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Inbox is Open!!

I’m currently accepting asks for just about any fandom and any ship of au that I know!

Here is a list of fandoms!

That I can and will write for and there is probably more but they are slipping my mind at the moment! feel free to take your chance and just ask anyway!Have fun!!!!

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Rating: G
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 1,166
Relevant Tags: Peter Parker Loves New York, Quarantine, Post-Endgame, Canon Compliant, Hopeful Ending

Empty is not a word Peter’s ever thought to pair with the streets of New York.

Plenty of other words, sure. Chaotic, loud, crowded. Sweltering, freezing, humid. Destroyed, rebuilt, upended.

But New York—New Yorkers—are tough like that. A thousand and one paradoxes, wrapped up in a single place.

Read on Ao3

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I am taking name suggestions for the Barnes family (head canon Jewish Romanian), mainly for Esther  Barnes Proctor’s children and grandchildren  (children have | grandchildren are numbered )

Esther Barnes Proctor


Originally posted by lietulietas

Emma-Grace Proctor 1941

  1. Ben Proctor
  2. Richard Parker

Michael David Proctor 1943

  1. Scott Proctor
  2. Kimberly Proctor 

Robert James Proctor 1946

  1. Gwen  Proctor
  2. Logan  Proctor
  3. Karen  Proctor Little
  4. Jason  Proctor

George? Proctor 1948

  1. Mary-Ruth Proctor

Unnamed daughter Proctor Sinclair 1950

  1. Magnus Sinclair
  2. Eleanor/Elise Sinclair

Unnamed daughter Proctor 1952 

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The park in Times Square is hardly empty at this hour, but Beth finds who she’s looking for easily.

Lucas Todd (a young man in his thirties) is sitting on a bench with a briefcase on the ground, resting by his feet. He’s also pretending to read a book, but he puts it away when he sees her coming.

“Agent James”, he greets, standing and holding out his hand.

Beth frowns, but she accepts the shake. “None of us are agents, anymore”.

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It’s painfully slow, as if they just wanted to starve themselves of this, as if they shouldn’t have this in the first place, even if their bodies agreed to Yes, this is how it should be. How their bodies just simply harmonized with each other.

Sam and Bucky didn’t want to know how they ended up here, in bed, shoes off yet socks on, their hands slowly intertwining with each other by the minute it must’ve looked painful to pine this languidly. Their eyes didn’t meet, always strayed on the other’s shirt or on the thin sheet on top of them. They held onto their breaths, keeping it so slow they probably weren’t breathing at the moment.

Sam’s eyes were in a daze, but the way his eyebrows knitted together was just… it does things to Bucky; the man’s lips were just in his reach, he would just reach and lean into Sam’s space, take control of that fervor that revibrated in their bones. They wanted to feel goddamnit.

Bucky wanted to say something, to tell Sam all of the emotions that rushed through him, how the man made him want to run to the nearest cliff and scream Sam’s name out loud until his lungs turned blue, how badly he wants to cut himself open just so he could bring him inside of him forever, how much he wanted to stand in the rain just to feel the cold and finally recognize their constant misleading nature of silence was killing them in their sleep, that love was a dangerous game that they both led with bondage.

“I love you,” Bucky says instead. It seemed enough to express himself.

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Stephen: We're not going to be mad.
Tony: Just tell us why you have a fake ID.
Peter: *incoherent mumbling*
Tony: What was that?
Peter: You have to be over 18 to hold the puppies at Petco!
Tony and Stephen: ...
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