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sunlightmurdock · 1 year

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The Parent Trap | 0.2 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

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♡ In which, after a couple of years of listening to Peyton and Parker Bradshaw complain about their parents’ custody agreement, Grandpa Mav’s meddling goes a little bit too far.

♡ warnings: mentions of divorce throughout the fic, flashbacks to arguments and unhappily married people. Idiots who still love each other and don’t know it, struggles during breastfeeding, Jake Seresin cameo, flashback indicated by italics

…

“She’s seeing someone? — You’re kidding!”

Penny looks up from the bar, eyebrows scrunching slightly as she stares across the otherwise empty room at her husband and his two adopted grandchildren. Sitting opposite the two young girls in a booth, the three of them turn their heads and realize that they’re been overheard, then quietly resume their gossiping.

Maverick has this idea in his head that Rooster isn’t happy being alone. He probably isn’t, most people aren’t — but Penny has told him time and time again not to meddle. Rooster’s kind of a hot head about his personal life and this can only end badly.

Anyone that has come across Pete Mitchell, though, will be able to tell you that trying to get a bad idea out of his head is like drawing blood from a stone. There’s no level of intervention that can stop whatever he’s up to. Besides, it is a little bit cute watching the three of them plotting away together.

The door startles Penny as she’s cleaning residue from the beer taps. It’s only eight in the morning, they aren’t open yet and that door is supposed to be locked. Mav left it open. Jake Seresin strolls in the same way he always does, sunglasses on, lips quirked. Like he owns the place.

“Penny.” He greets with a nod.

“Little bit early for me to be seeing you, isn’t it?” She replies with a soft smile, setting her cloth down and leaning her palms forwards on her side of the bar. Jake takes off his sunglasses and tucks them into the front pocket of his khakis.

“My blushing bride seems to think she left something here last night.” Jake answers without a hint of shame, lips quirked at the sides, knowing Penny knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“Ah. Yeah, I was wondering if she would be wanting it back.” Penny answers, her cheeks running hot even though she has nothing to be embarrassed about. Jake’s wedding is to a local girl that Penny has known for years, Quinn even worked her for a couple of summers while she was in college. Last night, Quinn’s bachelorette party began here.

Penny crouches down and slides the lost and found box out from under the counter. She presents Jake with a plastic bag. His brows scrunch slightly. Quinn only sent him here for a phone. Glancing between Penny and this mysterious plastic bag, he opens it gingerly. She watches as his grin grows slightly.

Sure, there’s his fiancées phone. But there’s also a cute little gimmicky thong that was a gift from one of her friends that proudly proclaims ‘Property of Captain Jake Seresin’ on it. There are a few other things too, but it’s the thong that really catches Jake’s eye. He chuckles and closes the bag again.

“Thanks for saving these for me, angel. I’ll make sure that they get back to Quinn safely.” He winks one of his green eyes at her and pats a hand over the top of the bag.

Penny breathes out a dry chuckle, shaking her head. In her almost fifteen years of knowing Jake, he hasn’t changed a bit. “I’m sure you will.”

The sound of hushed whispering draws Jake’s attention away from their conversation, his head turning towards the booth in the corner. He leaves the bag on the bar, wandering over, “Bradshaw’s!”

They turn their heads in unison, two freckled faces staring up at the man who taught them exactly how fun water balloons can be, smiles crossing their faces. “Hey, Jake.”

“What are you two troublemakers doing here? — Shouldn’t you be in school?” He checks the heavy, black IWC watch on his wrist and frowns slightly at the two of them.

“We got suspended.” Parker answers calmly, still undecided in whether or not she should feel guilty about the situation. It’s hard to feel guilty when she gets to spend an entire week hanging out with Grandpa Mav instead of learning fractions.

“No way,” Jake smiles at the idea, leaning forwards and resting his palms on the table on the booth. He has always said that the two of them take after their mother and this just proves it. You always had a knack for finding mischief. “What’d you do?”

“We swapped places so that I could beat someone up for her.” Peyton explains. Jake grins. He and Rooster might have had their differences, but Jake has always adored these little terrors. He turns his head towards Mav, raising his eyebrows and then looking back to the girls.

“You look like you’re up to no good right now.” Jake decides, folding his arms over his broad chest. The twins glance at Maverick and Jake knows that he’s right. He slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, opening it up. He drops two five dollar bills in front of each of the girls, “Well, do me a favour and give your old man a little hell.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Parker grins up at him. Like butter wouldn’t melt with her little pigtails and their matching denim overalls. Jake smiles and gives them a curt nod as he steps back.

Jake chuckles to himself as he waves goodbye to Penny and takes his fiancée’s belongings back to his car.

“What did Bradley say when she told him?” Maverick presses.

“He was fine with it!” Peyton bangs her fists on the table, startling her sister and getting a sharp look from Penny. She sighs and folds her arms over her chest. “He’s going to meet this weirdo tomorrow!”

Maverick hums, resting his hand over his face. Admittedly, he hadn’t been expecting a third party and this derails some of the plans he had made with the kids. But, it doesn’t kill the plan completely.

He sits forwards and rests his hands on the table as they lean in closer to hear him. “Okay, so here’s what you do, and this is important, so listen.”

The next afternoon, Bradley finds himself more anxious than usual for the evening. It’s a big deal. Meeting someone who could be a big part of his childrens’ lives. Bradley glances around his room at the two of them, wondering for a moment what they would think if they knew.

Only, they do know, and they’re two steps ahead of him already.

“How come you’re watching me get ready? — You two never care what I wear.” Rooster squints at them through the mirror as he tries to tame his short curls with a small amount of styling wax. Parker picks up the pot and inspects it. Barber Barber beachcomber sea-salt infused styling paste. She lifts it and inhales. It smells good, at least.

Peyton searches through his closet, looking through shirt after shirt as she tries to find one that’s good enough.

“Are you going on a date?” Parker asks. He glances down at her as he grabs the deodorant from his dresser and sprays it under his arms.

“No, just going out with some friends.” He replies calmly. Telling white lies to your kids is just part of being a parent.

“Which friends?” Peyton prompts.

Rooster gives her a quick look from the corner of his eye and smooths a hand over his mustache, eyeing himself in the mirror. There’s more scrutiny in the way he looks at himself now than there used to be. It isn’t that he has let himself go, it’s just that he’s not as young as he used to be. Stronger now, a little less lean than he was back then.

“We don’t have to tell each other everything, you know.”

“I’m gonna remember that when you’re asking me who I’m going on a date with in a couple of years.” Parker replies.

“Watch it.” Rooster warns, instantly frowning at her. She smiles sweetly back up at him. She looks so much like you when she does that. There’s affection in the way he rolls his eyes and grabs his belt from his dresser. “You found a shirt for me yet, honeybee?”

Peyton hums in consideration and steps up onto the base of the wardrobe, extending onto her tiptoes to pull a hanger down from the rack. She turns and sets it on the bed, “Try this one.”

Rooster scrunches up his nose slightly, eyeing the coal coloured button up that his daughter just laid out in front of him. “Kinda boring, don’t you think?”

“It’s grown up.” She protests, hopping up onto the foot of his bed and staring him down, “Try it.”

It’s probably not the smartest move to take advice on what’s grown up and what isn’t from a seven year old, but Bradley relents. It’s a grey linen short sleeve. He slips it over his shoulders and buttons it up. Peyton frowns at her father’s reflection as Parker shakes her head in disapproval

Something about it isn’t clicking. It hugs him too tightly in the wrong places, it sits weird on his arms. He sighs softly. There’s no way he’s wearing this to see you.

“Guys?” The chirpy voice carries through the condo as the front door swings shut downstairs. Amber. Parker glances across at her sister as Bradley calls back that they’re upstairs.

Amber is the twenty year old college student that lives next door. She trails her manicured fingers along the wall as she strolls along the carpeted hallway, already barefoot by the time that she stops to lean up against Bradley’s doorframe. She’s super friendly and she has been so helpful since she got back from college for the summer. She adores the twins and will babysit whenever Bradley asks.

“Hey, Amber — does this look dumb?” Bradley asks, furrowing his brows as he half turns towards her, still eyeing up the awkward fit of the shirt through the mirror. She smiles, her plump, glossed lips quirking at the edges as she looks him up and down.

“Like that? — Um…” She presses her hand over her mouth like she’s about to laugh. Rooster scoffs and shakes his head as he starts to unbutton the shirt.

“Enough said. Pick something else, my little Honeybee.” He chuckles. Amber’s green eyes trail as his fingers work open the buttons on the shirt, revealing more and more tanned skin. Peyton moves to jump down.

“Wait, wait…” Crossing past Parker, she steps in front of her boss and looks him over once more. “We can fix this. Do you have tank tops?”

Parker moves to sit beside her sister on the bed. Faces stormy and their eyes crossed, they watch as this borderline teenager plays dress up with their daddy.

First she gives him a tank top, and then she recommends that he changes his pants. She fiddles through his jewelry while he changes. He steps out of his en-suite with the grey short sleeve unbuttoned and black dress pants that hug his hips perfectly.

“How do I look?”

Her hands reach out and curl into the unbuttoned sides of the shirt, holding onto the fabric as she looks him over. The smile on her lips is unmistakably sly as she nods her head at him, “Amazing. Right, girls?”

Met with immediate silence and stoney faces, Amber’s confidence wavers. Peyton folds her arms over her chest while Parker squints at her side.

“Alright, well I’ve gotta get going. There’s money in the kitchen for pizza, bed by nine at the latest. I’ll be back before eleven. Have fun, kids!”

Amber winces at herself being included in that. Even wearing her Mom’s perfume and the shortest skirt she owns, he’s still calling her kid. She doesn’t realise that Bradley’s aloofness doesn’t run in the family.

The knowing look in the girls’ eyes as their babysitter checks out of the window and watches their dad drive away. The trouble they’re already planning to ensure that she won’t be invited back.

“Babe?” Slamming the car door shut, Bradley damn near forgets to lock it as he bundles the plastic bag under his arm. He rushes forwards, crossing the browning lawn at the front of the condominium and fumbling for his house key. No time for lack of precision, he slips the key into the lock and twists. Even before the door opens, the screaming fills his ears. Hell, he could hear it before he had even turned the car radio off.

“Baby?” The powder-blue painted door swings open wide, chipping paint from the hallway wall that’ll count as a two hundred dollar reduction in the return of your rental deposit later on. He kicks it shut behind him and carries on through the small apartment, already knowing exactly where you are. There are technically only four rooms to pick from.

The kitchen and living room are all in one space. Small bathroom. Two bedrooms. The screaming tells him exactly which room you’re in. Rounding the corner into the nursery, his heart breaks in two. You’re sitting on the floor with your back to Parker’s crib, your head in your hands. He hadn’t heard you sobbing until right now.

“Baby,” He breathes out, legs carrying him forwards as he moves to sit next to you. Parker’s cradled in against your chest, wailing as loudly as her little lungs will let her. Behind you, Peyton’s screaming just as loud in her crib. “It’s okay, give me the baby.”

Up close, he can finally see the way that you’re trembling. No, not even trembling. Shaking. Your lips, your arms, your legs. Unable to hold still as your body wracks with sobs and your smaller baby flails in your arms. Faintly, you can hear your husband saying your name.

“Give me the baby, it’s okay.” Bradley says softly.

Your lip quivers as you cradle her closer to your chest, silent tears burning your cheeks as they stream freely. Your voice breaks, barely audible over the newborn screeches that fill your small apartment. “I called you over an hour ago.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he sits forwards, shuffling closer to you. He presses his lips to your temple, “I got here as quick as I could. Let me take her.”

You hold her closer, a silent sob wracking through you, feeling her tiny heart racing against your skin with how worked up she has gotten. Tears stream down your face without a break, living your skin wet and salty. “I can’t — s-she still won’t— I’ve been trying—“

“I know, I know, it’s alright,” He smooths a hand gently over the wispy curls on Parker’s head, fluffy and already thinning from the amount that she had been born with. He kisses your shoulder softly. “I got the formula.”

Parker was born smaller than her sister. It’s natural with twins, there’s almost always a smaller one. But, it’s been three weeks. Peyton latches without issue and her weight has been progressing normally. Three weeks old and yesterday’s doctors appointment confirmed that she’s still underweight.

Your mother managed to breastfeed four kids successfully. Four different pregnancies, four different times in her life — and you can’t manage just the two of them. She has been telling you since you found out that you were pregnant that your body would know what to do, that it would all be okay and it isn’t.

“C’mon, mama. Let’s get her fed,” Bradley hums softly as he reaches out for her. “Just need her to stop crying first. Right? — We’ll figure out what comes next after that.”

He kisses the top of your head as you relax your arms enough for him to take the newborn.

“That’s it. Alright, I’m gonna go and make her a bottle. Can you bring Peyton? — Doc says they should eat on the same schedule.” He pushes himself up with one hand and cradles your daughter with the other.

“I fucking fed Peyton already!”

It’s snappier than you mean for it to be. Your chest heaves after you speak, throat sore already from all of the crying. Bradley nods his head, “Perfect. That’s great — she’s probably just crying because loud mouth here’s keeping her up. She’ll calm down. I’m gonna be right back, baby. Two minutes.”

He scoops up the plastic back on the floor and wanders off towards the kitchen. Over the sound of the other twin screaming, you can hear him faintly shushing your daughter.

“Not even a month old yet,” Bradley hums, pressing his lips to his daughter’s forehead, then her nose. “Already being a little trouble-maker. We’ve got our work cut out with you, huh, kid?”

He sways softly, taking care to support her tiny head, leaning back to keep her balanced against his shoulder as he shifts her into one arm so that he can pour the boiled water. Humming softly, he doesn’t even realize that the crying in the other room has stopped until the bottle is ready and Parker’s screeching is replaced with the contented hums.

“Atta girl,” Rooster murmurs, his infant daughter rested safely along his forearm, leaned back against the kitchen counter and her bottle lifted in his other hand whilst she guzzles the formula back. “Gonna just as big as your sister one day, aren’t you?”

A soft whimper breaks his attention from the baby. He looks up and finds you standing in the doorway to the hall. This isn’t how motherhood looked when you had pictured it.

You, barely able to get one baby off to sleep, standing in yesterday’s pyjamas at four in the afternoon, watching your husband take care of the baby after he has been at work all day. You stare at him, still in his work khakis, making it look so natural.

Standing before him in one of his stretched out old hoodies and a pair of boxers that you bought for yourself in your final trimester. Skin blotchy and your eyes swollen with tears, you turn your face away from him towards the ground.

“Hi, beautiful,” Rooster smiles at you. After most of her two ounce bottle is finished, Parker stops drinking and Bradley sets the bottle down on the counter. His face soft, head tilted, those big brown eyes tugging at your heart strings. “Tough day?”

A sob catches in your throat as you stumble forwards and press yourself into his side. Parker tucked up against his other shoulder as he pats her back gently, he’s quick to wrap his other arm around you. He’s going to have to grow a third with him being outnumbered like this.

“I keep trying and she just won’t — or she can’t — or I’m doing something — a-and my Mom says that—“ Babbling on, dampening the shoulder of his uniform. Bradley simply rests his cheek against your hair and smiles to himself.

“Baby,” It’s enough to make you quiet for a minute. His hand patting Parker’s back softly, the gravel of his voice vibrating through his chest as your head lays against his shoulder. “Your Mom once asked me if the movie Avatar was based on a true story. She gets it wrong sometimes.”

You can’t help but chuckle at the analogy he chose, hugging yourself closer to his side, resting your hand against Parker’s back over the top of his.

“Formula or breastfeeding — whatever stops her from screaming the house down like that is a win in my book. How about yours?” Bradley asks, rubbing his free hand up and down along the base of your spine. You nod softly against his chest. He pulls back and lays Parker down along the length of his forearm again, her head resting against your stomach.

“I just want to do it all right. They’re so perfect, and I just… I want to be perfect for them too, like you are.”

“Me? — Perfect?” Bradley lifts his head and grins at you. He unhooks his arm from around your waist and presses the back of his palm to your forehead. “All these kids are making you loopy, baby.”

You lean down and kiss her forehead softly, then settle back in against Bradley’s side. “I’m so worried about her already. Do you think we ever stop feeling like this?”

Bradley shakes his head softly as he strokes his index finger along her rounded cheek, and over her chin. “Nah. Kids are designed to stress their parents out, it’s like their sole purpose.”

Lips quirking softly at the sides, you glance up at him and know that he’s probably right. Doing it with him made it all seem okay, though. Being stressed out with him at your side didn’t seem so tough.

Now, staring at him across the restaurant, it suddenly occurs to you to wonder when all of that changed. When had doing it alone become a safer option than having him with you? — Those last few months all seem so blurry now.

The memories might be fuzzy but the feelings aren’t. They’re heavy and they’ve sat with you for the past two years. You might not remember exactly why you let him go, but the pain is enough to know that you wouldn’t like to feel that way again.

“Rooster!”

Chris and Bradley’s heads turn at the same time. Bradley nods in acknowledgement as his autopilot directs him to do. Then, he steps past the hostess and points to the two of you. He takes in what’s in front of him as he walks over.

This new guy isn’t ugly, which is more irritating than Bradley was expecting it to be. He looks him up and down. Loose fitting jeans and a flannel shirt buttoned up. Brown hair that really isn’t styled all that differently from Bradley’s. But, thanks to Amber, Bradley is dressed significantly better.

The pants fit him perfectly and the charcoal shirt just makes his skin look even more golden than it usually is. You squint softly and wonder who the fuck dressed him — because the man that you married doesn’t dress like that.

Maybe the man that you divorced does. It’s been a long time since you saw Bradley for something other than drop offs or pick ups.

“Hey.”

“Roo— Bradley,” It seems more grown up, more formal. A more appropriate way to refer to your ex husband. “This is Chris. Chris, this is Bradley.”

“Heard a lot about you.” Chris smiles, cheeks dimpling as he sticks his hand out. You watch as Bradley takes his hand and shakes it casually. Weird — it’s weird.

“You’re still a man of mystery to me,” Bradley admits playfully, shooting you a quick look and noticing that you’re eyeing his outfit. Letting the babysitter pick what he was wearing was a good choice. “Luckily, I’m good at asking questions.”

Small talk, small talk. Your ex-husband and your boyfriend are hitting it off like a house on fire and you’re just standing idly between them, wondering why this doesn’t please you as much as it should.

The nerves that have been bothering you all weekend don’t settle down even when they’re laughing and jibing each other about football teams and golf. You didn’t even know that Bradley played golf.

You’re shown to your table and you accidentally pick the seat between them. Chris sits back in his seat with one hand on your knee and the other curled around his beer as he teases Bradley about a football game from three years ago that their teams played against each other.

As much as he’s enjoying the conversation, Bradley’s eyes keep wandering back to that guy’s hand on your knee. His foot taps impatiently against the floor, fighting to keep his focus on the conversation.

Finally, focus shifts to something a little more engaging for you when Bradley asks you how the two of you met. He sits back on his chair and watches the two of you finish each other’s sentences.

“Well, Chris’ workshop is right down the street from my store, and y’know, I have consultations all the time and weddings are stressful so I like to keep my appointments chill and quiet, but then he was always—“

“Y’know, building something. Hammering, sawing, whatever. And there are a couple of times actually, where she came flying through the door of my shop telling me what’s what and —“

His thumb swipes through the condensation on his beer, staring at you. Your face is turned away from him, looking at Chris with this dopey, lovesick look on your face. Bradley wonders if you’ve told him that you love him yet.

It’s a cute story. The way that you’re beaming across the table at this guy doesn’t make Bradley happy, but he knows that it should. By the time you’re finished eating, he has searched high and low for some kind of major character flaw on this guy and had come up with nothing.

Short, brown hair. Stubble covering his jaw, kind of a squinty cowboy look to contrast the sharp blue of his eyes, not short. Handsome, sure. And he’s great with kids.

Bradley damn near picks up his dessert spoon and turns it into a weapon — either for use on himself or your new boyfriend, he isn’t sure, when he listens to Chris’ stories from his work with inner city kids.

Thankfully, right as they’re getting into the nitty gritty of Chris’ charitable personality, Bradley’s phone cuts through the silence. You grin across the table at Chris, squeezing his large palm in yours and pretending that this doesn’t make you as uncomfortable as it does.

“Whoa — kid, slow down. What?” Bradley plugs a finger into his other ear, brows furrowing as he tries to decipher the incoherent babbling on the other end of the phone.

“I looked everywhere, and I’ve been calling them for like fifteen minutes! I don’t know if they’re hiding or they ran away but I’m freaking out right now, please don’t be mad at me — should I call the cops?”

Rooster pushes his chair out and stands up from the table. “Jesus Christ, no. Don’t call the cops, I’m on my way. Did you check the crawl space in my room?”

“Cops? — Rooster, what the fuck?” You frown at him from across the table. Rooster sighs and presses his finger into his ear drum to understand the shrieking girl on the line.

“There’s a crawl space in your room?”

“Just, hang tight. I’m gonna be ten minutes. Tell them I’m on my way and they’ll probably turn up.” He hangs up and shoves his phone into his pocket, grabbing his wallet and tugging it open. “I’m really sorry, I’ve gotta run. It was great meeting you Chris, you seem really cool, but, uh—“

“Rooster, did you let somebody lose our kids?”

“No! I left them with a very responsible babysitter, actually, and I’m pretty sure that they’re just messing with her.”

“Oh, well that’s good. You’re pretty sure.” You sigh, shaking your head at him as you set your glass down. “I’ll be sure to mention that when I issue the amber alert.”

Chris slips his hand into yours and squeezes softly as Bradley tosses his card down onto the table.

“Whatever. I’ll text you.” He slips his wallet back into his pants and turns, leaving your mouth gaping.

“Are you kidding — our kids might be missing, we’re obviously coming. Right?” You shoot a look across at Chris as it occurs to you that this is probably extremely overwhelming for him. He gives you a calm smile and nods his head at you.

…

@fadingbelieverexpert @jessirosebud @cowboybarbie @pinkpantheris @thedroneranger @a-serene-place-to-be @xoxabs88xox @unordinaire @slutfordw @fudge13 @averyhotchner @hangmanscoming @sharpsapphic666 @khaylin27 @bradshawseresinbabe @diorrfairy @perpetuelledaydreaming @phoenix1388 @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff

“Yeah. I’ll get the car if you settle up in here, we’ll meet Rooster back at his place.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #the parent trap

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miguellover07 · 9 months

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Poor Baby (Miguel fluff)

While you visit your husband at work, a co-worker of his burst in with his baby. Miguel introduced you to him and you found out that he is the famous Peter Parker who often annoys your husband at work.

Right now he is shoving his baby in Miguel's arms while showing him all kinds of pictures of mayday, your husband is visibly annoyed so you decide to step in for him.

"Peter? Could you maybe leave me and my husband alone? I actually need to discuss something very serious with him." You try to be as friendly as possible. But honestly you're also pissed at this man who calls himself a friend of miguel while being this insensitive.

And he immediately obliges and takes mayday back in his arms, leaving the office.

You urge your husband to sit down on his chair, asking "do you need to drink something?" Miguel is visibly confused at your concern so he doesn't answer right away.

But that doesnt matter, because you're already filling a glass with water for him, "here you go, baby" handing it to him, standing between his legs and start pulling his head against your chest.

He looks up at you with even more confused eyes "wha-", but you're quick to cut him off.

"it's alright if you're not ready to talk about it. I can't imagine how hard it must be for you to be around kids and not think about gabriella. I just want you to know that you deserve to heal, baby" you say with such soft eyes and keep stroking his hair, massaging his scalp.

He can't help the tears in his eyes with how close your words hit to home. So he burries his face against your chest and you feel your shirt wetting, his hands slightly shaking.

How? How would you know this? He always makes sure to keep a stoic or at least an angry expression. He even assured you that he doesn´t suffer from any kind of ptsd or trauma, when he told you about Gabriella.

But it seems like his wife is very attentive when it comes to him.

You notice the way he tries not to look at the pictures of babys, the way he avoids the subject of babys or children in general, the way his hands start to shake and the way his jaw tightens.

"Poor Miguel, I wish I could help you... I really wish I could..." as if you feel the pain in his heart, your eyes start tearing up as well, little tears, that you don´t bother wiping away, roll down your cheeks, while you hug your husband tighter to your chest.

And as Miguel sees your reaction, he can´t help the waterfall of tears on his face. You lift his face and kiss his eyelids as careful as possible, tasting his salty tears on your lips.

"Poor poor baby, how long have you kept these in? It´s alright now, I´ve got you, my poor baby" you coo at him, feeling your own tears becoming thicker at the sight of your husband.

You both spend the next hours like this, in each others arms, letting the ugly and hurting emotions go and appreciating that non of you have to go through this alone.

"Mi vida... thank you for being this good to me, I don´t deserve you" Miguel whispers against your lips before kissing them tenderly.

"No... I don´t want you to always portray yourself as the bad guy Miguel... you deserve everything good and more because you´re my poor baby" you answer him after pinching his cheeks, as a way to punish his way of thinking.

Chuckling he pulls you on his lap and presses you tightly against himself, inhaling your sweet scent while his head rests on your shoulder.

🕸🕷

Even though I think that he has a big breeding kink, I honestly believe that this man is severely traumatized but is too proud to get help or at least talk about it 🥺 he really is just a poor baby

P.s. no hate against Peter but he really is so insensitive like-💀

Masterlist

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguellover07 #spider man 2099 #miguel x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara one shot #minnie07 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara drabble

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rookthorne · 9 months

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧

To foster and encourage growth, you had to first begin with a seed — a start of a new life, the beginnings of a story. It was similar to how you met your husband if only a little unorthodox, but who were you to question a newfound tradition?

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ☼ Farmer!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ☼ 1.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ☼ Fluff ჻჻჻ TROPES: Meet Cute

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ☼ Colton is the best wingman. Fight me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ☼ Fire by Noah Gunderson

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ☼ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 8 — "How did you meet?" — Masterlist

𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The morning was crisp, and the sun was bright, the beginnings of a new, hopeful day – one that you were excited to see the outcome. It was a Sunday, and the Farmer’s Market was in full swing of being set up. Even Bucky had elected to come and help on this occasion instead of working on the farm.

“Where do you want this?” Bucky asked, large crate in hand, this one full to the brim of your famous peaches.

You pointed to the end of your table. “Over there, please,” you replied. Bucky nodded and placed the crate down with a huff. “Thank you.”

“It’s lookin’ good, sweetheart,” Bucky said abruptly, right over your shoulder. You gasped quietly in surprise and turned to stare at him. “What?”

“Stop scaring the shit outta me,” you sniped, slapping his arm. “We’ve got shit to do now, c’mon.”

Bucky sighed and continued lugging crates from the bed of the truck to the stand, all while people started flooding the square, milling about the stands of produce and haggling for bargains.

An older woman, the greying strands of hair at her temples bright under the morning sun, stopped at your stall just as you finished setting up the jars of jam. “Hey there,” you greeted, beaming at her. “What can I get for you today?”

“Just some jam, love,” she said. You nodded and collected a couple of jars just as Bucky dropped the last crate with a groan. The older woman smiled at him as he stood behind you.

“All loaded, baby,” Bucky breathed, kissing you on the cheek. You nodded and pointed to a chair, indicating he should sit for a minute (if only to get him out of the way). “Damn right ‘m gonna sit after the hard work you made me do.”

“Ignore my husband,” you breathed, shaking your head.

The older woman laughed. “How did you two meet? I’ve seen you in these parts before, and everyone loves you both.”

Bucky laughed. “It’s my damn horse’s fault, ma’am,” he said, “the bastard was gone on her from the very first second.”

You rolled your eyes as the memory flashed through your mind.

The old truck you had borrowed from a friend rumbled down the road, gravel, and stone kicking up in its wake – the bitumen long overdue for a patch job.

It did add to the charm of your small town, though. Your family had spent generations farming the land and supporting the local economy by running endless farmer’s markets – a tourist hotspot, if you did say so yourself, especially going by the recent uptick in new arrivals.

The recent overtake of Parker’s Provisions by the newcomers , May and Peter Parker, had been a successful move – both having been welcomed and adored in equal measure by the townsfolk, Peter especially. That firecracker of a young man always made your day, rain or shine, and you were looking forward to your weekly supply run for the animals back home.

Though, the sight of a horse hitched at the front of the sprawling lot of buildings that made up the Parker’s Production lot was a shock. It wasn’t often that the ranchers and farmers on the outskirt properties actually rode into town. Instead, they always elected to bring their trucks and trailers.

Your truck came to a shuddering stop when you parked, and you killed the engine, taking just a moment to marvel at the horse hitched. It was a stallion, his face soft and kind, but his body was a whole other story. Muscles rippled and twitched as he stood while waiting for his rider – the build of a Quarter Horse very much evident in the stance of the creature. A barrel or cattle mount, you couldn’t quite tell.

His coat was a chocolate brown, with splashes of white over his flanks and legs, and a thick, pretty stripe adorned his face.

You couldn’t help but feel that while he looked at you, he was staring straight into you – deep into your being to reveal secrets and mysteries you kept hidden from the world.

It was unnerving, though assuring in the way that being seen was.

The driver’s door opened with a squeak, and you slid out of the truck and into the hot summer air outside. People milled about with bags and baskets, each one waving a small hello, and you smiled back at everyone politely. A loud voice inside the closest shed told you Peter was on site today, and you smiled.

“Hey, Pete!” you called, and a brunette mop of hair peeked around the doorway.

“Hey! Just a sec, I’ll be out with you soon,” Peter yelled back, disappearing again.

You chuckled and made to step towards the stallion, hand outstretched. “Hey, handsome–aren’t you a sight, huh?” The horse snorted, twitched his ears, and stared at you. “I know it’s hot out, but you look like your rider takes good care of you.”

Slowly, the stallion stretched his head out and sniffed the air around your hand, and once he made contact, the soft skin of his muzzle tickled your palm. “You’re just gorgeous,” you breathed, scratching his chin gently.

“Well, well, well–ain’t every day he finds a Peach he likes,” a voice drawled behind you, and you startled, spinning around on the spot. “Easy, love,” the man said, hands outstretched. “No harm done.”

“I’m sorry, I just- He’s gorgeous,” you rushed, hand over your heart. The man smiled and shook his head, the movement freeing his long hair from behind his ears. Taking a second, you took in the stranger. He was wearing a white tank top that was far too tight, a plaid jacket, and a pair of light jeans with boots – his hair was half up in a bun while the other half hung around his face, sticking to his skin from the sweat of a hot day.

“He is. A good horse, too,” the man said, still smiling. He walked closer, dug into his saddle bag, and pulled out his wallet. “Aren’t you, Colton? Lettin’ a pretty Peach love on you like that, huh?”

Colton snorted and nudged your shoulder, evidently displeased you stopped paying him attention. You chuckled and pet his neck, feeling the strong muscles under his skin. “A very good horse, indeed.”

The man grinned and shoved his wallet into his back pocket, then he offered you his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky, by the way–too distracted by the fact that my asshole of a horse actually lettin’ someone near ‘im that’s not me.”

This time you laughed, shaking Bucky’s hand and offering your name in return. “It’s nice seeing a fellow rancher out and about with his prize; makes me miss having my own,” you commented, slightly wistful. It had been years since you had owned a horse.

“I honestly jus’ couldn’t be bothered goin’ back home to get my truck, and Colton needed the exercise anyway, so.” Bucky shrugged. “Best be gettin’ back inside. Stuff won’t pay for itself.”

“Okay,” you said, “I best be going in there too. I have to pick up my order.”

“Oh!” Bucky exclaimed. Then, to your absolute and utter shock, he offered you his arm. “Together then?”

“Well, alright,” you laughed, placing your arm through his. “Why not.”

It was an hour later that you strode back through the doors to your truck, arms full with bags of feed while Bucky and Peter trailed behind you with their own arms full of bags – having had offered to help you carry, and you couldn’t resist the sight of seeing Bucky’s arms bulge under the strain.

And Lord above, he did not disappoint.

“Alright, that’s it, miss,” Peter huffed, heaving a bag into the truck’s bed. “See you next week, yeah?”

“Absolutely, Pete, thanks,” you called, waving to the young man’s retreating back. You turned to Bucky, smiling. “Well, it was good to meet you, Bucky.”

Bucky grinned. “Likewise, sugar. You should come and have coffee sometime.” He turned to Colton. “I know that bastard would love it if you came and fed him some peaches or somethin’–greedy sonofabitch,” he laughed, shaking his head at the hilariously deadpan expression on his stallion’s face.

“I would love to.” The words tumbled from your mouth before you could stop them, and you inwardly sighed. So much for subtlety. “It would be great. How about tomorrow? We can have lunch.”

“Sounds perfect to me, Peach,” Bucky said happily, saluting. “You get home safe now, I’ll come pick you up tomorrow–where do you live?”

You recited your address and smiled nervously, watching as Bucky mounted Colton and turned him around. “I expect all the stops pulled out, mister,” you joked, pointing at him.

“Can’t disappoint ya, honey–promise,” Bucky joked, “see you tomorrow!”

Colton snorted and started a slow trot away, Bucky’s hand loosely holding the reins as the stallion moved away and turned a corner, out of sight.

“He’s a decent boy,” a voice said behind you, and you jumped. May was smirking at you from the office. “Always kind and sweet–should give it a go, honey, can’t hurt.”

“You’re right,” you conceded a soft smile on your lips. “Can’t hurt. He ain’t bad to look at, either.”

May laughed and waved goodbye, and you jumped back into your truck, already thinking of all the ways tomorrow could go – or how it would end.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works

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withahappyrefrain · 2 years

Note

https://withahappyrefrain.tumblr.com/post/681614607965683712/yall-got-any-more-blondepeter-or-dilfpeter

…who says dilf peter can’t be blonde….

Anon, you are absolutely right. We shouldn't limit ourselves.

Summary: Peter brings back an old hairstyle you haven't seen in years. It brings back a lot of uh, urges.

Warnings: blonde DILF teacher!Peter (proceed w/ caution folks), afab!reader, Peter being an amazing girl!Dad, Daddy kink, breeding kink, and oral (f receiving)

"So there's something you should know." You looked up at your husband from the array of goat soaps you were looking at. The four of you were in the midst of your weekly farmer's market visit. You adjusted Sophie so she was resting on your hip.

"What did you say your students could do?"

Over the years, the details had changed, though the message remained the same. Back when you first met Peter, it would have been "What did you say your fraternity could do?" Post college, it changed to "What did you tell Miles he could do?"

Now that things had settled down (as much as they could with a four year old and two year old), you knew when Peter prefaced with that sentence, it usually had something to do with his high schoolers.

"So I told them how back in the day, I had blonde hair for most of college," He started.

"Daddy had blonde hair?" Sophie asked, resting her head against your chest.

"He did! And I take it that they wanted to see pictures," You said, looking at Peter.

"They did. So I showed them some old pictures and...." Peter paused, "And we made a bet."

"Dadda bet," Olivia babbled. Your two year old was perched on Peter's shoulders, playing with his hair. Peter said he kept it long because he looked good with it, but you knew it was because he loved having the girls play with it.

"What's a bet?" Sophie asked, not looking up from observing the necklace you had on.

"A bet is when you say you'll do something if another thing happens. If that thing doesn't happen, you don't have to do what you said you'll do," You explained to your preschooler.

You looked back at your husband, "So what did you bet with your students? Please tell me it doesn't involve me making dessert for them again." You winced at the memory of having to make over one hundred sugar cookies.

"I told them if over eighty percent of them got a B plus or higher on their chemistry exam, I'd let them dye my hair." It wasn't the worst bet Peter had agreed to (you still had trauma from when he shaved his head senior year of college).

"Well, your chemistry exams are known for being killer. So your hair should be safe," you went back to looking at the soaps, knowing Peter would assure you that you were right.

Except he didn't.

You looked up to find him making that 'please don't be mad at me I'm so cute' smile he always tried to use to soften you up.

"Peter......" You said in a warning tone. It was one word, but it screamed 'You better reassure me right now'. He continued to stare at you with those big brown puppy dog eyes. Despite years of being together, it still made your heart flutter.

"....When are they dying your hair?" You finally asked.

"Tomorrow during class." He put his hands on Ollie's hips, lifting her off his shoulders and resting her against his chest. Your toddler looked so small against his broad chest.

"Aren't you supposed to be....teaching?"

"Dying hair is all about chemicals and reactions! It's totally educational!" He paused, "Besides if my principal comes in, I'll just tell her I'm building relationships with my students. It is one of my strong suits."

You rolled your eyes, "Yes because you allow them to dye your hair!"

"Is Daddy gonna have new hair?" Sophie asked, "What color is it?"

"Yes, Daddy," you gritted the name, "What color will it be?"

Peter smirked, "It's a surprise!"

"Surprise surprise," Ollie babbled, playing with the strings of Peter's hoodie.

Well, at least you couldn't say life was boring in the Parker household.

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

The next morning, you rested your head on Peter's chest, savoring the few moments of quietness the two of you would get before your alarm would go off, waking up your two energetic children in the process.

"I'm going to miss you," you said longingly, staring at the brown lock you had twisted around your finger.

"I'm dying my hair, not going off to war," Peter remarked, rolling his eyes.

"Just promise me you won't shave it off. You'll just let it grow out, okay?"

"Wow, I see someone is still traumatized from when I shaved my head senior year," Peter rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you closer to his chest.

"Maybe if someone had given me a heads up that they were shaving their head, I wouldn't be so traumatized." You still remembered the horror that ran through your body when you came in that day to find Peter sitting in a chair, half of his hair gone, and Miles on the counter with an electric razor in hand.

"I told you I was getting a haircut."

"A haircut and shaving off your head are two different things, Parker," Peter wiggled his eyebrows at your old nickname for him.

"I promise, I won't shave it off….only if you promise that you'll trim my hair while it grows out."

"Deal." You eyed your alarm clock, which was due to go off any second.

"Today's your day of meetings, right?" Peter asked. As much as you joked about how scatterbrained he could be sometimes, he did a better job at keeping track of important dates than you.

"Yup, so you'll have to pick the girls up from daycare."

He smiled, "They'll get to see the new hair before you." Peter pressed a kiss into your temple.

"I'm sure they'll be very excited," you giggled, "Now c'mon Dad, it's time to get up."

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

As you fished for the keys to your apartment, you could hear the sound of your daughters' laughter coming from inside. Based on the muffled noises you could hear, you assumed they were playing 'Spider-girls' and Peter was playing the villain.

When you found out your second child was another girl, Peter joked it was karma for his fraternity days. It was clear as day that he loved Sophie and Ollie with all his heart and then some. When you were pregnant with Sophie, you knew he was nervous about whether he would be a good father.

"Peter, if I had any doubts about that, do you think I would have allowed you to get me pregnant?" You told him at the time. It wasn't until he held Sophie for the first time that his doubts faded away. Within three months of her birth, Peter was asking if you two could "have another Sophie".

While Ollie was way more outgoing and loud than Sophie, you wouldn't have your family be any other way. You found your keys and began unlocking the door, embracing whatever chaos was inside.

Sophie and Ollie were on one side of the couch. Both were giggling despite having a finger up to their mouths to tell the other one to be quiet. You could see Peter was on all fours, only his long legs visible as they were sticking out of the couch.

"Bring me the Spider girls!" You heard Peter say, his voice deep and cartoonist. You quietly put your bag down, not wanting to interrupt the game. Your daughters couldn't contain their laughter.

Spider Girls was their current favorite game. It always involved Sophie and Ollie being "Spider-Girl" and saving the city, just like "How Daddy used to do with Uncle Miles!" Sometimes you played the citizen who needed help. Almost always, Peter was the big bad villain.

Sophie and Ollie quietly (their version of quiet) backed away from the couch. Peter's legs disappeared, you could hear the sound of his hands slamming against the carpet, alerting the girls that the "big bad man" was getting closer.

"I got you two now!" Your eyes widened when a blonde Peter popped out from the couch.

Fuck.

He was blonde again. His students dyed his hair blonde.

It was a strange sight. You felt like you were looking at a different Peter, the one you met in college. Except instead of smoking a blunt and trying to crudely flirt with you, he was now pretending to be under a hug attack from Sophie and Ollie.

Memories started flooding back. Memories of when you first met him, when the two of you were paired for a chemistry project, when he pushed you up against the wall and made out with you after watching you dance, memories of how he threw you on your bed and-

"Mommy!" Sophie's voice broke you out of your less than pure thoughts. You smiled, kneeling down so you were at eye level with your girls, who were running towards you.

"Did you girls beat the big scary man?" You asked excitedly. They nodded their heads. You looked over at Peter, who was running a hand through his now blonde hair. You couldn't get over the sight.

"I don't know…..I don't think we have him beat yet," you whispered loudly.

"What we do?" Ollie asked.

"Looks like you need," you took your hair out of your ponytail, doing a dramatic hairflip that caused your girls to erupt into giggles, "Spider-Woman! Let's get him!"

You herd your daughters over to Peter, who didn't even try to pretend to put up a fight. He let his three favorite girls gently pin him down to the floor (he still retained his super strength, despite hanging up the red and blue costume after Ollie's birth).

"Not a triple hug attack! I'm doomed!" Peter said in-between laughs.

"We did it! We saved the city!" Sophie said. She was the first one to get up. Ollie quickly followed, running after Sophie who was now heading towards their shared room.

You, on the other hand, continued to lay on top of your husband, resting your forehead against his.

"Hi," He whispered, unable to contain his smile.

"Hi," you replied. You tilted your head back, your eyes trailing up to take in the hair. You were impressed with the quality of a dye job his students had done. Far better than Miles' work back in college (not that you'd ever tell him that).

"Do you like the hair?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You reached out a hand, running it through his now much lighter locks.

"I feel like I've been transported back in time," you paused, "Though I can't see college you playing Spider-Girls willingly."

Peter laughed, "Brings back a lot of memories, huh?"

You rolled off of him, allowing him to sit up. You leaned back against the couch, taking in the sight.

"It does. Like when I found out for my big Chem 201 project, I had gotten paired with the douchey frat bro who sat five seats down from me," you smirked.

Peter shook his head, getting on his hands and knees so he could crawl over to you. You couldn't say it felt like a predator stalking it's prey. After all, what kind of prey opens their legs to let the predator in?

"Really? That's what you thought of?" He asked. You knew the answer he wanted to hear. But despite ten years of being with Peter and two children with him, you still weren't going to give in easily.

“That’s a core memory for me, I was so pissed off!” You paused, grinning, “It also…officially introduced me to my future husband and father of my children, I guess.”

“I guess,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes. You leaned in, decreasing the distance of your lips but not closing the gap all the way.

“What memories were you hoping I would recall?” You asked slyly.

“Oh….I don’t know,” He paused, pretending to be deep in thought, “Maybe that time you and I finished the keg at the spring mixer….or maybe that time I made out with you in front of that rando who wouldn’t stop flirting.”

Peter leaned in, his lips ghosting over your’s, “Or maybe that time I fucked you senselessly in a coat closet.”

Your breathing had become heavy. Peter’s lips brushed over your’s. You leaned forward to close the gap. Whether it was his “Spidey-sense” or his need to tease you, he leaned back.

“Aww, is someone now horny?” The hair combined with that infamous smirk and teasing tone made you feel like you were at some frat house again, with Peter cornering you so you couldn’t escape his grasp.

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sure, you two were married and you could have just easily told him yes, that you wanted him to fuck you up against a wall. But where was the fun in that?

“I don’t know if you’ve forgotten sweetheart, but I know when you’re turned on. I can smell it,” He leaned in to begin sucking on the spot right below your ear.

Fuck if that nickname didn’t bring back a whole lot of hot memories.

Your actions from reminscenting of those specific, spicy memories were cut short by the sounds of Sophie and Ollie arguing.

“You know, sometimes I miss the days where the reason we got interrupted was because someone had to use the bathroom,” Peter muttered as he got up. He stuck out a hand to help you get up.

“Let’s hurry before they start fighting on the ceiling again,” You said, picking up the pace of your walk. Having three people in your house with Spider-like abilities was….interesting to say the least. Luckily, Peter was there to crawl up and grab the girls if needed.

✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓

After breaking up the fight your children were having on the ceiling, things calmed down enough in the Parker household for you and Peter to make dinner.

It didn't stop Peter's hand from lingering on your body. You shot him a knowing look.

"What?" He gave that fake innocent look, "I can't admire my beautiful wife and mother of my children?"

"You need to be good and help me cook dinner, Daddy." Based on the sharp exhale, the way you whispered the name did exactly what you wanted.

Peter placed his hands on your hips. He pressed your hips against his. You could feel his growing erection against your ass.

"I'm always a good Daddy for you," Peter whispered, his breath hot in your ear.

"Then tell me what this sauce is missing," You held up a spoon to him. Peter took the spoon up to his mouth. He wasn't giving up on you yet.

"Paprika."

He was just going to wait.

"How did I forget that?" You asked yourself out loud, grabbing the spice and giving it a couple of shakes over the pot.

"Should we tell them there are veggies in this sauce?" Peter whispered. You shook your head.

"Let's wait until Ollie is four. I think by then they'll still eat it after we tell them the recipe."

"Yeah, but then would Ben still eat it?" Peter asked, concern written all over his face, assuming you knew exactly who he was talking about.

"Ben? Who's Ben?"

"Either the name of our only son or of the male dog I'm getting after the birth of Annie Grace Parker so I'm not the only man in the house," he said before taking a sip of his wine.

You laughed as you stirred the pasta sauce, "I just want to remind you that it was you who asked for another daughter after Sophie was born." With Ollie getting closer to turning three, the idea of trying for a third child was getting brought up more and more often.

"Yes, and I'm quite thankful that happened," he pressed a kiss to your temple, "and now I'd love to have a son."

"I'll tell that to my uterus during my monthly meeting with them," you retorted.

"What's a uterus?" Sophie asked as she walked into the kitchen, Ollie quickly behind her.

"It's a body part that you don't have to worry about for many years," you explained to your eldest.

You and Peter got your daughters situated at the table and began serving dinner. Throughout, your eyes kept looking up to Peter’s hair. It was….odd. He hadn’t been blonde in years. And yet, the hairstyle brought back so many memories.

“Do you like Daddy’s new hair?” Sophie asked. Peter raised his eyebrows at you before taking another bite of his food.

“I do,” You smiled at your oldest, as your eyes met Peter's. He wiggled his eyebrows, a gleam in his eyes nothing short of mischievous.

"You know, Daddy looked like this when he met Mommy," Peter explained. Sophie giggled.

"Did you think Daddy was pretty?" She asked you. You smiled at the question, looking at your husband.

"I did….amongst other things." You winked at Peter. Your daughters didn't need to know about the disdain you had for Peter when you two first officially met.

Or that you wanted to fuck the smirk right off his face.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, saved for the ass grab from Peter while doing the dishes. The two of you helped Sophie and Ollie get ready for bed.

You smiled at the sight of Peter playing with Ollie's hair as he tucked her into bed. Your toddler stuck a hand out, motioning to Peter's hair. He leaned down, allowing Ollie to attempt to imitate his motions.

After a few bedtime stories and many forehead kisses, the girls were finally asleep. You closed their bedroom door quietly.

You turned around, about to make a comment to Peter when the next thing you knew, your feet were off the ground. It took you a few seconds to realize Peter had picked you up and slung you over his shoulder.

"What are-" your sentence was cut off by a firm smack on your ass.

"We just put them to sleep, you really want to wake them up?" Peter growled, "Or would you rather I fuck you?"

You nodded your head.

"What was that sweetheart? Couldn't hear ya?" Peter smirked as he walked down the hall with you, getting further away from your children's bedroom and closer to yours.

You mumbled an answer, hoping it would be enough.

The second smack across your ass told you it wasn't.

It also told you it was going to be one of those nights.

"Gotta answer me sweetheart," Peter reminded you, his tone mocking. He was standing right outside your bedroom, his hand on the doorknob.

“I want you to fuck me, Daddy,” You whispered, loud enough so he could hear it.

The sharp exhale through Peter's nose told you that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He opened your bedroom door and quickly closed it.

He gently put you down on the bed (while you liked being manhandled, Peter knew you didn't like feeling like a ragdoll).

“Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to fuck you?” He sat down next to you, leaning over. You reached up to run a hand through his newly colored hair.

“Since this morning?” You asked, a smirk appearing on your face.

“The hair brought back a lot of memories,” Peter hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your sweats, “Memories of me fucking you, specifically.”

“Gee, couldn’t,” You held back a gasp when you felt the cool air hit your core, “tell.”

“Oh please, like you haven’t been thinking about it. That cunt’s been soaked for the last two hours,” Your eyes widened at his words. The fact he was saying this while taking off your sweats and underwear so casually drove you wild.

“I….I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter spread your legs apart. He leaned over, his lips hovering over your’s.

“You know Daddy wins this game every time, right?” He whispered, “Just admit you’re a slut already.”

You raised an eyebrow at Peter’s word. “I’ve said way worse.” He defended.

“You’re not wrong, considering the things you said when we were trying to conceive,” You tried to ignore Peter’s fingers that were trailing down your stomach. It wasn’t really working but you were caring less and less as time went on.

“I just really like the idea of fucking a baby into you, can you blame me?” Peter’s fingers slipped into your cunt easily. You bit your bottom lip, your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

You couldn’t think of a response. Instead, you focused on how sinful it looked to see Peter adjust himself so that his head was in between your legs.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sight for very long, as he angled his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside of you, causing you to throw your head back. Peter’s mouth latched onto your clit, eliciting a whine out of you. You quickly turned your head so your mouth was covered by the pillow.

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” You whined.

Peter looked up, the lower half of his mouth wet, “We’ve been together for over ten years. You know the rules: Daddy eats that pretty little cunt of yours first, and then you get fucked.”

You knew the rules. You just liked hearing Peter say them.

As he pushed you closer and closer to the edge with his mouth and fingers, the grip you had on his hair tightened. A particularly strong tug earned a deep, guttural moan from Peter.

You buried your face with a nearby pillow as you came, doing your best to conceal your moans. You could feel Peter's hands move up to pin down your thrashing hips, his tongue still trying to get every last drop.

"Fuck me. Please. Please fuck me Daddy," You whined. He was right, you had been horny all day as well. In the back of your mind, you also knew time was of the essence as a parent and you wanted to get fucked before getting interrupted.

Peter reached over to the draw in your nightstand, fishing around for a condom.

"Don't." He looked at you, his eyes wide.

"Are…..you sure?" He asked. It was clear as day that he was trying to contain his excitement.

You nodded, a smile forming, "Ollie will be three years old in two months and she's about as potty trained as an almost three year old can get."

"She was telling me yesterday that she wants to be a big sister like Soph," Peter grinned as he closed the draw.

"You sure you weren't just projecting there Parker?" You teased.

"You gonna let me put a baby in ya?" He whispered.

"Can't guarantee it'll be a son but-"

"You know I don't fucking care," Peter crashed his lips onto yours. Without breaking away, he awkwardly pushed down his sweats.

You titled your head back at the sensation of the tip of his cock pushing into you, beginning to stretch you out and-

"Daddy? Mommy?"

You two froze, looking at each other, hoping you both just simultaneously imagined hearing Ollie's voice.

That hope was dashed when you heard a little knock on the door.

"Where did our kids get their impeccable timing because it sure as hell wasn't from me," Peter whispered.

"Daddy! Mommy!" You heard Ollie's voice again, this time more urgent.

"What is it baby?" You asked, trying your best not to sound annoyed. Peter regretfully pulled out and pulled up his pants.

"Can't sleep."

"I'll get her," Peter said, trying to adjust his sweatpants so his erection wasn't as obvious.

"Daddy's coming, okay bug?" Peter said.

"Okay Daddy." You heard Ollie say on the other side of the door.

Peter leaned over, his mouth on your ear, "You're going to wait right here and when I get back, I'm going to fill you up over and over again until there's a baby inside that belly, alright?"

You nodded your head eagerly.

#peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x reader #dilf!Peter #dilf!Peter Parker #peter parker smut #my writing #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x y/n

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f10werfae · 2 years

Text

Designer Love

Pairing: Husband! Chris Evans x Pregnant! Reader

Word count: 833

Summary: Y/n can’t find any darn clothes she loves, so Chris takes his role to the next level

Warnings: None?

————-

Requests are open!

Likes, Comments and Re-blogs are appreciated♥️

—————

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“This sucks, the clothes I’ve wanted for ages are not in my size, and they’re not restocking”

I huffed, scrolling down on the website. Sure they’re just clothes, but it’s so hard to find nice maternity clothes.

“What’s wrong honey?” Chris asked walking in from the bathroom, shirtless with sweatpants, his hands on his hips.

“N-nothing fits me and the clothes I want don’t have my size anymore” I stuttered, my hormones playing with my emotions again, tears building up for the seventh time this morning.

“Honey I think your summer maternity dresses are wonderful on you” He said smiling, a hint of a playful smirk on his lips

“You’re only saying that because it means you can take me anywhere” I laughed in between tears, remembering how we’ve basically christened every surface in our new house, Chris had taken a leave from acting for the foreseeable future. He had done enough projects in one year to earn him a long time off, time we’ve been spending well I say.

“Not only that, I just think you’re so beautiful, keep in mind you’re growing a life in this precious body of yours” With a finger poking into my stomach playfully, he nuzzled into my neck pressing kisses feverishly.

“Stop it and let me sleep, your son needs some nap time”

“Alright baby i’ll leave you to it”

“You not gonna join?”

“Unless you want my snores then-“

“Yeah okay enough said handsome, night night”

“Okay bub i’ll wake you up for dinner”

(1 week later)

“Chris what’s in this massive box?” I asked inspecting the massive amazon box, taking up a lot of our coffee table.

“Just something for my gym babe, nothing to worry your pretty little head about” He shouted from the kitchen, walking into the living room and picking up the box, walking towards the makeshift gym in our basement.

Not thinking anymore about it , I just headed into the kitchen to stuff myself up with more blueberry pancakes, made by yours truly.

“Hey babe, you don’t mind if I go over to Ma's today right? She needs me to paint her walls”

“Can I come Chrissy?”

“Babe you know how I feel about paint fumes, especially when you’re pregnant. I do happen to know though that a certain person called Scott wants to go baby shopping”

“Don’t have to tell me twice hun, let’s get me changed”

(3 hours later)

(Chris' P.O.V)

“Ma how do I work this thing” I asked banging the top of the sewing machine I ordered from amazon, stress evident on my face.

“Press the button to start, hold this part and pull the fabric up slowly” Ma said demonstrating it before passing it back over to me, a smile on her face.

“I’m proud of you son”

“Yeah?”

“You’re sitting here learning how to use this machine so you can literally make your wife clothes, that’s a husband if I know one”

“Thanks ma, it just breaks my heart to see herself so upset over it, because to me she’s genuinely so beautiful and she just doesn’t get it”

“Well you keep working at it son- Oh here she is now calling me”

“Ma if she asks i’m painting walls”

“Heard loud and clear”

(3 weeks later)

(Y/n's P.O.V)

“Bub can you come in here please”

“Coming” I called out waddling into the bedroom, Chris standing there with a big smile on his face, a box in his hand.

“What you got there hun, not another snake is it”

“Not this time babe , no. Jus open it would ya?”

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I pulled the box over and took the top off. Seeing exact replicas of the clothes I wanted from the site, reaching for the label on one of the tops I see my size gleaming at me.

“H-how? I thought the site said they were out of stock?”

“I know, I made them”

“YOU MADE THESE?!”

“Damn right I did, look at these needle pokes” He proudly showed off his thumbs, both covered in bandages.

“I love them” I pouted, hugging the fabric close to my chest, my heart swelling with love and pride.

“Hey hey I made those so you wouldn’t cry again”

“I can’t help it baby, i just- you love me so much”

“Damn right I do, or else I wouldn’t have knocked you up” Chris said laughing, his arms coming round me to bring me in for a hug, my head on his chest.

“you are so vulgar sometimes” I sniffed out

“So what’s the verdict Mrs.Evans”

“Yeah you’re getting lucky tonight”

(Bonus Scene)

“What do ya think” I asked trying on the jeans and cute crop top that Chris made

*snap* "Hey no pictures"

"I cant help it bunny, you look so cute n sexy"

"Don't push it, I already said you're getting lucky tonight"

"Two rounds?" Chris quirked up a brow

"Yeah, if you can keep up"

#chris evans #romance #chris evans oneshot #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction

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thelastairsimblr · 1 year

Photo

Family Pack #3

I’m happy to share some sims with you all today! In this post, you’ll find 10 households (40 sims total), each with their own stories and biographies. All of these sims have additional Everyday outfits, skills, bonus traits, Likes and Dislikes, sexual orientations, pronouns, family dynamics, and Lifestyles. You can find them all on the gallery under my Origin ID: TheLastAirSimmer or in the tray files linked under the cut! As always, feel free to tag me if you end up using them.

Guillroy-Jeong

Some families don’t survive a divorce. That wasn’t the case for the Guillory’s; in fact, it only brought Aston and Déon closer. Déon had never considered that the fisherman was experiencing a midlife crisis until he married Willow, a joyful artist half his age. Things were tense initially, but seeing how happy she made Aston was enough to diffuse the tension until Uriel arrived. Déon wants to support this new dynamic, but a needy toddler in the mix might force them to branch out of their bubble.

Carbone

For better or worse, Greta has always been one to stand by her choices. She’s had a song in her heart from a young age, but put her dreams of being a pianist to the side once Albie was born. She works as a teacher to support her family, but hopes one day to play again. However, it would be good enough to see Albie fulfill his own dreams of becoming a professional dancer, temperamental though he may be. Like her mother and brother, Beatrice too is unapologetically developing musical aspirations.

Duggal

When Bikram and Mia wed, they agreed their careers would come first before starting a family. Their first pregnancy surprised them, but Bikram pivoted to adjust to the new circumstances. Mia, however, was eager to get back to work after the birth. As a doctor, she provided enough for Bikram to cut back at the restaurant and care for Parker. There was a cost, though; today, Parker resents Mia. Wanting to avoid repeating that mistake, Mia is keen on loving her boys, the nerdy Antwan and wary Levi.

Salamé

Being raised by Adeline had a profoundly different effect on her kids. Dasia, the eldest, often butted heads with the stubborn matriarch and found comfort in her high school sweetheart Imman. Baqil, the obvious favorite, stayed on the set path and wants to make her proud (coffee is his best friend when it comes to staying on top of his classes). Having married and had kids too young, Dasia and Imman reluctantly moved in and Adeline has since been keen on taking control of the girls’ rearing.

Lavigne-Jarrah

Falling for an artist was not at all what Rahim had planned. As an engineer, he values structure and practicality, but Gabrielle offers him a new lens to see the world through. This interior designer also takes note from her husband and has adopted his attention to detail in her own work. Their daughter Francesca has her moms’ creative spirit and shows promise (even if she focuses more on boys in her class than her painting skills) and Xavier is more interested in gaming than being book smart.

Newkirk

Landon had made many futile attempts to woo his high school crush Johanna, but it wasn’t until he sang a song for her on his guitar that she noticed him. They remain together today, accepting of the others’ quirks. Johanna can often fly off the handle, but Landon is always there to ease her mind. They try to do their part to save the world and instill ecofriendly values in their kids; lessons that young Averie has taken in good spirits. The unpredictable Reagan, however, is a different story.

Tillman

Not long ago, Siobhan was living her dream; traveling and performing music with her friends. But creative differences led to a massive falling out and the band split up. Now directionless, she moved in with her older sister Bianca, who was happy to reconnect after years apart (and maybe get some help with her two boys) but Siobhan may as well be a third child. Desmond and Cale love having their aunt around though, and it’s nice at times to get a reprieve so Bianca can focus on her meditation.

Oertel

A woman of science with a lot of love to give, Sandra knew early on that she wanted to have a child and give them the warm upbringing that she never had. Despite not having a partner, she decided to undergo in-vitro fertilization. She certainly did a good job of instilling Jonas with a high level of confidence (almost to a point of arrogance) and even as a grown man, he has Sandra wrapped around his finger. He doesn’t take his studies seriously, but has a passion for all things outdoors.

Kwame-Zhang

Lily and Daphanie were ready to take on San Myshuno and on their way to becoming a power couple. Or so Lily thought, until Daphanie changed course. After adopting the girls, Daphanie drove a hard bargain on moving to a quieter part of town. She was able to adjust as a fashion designer, sending off submissions from the comfort of her home. Lily however finds herself commuting to the city, unwilling to forfeit her spot as an up-and-coming food critic, despite missing quality time with her family.

Silva-Ortiz

Gustavo takes his values seriously and expects others to do the same. Quite a negotiator, his wife Flavia is able to use her husbands’ political network to pass her green initiatives around town. Though cohesive as a pair, they differed in their parenting styles; Flavia always trusted her sons’ judgement while Gustavo often quarreled with their eldest Robbie, who only wants to party. Averse to conflict, Paolo does as he’s told, even forgoing his own wants to throw himself fully into his studies.

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 vanilla #sims 4 cc free #sims dump #sim dump #family dump

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kairiscorner · 10 months

Note

Hey again! I was the anon that requested the spider noir x reader with their daughter. I loved it sm it was so cute! I was wondering if you could maybe write another fic like that but their daughter finds out she has spider powers just like her dad and freaks out which causes Peter and reader to freak out too? This idea popped up in my head recently and it’s been stuck 😭😭 Tysm for writing my last request tho!

HI ANONNNNN <333 omg thank YOU for the cute idea, i'm so glad youloved it <:DD I'LL TRY FOR THIS ONE TOO OMG (what if this is mayday's variant.......)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he wasn't just spider man anymore, he was now a spider dad; he wore that title proudly like a badge of honor, the efforts of his hard work at taking care of you and his little girl had paid off to see both of you smile. honestly speaking, there were many times when he'd worry about not being able to come home when duty called for him, but that never stopped him from doing so, again and again, without fail.

he was your peter benjamin parker, your spider man in the black trench coat with the black fedora, and with the biggest heart that was filled with love for little family you two have together. finally, peter thought as he came home and into the door, behind which, his loving spouse and daughter dearest would be waiting for him–he'd scoop them up in his arms and pepper them both with kisses as they giggle and squeal.

"dears, i'm--"

"peter! look at your daughter!" you exclaimed in a frantic voice as your expression became more and more worried. he raised an eyebrow at your growing concern over what appeared to be air as he looked around the living room. "ah, where... is she?" he asked as he took his coat off. he hung the coat up what he thought was the coat hanger, though it was a little lighter and softer than before, he had to admit.

you looked upon in horror as peter has still failed to realize where your daughter was. "dear?" peter asked as he was about to take his hat off, but realized he was patting his own head. you kept mumbling as you pointed to the ceiling, and peter's eyes soon followed where you were pointing. "what in the blazes...?" he murmured as he watched his little princess, three years of age, crawl upon the ceiling with her soft locks of hair hanging down as she gazed at you two, her beloved parents, gaze back at her in utter shock.

she giggled as she held peter's hat and coat, letting go of the coat at peter's feet, which he didn't even react to. he was just so...

"peter?" you asked aloud as you saw your husband's limp body lie down as he fell backwards, fainting from this new revelation. your daughter giggled as peter fell over, and she let go of the ceiling; but you caught her in a nick of time. she wanted to be on her father's chest right then and there, but you left her on the couch first and tried to wake peter up. all your attempts failed, however, and you instead dragged him onto the sofa to rest.

peter awoke to the feeling of soft, pudgy little hands prodding and poking his cheeks. he woke up in a daze, but recognized his daughter immediately. he chuckled as he held her in his arms and cooed to her. "oh, honey... you won't believe the dream i had. our little girl, she... she..." he muttered in a hoarse voice, having just woken up from the shock he was treated to earlier, only to have his daughter shoot a web in his face. she giggled, and he was left stunned.

"what did you dream abou--oh, not again..." you muttered with a small sigh as you tried to get the gooey mess off of peter's face. he didn't frown, nor did he get mad, instead... "darling, my little princess is a heroine." he whispered in surprise as he held her close, her babbling and dribbling all over herself. you sighed and gave him a small smile. "well, i... i don't know what to say or do about it. she does take after her father in, oh, in too many ways." you said as he looked over at you with a beaming smile, your daughter peering up at you with the same, lovable, beaming smile.

what an tangled up family you two have become, in the best way possible.

a/n: AND THEN PENI BECOMES HER ADOPTIVE OLDER SISTER AND THEY'RE A BIG HAPPY FAMILY <333

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @binibinileonara @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @maxoloqy @connors-cumslurper @sabcandoit

#spider noir #spider noir x reader #spider noir x you #spider noir x y/n #spider noir fluff #itsv #itsv imagines #itsv x reader #itsv x you #itsv x y/n

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writeandsurvive · 6 days

Text

I'm sorry for this, it's not good. But somehow, I managed to get something done, so I gotta share. Kinda inspired by NCIS S21E08 'Heartless'.

Warnings: age gap, married couple, established relationship, talks of miscarriage, giving birth, jealousy, womanizer!Alden, daddy!Alden, very slight smut

Mine ~ Alden Parker

When you started to date Alden Parker, as he was still an FBI agent, you never considered becoming friends with his coworkers. Especially, after meeting a few of them he would consider his friends and they turned out to be judgmental towards the age gap in your relationship. Not that you wanted to befriend his coworkers anyways, you just agreed to meet them cause he asked.

However, it changed when Alden joined NCIS. He immediately started to tell you about his new team, and you could he was fond of them all, including his boss - which was extremely surprising since he never got along with his FBI boss, Sweeney. You quickly knew it would be different this time. It did take him a while before introducing you to them, but once it happened, you all hit it off. The guys were quite impressed with Alden wedlocking a woman fairly younger than him, while the girls, even though they wouldn't go for someone older, they agreed that Alden Parker had a little something. "It's the freaking hair!" Jess joked.

Before you knew it, this new team felt like family. You'd all hang out together - dinners, games night - and sometimes you'd have girls night with Jess and Kasie. You even babysit McGee's twins and/or Victoria a few times. Which, as much as you loved it, did hurt a little since it would remind you of the struggles you and Alden had been having to have a baby. Between not getting pregnant for months and the miscarriages, you had started to think that it wouldn't happen the natural way for you. Also, Alden really felt like he was getting too old to have a kid, no matter how badly he wanted one with you.

When you reached your third trimester, Alden felt pretty confident that this time everything was going to be alright while you couldn't shut that little voice in your head saying that something bad would happen like the other times. But finally, the nurse put your crying new born in your arms, and everything felt right. "You did so good, my love." Alden cried, kissing your forehead and looking down at his son. "Our miracle baby. He's perfect."

You didn't want the nurse to take him away from you but you knew they needed to check him up and clean him. "Do you guys have a name for this little guy?" Another nurse asked. You and Alden looked at each other for a second. "Axel Roman Parker." He said, proudly.

Obviously, the team was in the waiting room. Alden had been at work when you called him to tell him that your water broke. Nick had been the one driving to the hospital, "Torres, I'd like to meet my son before I die, thank you very much!" Alden shouted, holding onto the handle above the window.

"Don't worry, dad." Nick grinned.

Your husband went to see them to let them know that mom and baby boy were alright. "Is it okay if you guys only meet him in a few days?"

"Of course, no rush!"

"Send us pictures though! Please?"

Alden didn't want to go back to work after his paternity leave. He didn't want to leave his little family. The night before his first day back, he actually felt depressed. "He's changing so much so fast, I'm gonna miss so much." He sadly said, stroking his son's back, who was peaceful sleeping on daddy's chest.

"I'll take as many pics and videos I can." You kissed your husband's cheek. "And Vance said you don't have to put many hours like you usually do."

"I know, but still."

You noticed the tears forming in his eyes and it broke your heart a little. You didn't want him to go back to work either. You wish he could push his leave a little more, but he had pushed it as much as possible already - director Vance had been amazing and made it easy. You wrapped your arm around Alden's neck, carefully so you wouldn't wake up Axel. He nuzzled your neck as you gently stroked his hair. "He loves you and perfectly knows who daddy is. It won't change in a few hours, I promise."

"I honestly thought it would never happen for me, you know? Before you and then the issues we had, I thought-- I just wasn't meant to be a dad. But now he's here, and I just don't want to be away from him."

"Aw, baby." You cried with him. "I wish there was a way for you to stay."

The next day, Alden arrived late at work as he struggled to let go of Axel. Jimmy and Tim, who knew how it felt, were very helpful throughout the following week.

It took you months to separate from Axel, just for a few hours. And even more time to go out for a girls night while Alden had a boys night with his little man.

"I almost forgot how champagne tasted." You smiled, having your first drink in over a year.

"Good thing we took a whole bottle then!"

The conversation between you, Jess, Kasie and Delilah went on as it usually does when you four get together. Jess talked about her relationship with Jimmy, and her dad. Kasie confessed about her new crush - you and the girls immediately hyped her. Delilah talked about her job, and the twins newest obsessions. And you obviously talked about Axel and your husband.

"By the way, how's Alden's neck?" Jess asked.

"Perfect! Did Nick really fix him with a bear hug?"

"He did! It was pretty funny!" Jess laughed, remembering the scene from a couple of days ago. "Doctor Logan probably thought we were crazy."

"I can't believe that my husband im-so-scared-of-needles-hold-me-hand worked on a heart surgery." You laughed, trying to imagine the scene.

"Mr I fainted when my wife got her epidural." Kasie teased.

"In his defense, it's a pretty big needle for this." Delilah said. "Thank god he didn't faint during the surgery though." She joked.

"Well, if he did, I'm sure Doctor Logan would've enjoyed giving him mouth to mouth."

You, Kasie and Delilah turned like one person to look at Jessica. "What?" She asked, confused. Then she looked at you. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Um..."

"Jessica Knight."

"The doc clearly developed a crush on him. She practically flirted with him in front of me."

You let out a deep breath. "Did he flirt back?"

"Not really, he was genuinely confused."

"Did he not learn his lesson with the senator?" Kasie chimed in.

You finished your drink in one swallow, remembering when he gave you a piece of paper with a number on it. "Whose number is it?"

"A senator." He had said.

"Alright and what am I supposed to do with it?"

"You, nothing. But I guess she wanted me to call when she gave it to me." The jerk was smiling while you used to candle flame to burn the paper.

"I don't care about the 'it's safer for you if people don't know I'm married' crap, I'm gonna glue the wedding band to his damn finger."

The girls laughed, always enjoying how easily you get jealous when there's a woman around Alden. When you had learned that some women in the office kinda liked your man, you showed up at the NCIS headquarters for the first time and asked for a tour. When his ex wife got involved in a case, you were feeling anxious, even though she knew about you from the beginning, thanks to Alden's parents. The worst actually was when he saw his first love for the first time in over thirty years. He had admitted that it felt very strange, and maybe if he had been single, he'd have pursued something, but he was married to you, and deeply in love with you and he'd be crazy to let you go. It was one of those rare moments when you and Alden were struggling, and fought a little more often. But he never gave you a reason to be jealous or suspicious, it was just a part of your personality. And to be fair, he was such a womanizer, you couldn't help but to think that any other woman would be better than you.

You got home slightly drunk, which Alden expected. He was happy that you finally let yourself have some fun away from him and Axel. Barely sleeping on the couch, he immediately got up when he heard you come in. "Hey! What are you doing up? Is Axel awake?" You asked, struggling to take your shoes off. Alden kneeled down to help you.

"He did wake up an hour ago for his bottle but he's fast asleep now."

"Good, good." You leaned a little and ran your hand through his hair. "I'm so so so so happy you're my baby daddy."

Chuckling softly, he got back up and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Thank you for choosing me. You made all my dreams come true." You hugged there for a moment, just enjoying each other. "Let's go to bed, baby mama." He started to carry you, grabbing the baby monitor on the way.

"No sleeping, gimme another baby." He laughed but quickly got cut off as you smashed your mouth on his. He managed to get to the bedroom while you practically assaulting him, holding his face firmly and french kissing him. Of course his body was responding positively. As he put you down on the bed, you dragged him along. He was on top of you and you started to make out. It was long until you felt his erected cock between your legs. You reached for it, forcing your hands under his shorts. "Fuck, baby." He moaned.

"Yes, fuck me daddy."

And he did just that. ~

After freshening up in the bathroom, Alden found you in the nursery, looking over Axel. He hugged you from behind. "Do you really want another?" He asked, cautiously.

"Not necessarily," you admitted. "I mean, if it happens, I'll be very happy but I can't go through the struggles again."

"Okay. We've got him and he's absolutely perfect." You stroked your son's hair one more time before turning around to face your husband.

"He really is." You grabbed his left hand and stared at it for a moment. "This wedding band stays on, Alden. 24/7."

"But--"

"No but. I'm done with women flirting with you cause they assume you're single. You're taken, you're fucking mine. You keep the damn ring on."

Alden stayed silent for a moment. "Jess told you about Doctor Logan, didn't she?" You only looked at him, arms crossed. "Fine, I won't take off my ring ever again." He reached for your wrists and made you uncrossed your arms as he hated when you strike that pose on purpose. He brought you as close as possible to him. "Are you ever going to accept the fact that you're the love of my life? That I rather be single for the rest of my life than with someone else than you? That losing you and now Axel, would absolutely destroy me?"

All you could do was kiss him, but he did saw the tears falling down your cheeks.

#ncis #alden parker #alden parker imagine #alden parker fanfic #alden parker x reader #ncis fanfiction #ncis imagine #ncis reader insert #alden parker x you #ncis x you #ncis x reader insert #ncis x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

Text

Made for Him I

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, blood and gore, violence, death, grief, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Peter finds himself alone after the loss of those around him, so he decides to find a cure to his grief.

Characters: Peter Parker

Note: I’m still very sick. I dug this out of my WiPs because I desperately wanna power through it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.

Love you all like Garfield loves lasagna. Take care. 💖

The Creator

On July 8th, 1822, Percy Bysshe Shelley drowned just off the coast of Livorno. His wife was famous for the resurrection of the fictional monster and the misguided doctor for whom her penultimate novel was named. Peter cradled the very one in his hand, the spine bent and the pages well worn by his habitual delve into the horror of Victor Frankenstein.

His readings were studious and almost religious in nature as he worshipped the pages alongside the library of textbooks, theses, and medical reports that lined the shelves of his office.

The foamy waters flowed in and wetted the sand around his toes as he sat close in the folding chair he brought out daily to bask in the hot Italian sun. Sometimes he let the book rest in his lap as he closed his eyes to the sun and wondered if it was near that very point that Mary’s husband met his tragic fate. If he lounged on the very sands he was said to have met his rumoured lover and another poet. The fantasy carried Peter away for a time only to send him crashing back down.

One year to the day he left New York and he was growing impatient. He’d waited long enough as his trust only matured on the day he got his final degree, the one with the three vaunted letters below the golden crest. The only remnant of his former mentor, the man who showed him that life could grow in a lab, though he had only ever rendered it in metal and code.

Peter wanted more than the cold armour and robotic voices, he could take Stark’s legacy and give it true life. He knew he could.

More than creation, he wanted love. He wanted a stalwart he could depend on, not the flaky girl he met in high school who broke his heart. He wanted to take the fiction in his grasp and turn it into fact. He wanted the world to know that he was more than Tony Stark’s pity project, he was a reckoning.

He stood and folded up the chair, carrying it by the cloth handle as he kept the book open and walked blindly across the uneven sand. He was at his favourite part, where the monster hid in the barn and the inherent spark of kindness drove him to complete the chores of the overwrought family.

Then there came the reality of a harsh and unloving world, one he swore to never let touch his creation. He would only give them love, give them the perfect life he longed to have. The one he could live, just not alone.

The stone steps led up to the open terrace of the beach house that looked out onto the hot Mediterranean shore. The place was isolated but lively as the songbirds nested in the trees and the sun was ever shining above. It was the perfect retreat for the retired Avenger. The world didn’t need him anymore, he was dispensable. That kid, Miles, took up the mantle and the world forgot about Peter Parker.

He set the wooden chair down against the wall as he entered through the slatted door and closed the book at last. He passed through the curved archways and entered the airy kitchen, the open windows letting in the balmy Italian breezes.

He poured dark grinds into the drip percolator and waited for the strong espresso to seep through. He took his small cup when there was enough to savour and shifted it over to the island at the center of the space.

He kicked aside the rug and bent to hook his fingers in the indent along the hatch and lifted it with a grunt. He reached for his mug and carefully descended. He sipped as he came to the bottom and flipped on the switch to light up the space.

Everything was laid out in eager preparation. Over a year’s worth of planning resided in his secret space. One wall was lined with the endless texts he poured over between spurts of exhaustion-laced sleep, on the other, a vast array of equipment including beakers, microscopes, surgical tools, a tome secreted from Strange’s panoply of mystic fascinations, and several monitors floating from metal arms drilled into the wall.

At the center of the room was a large metal bed, shining and sterile. All he needed was there, a collection started years before he even considered the Italian retreat. He swore that day when he was through the tears and wrenching heartache of abandonment that he would never be left alone again. Not after his parents, or Tony, or May or MJ. He was ready to give his life away; to give life.

He just needed the proper parts to do so.

🧪

The head was the hardest part.

Not harder to find than the other pieces, each kept preserved in a special compartment to keep them from mortification. He harvested them quickly, his first few attempts at the morgue proving too late. So he frequented the hospitals, hiding in vents and other tight spaces, using those tricks from his days of heroics to go unseen in his diligent but grim work.

He found a few women he didn’t mind but they just weren’t right. He needed eyes that made him feel fuzzy and a smile that made his heart flutter. He came this far and wouldn’t settle for anything but perfection.

He knew the moment he saw her; disguised in a set of scrubs and a surgical mask, his reddish brown hair hidden beneath a cap as he watched her wheeled by. He was there when they called it and the machines went silent. There wasn’t time to linger as the doctor and nurses were called to their next patient.

Peter kept to the back and waited for the rest to disperse to the next code and shut the door. He hopped up and pushed in the ceiling tile, wiggling through to grab the cube hidden within and slipping back down.

She looked peaceful as he opened the case, the cool fog rising from the top as he set it on the tray and rolled it around the bed. She died of an aneurysm, so sudden she didn’t have time to look petrified. It made him sad to think of a life extinguished in the bat of an eye. Even if it was to his benefit.

As he sterilized the saw he pulled from his canvas kit, he figured it was meant to be. She was gone too soon and he was in need of a pretty face. He placed the teeth of the blade to her neck and paused. He couldn’t wait much longer, he had to get it done or it would be another one for the bin.

He began the grizzly deed, careful to slice through as cleanly as possible. The blood leaked out into the white sheets and onto the pillow and as he detached her head completely, it turned to an ocean, spurting violently from her neck. He cradled her head as he slipped it into a plastic bag and sealed it before placing it in the refrigerated case.

He closed it and slung the strap over his chest, lifting his arm to string a web to the open ceiling. He hauled himself into the vent and slid the tile back into place. He began the careful crawl, the final piece of the puzzle jostling on his shoulders.

He would burn his gown, cap and mask when he got out, the iron scent of her blood was starting to make him sick.

🧪

Peter felt the cold even through the thermal layer of his suit. His visor allowed for him to pinpoint his focus on the precise merging of nerve ends and tight stitches of his intent assembly. The laboratory was kept below zero for his work to preserve the parts until he could revive them.

He turned up the heat in his suit to keep from shivering as he feared a single mistake.

After several scans, Peter found the brain to be beyond repair. He was disappointed but he found an easy solution. He was reluctant to throw away the pretty face; the face that had come to colour his dreams. So he found a new brain instead, young and fresh, without a flaw.

He found himself distracted by the long lashes as he fit her open skull with its new motor. If he thought of it as just another suit, it wasn’t as repulsive as blood stained the table and his gloves.

He hunched over and worked at connecting the brain stem, switching out his tools and repositioning to keep from damaging the ridges. It was the most important part of the process and he didn’t want to try again. He couldn’t go through it again. This was it. He knew it by the way he just couldn’t stop seeing that face; in his dreams, in his waking thoughts, and in its case, awaiting rebirth.

He would give her a precious gift but she would give him more. How could she not love her creator? Her saviour.

Peter replaced the top of her skull and forged it back into place, the laser singing a line around her scalp. He had a collection of wigs she could wear until it grew back and he could graft on a new set of follicles if needed. He wanted her to feel as beautiful as he saw her.

Done, he stepped back and admired his work, twelve hours of intent and tedious labour over her. The pieces fit together well and he was hardly disappointed. He didn’t care that the stitches would leave scars like spider webs across her flesh. He thought that made her even more gorgeous. He could hardly keep from trembling in excitement.

He placed the metal band around her brow and the transmitter on her chest. Every nerve, every muscle, every part of her was hardwired with delicate attention. He knew he could bring her back. Victor Frankenstein would blush to see it done right.

Peter went to the computer as the hoop connected to the table scanned every inch of her and showed no error in his assembly. Her neural network looked like a roadmap and her body was still untouched by decay or rigor mortis. It was now or never.

He keyed in the final command and a sudden hum went through the lab. He winced as he felt a force flow through his suit in the frigid room and her body twitched as the transmitter pulsed at her chest and the ring around her head vibrated. He checked the screen as he waited for a response. He dragged his finger over the monitor to increase the power.

“Come on, please,” he begged the universe, “I did it. I know I di--”

The heart rate suddenly jumped from the glowing red zero to an orange forty-three, then sixty, peaking at a blue one hundred, and calming to a steady sixty-seven. The computer began to beep in time with her pulse and her brain turned to a sudden rainbow of activity. He glanced over at her but she remained unmoving.

He felt a squeezing pain in his chest. Did he miss something? Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it would always just be fiction, a fantasy. He would always be alone, always a failure. He came around the desk and went to the table and looked her over.

He touched her chest and felt the beating of her heart beneath the sensors and lifted his fingers below her nose. She was breathing. So why then, wouldn’t she wake up?

#made for him #horror au #au #frankenstein #peter parker #dark peter parker #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #spider-man #avengers

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 7 months

Text

Here You Come Again [Epilogue]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF, American Actor

Pairing: Elvis Presley × Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Addison Goodwin, Original Female Characters, Priscilla Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Vernon Presley, Gladys Presley, Minnie Mae Presley, Marci Cunningham, Jerry Schilling, Red West, Sonny West, Marty Lacker, Joe Esposito, Charlie Hodge, Lamar Fike, Alan Fortas, George Klein, Memphis Mafia

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3120

Summary: When Addison Goodwin was seventeen years old her life was turned inside out after a chance encounter with her past.

Now, fifteen years later her life is the best it's ever been. She has a home, a good job and a daughter she loves more than anything in the world but will all that remain when an old familiar face rolls into town.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Graceland, Las Vegas, The International Hotel, Elvis In Vegas, 1970s, 1970s Elvis, Friends To Lovers, Rekindled Romance, Parenting, Time Line is Sketchy, Guilt, Betrayal, Teenage Pregnancy, Hawaii, Hidden Pregnancy, Jealousy, Sex, Absence of Parent, Single Motherhood, Trauma, Oral Sex, Tension

Notes: Well here it is the end of the series! I have absolutely loved writing this and I have loved how much you have loved reading it! So much so that even though my second part of the series is done I intend to keep writing for Addie and Elvis as there’s more to this story I wanna explore. So if there’s anything you want to see at any part of the timeline feel free to ask me! 💕

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO A03 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Addison stared at the baby in her arms, marvelling at how his long lashes danced along his plump cheeks before fluttering open, his sleepy blue eyes meeting hers as he stared up at her. He wriggled, offering her a yawn before his mouth fell into a toothless grin which she elected to believe was a similar feeling of adoration rather than gas.

‘That’s it,’ she smiled, ‘I’m in love.’

‘He is pretty cute,’ Elvis chuckled as he slipped onto the chair arm beside her offering his finger to the boy in his wife’s arms who took it, all five of his tiny fingers wrapping around his large one as he curled it under a slightly drool dampened chin. He didn’t really do babies, the last one he’d been around being his own daughter, but he couldn’t deny that the little boy in front of him was quite a cutie though he figured that was more to do with Marci’s looks than her husbands.

‘Isn’t he?’ Addison cooed, ‘look at those eyes. His little fingers. Oh E, he’s so cute.’

‘Almost makes you wanna do it all over again doesn’t it?’ Elvis chuckled leaning in to press a kiss on her temple. His words took her by surprise but she took it in her stride as she looked up at him, an eyebrow raised as she said, ‘oh yeah? Reckon you’re up to the job sailor?’

‘I think I could give it the old college try,’ Elvis said, his signature smirk splayed across his face as his hand moved to dance along the back of her neck causing a shiver to run down her spine so much so that she had to deflect that feeling by teasing him.

‘I don’t know,’ she mused smiling as he eyed her closely, ‘you are getting up there.’

‘Jerrys just had a baby,’ he countered making her smirk that he’d took her bait.

‘Jerrys seven years younger than you,’ Addison quipped.

‘You don’t think I could?’ he said his fingers tracing the back of her neck as she shrugged before he leaned in, his bright blue eyes darkening as he said, ‘maybe I’ll just have to show ya then.’

Addison was going to retort, match his banter toe for toe like she normally did, but her quipping was cut short as she heard a repulsed grumble from the couch next to them and found Lisa watching them with disgust as she said, ‘ugh you two are disgusting.’

‘Oh come on button head you should be thankful we’re still interested in one another,’ Elvis chuckled which grew louder as Lisa’s face grew more annoyed at the nickname. It had been something she had been insisting Elvis stopped calling her given she was nearly in double figures though given she’d spent years tormenting him with her own play on his moniker he had yet to yield to her wants.

‘No she’s right,’ Jess said as she joined her sister’s protests, ‘you two are disgusting.’

‘Oh calm down you two it’s not as though we’re serious,’ Addison said rolling her eyes as she shuffled the now wriggling baby into an upright position, his head nestling onto the shoulder opposite Elvis as he settled back to sleep.

‘We aren’t?’ Elvis asked though it escaped his lips without him meaning to. He hadn’t been serious, not initially, but seeing the way she handled the little bundle of joy in her arms had made something flutter inside him in a way he hadn’t felt before.

He watched as shock danced across her features though it was pushed away quickly as she took a deep breath and said, ‘well of course not? I mean I don’t know how you guys are handling it!’

‘At our old age you mean,’ Marci giggled from where she was sitting next to Jess and Addison thanked God she could look towards them instead of at Elvis who’s gaze she could feel watching her. She hadn’t anticipated him bringing up them having a baby and she certainly didn’t want to discuss it in front of anyone, so she clung to Marci’s offered sentiments and replied, ‘oh you know what I mean! I mean it was hard enough at seventeen and that was when I didn’t get tired at eight pm.’

‘Why do ya think we’ve invited you two to stay?’ Jerry smirked.

‘Oh don’t worry we’ll happy to help as much as we can,’ she said looking to Elvis who still appeared to be in his thoughts though he pulled out of them as she said, ‘right E?’

‘Do I have a choice?’ he teased making her roll her eyes.

‘Hey now,’ Marci chuckled, ‘that’s no way for a God father to act, is it?’

‘I’m God father?’ Elvis asked looking at Jerry as he moved to put his hand on Marci’s shoulder. It made his heart swell and it was enough to pull him out of the funk he had been falling into.

‘Like we’d ask anyone else but you two,’ Jerry said.

‘Thanks man,’ Elvis said moving to hug each of them in turn as Addison offered them a smile, choosing to remain seated so that her newborn godson wouldn’t disturb.

After the celebrations were offered out the day continued on at a relaxing pace. Whilst the girls fussed and fawned over the baby Elvis spent some time with his friend, assuring the new father about all of the worries he’d been too nervous to broach with anyone else. He didn’t need much convincing after all he’d been the one to get Elvis through his early steps of fatherhood himself and took care of his girls better than most blood-relatives ever could. Still as he thought about his friend embarking on this new chapter of his life he couldn’t help but think of the many chapters in his own, wondering if their next one might include their own bundle of joy.

It hadn’t been something they’d discussed. It had been hard enough to get to where they were today and the pair of them just seemed content with their family as it is. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder. He couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to share that with Addison, the way he hadn’t gotten to last time. He was still pondering it when he came into the guest bedroom finding Addison just finishing getting changed.

‘Hey,’ she said as he came into the room moving towards her in an instant as he wrapped his arms around her watching her face break into a smile as he nuzzled into her neck, the scent of her freshly spritzed perfume tickling his nostrils.

‘Hi,’ he said, feeling as though he had barely seen her in weeks though it had been less than an hour. As her hands rested on top of his arms he revelled in the feel of her. Lisa had been right to be disgusted. The way he longed to be consumed by every inch of her all the time surely couldn’t have been normal and yet he couldn’t help himself. Since the moment she had walked into his life he had felt tethered to her, only happy whenever she was within proximity, their love and adoration for one another not dimming over the years they had been together.

She tapped his arms, making him loosen his grip as she turned around allowing him to keep her close as she put her hands on his chest, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket.

‘I said we’d go out to eat our treat,’ she said, enjoying the soothing circles he was rubbing on her back.

‘Oh ya did huh?’ Elvis chuckled, ‘big shot Schilling can’t spring for a nice dinner?’

‘Oh hush,’ Addison chastised making him roll his eyes. She knew he was only kidding but ever since the happy couple had chosen to relocate to California in an effort to help both their careers Jerry had found himself the butt of his friend’s jokes though she knew that was only because he had been sad to lose his friend. In fact he’d probably been more put out at Jerry moving on than Addison had to lose Marci a second time around.

‘I’m just kiddin’,’ Elvis said.

‘I know but don’t you go making any jokes at dinner. I don’t want Mar feeling bad about it, hell, I only suggested it because she looked so frazzled at the idea of catering for our rabble and seeing to Billy,’ Addison admitted.

‘Aw you old softy,’ Elvis chuckled.

‘I’m not soft,’ Addison protested making him raise an eyebrow, ‘I just remember how hectic it can all be and without Mar I wouldn’t have got through so, I’m here to help.’

At her words Elvis’ smile dimmed, his eyes growing stormier as she observed him. It was the look he had been sporting before, the one she had only peeked at for fear of getting onto a topic she didn’t know she was ready for but seeing him lost in his thoughts she figured there was no time like the present.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked pulling him back to reality as his brows knitted together and he said, ‘yeah why?’

‘You seemed upset…’ she said dropping her gaze as she mumbled, ‘before…when I said I didn’t want another baby.’

‘Oh yeah I guess,’ Elvis said, the evenness in his tone making her feel more secure in broaching the subject and she looked back up to find him watching her, ‘I suppose I hadn’t really thought about having another one until now…well not properly at least.’

‘And? What do you think?’ she said chewing on her lip nervously.

‘I dunno,’ he said honestly, ‘I guess having a baby around would be nice.’

‘Well Jess is seventeen you never know,’ Addison joked attempting to lighten the mood though Elvis’ face went deathly serious making her nerves turn to amusement as he said, ‘not funny.’

‘I had a baby at seventeen,’ she challenged giggling as he pulled her towards the bed, sitting her on his lap, his arms still looped around her as he said, ‘you’re the exception.’

They were quiet for a moment the pair of them pondering what they wanted to say though Elvis seemed to get his thoughts into line quickest as he said, ‘so no baby?’

‘Do you want one?’ Addison asked. It had been the first direct question she’d uttered, enjoying skirting around the idea just in case he told her something she wasn’t ready for. If somehow the past few years he’d managed to sneak his long-standing yearning to add to their brood past her.

‘I don’t know,’ he shrugged, ‘it might be nice.’

‘You’re not the one pushing it out,’ Addison said trying to keep the tone light once more but Elvis noticed she was deflecting and gave her a pointed look which made her sigh, ‘I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.’

‘You’d thought about it more than me,’ he challenged given the way she’d been so quick to brush his suggestion off.

‘Like I said you’re not the one pushing it out,’ she said hoping he’d see she hadn’t been harbouring something from him but rather it was always more present in her mind whether because she was a woman or because she’d already had an unexpected pregnancy she didn’t know. Elvis’ grip tightened on her hip, holding her steady as he expected her to continued. She paused before she spoke, her fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck nervously.

‘There’s just such a big age difference,’ she said feeling a touch lighter as her first concern floated out between them.

‘There’s ten years between Jess and Lisa,’ he challenged.

‘I know, I know,’ she said, ‘but we lucked out with them. I mean they both had time to be only children. Who knows how they’d react to a baby. Hell who knows how we’d react to a baby. I mean we’re older now.’

‘Yeah I guess you’re right,’ Elvis said seeing the point she was making. Both his girls had gotten time to enjoy their childhoods, it had made them appreciate gaining a sibling along the way, and though he knew they probably wouldn’t mind he couldn’t attest to it. And he understood what she meant about being older. He was by no means an old man but he couldn’t deny chasing his daughters around Graceland had been significantly easier when he was in his thirties.

‘But?’ Addison asked sensing there was still more to his expression.

‘I dunno,’ he shrugged, ‘I guess I just feel left out.’

‘How do you figure?’ she asked with genuine confusion.

‘Well I know I got the baby thing with Lisa and you got it with Jess but you said that was hard-’

‘I was a clueless kid,’ Addison said remembering how she’d muddle through the best she could.

‘Exactly. And I could’ve been around more when Lisa was little. I guess what I’m getting at is that it would be nice to do it again and enjoy all those bits we missed first time around you know?’ he said looking at her with a smile, ‘to get to do it with you.’

‘I get that,’ she said earnestly.

‘But?’ Elvis asked using her own tactic against her. If she could read his expressions well there was no doubt he could do the same and he could tell from the way she was gnawing on her lip there was more to what she was saying.

‘But I just feel like we put our lives on hold you know and now we get to have each other I’m not sure I’m willing to do it again…is that selfish?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s not selfish. I get it,’ he said as his hand moved up from her hip to her neck, his thumb dancing along her jawline making her swallow. It was a comfort though it didn’t quell the feeling inside her much. To feel those things was one thing, to openly admit a baby would be a hinderance was another.

‘I love our girls you know I do,’ she said feeling the overwhelming need to explain even though he’d already given her a pardon.

‘I know,’ he murmured.

‘But I don’t want to put our lives on hold for another eighteen, twenty years you know? I mean do you wanna be sixty when our baby goes off to college?’ she reasoned making him think. Of course he had thought about all the nice things that went with a child, the cuddles, the adoration, the laughter but he hadn’t given much thought to the other stuff. The screaming, the crying, the constant worrying you were doing it all right. Not to mention this time he’d be doing it with two other kids in tow. Jess was soon to be headed into a new phase in her life, one they had no blue print for, and though he and Addison were well versed in teenagers he doubted his little Lisa would be quite as easy to handle as her predecessor. Throw in a screaming baby and suddenly the idea didn’t seem as appealing as it once had.

‘You know I hadn’t really thought about it like that,’ he admitted.

‘I thought not…but it’s not just that. I mean we already have plenty of things with the kids left to look forward to,’ she said.

‘You think?’ he asked, again unlike his wife he didn’t really contemplate these things though he could tell from the smile on her face she had.

‘Yeah, but at least with that stuff we’ll still be able to have moments to ourselves,’ she said.

‘Yeah? What kind of things?’ he asked genuinely intrigued at what had been rattling around that pretty little head of hers.

‘Just stuff you know? Like I wanna drop Jess off at college but then I want to be able to go on vacation immediately after it so we can try and forget how much we miss her,’ she said making him smile, ‘and I wanna take Lisa to her first school dance and watch you have a heart attack when she meets a boy she likes.’

‘No thanks, been there with Jess,’ he grumbled making her roll her eyes before she placed her forehead against his, her voice dropping to a whisper as she said, ‘and I want to wake up at two in the afternoon and spend the entire day with you...makin’ babies.’

‘Yeah?’ he said with a breathy chuckle.

‘Yeah,’ she confirmed, ‘I just want to enjoy our time together…we missed enough already.’

‘I know,’ he nodded softly against her.

He could see it now, her reluctance. More to the point after what she had explained he was feeling it himself. He had no doubt that if a baby was the way their life panned out they’d not mind it that much. But if he had to choose, if he had to make a decision about what he wanted out of this life, it’d be her. He’d always choose her. She seemed to notice he’d accepted her views and adopted them as his own as she pulled back, her worry melting from her face as she looked at him.

‘Besides how are we going to find the time to have a baby when you promised me a round the world trip?’ she said, leaning back as she clung onto him by his neck, his hands moving to hold her steady.

‘We’ve already been to Europe and South America how much more of the world do you wanna see?’ he mused.

‘That was touring it doesn’t count,’ she said dismissively.

‘Oh so I’ve gotta take you again?’ he asked unable to stop himself from smiling at her. He loved her when she was like this. Though their relationship had grown leaps and bounds over the past few years, finally being allowed the chance to, deep down it was always just this. A simple thing, two best friends in love.

‘Yep,’ she said with a giggle as he pulled her in for a kiss. It was short and sweet though when she pulled back the mirth that had adorned her face was gone.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘You’re sure right? I mean ten, fifteen years down the line you aren’t going to decide we should’ve and regret it right.’

‘Addie, I love our family and I’d love anyone else that came along just as much,’ he said, his hand cupping her jaw as his thumb stroked the soft skin of her cheek, ‘but I choose us.’

‘Promise?’ she asked.

‘Promise,’ he confirmed, ‘Addie, I’d choose us every damn time.’

‘Me too.’

SERIES TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab @dkayfixates

#my writing #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fic #here you come again #Elvis and Addison #Elvis x ofc #Elvis Presley fic #Elvis Presley x ofc #Addison Goodwin

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blooming-violets · 2 years

Note

I wish you'd write a fic where you're forced into an arranged marriage with Peter (maybe it's a Mob AU maybe it's royalty maybe it's dark idk) and you don't want to be attracted to your new husband but fuck is it hard when you're sharing a bed with him

What time and place and plot is this?? I have no idea. Imagine whatever you want. I haven’t written anything in so long I don’t remember how to do this. [x]

Here’s a sexy pic of how I imagine him post wedding though:

You would hate him no matter what. That's what you told yourself the entire boat ride over to America. It didn't matter who he was. He was destined to have a wife that despised him. You had plans and dreams for the future. You wanted to get an education and make your own way in this world. Your family had other ideas. Apparently this Peter Parker, son of a wealthy and influential father, had chosen your photograph out of hundreds. He had chosen you to become his bride. And whatever Peter Parker wanted, he got.

You didn't get to even see what he looked like until you were walking down the aisle. It didn't matter to you. Every man was going to be the same.

He had chosen the finest, most expensive wedding dress on the market for you to wear. The pendant necklace dawned delicately between your chest cost more than your family would make in an entire year. Once you were married to the man standing at the end of the aisle, they would be set for life. Your father would never have to work another day. He could finally rest. All it cost was the soul of his eldest daughter. Peter now owned you.

Your first kiss with your husband was quick, tight lipped, and in front of hundreds of wedding guests. You did your best to play your part through the ceremony. You held on tightly to the picture in your head of your family, imaging them finally being free of debt, while you held back tears and plastered a bright smile to your lips.

"What can I do to make my new bride smile?" He leaned over in his chair to whisper in your ear while dinner was being served to all the guests. His words caused your smile to tighten.

"I do not know what you mean. I've been smiling all night, have I not?" You refused to look in his direction. You didn't want to see his face.

He made a strange grumble sound in the back of his throat and straightened back up, "You might be fooling the guests but I see right through it. I'm doing your family a favor by taking you in. Try to be grateful."

He didn't speak to you the rest of the ceremony.

You loathed everything about him.

His home was otherworldly. You'd never seen such excess of wealth in your life. His butler gave you a tour of the house ending in the bedroom where Peter was waiting for you.

"I'll take it from here," he motioned for the butler to leave and closed the door behind you.

You eyed the large bed, "We don't have separate rooms?"

Peter laughed, "We're husband and wife, why would we not share a bed?"

You'd been told what was meant to happen on your wedding night. As you changed into your night gown and slipped under the covers next to him, you waited with knots in your stomach. At some point he was going to touch you. He was going to roll over and strip you of your clothes. Then he would enter your body some how. The details were a little fuzzy. Your mother kept using all sorts of strange analogies and you kept getting flustered and confused. She mentioned there might be blood and pain but also intense pleasure. You had no idea what was going to happen but you waited anxiously for Peter to the make the move.

Except that it never happened.

Your day was long and your journey across the ocean was even longer. It was all catching up to you. As you listened to the soft snores of the stranger, your husband, next to you, you dozed off into a restless sleep.

The next day he was gone. And the day after that, and the one after that, and the one after that.

No one would tell you where he went or what he did. They just kept saying he was "on a job." You had no idea what his job was but you enjoyed the quiet time alone to explore the house and grounds. It truly was a beautiful home. The library was your favorite. You found a dimly lit corner with a large, leather arm chair and curled up day after day in its comfort as you devoured the books on the shelves. If this was your life as a wife, it wasn't too bad.

One rainy evening, as you were lost in another story, a deep voice echoed from the door way.

"Are you enjoying my chair?" You'd almost forgotten what he looked like. You'd only seen him the day of your wedding and it had been over a week since he returned home. "I heard this was the best place to find you if you disappeared. The help all gossip, you know. They tell me you've made yourself a little home in my library."

You rested your open book on the arm of the chair and sat up a little straighter, "Is there anything wrong with that?"

Peter smiled, "No. Just interesting, is all. I feel like I know a little more about you than I did before." He walked into the warm light of the room. The rain threw itself against the glass windows and created a symphony of background music to accompany his stride straight towards you.

He squatted down in front of you and placed his hands on your knees over your dress.

For the first time, you really got a good look at him. He was rather beautiful. His dark hair was perfectly groomed, though a single curl had fallen from the rest and laid against the middle of his forehead. His eyes were a lovely chestnut brown and they studied your face with an intensity that made you squirm under his gaze. Dark, thick stubble covered his cheeks. It had been a few days since his last shave. A sickly purple and yellow bruise was hidden underneath the hair along his cheekbone.

You reached out a tender hand and gently stroked the bruised flesh. His eyes slipped close as his grip tightened around your legs. "You're hurt?"

Peter's eyes fluttered back open and he gave you a soft smile, "Nothing I can't handle." He sat down and settled himself between your legs, leaning his shoulder against the chair, curled up under you. He reminded you an old dog you had growing up who loved to snuggle at your feet. "Read to me."

You picked up your book and continued to read where you left off, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

It wasn't long before Peter's head lulled onto your thigh as sleep gripped him. He was exhausted from whatever his secretive job had him do.

He'd remain home for the next two weeks claiming that his job was "finished" for now.

Your hatred of him was started to dwindle with each passing day. He spent his mornings walking you around his grounds and his evenings curled up at your feet while you read to him. He made you laugh and kept you entertained despite how often you tried to refrain from giving into him. You found yourself loving the way the sunlight lightened hair and the way he would hum to himself whenever he was lost in thought. It was becoming increasingly difficult to tear your eyes away from him.

The time you accidentally caught him coming out of his bath made you lose your breath, your cheeks heat up, and your heart tighten in your chest. Something about the water glistening off his toned chest even made you squeeze your thighs together. Whenever you were with him, you wanted to reach out and touch him. You envisioned the night of your wedding when you kissed. You had felt nothing then but, a part of you, wanted to try it again.

Whatever your mother had claimed would happen on your wedding night never occurred. You were starting to think that maybe something was wrong with you. Clearly he wasn’t attracted to you like he had hoped when he picked your picture from the others.

You watched Peter climb into bed that night. He'd taken to holding you tightly while he slept. It made you feel safe locked up in his strong arms. Tonight, you couldn't bare the thought of sleeping beside him, though.

He glanced up at you and frowned, "Something wrong?"

You swallowed, "Am I not good enough for you? I know I was difficult in the beginning. I know I was sour and rude but I've been trying my best. This arraignment was a lot to take in. It took a while to come to terms with everything. I'm sorry if you were expecting someone else and got stuck with me."

Peter sat up with a confused look, "I don't understand what you're talking about. You're exactly who I picked. I was told I needed marry to inherit my fathers fortune. I was given countless options and I chose you."

"Maybe my photo was more beautiful than the real thing then..."

He stood up and walked around the bed to stand in front of you, "What are you saying? Where is this coming from?"

You sighed, "We never consummated the marriage. At least, I don't think we did. You were supposed to do something and you never acted on it. Is it because you're revolted by me? Am I not who you envisioned?"

A smile broke out across his face and his eyes softened. He reached out and grasped his hands around your upper arms to pull you closer to him, "Is that what you're worried about? That I’m not attracted you? That I regret choosing you?"

You nodded, feeling a bit silly at the entire conversation.

"You are Mrs. Parker. My beautiful wife. I called for you across an entire ocean. I chose you out of every eligible woman in the world. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. Trust me, I would have consummated the marriage a thousand times by now if I had my way. I knew you weren't ready though. I stole you from your family, from your life. Don't try to deny that you hated me. I've spent my life taking anything that I wanted. This time, I made myself wait. It is you who I am waiting for. It's your turn to take what you want."

"What is it that I want?" You whispered. "I have these...feelings...for you. I don't know what to do with them."

He gave a quiet chuckle, "Here. Let me help show you."

#the amazing spiderman #tasm #peter parker #andrew garfield #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm headcanon

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imabiscuitinthousandworlds · 4 months

Note

An fix on the average day in the office as a private eye for Spider Noir?

First of all, it's been over three months. I am so so sorry. BUT I hope my 5k oneshot that greatly spiralled away from your og prompt makes up for it haha :)

TW for a bit of body horror, VERY brief mentions of period-typical racism and also some brief Spider God-related ickiness

Light Up Your Insides (Not Today)

The little bell at the door chimed and Peter looked up from his lunch to see a woman entering. She was maybe middle-aged, had brown skin, dark hair and a look of deep worry on her face.

Peter sat up straighter behind his desk pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Are you--Peter Parker?" the woman asked.

Peter nodded. "That's me. Please take a seat. How can I help you?"

The woman breathed out in relief, but the worry didn't ease up yet. With only a moment's hesitation, she sat down on the chair opposite of him, but she didn't lean back.

"Mr Parker, I need your help. They say you're a good dick, and..."

She trailed off, but Peter could imagine the rest.

"My daughter, she's gone missing. The police wouldn't help me, and the--others I've asked said they were too busy, there's more important--"

Peter nodded. The woman didn't look like she could pay well, which would put others in his profession off. The coppers didn't really care, ever. And it likely wasn't helping that she was African American, either. The woman herself still looked like she was preparing for rejection--but luckily for her, Peter wasn't known for turning anyone away.

"Please tell me more about this case, Mrs...?"

"Johnson."

"Johnson. Do you want a tea? Coffee?"

Mrs Johnson shook her head. "No, thank you."

That was just as well. Peter wasn't sure if he even had tea around and he still wasn't a huge fan of sharing his coffee--not that she needed to know that.

Peter took up a pencil and a sheet of paper. "Then please tell me of your troubles, Mrs Johnson."

Mrs Johnson took in a deep, shaky breath. "It's--my daughter. Flora. She--she doesn't usually run off, she's never done it before, but--it's been two days..."

Against Peter's best attempts, he'd never quite been able to shake the images from that lab back on Ellis Island, even though it had been years. The apple had settled a lot, since then; the criminals weren't as bad anymore, not every last person with any kind of authority was corrupt and the Spider wasn't needed even nearly as much as back then. But he still couldn't help that very first thought when he heard of a black girl gone missing. New York was anything but safe, not really, especially for coloured people.

Peter did his best to keep his calm demeanour, if only because the last thing Mrs Johnson needed was even more stress. "Please tell me what exactly happened in as much detail as possible."

Mrs Johnson took another shaky breath, and Peter did his best to write along.

They had been on their way home along Lexington Avenue when Mrs Johnson had first lost sight of her daughter. First she thought Flora had simply seen something interesting and would return in a minute. But that hadn't happened.

Mrs Johnson had spent about half an hour searching the entire area before returning home in the hopes that maybe Flora had gone there on her own--to no avail. A few hours after Flora's disappearance, she had contacted the police, only to be turned away.

It had been a day by now, her husband and neighbours all aiding in her search, and Mrs Johnson had gone to the last place she had heard of for proper help: in other news, Peter.

Peter had seen lots of gruesome things in his life, and while very few of those involved children, they were the first thing to come to his mind. Especially Ellis Island. It had been a decade, by now, but...

Still, he put on his most serious yet calming expression.

"Lexington Avenue?" he asked.

Mrs Johnson nodded and sniffled. Peter handed her a tissue, but she waved him off and pulled out her own.

"I'll begin the search immediately. I will contact you if I have any more questions or when I find Flora."

Mrs Johnson nodded and swallowed. Then she set her jaw and stood up. "Thank you, Mr Parker."

"Don't thank me yet," Peter said with the slightest hint of a smile, despite the growing worry curling in his chest, and walked her to the door.

He only returned to get his coat and notepad before following right after--he had no time to lose.

-----

Lexington Avenue was bustling at this time of day. Peter looked around.

He was standing in the exact same place Mrs Johnson had described when she had noticed Flora missing.

There were no visible signs, of course not. How might a child go missing, though, and why?

Children were curious. She could have easily wandered off and gotten lost. And then what?

Peter should probably give the closest police station a visit before anything else. But since he was here, he might as well question some of the people who might have seen anything. Shop owners, the people at Pete's Tavern just a bit down the road--it was worth a shot, at least.

The shops all turned out to be failures. Peter pushed open the door to the bar--one last stop before he paid the coppers a visit.

There weren't many people inside at this time of day, but Peter could hear a few hushed conversations. Two men were at the bar, one sitting on a stool, the other wiping a glass down. They went silent the moment Peter entered, eyeing him closely.

Peter knew whom to ask first of all.

"Excuse me," Peter said, striding over to them with the most confidence he could put into his steps, stopping just a bit closer to them than would have been polite. "Where you here yesterday, too?"

"Why are you asking?" the man sitting at the bar demanded.

"Yeah," the man behind it said.

"I'm looking for a girl. About this tall, nine, African American, you seen her?"

The men exchanged a look. It was only for a second, but Peter saw it anyways.

"No," the sitting man said.

"Maybe," the bartender said.

Interesting. Most interesting.

Peter kept his face straight and stared at them.

Finally, the bartender sighed and extended his hand. "Pete Baines. I own the place."

Peter shook it. "Peter Parker."

Pete Baines grinned widely, his stance opening visibly, while the other man grumbled into his drink and half turned away.

"Ah, another Pete! Well then, perhaps I can help you. What did you want again?"

Either Pete Baines was very fond of people sharing his name, or he was a very good actor and dangerous, and be it only because he knew something he didn't want to tell.

Peter returned the smile, albeit slightly strained. "A black girl. Nine years, curly hair, yesterday around noon."

Pete Baines scratched his head. "Well, no, doesn't really ring a bell. Does it, Will?"

Will made a sound akin to a negative, without ever turning.

"Are you sure?" Peter needled. "Her mother was sure she'd seen her wander around here. Can I have a look around at least?"

Will snarled another incomprehensible thing. Pete Baines made it a show of thinking. "Well, no. We don't really get little girls here, now do we, Will? No, I'd have noticed. Sure I'll show a fellow Pete around though, eh?"

Wonderful. Now Peter just had to watch out which parts Pete Baines tried to keep him away from and go there.

Unfortunately, Pete Baines didn't try to keep Peter away from anywhere. Peter was allowed to freely sniff around the entire bar room, including behind the bar. He listened closely to his steps, but even with his enhanced hearing, nothing sounded hollow. They went to the backrooms, too. Will looked promisingly critical at this, but... nothing.

Nothing.

Peter firmly set his jaw and tried not to let his irritation show, even as the back office and several storage rooms turned out to be entirely clean, at least as far as Peter could tell. And he had gotten good at recognising these kinds of things.

And then. And then. Finally.

It was just a broom closet. It was cramped, but not as dusty as Peter would have expected. And, most importantly, Pete Baines moved into the way. It was the first room he entered before Peter, and he put himself right in front of a crate.

Wonderful. Now, should Peter let him know that he knew...?

Who was he kidding. He didn't have any time to dawdle. He needed to find Flora.

"Let me see that," he demanded.

Pete Baines furrowed his brows, but his smile didn't waver. "Yes, of course. Why?"

Peter ignored him and knelt down besides the crate. The lid was brandished with an odd symbol; Peter had the feeling that he'd seen it before somewhere.

The crate itself was empty, save for a thick layer of dust inside.

Dammit.

Peter breathed out slowly and quietly. Then he pulled out his camera and took a picture--just in case. It would take a while to develop these photos, but he could check the library for anything with that symbol later.

Then again, he didn't have time. In the case of missing people--especially children--he couldn't wait for even one second.

"Well, thank you," Peter said and straightened his coat.

Pete Baines sent him another smile, but it was thinner than before. "I hope you find what you're looking for, pally."

Peter just nodded. He strode right past Pete Baines and back outside; a goodbye was probably overrated by now.

Pete Baines said nothing. But when Peter passed through the actual bar again, Will glared at him well until he was gone--and apparently it was even enough to set off Peter's spider sense.

-----

Peter headed for the library next. Developing the film would take too long--longer than he was willing to wait, anyways. He had been too late too often. Way too often. Not this time, not again.

Once at the library, he... had a problem. Where to start looking?

He found a librarian and a pencil to sketch the symbol to the best of his abilities.

"This might have been an old sigil," she told him and led him down the rows of shelves. "If you find it, I'd love to hear--where did you come across it, anyway?"

Peter shrugged. "Just an old crate in a pub somewhere." He took the proffered book. "Thank you."

Then he found a quiet corner to read the brick of a book that was this lexicon of old gods and hoped that it wouldn't be a huge waste of time.

The book was old. And bulky. Even flipping through every page quickly, only glancing at the sigils, he was making very little progress. Of course, some sigils were close to his drawing and he couldn't rule them out, so he also had to properly read four greatly varying articles and copy the most important details into his notebook.

There was a child missing. He should be doing something, something--

Peter flipped another page and this was it.

This was the sigil from that crate.

Florecae. Goddess of flowers, growth and health.

He had heard that name before. He knew he'd heard that name before. But where...?

Of course. Of course. He was a damn twit. He could have known that where sigils and Gods were involved, the Legion of Darkness was his best bet.

And the chances were good that they still had their base in that building down at the docks...

Maybe it was time for Peter to get out the suit once again. Lack of time certainly called for more drastic measures like that.

If he was lucky (and hadn't entirely unlearned how to swing), he might even make it into his suit and to the docks within half an hour.

-----

The Legion of Darkness was, for lack of a better description, a joke.

Peter had run into them before, years ago, when the Spider was still needed. They were neither a lot of people, nor very threatening. Their intentions had always been on par with the name, though--and whether they did or did not succeed in raising an ancient God was irrelevant with a child's life in danger.

The rhythm of swinging past the buildings still came easy to Peter, even though he had changed a lot. He'd become a private dick, and gotten a cat, and let the Spider disappear, and even the Spider God left him alone most of the time. Even the nightmares had gotten fewer.

And yet, the moment that mask hid his face and his coat billowed in the wind as he rushed past the highest of buildings, so far above the street, it was as if all these years of living a relatively normal life didn't matter anymore. His movements were as fluid as back then, despite the age difference. His joints bent too far from one swing to the next, and the apple's smell was unusually sharp. This high up, hardly anything could harm him.

He was the Spider, and if anyone dared to touch that little girl, they were going to regret it.

Along with a slightly saltier, tangy scent in the air, the docks came into view. Peter returned to the solid rooftops, running and jumping too easily and too far for a human.

One of these buildings now must have been the one. No, this one. He was standing on it.

He set his hands down and crawled down the side of the building, but from the looks of it, none of the windows were open. Well, that was... not ideal.

Peter looked at the window below him. The room behind it was dark and seemingly empty. Ah, well, he already knew his spider-sense was still sharp.

He drew his arm back and smashed the glass. Without hesitation, he swung inside right after the shards and crouched down inside the room.

It was empty, as expected, but otherwise, too, entirely bare. No furniture, no proper floor, not even a single proper lamp.

That didn't matter. He was here to find out where the girl was being kept.

The door of the room stood open. The hallway past it was equally deserted and dark. The closer he came to said door, the stronger his spider-sense prickled in the back of his neck. There was no imminent, immediate danger, but something here was very, very wrong.

Peter laid one hand onto the handle of his gun and scanned the hallway in both directions, before turning left. His steps were silent, but his breath sounded louder for it.

He couldn't risk being noticed, not before he got what he came for.

All the rooms setting off from the hallway appeared silent even to Peter's enhanced senses. Had the Legion relocated...? No, they still had their name written on the front door, in fresh paint. (Peter honestly wasn't sure what they were trying to achieve with that, but he wasn't complaining. If it wasn't a trap--but he'd notice in time. Hopefully.)

Okay. He was still on the top floor. He'd check out the floors below and then search more thoroughly--that was probably the fastest option.

Peter had barely reached the first landing when he heard a commotion.

"No, no! I don't want to!" a girl shrieked.

"But Flora is such a pretty name. You'd be just perfect--"

Peter had no intentions of finding out who was talking or what the girl was perfect for. He jumped to the ceiling, where people wouldn't aim first of all when drilling and crawled after those voices. He didn't like not having his guns in hand, but he couldn't risk shooting before locating Flora.

"Come on," the adult voice coaxed, possibly a woman. "Be a good little girl and--"

The door wasn't locked, so Peter threw it open and fired his webs by instinct alone.

A split-second later, he could properly make out the scene: the room had been two rooms, the wall between them crudely brought down. Right in the middle, someone had drawn Florecae's sigil with white paint and in the centre of said sigil--

"Let go of me!" Flora cried out, tears spilling down her face, her kinky hair in wild disarray.

A woman stood half bent over her. She had greenish-white skin, bright hair and--

A sharp pang shot through Peter's skull and he dropped down onto the floor. He could still feel the bullet zipping past him but he turned mid-fall and threw webbing right back. Yelling started up and more guns were being fired.

Peter had to end this, fast, before Flora got hit by a stray bullet. It was too easy to get back into the flow of evading bullets based on instinct alone. It was maybe ten goons, likely members of the Legion of Darkness. Their aim hadn't gotten all that much better. Duck, run, jump--and with a kick to the jaw, the goon crumpled to the ground. Jump, run along the ceiling, shoot--another one down for the count. The energy of the fight was cursing through Peter's limbs, heightening his senses and the smell of gun powder. It had been a while since he'd been able to let loose, let his spidery side take over and ruthlessly beat a bunch of brunos to pulp, and it almost felt good. They were done for quickly.

Peter dropped back onto even ground and turned towards Flora and the woman.

Both were watching him. Flora was still crying, hugging herself.

The woman tilted her head. A smile, too wide for a human mouth, with too many needle-sharp teeth, greeted Peter. Her eyes were bright blue like the sky on an exceptionally clear day and sparkling almost as warmly as the sun. She had too many of them.

"See?" the woman asked with a voice that wasn't very loud anymore at all, but piercing right through Peter's head. "This is a totem. Does it look sad to you?"

Peter grit his teeth. The voice wasn't just piercing, it was literally inside his head--she hadn't spoken on a physical plane. And the woman wasn't even anything close to a woman. Not a human altered by queer magic--no, she was Florecae herself.

Don't listen to her, Peter tried to say, but his voice wouldn't carry, no sound crossing his lips. He couldn't move. He looked down, only to see colourful, blooming vines creeping up his legs. Why hadn't his spider-sense warned him? How hadn't he noticed--

Focus. He needed to focus.

Flora, listen to me. Your mother asked me to search for you. I'll get you out of here, I promise, just don't listen to her. Whatever she wants you to do, don't.

Peter's words stayed silent, but Flora suddenly looked up, directly at him, as if she'd heard him anyways.

"Don't bother," Florecae said, her eyes blazing until her features were unrecognisable beyond the light. It made his eyes water to look at her any longer. Was she getting stronger...?

The light travelled from her face down her torso, illuminating more and more of the room in what might have been sunlight, hadn't it been so damn bright. Florecae's feet lifted from the ground, thick vines and varieties of flowers spreading from where she had stood.

"You are too late, Spider," Florecae exclaimed and her voice came from everywhere around and echoed inside Peter's skull painfully. His entire body was on fire, whether because of her presence or his own spider-sense going nuts, he couldn't tell. "She will be my totem, my sacrifice to walk this plane once more. Surrender now, or be destroyed."

Peter crouched down and began to undo his laces, his coat falling just right to hide it from sight--though a goddess might see regardless. Who knew? His direct personal experience with gods was limited, and Florecae was nothing like the fever dream of getting his powers. They weren't very alike, neither in manner nor appearance. Regardless, Peter wouldn't let anyone else become a God's totem; nobody deserved to go through that hell, least of all a child.

He made eye-contact with the girl. "Run!" he yelled, and the feeling of his words rippling across a surreal, godly plane of existence instead of his physical world made him want to throw up.

Flora's eyes were wide with panic as she shook her head frantically. "If I leave the circle, I'll die!" she yelled back between sobs.

Was this really...?

Peter looked at the ground more closely. He had come inside the sigil without even noticing, and the flowers and plants were restricted to exactly that sigil. Florecae wasn't able to properly touch their physical world, not yet, not without a totem. That meant she could still be stopped. If Peter could just get Flora outside of that sigil without killing her...

A thousand glass shards were piercing through Peter's brain and he could hardly contain a scream as his vision went white. Fire raced down his limbs, more glass shards lining his lung with every half-aborted breath. He could feel his teeth shifting in his mouth, could feel the fangs he had sanded down years ago grow back, lined with venom. His head pulsated. Peter's fingers curled into claws.

When he opened his eyes, they weren't his own anymore. They weren't his human eyes at all, but eight eyes that weren't tangible on this plane, lent by the very thing that still let him wake up screaming regularly. The Spider God's terrifying presence pressed down on Peter's frail, human body, both from inside and out. It would tear him apart--and stitch him back together, mercilessly.

The God's eyes could see Florecae. They could see the blinding silhouette of the physical world and her true, mind-tearing form wherever it was that Gods resided. Peter's entire being ached to recoil, hide away in a dark corner, get away before the mere sight could burn him to ashes. His eyes were watering and his mask clung to his face like a second skin, and still the Spider God's presence tore through his organs. Some of the sigil glowed even around the Goddess's true form.

Flora didn't.

Peter gasped for a breath that wouldn't come and the Spider God's presence left him as suddenly as it had come.

He leapt forwards. His boots were still held firmly in place by vines and the like, but they slipped off his feet and he sprinted towards the Goddess, towards Flora. Flora opened her mouth to a silent scream and Peter reached her, reached for her torso and pressed her against his own body as he continued to run.

Flora was small and light. She clung to Peter's arm as he adjusted her in his arms to hold her properly.

A mind-splitting screech echoed through his ears until he thought his skull would dissolve into nothingness. One more leap and they would be outside of that huge sigil--but the air seemed to thicken, slowing Peter's movements, dragging them back in.

No. He wouldn't let it. He wouldn't let anything happen to the girl, he wouldn't let Florecae win, not this time, not ever.

Peter's free hand shot out and the web attached to the wall of the room. He yanked, and they were sent flying from that choke-hold.

Air flooded Peter's lungs. Flora was still held in his arms, head buried against his neck, sobbing, alive.

He didn't have any time to waste.

"Hold on tight," he muttered as he skidded into the hallway. From behind, he could hear the sound of shattering glass. Peter ran back up the stairs where he'd come from. Somewhere below he could hear yelling, quick steps, but they were just too far away to be a danger. He found the room he had entered through and crawled right back out, into the grey-ish, natural daylight of New York City.

One roof further, Peter dared to stop. He set Flora down carefully. She looked up at him with red eyes. She didn't seem to have any bruises or other external injuries, but he'd have to check again later. For now, he still had to make sure Florecae wouldn't come after them.

"Wait here," he told Flora, even as everything inside him protested that he couldn't leave her alone, not even for a second.

Thankfully, he didn't have to move far to see that whatever had happened in there had had... consequences. He and Flora hadn't left a second too early.

The second floor from the top was on fire. The flames were licking higher and higher, and Peter could hear faint screams from inside.

Good.

He knew the only people inside had to be willing members of the Legion of Darkness. They had kidnapped a child. They got what was coming for them. Whether they got out or burned to death--it was none of Peter's business.

He turned back to Flora. She was sniffling and hugging herself, but she was no longer actively crying.

"Who are you?" she asked very, very quietly.

Peter heard her perfectly well. He crouched down to meet her eye to eye. "They called me the Spider," he said.

"The Spider hasn't been seen for years, mum says."

He nodded. "That's because it hasn't been needed that much. Listen, Flora. I'll bring you back home, like I promised, but I need you to keep a secret. Can you do that?"

She swallowed, but nodded.

Peter hesitated. "Where I'll bring you first... I usually don't want anyone to know who I am. You can't ever tell anyone."

"I won't," she said, louder this time, apparently intrigued by such a well-kept mystery.

"Okay. I'll get you to my office the fastest way I can. Do you think you can hold on to me while I swing?"

Flora smiled, barely, and very carefully, but it was probably as close to enthusiasm as she could get after being kidnapped and almost becoming a totem. Peter had her climb onto his back and hold on tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, which wasn't great for him but at least secure for her. Carefully, he crawled a little along the side of the building they were on, but Flora held on tight, and he could deal with her weight--it was barely anything.

Peter swung back home slower than usual. But the child on his back thoroughly seemed to enjoy herself, shrieking as the wind rushed past them.

"We're so high!" she yelled right into Peter's ear at some point, and she still sounded a little scared, but most of all... she sounded excited.

She would recover. She would be able to go back to her life, eventually.

Peter ended it all in a back alley close to his office. He set his feet back on the ground and pulled off his mask, suddenly awfully aware that he had left his boots behind. They had been good boots. Really good boots. And damn expensive, too. Well, after that fire...

"Your hair is really fluffy," Flora said suddenly, still holding on tightly.

She was alright. She was alive. She was safe. That was worth a pair of boots.

Once back inside his office, Peter deposited Flora on his office chair behind the desk, which she immediately began exploring, and rang Mrs Johnson. The only response to his news was a choked sob and and the end of said call, but he had hadn't expected much else.

"You mum will be here in a moment," Peter said. "Remember, I'm just your friendly neighbourhood dick. Don't got no powers, just a good nose for conspiracies."

Flora nodded seriously. "The Spider found me and brought me here. And left."

Peter made himself smile a little. He was tired and sore. He hadn't been in a fight that bad in quite a while, and the Spider God's sudden appearance hadn't helped things.

"She said you're a totem," Flora said suddenly. "Does that mean someone gave you to a God?"

Peter couldn't help a small grimace. "It was... no, not really. A spider bit me, a venomous one. But instead of dying--"

He didn't want to think about it, all the vivid details that wouldn't ever stop haunting him as long as he lived.

"What's it like? Who's your god?"

Peter began sifting through some old papers, if only to have his hands moving. "The Spider God gave me my powers, but it also... well, it's... I've been able to help people. But it's not nice. If you can help it, stay far away from gods."

"No, I definitely want to see more of them now," Flora drawled in a surprising burst of sarcasm.

Peter chuckled. "Let me just get you some city juice and then we make sure you're not hurt, okay?"

Flora hesitated. "Don't leave."

"I won't."

-----

Mrs Johnson didn't even bother with knocking, and Peter couldn't fault her for it. She immediately rushed towards Flora and scooped her up into a tight hug. Flora buried her face in her mother's chest.

Mrs Johnson looked up again after a moment; only her eyes were a little shiny. She tried to smile at Peter. "How can I ever--"

"It's quite alright," Peter cut her off, "as long as you and your daughter are safe." He looked at them. "I don't need money, either," he decided on a whim. He could get by well enough already.

"If you ever need anything, Mr Parker, if it's within my power..."

He nodded. "The most you can do is stay safe, Mrs Johnson. Please."

She inclined her head. "You are a good man. Thank you."

Peter almost wanted to scoff, but he made himself smile instead.

"The Spider saved me!" Flora exclaimed suddenly, just as Mrs Johnson turned to leave.

"Oh? Did he?"

"Uh-huh. He wasn't so scary." The girl nodded and looked over her mother's shoulder right at Peter.

He winked and put a finger against his lips.

She almost giggled and returned the motion.

The girl was safe now.

But Peter would go out this night again, despite his tiredness, and hunt down whatever was left of the Legion of Darkness.

He may have gotten a little inactive, but whoever messed with children would still have to answer to him.

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I hope you enjoyed, even though some parts may have been a bit rushed! I did get it out within the same year you asked lmao. Thanks for the prompt, anon. I sincerely hope you see and enjoy this.

#spider-man noir #peter benjamin parker #spider-man fanfic #my writing #asks #im absolutely still open for fic asks and stuff im just. veeeeery slow on them #and if the prompt is very vague my brain will run in circles until the plot is running away from me on very long legs #....... in my defense its past 1am and i just wrote the last 2-3k words in one sitting. plus editing it. until right now. LMAO

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