty curls made a halo around his face. "Yes, I need you, my daddy, my protector, my love."

Tony kissed his red lips. "You sound delirious, angel."

Peter moved quick, startling him with how fast he could move. His hand wrapped around his throat. "If you don't put your dick in me, I'm going to get violent." His eyes narrowed.

Tony smiled. "What my angel wants, my angel gets."

"Good."

Tony lined up his cock with that slick hole and pressed inside. Peter moaned, eyes rolling back like he hadn't been fucked in weeks. Tony took the hand from around his throat and pinned him down by his wrists, pressing himself deep inside his ass.

"That's my boy," he purred. "My vicious little angel."

Peter looked up above them and giggled. "Caught one of the boys watching from the bridge."

"Yeah? Give em a wave, baby."

"They already ran off. Everyone's afraid of you." He leaned up to kiss his jaw.

"I'm willing to bet that they're more afraid of you."

"Am I so scary?"

"Much more than I am. Do you know why?"

"Tell me," he grinned.

"Because I'd kill them all for you."

Peter moaned, head tossed back against the seat. "You're gonna make me cum."

"Yeah? Is that what gets you off, sweetheart? You want daddy to paint the ship red?"

"Oh fuck," he groaned. His already pink cheeks went fully red, his mouth hung open.

"Gonna rub yourself on daddy thigh like a naughty puppy while you listen to them scream."

"Oh- Tony!" manicure nails tore into his shoulders, dragging down in lines that would take several days to heal, but it was well worth it for the way Peter shuddered beneath him. His eyes were wide, then squeezed shut when it was too much. His red lips panted for air. Tony kissed his face, listening to the sound of his whimpering breaths until it brought him over the edge, too.

The rest of the trip was much of the same. There were endless confessions of love and violence matched with endless sex. It was the getaway they both needed. No distractions, no work, no Tiburones, no mafia. Just Peter and Tony.

#starker #a king on a leash #mafia au #daddy k*nk #murder mention

[allegra-writes]

Adore you

Peter Parker x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut, of course

The request:

More dom reader and subby pete pls!!! maybe something like a badass shield agent reader? and peter having a crush on her and there goes the smut? hope u like this idea, take ur time!!

I've been holding onto this for a couple of days now. I'm quite proud of how it turned out, I had to stop for air quite a few times as I wrote it so beware. This is my Christmas gift to you, consider me your Naughty Pagan Santa🔥

Series masterlist

"P-please" Peter's desperate plea broke the silence. His voice was hoarse, wrecked, no louder than a whisper and at first you weren't even sure he had spoken, but then he begged again, "Please, please!" 

You were torturing him, breaking him, shattering him to dust and then putting him back together again, building him anew to your liking, and he wasn't sure how much more he would be able to take without losing his mind. He felt your smile against his hip bone and dared looking down, teary red rimmed eyes meeting yours, ablazed and alluring, every bit as beautiful as the first time he had seen them. He had lost himself in those eyes more times than he could count, and yet he could map them to micrometric precision, dozens of pictures on his phone dedicated solely to them, to their idiosyncrasies and nuances under different lighting.  

He never thought he could have this, never thought he could have you: Y/n from biology. Agent 16, S.H.I.E.L.D. level 7. "I guess it's something we have in common," You had said, "we are both liars." Peter had wanted to argue that it wasn't the same thing, but it was hard to complain as you drove away from the angry mob of Mysterio stans you had saved him from. You had been fast, efficient, one quick drive to Manhattan, to the helipad of the ex-Avenger's tower (now property of S.H.I.E.L.D.) and before the day was over, you both were out of the city, out of the country, on that desert island just the two of you.

The feeling of your tongue, hot and wet on the v of his hips pulled him back into the present. You sucked a little pineapple cube, cold against his fevered skin, into your mouth, before chasing down the drop of juice the fruit had left behind with your tongue. Peter dug his fingers on the white, soft sand, searching in vain for purchase. He squirmed, a steady stream of 'pleasepleaseplease' falling from his lips, as you ate a piece of cantaloupe off his abs. 

You were using his body as a plate, eating fresh fruit off it, a new torment to add to the long list of wicked, delicious ways you had been playing with him all afternoon. You had been pleasuring him for a couple of hours now, and he was delirious with it, overstimulated. He felt immaterial, disembodied, undone. He was soft clay under your hands, under your mouth, under your tongue. Your touch was the only thing shaping his reality, shaping him. So what if the whole world knew Peter Parker was Spider-Man? He wasn't either of them anymore. Here on this island, laying under you, he wasn't the next Tony Stark or the last Avenger; he was just 'baby boy', and 'tiger' and whatever else you choose to call him. 

He was free. 

He didn't have to save any body, because you had saved him, didn't have to decide anything cause you gave the orders. You could take care of him, all he had to do was surrender to you. 

You crawled up his body, tiny slice of watermelon between your lips, and Peter immediately parted his, to let you glide it into his mouth. It tasted faintly of your strawberry lip balm, making his head dizzy with longing.

"Please" he croaked again, after swallowing the sweet, juicy fruit. 

"What do you need baby boy?" You breathed, hot against his ear.

"To kiss you" he panted, "please, let me kiss you"

You complied, and he finally got to taste your soft, warm mouth. Strawberry lipstick and cherries and himself and he loved it, loved that sharp bitter tang on your palate. His fingers buried themselves in your hair, pulling you closer to taste it better. Only when you pulled away, giggling a little maliciously, did he realize his mistake.

"Bad, bad boy" You leaned back, disentangling from his fingers, sitting up and away from him.

He paled,

"No, please, I'll do anything" He moved to get up too, but caught himself at the last second, your disapproving glare all that was needed to halt his movements. You smiled to yourself, he truly was insatiable. After coming so many times that afternoon, he still looked heartbroken at the prospect of this little game of yours ending. With his big brown eyes full of tears and bottom lip wobbling slightly, he was just too God damn adorable, and you… well, unlike him you were only human. 

But he still needed to be punished.

"You like what we do, baby boy?" You inquired, sitting back down, straddling him, pressing yourself against him, only the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms separating your core from his gorgeous, naked cock. "You like the way we play?" 

He nodded frantically as you started to rock on top of him, tearing a moan from his lips.

"Do you like the things I do to you?"

"Yes, ma'am" he groaned. You ranked your fingernails down his chest, down his stomach.

"Do you like it when I touch you?" 

"Yes! Oh god…"

You reached back, untying the scarf you had turned into a bandeau. Peters hands twitched, but he kept them by his sides.

"Do you like looking at me?"

"God, yes!" He cried, as you rubbed yourself down on him harder, faster, "I love it, love watching you! I - I love.." 

You stopped moving, making Peter whine loudly, fists hitting the sand like a little boy throwing a tantrum. 

"Do you want to touch me?"

"Yes! Please, please ma'am, please let me touch you…"

How could you ever say no to that? You nodded your permission and chucked as Peter's hands went straight to your breasts. 

"Can I…" Peter hesitated, not wanting to push his luck. But judging by the way your head lolled back, you seemed to be enjoying his touch, and that gave him courage. "Can I put my mouth on you, ma'am?" 

You smirked, looking down at him through half shut eyes,

"Such a greedy boy…" You scolded, but tugged him up to a sitting position anyway, capturing his lips again. The feeling of your nipples against the naked skin of his chest had him moaning into your mouth, and you swallowed it, devoured it, dominating the kiss as you were dominating him. Your hips started to move again, by their own volition, and his followed in kind, until you both were breathing hard. You broke the kiss, pulling at his soft curls, guiding his mouth to where you wanted it. He wasted no time at nibbling and sucking, rolling your nipples with the tip of his tongue, first one and then the other. He had a naturally talented tongue, and you couldn't wait to see what else he could do with it. 

"I'm going to ride your face until I come" you were proud of how steady and commanding your voice was, "and then, I'm going to ride your cock until you come…"

His answering broken sob let you know he was ok with that idea.

"And then… then I'm going to keep on ridding you… gonna go on… and on… I'm not going to stop until you give me all your come…"

"Yes, oh my god yes!"

"Until it's gushing out of me…"

"Yesyesyes…" Peter was close, so so close. Between the rocking of your hips and your words, he was seconds away from bursting, and you knew it. 

That's exactly why you stopped, and pushed him away from you, watching him fall back onto the sand. It was just for show, of course. He was way stronger than you and, if he wanted to, he could easily flip you, overpower you and have his way with you. That only made the adrenaline rush greater, knowing how powerful he really was, knowing he was giving up all that power willingly and placing it on your hands to do with it, with him, as you pleased.

To use him as you pleased.

...You had always loved big guns.

"I'm going to give you a choice now, tiger" You spoke over the cute little whimpers escaping his throat. He was so precious, so innocent, you almost felt bad for corrupting him like this. Almost. "I am going to do all the things I just promised, I won't stop you from coming again. And you can keep on touching me while I do those things to you… or you can keep on watching me, but not both"

He met your eyes and you could see the conflict behind his. He looked about ready to cry, fingers trembling where they rested on your thighs, brown orbs never leaving yours, imploring. You straddling his waist almost naked, free and unashamed under the clear summer sky, were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, he didn't want to give that up. But the thought of taking his hands away from your soft skin, from your lovely body, was almost physically painful.

"I-I can't" He stammered, a little pathetically but he was long past pride, "please, don't make me choose"

"Then I guess I'll have to choose for you"

You tried to pry his hands away, but he held on tighter.

"No! No, please, I wanna touch!"

You leaned over, taking your abandoned silk scarf from the sand, tying it around his head and over his eyes.

"But I wanna see you!" He complained petulantly. Such a brat… you were going to love breaking him.

"But you misbehaved, baby boy" You reminded him, "You touched me without permission, and now this is your punishment. I can't just let you off the hook now, can I? Can't let you think you can get away with anything…"

"But-"

"One more word" he felt your hand squeeze his balls softly, warningly, "and you'll regret it" 

He snapped his mouth shut.

"Atta boy" You approved, rewarding him with a filthy open mouthed kiss before standing up. Peter didn't have time to protest before something, a piece of cloth hit him square in the face. He fisted it in his left hand, the wet patch letting him now right away it was your bikini bottoms. Peter pressed it to his nose, inhaling deeply. 

"Dirty boy" you tsked from somewhere near his pelvis, startling him. He felt your warm breath against his cock right before he felt your searing tongue, placing one long lick from base to red, angry tip. 

"F-FUCK!"

You laughed and then you were gone again, only to flick at his nipple a moment later, making him cry out. You kept on toying with him for a few minutes, a kiss here, a suck there, until finally, finally, he heard your knees hitting the sand at either side of his head as you slowly lowered yourself, hovering right above his mouth. 

He ventured a lick, but you backed away. He gave chase, straining his neck, but you always raised yourself just enough for him to be unable to make contact, until he frustratedly grabbed a hold of your thighs, using his superior strength to force you down onto his face.

"Holy fuck!" This time, it was your turn to curse as his tongue made it straight into your soft, velvety insides, delving deep, crashing unexpectedly with something cool and sweet. He twirled his tongue around until he was able to take it into his mouth, moaning as he bit down onto it. You had buried a strawberry inside your pussy for him to find. 

And you called him dirty. 

He swallowed and thrusted his tongue inside you again. You were sweeter than the strawberry and he wondered idly if his Spider half had anything to do with it, if he could somehow taste your pheromones or something. Or if it was simply you, delicious and addictive all of your own. 

You were making the most beautiful sounds, bucking your hips erratically, wave after wave of sugary nectar falling to his lips as his nose bumped against your clit with every one of your movements. And he was mad about it, mad about you, growling and moaning into your cunt. He couldn't possibly want you more than he did right then, cock so hard it hurt, pelvis grinding pitifully against nothing. But he wasn't important, this was all about you, about pleasing you, worshiping every inch of you. His amazon, his pagan goddess in a tropical paradise. Even back in Europe, hell, even way back in New York, all he had ever wanted was this: For you to let him adore you. 

Peter had never understood the need to submit, what was about being tossed and ordered around that appealed so much to those men on the internet. Not until he met you.

Because from the moment he met you, he wanted to belong to you, to be your slave and follow your every command, fulfil your every need. 

And now you were screaming, falling apart above him and he had done that, he was the one you were coming for. It made his head swim with pride and something else, something unnamed and powerful. He kept on lapping at your cunt, leisurely, slow like honey, until your legs stopped trembling. 

You pushed his curls, slick with sweat, away from his forehead tenderly.

"Good boy," You cooed, "I'm so proud of you, you did so good"

A warm feeling spread out in Peter's chest at your words. 

"Thank you, ma'am. Good enough for my punishment to be over?"

You laughed breathlessly as you pushed his hands away and stood up on slightly unstable legs.

"No, but nice try"

His pout was so cute you had to bend down and kiss it off his face. 

"Pretty please?" He insisted, once he felt you straddling his thighs. 

"Don't be difficult, baby. Don't you want to be good for me?"

"I d- OH" your hot hand around his shaft made him cry out, cutting his answer short. Had you known before a hand job was all it took to shut Peter Parker up… You would probably have done everything exactly the same, actually. 

Peter's head was already trashing from side to side as your hand moved, deliberately slow. Up and down, up and down, up and down…

Up… up, up, guiding him into your tight, exquisite heat. He heard you moan as you buried his cock inside you to the hilt, pelvis kissing yours. 

"You are… the best thing I've ever felt inside me" 

He groaned his agreement, hands flying to your waist, as you started to move, started sliding up and down his cock steadily, imitating the same unhurried rhythm you used with your hand. 

But your cunt felt so much better than your palm, all that wet, silky pressure over every lavish inch of him… up and down, up and down…

He felt you brace yourself on his abdomen, nails digging into firm flesh.

Up and down… up and down… Faster.

Faster…

"Peter… oh, god, you feel so good… So good between my legs"

And you felt like heaven, he wanted to tell you, but he was reduced to cries and sobs, to clutching and grabbing at your skin, fingertips eagerly searching any part of your body they could reach. You took one of his hands and lowered it until his thumb was right above your clit, your own fingers showing him how to rub just right to make pleasure explode inside your loins. 

His eyes fluttered open underneath the blindfold. He didn't mean to, he truly didn't, he wanted to be good, he wanted to obey, but this? You riding him hard, coming from his cock and his fingers? It was a vision way too tempting to resist. He could see you clearly through the rainbow of silk threads, head thrown back in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent scream, little beads of sweat glimmering on your skin under the sun, sparkling almost as bright as the jewel colored water on the horizon behind you. And your cunt, juicy and red as the strawberries you favoured, stretched around his cock, taking it in over and over and over again, little contractions milking him, hungry for his come. 

So he gave it to you, surging deep inside you, hips thrusting up to meet yours. You almost fell back, but he caught you in his arms just in time. Raising to a sitting position still buried inside you, he gathered you to his chest, the makeshift blindfold falling from his face.

"Hey…"

You smiled, a little drunkenly,

"Hey, stranger"

Closing your arms around his shoulders, you tucked your face into his neck. You were boneless, completely spent and sated, about to fall asleep, lulled by his soft caresses on your back, when you felt him start moving inside you again. 

Definitely insatiable.

Tired and overstimulated, you tried to get up, get away but his arms, strong as steel around you held you to him, as he rocked beneath you, pubic bone smashing into your oversensitized clit with every drag. Pushing against his shoulder also proved completely useless, his hold on you only tightening, as he started fucking up into you harder. 

You bit into his shoulder, making him groan.

"I think… think I like that punishment better…" He declared, grabbing your chin, holding you in place to kiss you, deep and dirty, only releasing your lips once your head was spinning, your lungs burning. You gasped for air.

"Naughty" You admonished, still struggling against him, albeit a little halfheartedly. He splayed one of his hands against your lower back, pressing you to him. The new pressure was delicious, the heat starting to build again, even if you didn't want it "You're so naughty"

He scraped his teeth softly on the hollow of your throat, only to sooth it with his tongue seconds later, his cock moving so deep you could feel it hit your cervix. You screamed, he was going to tear another orgasm out of you soon.

"Only holding you to your word" He whispered against your skin, making goosebumps erupt down your spine, "You promised not to stop… until I give you all my come"

To be continued...

PS: Let me know if you are reading this under the table during a horrible family reunion, I' love to bring you a little joy during these very difficult rimes... Love ya!!

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #peter parker x reader fanfic #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland #peter parker imagine #adore you

[time-to-cause-chaos]

catch me to infinity

5 times Wanda catches Peter, and 1 time she doesn't know if she can. (Reblogs appreciated <3) (st*rk*r shippers, pls DNI) (also this is PLATONIC, not slash so yeah, pls don’t read this as slash)

AO3 link    WC: 5,738

1. Accidentally, off a couch

“Wanda”  Peter says, laying across his chair, feet dangling idly in the air.  

“Wandaaa”, Peter whines again.  His half-finished hot cocoa sits abandoned on the coffee table while Wanda sips hers quietly.

Wanda pauses the tv, raising an eyebrow and looking over to Peter with an unimpressed look.  

The guy on the screen is leaning against a wall, mouth half-open, caught in the middle of a joke.

“We’ve watched this episode like a million times.  I can probably tell you every single line and scene by heart at this point.”

Wanda sighs, “Which one should we watch then?”

A quick glance at the window says they’re still stuck inside, if the storming winds and downpour mean anything.  They didn’t have a problem with some light rain, in fact, if Tony and Steve hadn’t expressly told them they couldn’t go outside, they would already be soaked and muddy.  The last day they’d gone outside in the cold though, the next day was full of fevers and snotty napkins so it was decided they’d actually listen this time.  That rainy day had still been awesome though and there were absolutely no regrets, even when Peter was delirious and giggling everywhere in a haze.

The sitcom playing in front of them was one of Wanda’s favorites - probably why Peter had put up with watching it for the millionth time - but at this point, she was barely making it through the episode without wanting to rip her hair out.

She was bored.

Peter came around her and sat on the back of the couch, his feet planted on the cushions.  Flipping through the shows was a waste, they’d also gone through nearly every episode they could and starting a new show right now sounded exhausting.

Wanda slumped and Peter got up, standing on the sofa, “There are so many things we could do, we’re in the Avengers Compound, there can’t be nothing to do.”

“We could go swimming?” Peter asks.

Wanda groans, “Then you’ll be the one explaining why we got sick again”

“Wanda, it’s indoors”

“N-o” she spells out, “No swimming”

“Well what about-”, Wanda doesn’t figure out what Peter was going to say because his balancing act comes toppling down, maybe balancing on his heels and pacing on the headrest of the couch hadn’t been one of his best ideas.

Peter yelps and his arms come over his head as he crashes to the floor.

...Except the crash never comes.

Instead when Peter opens his eyes, his nose is one inch from touching the floorboards and his limbs are covered in bright red ripples of light.

“Whoa”, he breathes, uncurling himself and spreading his arms out, as if he was floating.

Wanda scoffs and with a flick of her fingers, let’s go of her hold on the mist and helps him close the gap between himself and the floor, dropping him harmlessly on the floor.

He picks himself up and looks at her, mouth agape, “Wands, you have powers!” he shouts in glee.

She rolls her eyes and snorts, “Really, Peter?  That is news to me.”

“No, no I mean imagine all the fun things we could do with this”, Peter’s hands flail wildly to emphasize his point, “we could prank the others, for one”

She smirks up at him, “That’s actually not a bad idea”

“When have I ever had a bad idea”

Wanda’s eyebrows pinch together in exasperation, “The swimming idea?”

“Okay, fine moment of weakness but anyways,” he grins, “We need supplies, I’m going to get supplies” 

He snaps his fingers and is out the door before he can hear Wanda yell, “If Tony grounds you, it’s not my fault!”

2.  Mysteriously, for the suspense and drama

Peter laughed into the comms as he kicked one of the bad guys down, “Was that a dad joke, Mr.Stark?”

“It was a pun, there’s a difference Spidey” Tony grunts, blasting up into the air and firing another guy down a stairwell.

Clint pops on the comm link, crackling into their ears, “I’m pretty sure that was a dad joke Tony”

Peter shoots a web onto the ceiling and swings around, webbing up the last few people in the room, “Mr.Stark, just make sure to give us a warning before you go full dad-mode and start playing golf and bringing us our lunches”

“I actually think I did bring your lunch to your school that one time”, Peter doesn’t have to see Mr.Stark’s face to know he’s smirking.

“Nope, nuh-uh, no I definitely don’t remember that”

“Oh yes you do,” Tony laughs, “Your face was red the entire time”

Peter grimaces,”No idea what you’re talking about”.  Oh he definitely did, it had been embarrassing, god and Ned’s jaw was practically on the floor while MJ watched unimpressed as the entire class’s eyes bulged.

“I think I saw some dudes slip up to the roof, I’m going to go grab them” Peter says, changing the subject and looking for Tony for confirmation.

“Go ahead, Underoos.  I’ll be right behind, just going to make sure law enforcement have a hold of these guys, first.”

Peter nods and slips out of the room, already running up the fire escape.  

He bursts out onto the roof and immediately has a gun trained on him.

“Make one move, Spiderman, I dare you”

“Well, I do love a good dare”

Peter ducks behind a potted plant just as the guy fires a bullet.  Spinning out from his hiding place he yells, “I’m going to call you Boots!”

The man was wearing heavy black combat boots with large wedges, a short person’s true love, Peter thinks.

He had thick wedges too on most of his sneakers, but he assured himself Tony he only wore them because they were fun to wear.

Speaking of, he was pretty sure Mr.Stark made his shoes with wedges in them too-

Peter yelps and ducks as the gun fires again, missing him by a foot this time.

Anyways, he was average height, thank you very much.  Anyone who said otherwise could eat his webs and dirt.

Peter notices a slight hesitation in his opponent’s movement and immediately shoots a web out, yanking his gun arm down.  

He flips behind him and punches him down right before the man flips back up, nailing Peter on his nose and forcing him back.

Peter yelps and realizes their fight is nearing the edge of the roof, which had a good 8-story drop behind it.

He tries to push his punches in another direction, trying to redirect them both before one of them goes over but the man stays strong pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

Wanda’s voice comes in through the comms, “Peter, where are you?”

“Roof” Peter barely gets out through his grunts.

“I’m under you” she says.

Ironman comes out through the roof access door and watches as Peter stumbles, barely inches from tipping over the side.

He raises a metal hand, ready to shoot but Peter stops him, “Just trust me”

He would’ve let Tony handle it, but the blast could knock him off too, not just the other guy, and if he was going to plummet off a building today, he wanted to do it on his own terms.

Balancing on the small wall, the only thing keeping him from falling off, Peter jumps sideways just as the man raises a leg to kick him down.  

Peter smirks, using two fingers to salute, “Sayonara, sucker” he laughs as he pushes off and starts free-falling backwards, wind and gravity pushing on him.

That was so cool, he thinks.  It was a perfect reenactment of those scenes in movies where a character will dramatically fall off a roof narrowly escaping their nemesis and then gets caught by like, a dragon or a flying pirate ship.

It’s called a fashionable exit, to all the uncultured misfortunes who think it’s stupid.

Mr.Stark was probably pretty confused about what just happened though.

He plunges through the air for a full three seconds before he’s caught by Wanda’s magic, floating mid-air.

He catches a glimpse of her pursed lips and smiles, “You’re so dramatic” she tells him, concealing her amused eyes.

Wanda takes them both up to the roof where Mr.Stark already has the man Peter was fighting, tied down.

Tony groans in exasperation when he sees them both, already having figured out their little magic act.

They just laugh.

3. To annoy, off the counter

It’s a Friday and the essay sitting on the table next to Wanda has already been long abandoned.  He was not going to waste another minute trying to figure out what personal connection he could make the short story they’d been assigned to read during class.

He related to it because he’d been in a similar situation maybe?  

But anyways, he wasn’t going to waste time trying to find a way to spread that over 8 detailed sentences and supporting textual evidence.

He’s sitting on the counter and watching Wanda and Vision read books next to each other on the chairs.  Wanda’s legs are resting on Vision’s lap and as fun as it was watching them both, he was still exhausted and not in the mood to face the dangers of his other homework for tonight.  

Didn’t Mr.Stark say not to risk his life unnecessarily?  This should definitely count because just looking as the textbook took away two hours of his energy, at this rate he’d be on his death-bed by nightfall.

Munching on a protein bar, he looks up at the ceiling.  

The only one in the building right now, besides Vision and Wanda, was Steve - well technically Mr.Stark too, but he was in a board meeting that Pepper begged him not to bail on so he was off-limits.  

He glares at Wanda, trying to get her to notice him bored out of his mind, but she stubbornly stays focused on the page.

She’s actually reading Harry Potter, the result of Peter’s pestering, and she loved it.  The plan to get Wanda to do something with him was interfering with the joy he would usually feel though.

Like yay, my pseudo big sister is finally catching up on all the books and movies she’s missed while working with evil people but also please please please notice me before i throw my stupid homework into the sink disposal-

His alarming train of thought still didn’t catch her attention so he slumps before getting up and deciding to walk all over the counters and ceiling.  You know if that mark on the wall from when someone - ahem Clint ahem - had thrown a pen on the ceiling, acted like a mark he could pretend he was doing an obstacle course.

Yes, he could see it now, he’d do a cartwheel over the pen mark on the ceiling, then run on the wall, then he’d jump over the couch, and jump back onto the counter, the living room was plenty big enough.

Wow, this is a sorry excuse for fun.

He did the course three times and was skittering across the ceiling when Steve walked in and immediately shook his head at him.

Peter freezes in surprise and looks guiltily at Steve.

“I’m guessing the homework didn’t get done”, Steve says.

Peter sits criss-cross on the ceiling, if he gets down, he’s probably going to be guilt-tripped into doing his homework and no thank you.

Steve sighs and looks at him, “At least get down, you’re going to fall and get hurt.”

“No I won’t.  I’m part-spider, this is like my natural territory”, Peter says.

“You have the traits of a spider”

Why did he always have to pull out the school detention PSA voice?

“But look!  I can do a cartwheel on here, I’ve been doing them and I’m fine”

He’ll get down, as soon as he does just one, little cartwheel to annoy Steve.

Of course, that’s when his body decides to betray him and he slips, losing his grip on the ceiling.

He wasn’t worried about falling and smashing his nose at all, he knew Wanda would catch him every single time, in fact he’s already crossing his arms over his chest and scowling as he hovers on his back 3 feet above the ground.

Steve walks by him, still suspended in the air, and ruffles his hair, “Homework now”, then probably feeling bad for Peter, he adds, “Tony said you can use the lab later if you finish early”

Peter groans, “Fine”

Wanda puts him on the couch and he walks over to her and drops in the chair next to her on the table.  She hasn’t looked up once this entire time, not even when she’d caught him in the air, only unlatching her fingers from Vision’s and stopping his fall with her powers.  

Now she looks up and smiles at him, poking his forehead and pushing his computer towards him.

He groans again.

4.  To spite and win, off the balcony

Peter licks his lips, running through the plan again.

There’s someone coming down this hall, he can hear their soft footsteps padding on the floor.  Peter’s going to jump out and get the offending person out of the game, it’ll be easy as long as he times it right.

He jumps out from where he’s hiding behind the door frame and pulls up the gun aiming it at the unsuspecting form.

His paintball gun chooses right then to stall and dang it, that means that he has no defense or attack.

He looks up to find Clint grinning at him coyly, gun already trained on him and finger poised on the trigger.

He yelps and jumps out of the way just in time, the purple paintball splattering against the counter.

Peter runs back through the hallway, getting away from Clint and his treacherous smile (it was the smile of a deranged man who would do anything it takes to win paintball) and finds a cleaning closet to hide in while he fixes his gun.

Did the plastic pieces just have to jam right then? Talk about shitty luck.

He picks at the inside of the barrel with a toothpick and grins as a faint click ensures that the machine is functioning again.  The paintball that had gotten stuck shoots out and Peter ducks out of the way as pink splatters against the dark wall.

He knows Clint’s prowling the halls for him right now and he prays the man didn’t just hear the shotgun go off.

Slowly creaking the door open and making sure there’s no one there, he tip-toes out and runs to the balcony, it’s the perfect place to hide out and wait for his next victim.  The second anyone enters the living room, he has the perfect view on them and nobody looks at the balcony until it’s too late, which means more wins for him.

He underestimated Clint though.

The older man jumps out (umm where did he come from??) and kicks Peter’s gun away from him with a triumphant laugh.  Peter backs up against the cool metal railing and looks at him imploringly, “Can we talk this out?” he offers weakly.

He really regretted voting for the no superpowers rule now.

“Any last words, Parker”

Peter turns his head around, looking for a way out.  It was too high to jump from without his webs and it won’t be possible to run around Clint without getting hit by a paintball.  

Right before he decides to accept his inevitable defeat he sees a flash of bright red hair hiding in the branches of one of the thick, green trees below them.

“You know what, you got me Clint” he smirks, letting Clint bask in his moment of victory for a second, “Just kidding” and he flips himself back off over the railing.

He really wishes he could’ve seen Clint’s face at that moment, sadly success came with a price.

Right on schedule, the sharp red crackles of electricity catch him a couple of feet from the ground and he plants his feet on the ground, turning around to face Wanda.

“Thanks Wands”

“Oh I didn’t do it for you”

It takes him a second too long to figure out what she means but by the time he does it’s already too late, a dark red paintball slams into his protective vest.

“You’re a traitor, Wanda” Peter sulked, wow and here he thought he could actually win - or at least come second to Nat.

“All is fair in love and paintball”

5. Unwillingly, off a stage

Wanda had decided to pick Peter up from his Decathlon practice, it was always Happy who did it but he was sick and plus, they could grab some ice cream and talk before they had to head back.

She tapped her fingers idly on the steering wheel, rapping out a misplaced tune and glances again at the school gates.  

She fixes the rearview mirror and frowns, Peter should have come skipping out 15 minutes ago.

Wanda steps out of the car and smooths her wrinkled hoodie, running her fingers through hair once in the window before walking towards the school.

Her sneakers squeak, echoing loudly through the empty hallways and she has to wrinkle her nose at the spitballs stuck to the walls and lockers.  Someone’s book report flits around in the air and suddenly, she’s incredibly grateful she never had to go to a real high school.

There’s a piece of paper with a handwritten “Academic Decathlon” scribbled on it taped loosely on heavy, wooden doors and she pushes them open, shivering at the rush of cold air that bursts out.

Peering in, Wanda sees Peter on the stage but he’s not alone.  There’s another high-schooler gripping hard at his shoulders and sneering at him, speaking words Wanda’s not close enough to hear.  It doesn’t take any amount of genius to know the two boys weren’t friends/

She doesn’t even have time to intervene because Peter’s pushed off the stage, it’s barely a 2 foot fall but Wanda doesn’t care, she’s angry.

Peter looks at her in surprise with dark red cheeks once she puts him, gently, on the floor.  He practically curls in on himself and she honestly wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was a similar shade as his, just not for the same reason.

She stomps up to the other boy who’s looking at her in alarm and pokes a harsh finger at his chest, “You. bastard.” she accentuates each word by pushing her finger even harder against his t-shirt, “What’s wrong with you?!”

She may not have gone to high school but she definitely knows what a bully is.  She’s had plenty of her own in the past, even if she hadn’t realized it at first.

It wasn’t fair Peter had to go through the same thing, school wasn’t supposed to be like this.  It was where you were supposed to goof off with your friends and learn, not get pushed around by kids because they think they’re better than you.

A hand tugs at her wrist and she’s so wound up nearly forgets to soften her face when Peter tugs again, silently asking her to just drop it.

She looks back at the bully who’s gone pale and pushes him, sending him stumbling back a few feet.

“Don’t touch my little brother again, asshole” she snarls before whipping around and dragging Peter out the doors by his backpack.

By the time they get to the car, Peter still hasn’t said a word and instead opts to look out the window, not even sparing Wanda a small glance.

Her face is still aflame and her hands are still clenched around the wheel as she pulls to the side of the road and parks, looking over at Peter.  His eyes are tinged red.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, the second they’re parked.

“Don’t say sorry, it wasn’t your fault, but why didn’t you fight back?  Just one shove”.  It doesn’t make sense, Peter is strong enough to take on super-soldiers, he practically is one himself with all his advancements, so why doesn’t he just push back?  He doesn’t have to get hurt like this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“I’m just Peter Parker.  I’m not Spiderman at school so it wouldn’t make sense, I can’t just do that”, his fingers dig into his thighs and he kicks lightly at his backpack.

“Then you could’ve said something to us,” she’s looking up at him, eyes almost crazed.  It’s not okay, it’s not even close alright, it’s awful that this happens to him.

And she knows it’s not just a one-time thing.

Not when bullying at Midtown has been discussed far too many times for comfort, not when he’s come back with bruises and marks even when he hasn’t patrolled in days, and definitely not when Peter just tried to subtly wipe a tear from his cheek.

She feels tired all of a sudden, as her raging wave of anger reaches a crescendo and plummets to the ground, scattering, dropping her intentions to take care of anyone who even comes close to hurting Peter with some well-placed punches and kicks.

Wanda sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, blindly, she grabs Peter’s hand and asks, “Was that the Flash guy?”

“No, Flash never gets physical, he’s not too bad.  This is someone else”

“So you’ve been getting bullied by multiple people?”, it’s not a question, she already knows.  “Peter, you’re Spiderman, you know this isn’t right so please, please the next time this happens just” she exhales, “Just please, promise you’ll tell someone, anyone and they’ll take care of it”

“Promise” Peter breathes from next to her.

“Okay” she pulls back into the traffic, “I’m getting cookie dough ice cream, which one do you want?”

+1.  This one was definitely not supposed to happen, shit, shitshit

It’s getting really hard to breathe.

Which should probably not be happening, but in Peter’s defense, he hadn’t even wanted to skip class.  MJ had told him to, quote, “Get out of here before your dumbass throws up on someone’s shoes” and for once he’d actually listened, deciding going home and sleeping his fever off was better than being stuck in a stuffy old classroom, doing schoolwork.  

The heater of the apartment sounded like heaven and sunshine right about then.

He was just going to take the subway when one of the tv’s turned on, flashing a news report about the Avengers fighting the group of people near the tower.

According to the news channel, they had a whole lot of advanced technology, from ray guns to shapeless contraptions you couldn’t tell heads or tails of.

And there were a lot of them.

So of course, Peter had immediately donned his warm hoodie and jeans and switched into his suit, already swinging towards to get there, it made his stomach queasy and his head spin, but it was fine, he was already almost there.

“Peter, you’re not doing this right now, stop it and go home”, Tony’s voice is playing through Karen the second he’s in range.

“Technically, I’m supposed to be in school right now, Mr.Stark”, Peter swings onto a roof and crashes against someone, knocking them down before looking at the metal cube object they had abandoned.

It was glowing a light purple, which should probably not be happening.

He walked cautiously around it and his eyes widened as the glow got brighter and spread more, covering the entire cube now.

“Shit!”

Peter manages to scramble back before it explodes, leaving a black scorch mark on the floor and the smell of smoke in the air.

“Peter!?”

Oops, he’d forgotten Mr.Stark was there.

“Yeah I’m fine, just where did these people get all this stuff?”

“No idea, but Pete, I swear to god get out of here, or else I’m calling your aunt”, there’s a strangled grunt and the comms go silent.

“Mr.Stark??”, there’s no answer, “Karen, take me to Mr.Stark”

He swings two buildings away and lands on the 9th floor balcony, entering and running towards the signal.  When he enters the room, Tony’s being held up against the wall by someone who’s wearing heavy metal body armor, it could pass for an Iron Man cosplay if you squint really hard.

He jumps over, kicking them down and ducking a punch.  Grabbing the wrist of the armor, Peter twists their arm and slams them on their back before immediately looking back at Tony and helping him up.

“You okay?”, Peter questions.

“Yup, something she used fried the comm link though, I can’t get to to anyone else”

Peter nods and they both run through the halls, racing to get to the top of the building. 

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know, but right now I think they’re just trying to blow stuff up”

Bursting onto the roof, there’s only one person there with some weird silver spear, which honestly looks pretty harmless compared to everything else.

The man there, sees them and immediately backs off, dropping everything and stumbling away with a forced smile.

Tony still closes in on him and Peter webs his wrists and legs to the floor, just in case.

They’re both looking down onto the other rooftops for trouble when the headache Peter has been ignoring grows, and he stumbles back feeling his fever spike.

Tony approaches him and kneels down next to him where he’s sprawled on the floor waiting for the dizzy spell to pass.

“Kid, you have a fever”, Tony says after asking Karen for his vitals.

Peter swallows and fights the urge to keel over and vomit, “I’m fine”

“If I had a penny for every time I heard that” he jokes, voice unbearably soft, “Listen, you stay here and I’ll come and get you when this is over, ‘kay?”

Peter’s about to nod when someone flies onto the roof, they’re wearing goggles and using mechanical wings to help them fly.

Peter’s too dizzy to do anything so he watches as Tony raises a gauntlet and fires it up with a low whine that resonates in Peter’s keyed-up ears.

“Back off”, Tony says as a warning.

The girl smiles and takes off the goggles, slipping them up on her head with a puckish smirk, folding her wings in.

“Pleasure to meet you Iron Man, as well as you Spider”, she has a lilting accent that Peter can’t place.

The gauntlet doesn’t falter, even as Tony shifts so Peter is stuck in his shadow, “What do you want?”

“I want one of your inventions.  I may not be in charge of all these idiots, but my best friend is our leader and if you get me what I want, this can all be called off.”

“Best I can do are scraps from the intern labs, sorry.” he says, before firing a repulsor as she ducks out of the way.

“I wasn’t going to this the hard way but I suppose I’ll have to”, her curly, brown hair whips in her face as she puts it up into a ponytail, still dodging Tony’s blasts.

Peter’s spidey sense flares just as her wings do and she’s coming at him at full speed, lifting him up and flying up, past the buildings.  Oh he really has to hurl now.

Tony swears and tries to blast up, only to realize the girl had stuck a small square chip on him and his suit’s shutting down, his breathing clips and he looks up to where Peter’s being flown up.

He gets out of the suit and runs to the edge of the roof, “Wilson!” he calls, signaling Sam over from where he’s hauling debris out of the street for a car to get through.

Sam flies up to him and without a word, grabs him and flies him over to where Clint, Natasha, and Wanda are a few buildings away.  The whole 30 seconds he hasn’t taken his eyes off the Peter-shaped speck in the sky that’s getting harder and harder to see.

He stumbles over to Clint who’s looking at Wanda in concern, arms braced behind her to catch her if she falls. 

Tony briefly wonders what’s going on, before looking up at the collapsing building in front of them, the scarlet circling her wrists, and the sheen of sweat covering her forehead.

Clint looks over to him, swallowing, “Steve’s in there trying to get the rest of the people out, we can’t get in though, it’s too unstable.  The second Wanda lets go, the entire place is coming crashing down”

Tony can’t hide his panic anymore and he points up the sky, “Clint, it’s Peter”

Clint follows his finger and he jerks, seeing the red and blue suit in the distance, “Oh god”

The comms finally crackle back online and Tony swears his heart skips a beat when he realizes the bird lady just dropped Peter, oh my god.

They’re well over 4,000 feet up and his heart is in his throat as Peter’s screaming floods through the comms.  

Wanda hears it too and her hold on the building falters as she falls to her knees, eyes squeezed shut.  Clint moves to hold her but hovers around her instead, glancing back up at Peter when Wanda has a semi-stable grip again.

Natasha kneels on the ground next to Wanda, “You’re going to have to catch him”

Wanda’s voice teeters on a cry, “I’m trying”

Tony holds back his own cry and desperately tries to speak into the comms, if Peter realizes Tony’s trying to get through to him he doesn’t acknowledge it.

The comms are filled with wheezing and rushing wind and Tony’s gripping his arm so tight because that’s his kid dammit, and he can’t do anything.

Wanda’s attempts at catching him are proving futile, she can’t handle anything else without dropping the building which she can’t do, not when Steve and a whole lot of people are depending on her not to let it go.

“Sam, can’t you take your wings up and get him?”.  He doesn't care how panicked his voice sounds right now.

“One of the guys stuck a chip on it, the thing’s dead-weight now” Sam says, voice filled with sorrow.

Tony gulps in a breath and falls on his knees next to Wanda, “You have to catch him, Wanda” there’s a grim undertone in his voice hiding the waver and pure terror flooding through his veins.

Wanda grunts, tears are shining in her eyes, if it’s because of the strain or Peter, he has no idea.

“GUYS! Guys, guys, I’m falling!” Peter screams into their earpieces, voice cutting out, hot tears squeeze at his eyes.

Wanda looks up with a new sense of determination and her eyes flash, Tony suddenly knows that anyone going toe-to-toe with her would probably run first chance instead of fight.

“You can do it Wanda, come on” Tony pleads.

Peter’s form is getting bigger every second, little by little.

At around 500 feet, a faint glimmer of red runs over his body but it’s not enough, it slows Peter’s fall the tiniest bit before he’s hurtling through the air again.

‘Tony, Tony, Tony” Peter says his name like a prayer in the comms and Tony clenches his fist again, switching between looking at Wanda and Peter so fast, he wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up with whiplash.

The strain on Wanda’s forehead grows and her eyes squeeze shut as she tears at her limits.  

Tony stands beside where she’s kneeled on the ground, trying to see if he’d be able to catch Peter if this didn’t work.  He really hoped it didn’t come to that though, he didn’t have his suit and with the speed Peter was falling at, he didn’t know what would happen.

Eyes focused on Peter, Tony realizes a thin, flickering layer of red is very slowly growing over his body.  Relief bubbles in his throat and Wanda is able to slow Peter enough so that he and Sam can grab onto him, they all fall to the ground in a pile of limbs.

Tony grabs Peter under his shoulders and holds him upright as he gags and chokes on nothing, taking off his mask and brushing his curls off of his sweaty face.

Tony’s ears ring with the lingering screams of Wanda and Peter, his throat feels raw and he realizes that in his panic, he had been screaming too.  And it wasn’t just his ears that were buzzing, it seemed like everything was still ringing, the air vibrating with panic.

Peter was held close to Tony’s chest as he shook with heaving gasps and suppressed sobs, dried tear tracks streak the sides of his face and Tony tries to comb his fingers through the knots in Peter’s hair.

Looking around, Tony took everything in, everyone’s faces were pale and Wanda was barely holding herself up on her elbows, her heavy pants were forced through clenched teeth.

She’d let go of her hold on the building as Steve had come running out, waiting till he was out of the damage zone before sending it all crashing down.  All of that had happened just seconds after she had managed to gradually slow Peter down and get him to the ground in one piece.

A sigh of exhaustion huffs through Tony’s nose and the team sits in silence for a few minutes, trying to process all the chaos that had just happened.

Clint was helping Wanda, shakily, sit up and Peter crawled out of Tony’s arms to her before wrapping his trembling arms around her shoulders and whispering something to her.

Tony doesn’t know what was said but Peter was safe, everyone was safe.  They were all alright and his breaths started to come easier.  

Natasha sat next to him giving him a small, reassuring smile.  He leaned back and shut his eyes, making a mental note to add a parachute to Peter’s suit, among many other things.  Also to thank Wanda, because if she hadn’t been here...Tony didn’t want to think about it.

That was done now though.  Tony’s chest feels much lighter when Peter smiles at him over Wanda’s shoulder, the type of smile that conveys a million emotions, with nothing else.

He gives a shaky grin back.

#my fics #moira writes #peter parker #tony stark #wanda maximoff #the avengers fics #marvel fics #mcu fics #clint barton #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #marvel #mcu #avengers #irondad #irondad and spiderson #wanda maximoff and peter parker friendship #i was bored and this came out of it #writing #fics #ao3 #irondad fics #scarlet witch #spiderman #ironman