#may your floors be littered with legos

[forcebookish]

i don't think i wanna read any more only friends meta for the rest of my life

[labellefleur-sauvage]

DILF Daydreamin'

Lucien would be a great dad, Elain thought suddenly. The image of him holding and caring for their eventual children came completely unbidden to her mind, like a metaphorical bell that wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears. He’d be so sweet and supportive and fun-

Woah, settle down girl, Elain thought. You’ve only been dating him for a few months. One afternoon babysitting your nephew isn’t enough proof that Lucien would be a good dad, if he even wants that.

Elain discovers she likes the idea of making Lucien a DILF. Elain also discovers that Lucien likes the idea of Elain making him a DILF.

For @elucienweekofficial 2023 Day 7: This smut! I have no excuses. The title gives you everything you need to know (full tags are on the AO3 link), so don't say I didn't warn ya. Thank you for the event organizers for making Elucien Week 2023 so much fun!

Rating: Very Explicit

Words: 4K

Read on AO3

XXX

“God, Elain, you’re a lifesaver.”

Elain Archeron stood in the foyer of her sister and brother in law’s once pristine house, a slight grimace on her face. She understood why Feyre had called her the evening before, sounding exhausted and trying to sound desperately like she wasn’t begging Elain to babysit her nephew so she and Rhys could have a few hours of blissful silence to clean and sleep. Feyre stood in front of her now, looking just as weary as she sounded. 

“He’s a precocious boy, isn't he?” Elain hummed as she surveyed the damage around her. A brown blob she prayed was chocolate was splattered on the tile floors, paint scribbles decorated the white walls, small Lego bricks formed a veritable minefield in the hallway all the way to the kitchen, and other random toys—plastic cars, a stuffed bat, picture books—littered any open space on the floors and furniture around her.

“Geez,” a deep voice said behind Elain. “For a little guy, he sure can cause a lot of destruction, huh?”

Elain tilted her head and smiled softly as her boyfriend Lucien stood behind her and looked over Nyx’s path of destruction. They were still in the honeymoon phase of their new relationship, and Elain had been worried when she called him last night to cancel the picnic in the park they had planned for the next day.

“We can just bring him with us,” Lucien responded easily. “He can’t be that difficult to manage. He’ll wear himself out, I’m sure.”

Now Elain wondered if perhaps Lucien may have underestimated the task ahead of them.

“He got into my painting supplies,” Feyre said, watching Lucien’s eyes settle on the walls. “He was so excited to show me his little masterpiece this morning.”

Elain grinned. “Maybe you have another painter on your hands.”

“More like another agent of chaos, like his father,” Feyre said conspiratorially. “Come on,” she motioned, waving Elain and Lucien into her house, “we have everything in the kitchen. We already have everything packed—don’t worry, that’s just chocolate—including food, toys, extra clothes, all that. He has a little bit of eczema on his arms, so we can only use this special sunscreen on him—it’s in the bag. Oh, and he still doesn’t quite understand that not every puppy is friendly, so if you see any dogs around, keep an eye on him so he doesn’t run and try to make a new friend. Here he is!”

They entered the kitchen to see Rhys strapping Nyx into his car seat. Her brother in law’s normally perfectly styled hair was disheveled and greasy looking. His white shirt had no less than four distinct, suspicious stains, and his gray sweatpants were ripped in several places. He had the same tired, wan complexion as his wife, though his face brightened like Feyre’s did when she saw Elain and Lucien.

“Our saviors!” Rhys grinned. “I’ve already told Nyx that he’s going to the park today and he has to be on his best behavior, so I hope that’s still the plan,” he said, looking nervously between Elain and Lucien. 

“It is,” Elain said brightly, standing in front of Nyx in his carseat. “We’re going to have so much fun today, aren’t we!” She tickled his belly and he clapped his hands excitedly. 

“Lain, lain!”

“And we have someone else joining us today,” she said, dragging Lucien over to stand next to her. “Nyx, this is Lucien.”

“Hey buddy,” Lucien said softly, grinning at Nyx. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun at the park today.”

Nyx stared solemnly at Lucien but perked up when he heard the word ‘park.’ He smiled and squirmed in his car seat. 

“Go, go!”

“His new favorite word,” Feyre said. “Which means it’s probably time for you three to head out, unless you want a full blown tantrum soon.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Elain said as Lucien grabbed the handle of Nyx’s car seat and started wading back through the trenches to the front door. 

“He has a lot of energy!” Feyre called after them. 

“We got it!” Elain called back.

“He’s one toddler, how bad could it be?” Lucien asked as he buckled the car seat into his SUV. “Right, my man? I bet you’ll be ready for a nap after an hour of playing.”

Apparently, Nyx was up for the challenge.

“How is he… still going?” Lucien puffed weakly, his hands on his knees as he tried to recover his breathing. “He just won’t stop. What is that kid running on? He hasn’t eaten in hours!”

“I’m hungry just watching him,” Elain panted. She was in her nicest yellow sundress and wasn’t able to keep up with her nephew and Lucien, but she was trying her hardest. They had been at the park for nearly three hours and Nyx hadn’t stopped running since his little feet hit the grass. They had already gone down every slide in the huge park a dozen times, ran and jumped over every piece of playground equipment they could find, rode the old fashioned carousel twice, played in the decommissioned old fashion fire truck—though Nyx was too afraid to go down the firepole, even in Lucien’s arms—and had wandered down to the pond to feed the ducks and geese. 

“I should have put my Apple Watch on him, see how many steps he’s taken.” Lucien wiped the sweat off his forehead. 

“I don’t think we’ve invented a number that high.”

“Loo! Loo!”

Nyx was standing next to a baby swing seat, thumping his chubby hand against the plastic.

“Loo! Go, go!”

“Impressive,” Elain smirked. “You already have a nickname. And he wants you to push him on the swing.”

“Lain and Loo,” Lucien said, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her briefly. “We should get matching couple shirts.”

Elain hummed happily as butterflies tumbled in her stomach at his suggestion. “Go on, go play with Nyx for a bit and I’ll get everything for the picnic ready.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and pushed him away playfully when he went back for another kiss.

She took her time setting up a picnic table with all their food, then ambled her way towards the swing set. Lucien was excitedly pushing Nyx in a chair-style swing, her nephew’s chubby little legs waving in the wind. Every now and then Lucien would duck to the side of the swing and pop up right in front of Nyx, much to his glee. His shrieks of laughter rang through the air as Lucien laughed right along with him, and Elain lost her breath.

Lucien was stunning. He had put his long red hair in a ponytail and his golden brown skin was flushed with the summer heat and the exertion of pushing Nyx. His biceps bulged with the effort and his shirt revealed a bit of trailing red hair on his toned stomach as it rode up whenever he lifted his arms. 

All of his attention was on Nyx, though. Lucien looked genuinely happy to be pushing his girlfriend’s nephew for the hundredth time. He didn’t look annoyed or put out that the picnic he had painstakingly planned for the two of them now included an energetic toddler. Her boyfriend’s eyes were filled with excitement, his smile big and bright, his enthusiasm contagious. 

Lucien would be a great dad, Elain thought suddenly. The image of him holding and caring for their eventual children came completely unbidden to her mind, like a metaphorical bell that wouldn’t stop ringing in her ears. He’d be so sweet and supportive and fun—

Woah, settle down girl, Elain thought. You’ve only been dating him for a few months. One afternoon babysitting your nephew isn’t enough proof that Lucien would be a good dad, if he even wants that.

But the images wouldn’t go away. Like it was right in front of her, she could see Lucien pushing a redheaded girl in a swing, her hair blowing in the breeze, or going down a slide with a little boy with her brown curls. It was all so clear and so lifelike. He’d be so kind and gentle and nurturing to their kids. 

“Earth to Elain. Hey! Elain?”

Elain blinked. Lucien was giving Nyx a few weak pushes and staring at Elain with a furrowed brow.

“You alright? You were kind of staring at us and zoning out.”

“Uh huh,” she said noncommittally. That was embarrassing; they were still so new together, and the topic of potential future families hadn’t come up yet. 

“You sure? You look a little flushed.”

“Just the heat!” she replied with a fake grin. “Come on you, time for food.” Elain plucked Nyx out of the swing and put him on her hip, refusing to look Lucien in the eyes. “Your mommy packed you all your favorites,” she told Nyx, pinching his red little cheeks. “Goldfish and applesauce and berries.” Nyx smiled at her and Elain took that as a sign he might actually eat some food. 

She turned and headed to their table. “I could eat a horse,” she said. “I’m really glad we packed a whole bag of those barbecue potato chips.” 

The only reply was Nyx’s little babbles. Elain looked around—Lucien wasn’t with her. Turning back, she saw him standing by the swings, staring after Elain with a dazed and surprised look. 

“Is the heat getting to you too?” she called back to him. 

Lucien’s eyes darted up to hers before he ran his hands over his face. “Yeah,” he called back, making his way towards them. “Guess I forgot what it felt like to stand still.”

By the time they finished their food and went for one last ride on the carousel, Nyx finally started to slow down. They went down a few of his favorite slides before packing everything up and heading back to Feyre’s house.

They returned a napping Nyx to his refreshed parents and a much cleaner house, then made a hasty retreat back to Elain’s apartment. She thought her and Lucien would have a quiet evening consisting of takeout food and Netflix, before going to bed early so they could recover from their tiring day. 

Taking energy inspiration from Nyx, her boyfriend had other ideas. 

Lucien had carried her to her bedroom and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed, tearing off her clothes, and was currently between her thighs, his tongue making clever twists and turns over her folds. He was good at everything in bed, but he seemed to take a particular shine to eat Elain out. 

“Fuck!” Elain gasped as one of his fingers entered her slick channel, her eyes fluttering close. He thrust his finger inside her as his stiff tongue flicked the head of her clit. She was so close, and she wanted to come on his face before coming on his cock. All she had to do was lay back and relax. 

Instead, her mind wandered. She thought of the casual strength Lucien had displayed when he carried her to bed, and the warm smile on his face, and was instantly reminded of Lucien pushing Nyx on the swing, how good he was with her nephew, and how natural caring for a child came to him. 

He crooked his finger just right inside her and a bolt of lightning shot down her spine. “Oh fuck Daddy, yes!”

Lucien stopped moving completely and it took a few seconds for Elain to register the silence in the room. She whined and thrust her hips up towards his face, her oncoming orgasm swiftly departing, when she finally opened her eyes to look at him. His eyebrows were raised, eyes wide, and what she had blurted out suddenly came back to her.

“Oh God,” Elain whispered, mortified. 

“That wasn’t what you just called me,” Lucien quipped, unable to keep a smirk from his face as he pulled his finger from her cunt.

But this was no laughing matter. She had just called her boyfriend of only a few months—a few months! They weren’t even living together!—Daddy, one of the kinkiest things she could imagine. This might even be too much for Lucien to handle, freak that he was. 

Sex with Lucien was great. He was enthusiastic, listened to her, wanted her to have as many orgasms as possible, and had the stamina of a racehorse, with a cock to match. He was the complete package—no pun intended—and she had just called him Daddy. She had never been so embarrassed in her life. 

“I’m sorry!” Elain moaned, covering her beet red face with her hands. “I don’t know where that came from!”

Lucien hummed and kissed her inner thighs. “I can hazard a guess. Maybe the sight of seeing me with Nyx today made your brain think of me with our future kids. Less Daddy kink and more… DILF kink.”

Shoot. Her. Now. She was not having this discussion, preferably at all, but especially not with a new boyfriend. 

Elain shuddered and fought to keep her breathing steady. She didn’t trust herself to answer. She peeked out from behind her fingers. Lucien stared up at her, an eyebrow cocked, waiting for an answer. 

“Um, y-yeah, I guess,” she stuttered out. “Just a weird, one time, slip of the mind. Biological clock is ticking, and all that.”

“It doesn’t have to be one time.” 

Oh, god. Why was Elain surprised that Lucien would be into this? She had quickly learned over the course of their relationship that he was a certified freak in the sheets. The difference was, he had been the one who always brought any new kinks into the bedroom. Elain wasn’t sure if she wanted her first foray into kink to be calling her boyfriend Daddy without any prior discussion on the topic.

“I saw you today, watching me with Nyx.” Lucien’s voice had gone deeper, his eyes hooded. He trailed the tips of his fingers over the soft skin of her inner thighs and hips, and Elain shivered. “At first I just thought you were worried I’d drop him or something. But then,” he suddenly thrust two fingers into her heat and Elain gasped, “I noticed you giving me that same look you have on right now.”

“And what look is that?” Elain was torn: she desperately wanted Lucien to continue, but her own embarrassment made her want to crawl away and hide for a week. 

“Your ‘fuck me now’ look,” he said, thrusting his thick fingers in and out of her pussy. “Your eyes get all hazy and you bite your lip and you start squirming, like you need my hard cock in you or you’ll go crazy—yeah, just like that. And seeing me with Nyx made you that way, hm?”

“Lucien, please,” Elain whimpered. 

“Please what? Answer me: did seeing me with a baby turn you on?”

“Yes,” she groaned, mortified. She closed her eyes. 

“Good, because seeing you like that was so fucking hot.”

Elain gasped as Lucien withdrew his fingers from her body and manhandled her so she was on her knees and elbows, her ass in the air. He settled in behind her and knocked her knees further apart with his own. She was vibrating with anticipation as she felt his hard length between her legs. 

“Seems you're not too embarrassed now, huh?” Elain couldn’t see his face but knew Lucien was grinning slyly at her. 

Elain huffed and merely arched her back even further, sticking her ass up closer to him. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Elain yelped, blushing at her reaction. 

“Then use your words. What do you want?”

“I want you in me.”

Lucien scoffed. “Is that all? That’s not very original.”

She groaned in embarrassment and buried her head in her pillow. “I want you to come in me,” Elain mumbled, speaking more into the bed below her than Lucien over her.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” he cooed in a sing-song voice. 

Elain gritted her teeth. She didn’t mind being teased but she was quickly growing frustrated that she hadn’t come yet and that Lucien appeared to be making light of her embarrassment.

“I want you to fuck me and I want you to come in me!” she snapped, looking over her shoulder to glare at Lucien. 

He gave her a cocky grin. “Was that so hard?” Not giving her time to answer, Lucien shoved her face down into the bed and ran his cock over her slick folds. 

“God, you’re so perfect Elain,” he groaned, notching the fat head of his cock at her pussy. “But you know what?” Lucien leaned down to whisper in her ear. She shivered. “Seeing you holding a baby on your hip today made me think all the same things you were thinking about me.” He sunk into her slowly, letting her adjust to his girth before withdrawing and sinking just a little bit deeper inside her. “Made me wonder what our kids would look like, how you’d look holding them.”

Elain gasped for air as Lucien finally settled all of his cock inside her, stretching her out and filling her. She took several uneven, heaving breaths, not only from his length, but the realization that Lucien had the same dirty fantasies as her. She relaxed in the knowledge that he wasn’t disgusted by her—quite the opposite, apparently—and wriggled her hips in an unspoken gesture to move. 

Gripping her hips and cursing quietly to himself, Lucien set a fast pace, his powerful hips snapping against her ass. Elain moaned and hung her head between her arms. Lucien always seemed to know exactly how she wanted to be fucked, how hard he needed to go or whether she wanted something slower. 

He gave a rough thrust and she yelped. God, it felt like his cock was halfway in her stomach. She clenched around him and Lucien’s answering moan made her tremble. He fucked her even faster, and Elain gripped her duvet cover so hard she thought she might tear it if she wasn’t careful. This was absolute perfection. Lucien was absolute perfection—

“Have you thought of it before? Me as a DILF?”

Well, maybe not. Elain snorted and laughed through her moans. He was still fucking her roughly, though he slowed down to laugh with her at his ridiculous statement. 

“I haven’t before,” she said, turning to look back and up at him and grinning. “But I’m definitely going to now.” 

Lucien grinned and leaned down to kiss her shoulder, placing a solid hand over hers on the bed and lacing their fingers together. His other hand wandered down to her lower stomach and pressed against her, his cock leisurely stroking in and out of her tight depths. 

“Not now, but maybe one day, you’ll make me a dad, yeah?” His breath was warm against the shell of her ear. “Let me come in you until it takes, right here?”

“Yes, yes,” Elain whimpered, screwing her eyes shut at the dirty image his words conjured in her mind. She knew he loved coming in her, but she thought, like most men, Lucien just had a fascination with his come, not a full on breeding kink. His words sent flutters throughout her lower belly and Lucien moaned as her pussy tightened around him. His hand on her stomach moved between her legs and slowly started caressing her clit as he fucked her, his hips rutting into her as he hunched over her. 

“Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Fuck, Elain, I need you to come now.” His fingers circled her clit as thrust into her, his breathing harsh between her shoulder blades. “God, please say you’re close.”

There were too many sensations within and around her: Lucien’s warm hand holding her own, the wet smacking of their flesh joining, his rough fingers on her clit, and his cock hitting her so deep his come wouldn’t have far to go if he really was trying to knock her up. 

It was that sudden realization that did her in. With a final strangled gasp Elain came, her walls fluttering and squeezing Lucien’s cock so hard that he came only a moment later. Groaning, he dug his teeth into her shoulder, leaving a temporary part of himself in the indentations in her flesh. 

He panted against her raggedly. His fingers tenderly stroked the sides of her clit as she quivered through the aftershocks of her orgasm. She felt sweaty and tired but content. 

“Do you have one more left in you?” Lucien asked quietly, his fingers brushing the sensitive head of her bud. 

Elain wriggled underneath his big body. She was dangerously close to becoming overstimulated, little shocks of discomfort blazing through her clit the more he touched her. A few tears gathered at the corner of her eyes. “Oh, Lucien…”

“Just one more,” he said soothingly, kissing her along her jaw and neck as his fingers picked up their pace. “Need to make sure you keep all my come inside you so you can give me a baby. Fuck, you’d look so beautiful pregnant.”

Sobbing, Elain came again, weak aftershocks flooding her body. Lucien turned her head towards his to kiss her, swallowing her feeble cries with his soft lips. Finally, after what seemed like ages, Lucien withdrew his hand and his cock from her body, running soothing circles over her skin as she collapsed face first onto the bed, trembling. 

A warm hand skimmed the back of her thigh, up and up, then kneaded one of her ass cheeks. “I love seeing my come dripping out of your pretty cunt,” Lucien rasped in her ear, sweetly kissing her before he rolled down next to her on the bed like he hadn’t just completely rocked Elain’s world. He took her hand in his, entwining their sweaty palms together. 

Elain turned her head and peeked at him. Lucien was covered in a thin layer of sweat, his face and upper chest flushed. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily through his mouth. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen, Elain thought, taken aback, once again, by how damned lucky she was. 

“You’re still on birth control, right?” Lucien asked, cracking a single eye open to look at her.

“Oh yeah, I still have a few years left.”

“Oh, thank God. Knew you did, but in the heat of the moment…”

“What, you weren’t serious about knocking up the girl you’ve only been seeing a few months?” Elain asked sarcastically, arching an eyebrow and smirking at him as she turned over to lay on her side towards him. 

He scoffed. “Well, not yet at least. My mom would kill me if I got you pregnant and we weren’t married.”

She ignored the little somersaults in her belly at hearing Lucien talk about marriage and getting her pregnant one day. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to live with the knowledge that my insanely hot boyfriend is a sex fiend with a breeding kink,” she sighed dramatically. 

“Insanely hot boyfriend, huh?” Lucien smirked. “I’ll take it. But the real question: am I hot enough to be a DILF?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I’m not answering that,” she said.

“We could put it to the test. Give me a reason to marry you and not have my poor mother disown me.” His eager hands wandered up her legs and stomach to her breasts, caressing a peaked nipple. 

“Lucien!” Elain shrieked in laughter, hitting him with a pillow as he feebly tried to defend himself. Sometime later she would admit that yes, he’s definitely hot enough to be a DILF - as long as she was the only one who got to fuck him. 

(Lucien had no complaints about that.)

[brandogenius]

Can we get pheobe with an artist!reader who’s always creating things and gift giving homemade art pieces to her and the boys? ( Artist! reader has 100% given Phoebe a glitter flower bouquet before omg)

-🐹

OMG!! hamster anon hi!! AHHH!!! my first phoebe request !! this is such a cool request what the heck??? i’m so excited to write this !!!

note: IVE COME TO EDIT THIS! this is so cute it’s my roman empire i love it so much omfg i want to write this into an au someday

‼️ RPF‼️

HC - phoebe x artist! reader

- phoebe has a little shelf on her desk dedicated to every little trinket snd craft you make her.

- your love language is gift giving, you go ALL out for birthdays and holidays. creating gifts for phoebe and the boys.

- some of your favourites crafts you’ve made for the boys and phoebe include a small trinket dish for phone. one you can put all her rings and jewellery into! made from clay it took you about three days to make

- another one was a small vase in the shape of a torso for lucy, perfect to hold flowers into.

- for julien it 100% had to be oil painting of her dog beans. it might’ve took you the longest to make but the reaction was 100% worth it.

- art is your favourite hobby. art supplies litter the small coffee table that resides in phoebe and yours apartment.

- phoebe occasionally goes off to the studio, coming back all giddy like a child who got their first candy bar, hands and pockets filled with various kinds of rocks she picked up off the road. “will you paint them for me? we could paint them together” obviously you could not say no to her

- you spend the night with phoebe on the floor, surrounded by blankets and paints, painting words onto the small smooth rocks your girlfriend picked up off the side of the road.

- you end up trading rocks throughout the night. the ones phoebe gives you are displayed proudly in your shelf whilst phoebe keeps the smallest one you gave her in her pocket at all time.

- “i can show everyone how talented you are” “phoebe it’s just a painted rock” “shh i know but look how beautiful it is”

- buying gifts is always nice but you prefer to make / refurbish gifts.

- you like to go thrifting for clothes, often buying something for yourself sometimes you may come across something pb would wear. you bring it home and get working on designing the back with embroidery thread or sewing hand made patches onto the sleeves.

- GLITTER BOUQUETS !! may be a nightmare to clean up but the reaction on phoebes face is worth the pain

- you like to make small little origami bouquets of flowers beside the small handmade dish you made, where phoebe puts her keys. whenever she has to leave in the morning she wakes up to a new bouquet of small paper flowers she totslly doesn’t tear up over.

- you teach phoebe how to paint

- pottery nights where you both make whatever you want. phoebe tries to make a mug but fails

- tries to be romantic and do something out of ghost but ends up giggling and ruining the moment

- “dude i wish i had the hands of a pottery god like you because this is some bullshit right here”

- phoebe may not have the talent in pottery but that’s ok. she’s good at many other things

- like making paper airplanes or painting rocks. you love all of them.

- lego. it may not be an artistic thing but you love making lego with phoebe. the lego flowers end up in a vase (multiple of your origami flowers end up there too)

- one of the paintings you’re currently working on right now is a surprise for phoebes bday. an intricate painting of one of the times you caught phoebe sitting on the couch, mindlessly strumming away on the guitar, seeming to be in her own little world.

[dragoon811]

I am so so tired

What is a rest? What is a good night's sleep? My oldest has a cold and is clingy. My youngest has gone from a kiddo with a good sleep routine and a nighttime cuddle to having the biggest tantrums EVER. I spent THREE hours last night getting her to bed.

I don't know how I stayed calm. I don't.

I say tantrum I mean shrieking "NO! YOU STUPID!" and kicking and hitting and running off and sobbing like she's being murdered and hiding under beds, in closets, etc. Like... please understand. She is a very sweet child. Frilly flannel nightgown with minnie mouse on it. Little wispy hair. Just a full-on nightmare.

And then I had to get the older to sleep. Because it has to be mommy. And she took another HOUR to go to sleep! T__T.

Like...I work full time. I do the grocery shopping. The meal-planning. Wrangling daycare and school. I do most of the cooking. I still have 2 loads of laundry to fold. By time I get the kids to bed? It's too late to vacuum so I pick stuff up by hand and put it in the garbage. I wish I had hardwood - at least I could mop at night. You look crazy, sweeping cheese off of carpet.

I come home and the List wasn't done. Put away laundry? I video'd everything - what it was, where it was. Closets and drawers are labeled. And there is still. laundry. not. put. away. OK. I'll just do it. Litterbox? Floor wasn't swept. Grab the broom and dustpan. Not enough litter put into the box. Do that, too.

Dishes? Hah! A paltry amount. A mountain awaiting wash. And the few that did get washed? Not properly clean.

Fill the diaper bag, make sure there's spare clothes. Wash out the lunch box. Brush hair. Eczema lotion. Style hair. Convince toddler to pick an outfit from the options presented. Meal-prep. School lunches- ensure they're allergy-friendly! School - events, check with teachers, return library books. Holidays! Gotta do valentines. Make sure snow pants are clean and dry. And coats. Don't forget to wash them once a week!

Change sheets. Clean couch cushion covers. Bath time! Let me clean your hair, clean your ears. Trim cats' claws. Play games to learn letters/words/taking turns. Color. Draw. Do Lego and playdoh to strengthen hand muscles.

Playdates/activities. Grocery shopping. Gas in the car. Bills. Clothes for children who seem determined to destroy or outgrow everything. Wear your bra til it falls apart because they're expensive.

Try to reach out to your friends at least once a week so you can TRY to maintain those relationships. It's usually a 5-minute phone call on your drive home because that is the only time you have to yourself.

Be constantly sick. Cry over the price of medicine. Cry over the cost of groceries. Try to find deals. This may mean driving all over town and four different stores.

And all of this dragging two kids and a husband you're taking care of but who would rather play video games for 10 hours and has memory problems. Wonder how much is the illness and how much is incompetence.

Get everything done. Sit...no energy for a book. No energy for a movie or show. No energy to knit or crochet. No energy to write.

Does...does it ever end?

[soft4gguk]

interlude: answers

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: none

Author’s Note: hiii <333 I really hope u enjoy this one! it was so soft and healing to write. thank u for the wait - we're back baby!! ily all x a million. x

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

Interlude: Answers

Soori lays in a cozy cocoon, wrapped by Mai’s arms and the pink tulle of her dress. Her eyes are fighting to stay open, gaze fixated attentively on the scene that unfolds in front of her as Jin introduces ‘Mr Panda’, newest addition to her plush family, courtesy of Yoongi, to her beloved giraffe. You can see the way she smiles around her pacifier, eyes following as they puff out underneath – exhausted from her festivities but so evidently happy it makes you melt in your seat. Yoongi’s smile mimics her, lazy and affectionate as he stands behind Mai and takes her in.

She’s so loved.

She’s so needed in this world – has what makes up hers wrapped around her tiny, chubby finger.

Jungkook exits his kitchen, Taehyung at his side as they make their way to the living room – two bottles of red wine in hand and as many glasses as they can fit in their hold. He takes the sight in front of him in. It borders on perfect to him, reinstalls all the faith that his heart had deemed scarce only a couple days prior. Reminds him that life can be just like her: soft.

His friends are sprawled all around his living room, some discarding comfortable seating space in total as they litter the floor, alongside a sea of birthday present wrapping – mostly in pink – bows and confetti. It was something Jungkook thought he’d do alone, in the peaceful quiet of a Sunday morning. In a train of second guessing his biggest concern was not being able to take pictures of the moment, his hands full of his daughter, unable to double task but not wanting to miss the possibility of making the memory tangible.

His hands had been full and so were Soori’s as she took in the excitement of all her new toys, books, plush animals and big pastel-colored Legos – a room full of people willing to play with her. Willing to share that excitement.

Jungkook’s heart was full.

And then there was you. Like light and breeze and the sound of the sea and every single thing Jungkook ever reached out when seeking peace. The smile on your face did wonders to his heart and in that moment, with a hazy mind full of all that is good, you doubled as magic. In you some omnipresent superpower that healed all that seemed a little broken in hiding. You didn’t know – that power you held. You didn’t know and that was the answer to his question. The one that asked just how he came to love you.

You were gentle magic. And you didn’t know.

In short and without need for much detail – the answer was you. He loved you because it was you. To him, you.

You feel him when he stands right next to you and for the first time today, you take your eyes off of Soori. They land on him and you smile as he hands you a glass, a rich cherry red that looks as enticing as it tastes coming from him.

“I think Mr Panda’s about to give that giraffe a run for its money.”

You laugh, eyes back on her. “She bathed with that thing once, I doubt it.”

“God, that took ages to dry.”

“And the tears that followed were inconsolable.”

Jungkook frowns at the memory, letting out a light chuckle as his mind replays it. “Why did we ever think that was a good idea?”

You look up at him. “Because we’re weak.”

You both laugh, the need to say more gone as your point answers his question most perfectly. You had been weak – not standing ground when he’d accidentally placed her in the tub without realizing she still carried her giraffe between her arms. You were quick, tried to salvage it but she wouldn’t let go – tiny arms closing around its neck in an almost comical way. The memory alone has Jungkook letting out another set of giggles, and then, with that same gentleness you carry, it hits him:

You’re reminiscing. Recounting memories of a life well-lived. Memories of his daughter who’s nothing but well-loved.

He adds that to his list of answers.

Tae gently reaches for Soori, grunting as he brings her to his arms. She nuzzles her head on his shoulder. “I think it’s bed time, Gguk. Missy partied too hard.”

He brings her over to Jungkook, who smiles – endeared at the way her cheeks are squished, that pout he loves so much adorning her little lips as her eyes flutter, open and closing slowly.

“Come here, princess.” Soori’s body relaxes in her dad’s arms and you smile at her as her eyes fix on yours for a brief second before they finally close – her long eyelashes resting on top of her soft cheeks.

“She’s out,” you say, fingers softly crading through her silky hair.

“Oh no… I need to get her out of this dress and into PJs still.”

“Come on, I’ll help.”

~

“Told ya,” you whisper, smiling down at Soori who sleeps peacefully in her crib – thumb and index finger tightly holding onto one of the legs of her giraffe.

Jungkook laughs – a quiet an airy little sound as to not disrupt his daughter’s sleep. “That onesie is too small on her already.”

“She’s growing up at lighting speed.”

Your words pang at his chest slightly but he’s too elated to welcome it. instead, he smiles, nodding softly at his baby – diapered butt up in the air, squished cheek and steady breaths. She’s smile-worthy.

“___,”

“Yes, Koo?”

“Today was good. Today was very good.”

“I know, baby. It really was.”

“You made it good. For her. For me. For us. Thank you.”

You frown but your eyes are soft, hand coming to rest on top of his over the crib’s railing. “You made it good, Jungkook. You made this day so special for her.”

“I was scared it wouldn’t be.”

You’re smiling, igniting a soft one from him as he finally looks at you. “I guess… I guess a lot of things are scary until the moment they’re unfolding before us. Until we’re so in deep our happiness that we can’t think of much other than this moment. And then as it begins to fade, but never entirely disappearing, we look back and realize that fear was just a natural reaction to feeling. And that half of it was just inside our heads.”

He doesn’t think about it twice when he kisses you.

It’s then you understand – a resolution to any doubt and insecurity that your subconscious held when fear took over. An answer worthy of a thousand poems that you'll title: just why it is you love him.

~

★taglist★

@roro-in-utopia @yiyi4657 @littlrmills14-blog @namjooningelsewhere @drownforryou @iwanttohitmyself @finelinememories @yukiehyukie @shatzkrinslinzki @bts-fic-recs-mess @kokoandkookie @subtlepjiminie @hobipost @kookiesbreaky @di0rgguk @bloopkook @babyrosieareroses @kookiecrumb @casspirit0705 @eclectictacozinewobbler @tickledpink55 @rjsmochii @dimcorner @miniiimee @vintageroses10 @amyniu @tessxblxckthorn @emotionaltrashcansblog @fangirl125reader @laurynne5 @thickgrinch @dianaxnyc @ruinsofangels @berryonasummerevening @taeslarityy @hisunshiine @preciouschiminie @ruclements @galaxyflab @jalexad @missseoulite @bangtannoonalvg @kootonins @lustremyg @kissme-ornot @92thk @everythingaboutfangirling @cakecobain @callmejimmeo @simp4tae @landl7xoxo

[hqbaby]

53. letters | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 (𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

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(written portion! you can find a summary at the bottom if you have difficulty or simply don't feel like reading large chunks of text<33 word count: 1k)

dream one

Two identical pairs of eyes look up at him in wonder. Two bright smiles shine from down below. Two pairs of hands reach up for him to take.

“Papa,” says the girl. “We missed you.”

he wakes

Atsumu peels his eyes open to the shoving sensation against his chest. He looks at the girl pushing him away and can’t help but purse his lips.

“Too close,” Kaiya murmurs. “Need space.”

He unwraps his arms from her waist and watches as she slips away to the other side of the bed and turns her back to him. He can’t help the sunken, resigned feeling that grows in the pit of his stomach, the sickening realization that this is the rest of his life.

He’ll grow old to the feeling of being shoved away. He’ll grow old to the sound of whispered words telling him that she needs space. He’ll grow old watching this woman turn her back without a second thought and leave him alone and cold on his side of the bed. He’ll grow old like this—like a man who is doomed to never again feel love.

Atsumu takes a deep breath and pulls himself out of bed. He walks over to the bedroom window—obscenely big and boisterous, just like Kaiya insisted—and stares out at the city that whirs below.

Tokyo is just waking up. And Atsumu is already wide awake.

When he turns back to look at the bed, something in him clenches. For a moment, just a fleeting moment, he almost thinks that the girl tucked away in sleep is you. And, for a moment, just a fleeting moment, he thinks he’s finally capable of feeling joy again.

Then, the moment passes quicker than it came. But something stays.

Somewhere, he’s not sure where, this tiny sliver of hope remains. He retraces his steps, trying to look for the feeling wherever on earth it could be coming from—and that’s when he finds it: curled up in the deepest darkest depths of his mind is his dream from just a few minutes ago.

Two pairs of eyes. Two bright smiles. Two pairs of hands.

A small feeling of contentment, of comfort.

But, no. Those things don’t exist. Not here, not now.

Atsumu sits down from the floor beside the bed and reaches under, pulling out the box he’s hidden below. He opens the lid and forces himself to look at the pregnancy test on top, two pink lines indicating a poignant and painful, “yes.”

Then, he takes out the letter under the test and wills himself to read it because, for some reason, no matter how many times he’s read it, he can’t seem to remember the words. No, not a word at all. So he reads it and reads it until it's burned into his mind, until he understands that dreams of two pairs of eyes and two bright smiles and two pairs of hands must not be dreamt.

But, then, mere moments after he lifts his eyes from the page, all he can remember are bits and pieces: Dear Atsumu and happier without you and we don’t need you and the kids would be better off and Sincerely, Y/N.

Bits and pieces. But, somehow, they’re all he needs to shake the dream off, crawl back into bed, and fall asleep cold, alone, and empty.

“Y/N, are you alright?”

The room is littered with books and toys and crayons in numbers too many to count. Koushi tiptoes over the legos and reaches for your shoulder. He asks again, “Are you alright?”

You wipe your tears with your sleeve and pull your knees up to your chest, shrinking into yourself as much as you can. You shake your head.

“I can’t do this,” you say, fidgeting with your hands. “I can’t be a mother.”

Koushi sighs and sits down beside you, picking up one of Akari’s stuffed dinosaurs and placing it on his lap. “What are you talking about?” he asks. “You’re already a mother. And a pretty good one, if I may say so myself.”

You feel tears escape once more as you let out a sob. “I can’t be everything they need me to be,” you tell him. “I can’t replace him.”

The man beside you leans against you gently. “You don’t have to replace him on your own,” he says. “You’ve got me and Daichi and Asahi. And you’ve got the girls. You’ve got a lot of people to back you up.”

You hug your knees tighter. “But they need Atsumu,” you say, softly, almost afraid that saying it out loud will somehow make it ridiculous. “Why doesn’t he want them?”

Koushi doesn’t have an answer.

He was there when it all happened, of course.

Koushi was there when Atsumu came looking for you two months after you’d left Tokyo. Koushi was there when you told Atsumu that you needed to figure things out on your own for a bit but that you’d tell him as soon as you were ready to talk to him again. Koushi was there when, two weeks after you’d given birth, you decided to finally write Atsumu a letter, asking him if he would like to try and be a parent with you.

Koushi was there to see your eyes burn brightly with determination that things would work out fine.

And Koushi was there when a letter came three days later telling you that Atsumu wished you the best of luck with raising the kids on your own and that he’d be glad to never see you or the kids again.

So, no, Koushi doesn’t have an answer. Because he really doesn’t know what went wrong. He doesn’t know at all.

So, instead, he pulls you to his side and waits with you as you shed the rest of your tears. Things may not be fine, but they are what they are—and that’s just what you have to live with.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Atsumu remembers receiving a hurtful letter from Y/N after the twins were born. Y/N, on the other hand, remembers sending him a hopeful letter and receiving a damning one in return.

𝐚/𝐧 : i had to redo this chapter three times and there were like three alternative routes for this part bUT I HOPE I PULLED IT OFF ALRIGHT as always, this has been a blast<33

[dadsbongos]

Not Now

Movie/Game/Show: Umbrella Academy Dynamic: Five Hargreeves/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: none? Summary: Five reunites with his favorite sister after decades apart. ~~~

“Where’s (Y/n)?” Five muttered, finally taking notice of his sister’s absence now that he wasn’t busy making a fluffer-nutter sandwich. Great, he comes back to fix the timeline, and one of the reasons he comes to fix it isn’t even there for their father’s funeral.

Vanya was the first to pitch in, “At work, I think…”

“Well,” he stressed out the first consonant, “where is that?”

“Griddy’s,” just as the time-traveler was going to thank his brother, Diego continued with a small smirk, “Do you need a ride?”

Forcing on a plastic smile, Five declined, “I think I’ll be fine, Kraken. Thanks.”

~~

(Y/n) heaved a sigh, ready to throw her exhausted body onto her bed after a rather boring shift at work. At least there was Agnes, an endlessly sweet woman with an affinity for anyone that walked through her donut shop doors. She sluggishly shoved her own closed once inside, kicking off her shoes before going to untie her apron. All without noticing the intruder sitting on her favorite chair.

Five rolled his eyes, hoping his sister hadn’t magically become a ditz since he disappeared. If he was a murderer, she surely would’ve been crafted into mincemeat by now. He leaned over, pulling on the string light to a side table lamp, causing the woman to jump.

Her eyes widened at the familiar face, “Five? It- it can’t…”

Nodding, the boy gestured to his own body, “I may have made a tiny miscalculation in my jump back home.”

“How did you know where I lived?”

“You always said this was your dream house, no?”

“Well, yes but… how did you know I was already living in this house?”

Oh, after I saw our siblings’ corpses at the manor in the Apocalypse I was trapped in, I went looking for you and found you in the wreckage of where this house is. You looked terrified and in pain and I can only hope you were at peace in the afterlife because there was no way I could rewind and fix it until some forty-five years later in which I never spent a second not thinking about you and the rest of our family. You can never understand how worried I was that I would never be able to see any of you again.

He shrugged, “Call it a lucky guess.”

Placing a hand over her heart, (Y/n) turned towards the staircase, peeking up at the second floor before sitting across from her brother, “You probably shouldn’t just show up like this, what if my family found you?”

Eyebrows shot into his hairline, “You have a kid? That wasn’t in Vanya’s book.”

“Two, actually,” she smiled brightly, as if just the mention of them elated her, “I asked her to keep them out of the book.”

“Oh,” they weren’t in the rubble when the Apocalypse hit, “what’re their names?”

“Ben and Harley,” (Y/n) reached over to give her brother a small pat, “I would’ve named Harley Five but I didn’t want him to get bullied.”

“Understandable,” Five chuckled lightly, looking around and finding no pictures of any sort of co-parent, “Is there a dad? Mom? Another parent?”

Nodding, she gestured to the ceiling of the first floor, “My ex, they’ll be having custody time in just a few days now.”

Great, he comes back to find out that not only does he have a niece but also two nephews that he can’t get to know before the Apocalypse. Anytime he’s hoping to spend with the boys can be cut in half, if he’s lucky - because he still has to stop the very thing that will be the end of them.

“You can take my bed if you need a place to stay,” (Y/n) offered, “If you’re not staying at the Academy, anyway.”

“I’m not taking your bed,” he immediately refused, standing up from the chair, “Can I… see them? Ben and Harley?”

“Of course,” the woman nodded, standing as well and beginning to lead her brother upstairs. Coming up to the first room, she pressed a finger to her lips before quietly and carefully sliding the door open so they could both enter, “This is Ben.”

Glow-in-the-dark stickers illuminated the ceiling and some of the actual room. Dark blue walls cornered in a messy, cluttered room with the ground littered with plastic race cars and Legos. Even with his shoes on, Five could practically feel the fuzzy green rug under his feet. A rather large mahogany desk was pushed into the farthest wall, looking out a window. It was coated with clunky books and paper piles with a new pen every few inches. The boy himself had ink-black hair as if Ben Hargreeves was trying to peek through from beyond the grave.

Harley’s room, however, was much different. Short brown carpet paired with black walls, an abyss of dirtied clothes and torn pieces of paper strewn throughout the room. Makeup was scattered across every flat surface, markers and colored pencils being no better. A canvas to the right of the bed, post-it notes marking over every inch with ideas and plans to make the blank white material into a masterpiece he’d look back on in five years and gag. Posters for various bands and movies lined the walls in a crooked, chaotic fashion. Similarly to his brother, Harley’s hair was black as the night sky.

“Reminds me of Klaus,” (Y/n) muttered once they were out of the room, “Not how I pictured he’d turn out, but not unwelcome.”

Five stuffed his hands into his shorts’ pockets as he went back down the stairs, “They’re cute.”

“They’re about your age.”

“Fifty-eight?” he shook his head before looking down and remembering, “Thirteen, right. Wait,” turning, he looked at his sister, “thirteen?”

 She scratched at the back of her neck, “Allison and Diego already gave me hell. Pulled the ‘what would Five think’ card a few times.”

“I’m sure,” Five sighed quietly before taking the moment to make sure she was secure, “You know I’m not judging you, right? You were young, are young, but you’re a great mother.”

“You haven’t even been here while they’re awake.”

“Don’t need to be,” he shrugged, “I should get back to the Academy, but I’ll come around tomorrow. I want to meet my nephews that I didn’t know I had until now.”

“Oh, wait,” rushing back to her apron, (Y/n) pulled out a small bag before handing it over to her brother, “they’re probably not the best, but I can’t let you walk out of here without some food. Agnes lets me bring home a couple after my shifts.”

Five peeked into the bag, a few donuts that she took from Griddy’s, he rolled the top up before awkwardly nodding in gratitude, “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

The door was useless as he teleported out of the house and onto the street. He wouldn’t tell (Y/n) then, not when she already had two kids to worry over. Only when it was necessary, would he say something. Five hoped that day wouldn’t come.

Not that he planned on jumping between Icarus theatre and her home, but he knew he wouldn’t do it differently if it meant his sister wouldn’t die.

[time-to-cause-chaos]

the sunny parts

Webpril, day 5: MIT

AO3 link WC: 1, 543

There are papers littering the floor of Peter’s room that have been there for the past month, he can’t bring himself to pick them up, just looking at them gives him a headache.

It’s a real pain though that every time he wants to cross the sea of chaos and forms that is his room, he has to take painstaking measures to make sure they don’t mix up or crinkle.

May’s voice echoes as she yells from somewhere across the apartment, calling him for dinner but he’s not hungry.

Instead of going out and finding May at the table with some take-out, he grabs a pillow from his bed and plants it right in the middle of the room, the eye of the hurricane.

Sitting criss-cross on the cushion he takes a long - exhausting - look around him. Picking up the packet of papers directly in front of him he glances at the corner, this one’s NYU. Shuffling through the pages are his applications, guides, and other papers he hasn’t decided are good enough to look at.

He’d already applied for colleges last year and it had been so fun, him and May had applied for a bunch of colleges so he had alternates and other options in case the other ones didn’t pan out well.

Most, if not all of them, had already replied back and he’d gotten into great ones so that wasn’t a problem.

Nope, the problem now was that with finals and studying, he hadn’t actually chosen which one he wanted to go too. There were so many options and they were all amazing, but each of them had different things and perks.

At first he’d been leaning towards Harvard, May and Ben’s university, that they’d talk so much about when Peter was younger. That’s where they had met and since they both used to speak so highly of it, it seemed like the best option. There was sentimental value as well as academic, and that made it special.

Then there was Stanford, MJ had gotten in yesterday and she’d told Ned and Peter over the phone. For the MJ-standard, she looked practically exhilarated, her eyes were practically glowing and she kept pausing her sentences before starting again. Ned had also gotten into Stanford but he was still undecided.

It was mostly narrowed down to 5 places and frustration boiled over as he looked over the list again. He could read it as many times as he wanted, at this point he had it memorized, the names running over and over in his brain, NYU, Harvard, Stanford, MIT, and UC Berkeley.

NYU, Harvard, Stanford, MIT, and UC Berkeley.

God, this was exhausting. When he’d submitted those applications oh-so long ago, it was thrilling and exciting. He would do anything for that feeling to come back now to replace all the dread and anxiety he currently felt.

MJ was always talking about how great Stanford was, May about Harvard, Tony about MIT, and Ned about all of the above.

Peter didn’t know which one to choose, and he knows he should just do it, but it’s pretty close to impossible.

He needs some air, he isn’t going to make a decision right now anyways, that’s for sure. Peter leaves a note on the door in case May comes looking for him, and uses the fire escape to leave, clambering down with muffled steps. He didn’t take his web shooters and just strolled down the streets, dodging people and dogs was second-nature to him.

It wasn’t till he actually focused that he realized where he was, he’d gone to a park. The same one where Ben would push him on the swings until Peter felt his stomach flip every time because he was so high. When he was much younger he called it “My Park”, mostly because it was hidden from the public eye with the trees that surrounded it. No one was ever there and he’d brought Ned once in 3rd grade, it was much easier to have fun when there weren’t random little kids taking up the slide and parents watching like hawks. It was practically his own.

Reminiscing, he ran his fingers over the chains for the swing and sat down, lightly kicking his legs just enough so that he was a few feet above the ground.

The sun was setting and Peter watched as orange light filtered through the trees, making half his face warm. The other half was still cold in the shadows as swift breezes brushed over him and he ran his fingers through the bright spots in front of his eyes.

He tried not to think about the decision waiting for him at home, but it was inevitable.

He knew he was picking college for himself, it was his future, but he really didn’t want to make the wrong decision.

Tony always told him stories about MIT with Rhodey and all the fun they’d had there. The time Rhodey had broken a wrist and Tony an ankle because of a stupid dare that they were foolish enough to try. The time they’d sent the sprinklers off and everyone had to evacuate. Sometimes they were said in the kitchen with everyone around laughing at the stories that you’d expect to be exaggerated, other times they were said in whispers as Peter fell asleep, probably in medbay after an injury during patrol.

Peter hunches in on himself as the sound of Iron Man flying, he already knew it would only be a matter of time before May sent the cavalry his way.

Peter doesn’t even glance at the suit as it lands on the faded playground mulch with a crunch. For his credit, Tony doesn’t urge him to, instead sitting on the swing next to him, hands placed carefully in his lap.

Peter hates when they all do this, when they all act worried and get cautious, treating him like a bomb about to explode with one misplaced movement.

The two swing in silence next to each other for a few minutes, letting the cool breezes as they whistle through the trees, speak for them.

There’s no movement from either one of them until Tony twists and faces Peter, throwing one leg over each side of the swing.

Peter does the same, watching Tony warily, pressing his nose in the chain.

“What if I choose wrong?”, Peter asks, shifting his eyes to the ground, avoiding Tony’s.

“Impossible, no chance” Tony immediately shakes his head, “First of all, trust yourself, you know yourself better than anyone. Second, you’ll be a force to reckon with for any college or university you go to. I don’t even want to try and imagine the crazy stories you’ll be telling me as I get grey hairs.”

“What about Spiderman?”

“Don’t refer to him as another person, Spiderman is Peter Parker and Peter Parker is Spiderman. You’ll always have Spiderman, even if you decide to take a break from it for a little but”

“No, no, I won’t do that. I’m going to be Spiderman” Peter insists.

“Your choice, Petey. You know, you could also take a gap year”

“I feel like that’d just make me more stressed”, Peter’s eyebrows crinkle, in thought.

“Then go for college, Peter. Be great, and get a degree, and make me and May cry at your graduation, just make sure you’re doing it for yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll probably be crying too.” Peter laughs, “Isn’t it weird though? To think that after everything that’s happened in the past few years, I’ll just go, go away from you all and,” Peter doesn’t air the last part of the sentence. All the fear that everything he’s had is going to be gone, all to waste and forgotten as he’s off somewhere else. The thought makes him queasy.

“You know, as the Tony Stark who actually used to go to MIT, I could apply for work there.” Tony smirks, “We can go to coffee shops and I can meet all your friends and embarrass you” THe last part is said as a joke as Tony smirks, Peter smiles and cringes inside.

“Maybe...no?”

Tony gets up and pulls Peter to his feet, “Let’s continue this lovely conversation at your place, we can talk over burnt asparagus, or some take-out”

Peter nods as he glances around, the wind’s stronger and it’s getting colder as the sky gets darker. Peter shivers and he melts into Tony as the man wraps an arm around him.

Tony holds onto Peter in the same park Ben did, building sandcastles that were really just piles of sand with him. The same park where May had chased him down the slide and wrapped her arms around him and she slid behind him. The same park where Ned and him had lost a bunch of lego pieces as the built model broke and the parts got lost in the sand.

It’s nice, he realized. As terrifying as it is to leave something behind, there’s a secure feeling you get when you know it’s always going to be there for you, forever a shield for you to hide behind when you need to.

Peter just wraps his arms back around Tony, face buried in his shoulder.

It’ll be okay.

[lostintranslaation]

history always repeats itself

By @wh0doyouthinkyouareiam for @clover-roseee for the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Ned Leeds, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Pepper Potts

Summary: When Peter gets bitten by a spider at the Stark's lake house, he thinks he's got it all under control. He's gotten through a spider bite once before, right?

(hint: he doesn't quite have it all under control)

Read it on AO3

Peter shrugs his backpack over his shoulder and winces. He’s been busy recently and between trying to finish out his senior year strong and helping with May’s homeless shelter liaison program and spending more time with the Starks, Peter hadn’t had much time to go out on patrol. So yeah, he was out of shape. But was it normal to be this sore?  

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Ned cranes his neck around Peter’s locker. Peter blinks.

“Uh, yeah.” Peter closes his locker. “Sorry, I just zoned out for a minute. What were you saying?” He shoves a knuckle into his eye to counteract the pressure building in his head.

“Have you seen the new Star Wars movies yet, the ones that came out during the blip? I think there’s, like, two, maybe three. They switched the actress for Rey, but I heard they’re pretty good other than that.”

“I haven’t, have you?” Peter pulls his hood over his head as the two of them push open the doors of the school to start their daily walk to the train back to Queens. At least some things never change.

“No. Haven’t gotten the chance yet, y’know? Been a little busy. But,” they stop at the bottom of the stairs, “I got a new Lego set from the latest episode for my birthday last week. I was thinking, if you’re free tonight, we could put it together and binge all the movies that came out while we were gone?”

Peter sighs and leans on the railing. “That sounds like a lot of fun, but I promised Ton- Mister Stark that I would babysit Morgan tonight.”

Ned’s jaw drops. “You call him Tony?” Peter just smiles and looks down. “Are you guys… close? It seems like you’ve been hanging out with the Starks a lot recently. Babysitting tonight, the lake house last weekend…” Peter huffs out a laugh.

“Last weekend was just to help them out. They needed a couple boxes moved in their garage and Pepper called me to help out because Tony’s still… not in moving-boxes condition. But yeah, ever since… you know, he’s been acting different. Nicer, I guess. He’s like, actually wanting to spend time with me, which is a nice change.”

“Well, either way it’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Peter agrees. “Hey, I gotta go. Tony told me to just come to their apartment after school got out.” He starts walking backwards. “But text me about a raincheck for our Star Wars binge, okay?” Ned nods and Peter turns around to start the three-block walk to the Stark’s Manhattan apartment.

It’s chilly out, the kind of cold where fall is fading into winter and the sky is grey and the streets are wet even though it’s been a couple days since it last rained. Peter tries not to focus on the headache building behind his eyes and the stiffness in his neck and hopes that Morgan will be up for a nice, calm movie night or something like that.

Knowing her, she probably won’t be, though. She’ll probably want to play horses or something like that and Peter will have no choice but to trudge around their apartment with her on his back, perfecting her princess wave she’d tried so hard to teach him but couldn’t quite accomplish.

And despite all this, despite the fact that when she gave him the eyes he was physically incapable of telling her ‘no’, he wouldn’t change a thing. He couldn’t change a thing, not even if he wanted to. The first time he’d babysat her, she’d asked for a juice pop and then the next thing he knew it was a couple hours later and they were sitting on the couch watching Sofia the First, three juice pops in. When Pepper and Tony returned, they just offered sympathetic smiles that said that they’d been there before and sent him home with a nice check.

The doorman at the Starks apartment building was nice and Peter sometimes would buy him a coffee if he had a little extra cash when he came over to visit. But today all Peter could do was offer up a weak ‘hi Mister Hudson’ and a tight-lipped smile.

“Hello Mister Parker,” he greets as Peter walks through the doors. “Up to see the Starks?” he asks before pressing the floor number in the elevator. And after not receiving a verbal response, “Rough day at the office?”

Peter sighs and leans back against the cool wall of the elevator as it starts its ascent. He pulls his jacket tighter around himself and tries to suppress a shiver. “I’m just tired. Nothing new,” Peter says. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great. You know, Ava had her baby a coupla days ago.” The man’s wrinkled face splits into a giant smile and Peter can���t help but smile himself.

“Congratulations! How does it feel to be a grandpa?”

“Oh, it’s incredible. She's incredible,” he flips open his creased leather tri-fold wallet to show Peter a photo of a pink squishy baby with giant eyes and a small tuft of dark hair atop her head.

“What’s her name?” The elevator dings and the doors slide open.

“Nina,” the doorman replies, still smiling fondly on the photo in his hands.

Peter claps the man on the back. “She’s beautiful, Mister Hudson. Have a great rest of your day.”

“You too, Peter. Try and get some rest.” The look in the man’s eyes is sincere. Peter smiles and the doors slide shut again.

Peter leans against the wall in the entryway and kicks off his shoes near the door. He closes his eyes and hangs his head, but the moment of solace does not last long before Morgan’s footsteps come pattering down the hallway to greet him.

“Peter!” He kneels down and pulls her into a hug.

“Hi Morgie.”

“Do you wanna have a tea party tonight? Mister Bear is gonna be there.”

“That sounds like a blast.” He straightens back out and immediately doubles back over, an involuntary groan escaping from his lips as his stomach cramps. He sways on his feet and a wave of nausea rises in his throat but he swallows it back down. Clipped footsteps echo down the hall.

“Heya Pete,” Tony rests a hand on the top of Morgan’s head and she squirms out from underneath his touch. “You feeling okay?”

Peter forces his face into a tight smile and straightens back out. “Mmmhmm,” his voice is higher than normal and he clears his throat. “Just peachy.”

“Do you have the keys?” Pepper asks from down the hall and Tony answers back in the affirmative.

“Alright, we gotta get going.” Tony extends an arm to Pepper and she laces hers around. “We shouldn’t be back too late, maybe elevenish. You know the drill. Dinner and bedtime like normal.” Peter nods and tries to ignore the tension building in the back of his neck.

Pepper walks down the hall and slings her purse over her shoulder before kneeling down to give Morgan a peck on the top of her head. “Be good for Peter, okay?”

Morgan nods and beams up at Peter, “We’re having a tea party, right Petey?”

Peter musters up a small smile to return to her. His head is pounding now and he leans against the wall for support. “Yep!”

“Well don’t have too much fun,” Tony shrugs his coat over his shoulders and him and Pepper step into the waiting elevator. They wave as the door closes.

“Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!” Morgan waves back.

She takes Peter’s hand and looks up at him. “Ready?” Peter nods. The headache is blinding now and he can hardly think straight. The room is spinning and waves of nausea roll over him to the point where he has to rest his hands on his knees until the bout passes.

“You okay?” Morgan rests a hand on Peter’s sleeve and sharp spikes of pain race up his veins towards his neck. He coils away from her touch and ends up on the ground. This can’t be good. He takes a breath and rolls up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. A raised red bump greets him.

The Starks’ garage was a mess. Old bots and other projects that Tony didn’t need anymore littered the floor and boxes of old tools and car parts were stacked up to the windows. At one point, Peter moved a stack of firewood into the house near the hearth. There was a nest of spiders wedged between the logs and Peter swears he saw one bite his arm. But he was sure it was nothing to be worried about. He was Spider-Man, after all. Whatever spider had bitten him, it was sure to be no worry.

But now, as he swallows back the bile rising in his throat and his arm that had been bitten throbbed so deeply he could barely think, he wasn’t so sure.

The skin around the bite was red and swollen but other than that didn’t look too abnormal. Peter rolls down his sleeve and forces his face into a smile. “I’m okay, Morgs.” Her face is unconvinced so he takes her hand with his good arm. “I’m okay.”

“Promise?” She holds out her pinky.

“Promise.” He hooks her pinky around hers and she nods. “Are you hungry? I think we should eat before we have our tea party.”

“Can we have dino nuggets?”

Peter pushes himself up off the floor and takes a moment to catch his breath before responding. “Whatever the princess wants.”

She takes his hand and pulls him towards the kitchen, slower than she normally would, but with all the usual enthusiasm. His feet blunder underneath him and legs float as if disconnected from the rest of his body. A bead of sweat races down his temple and he catches it with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

In the kitchen, he blows out a shaky breath and digs in the freezer for the chicken nuggets. His chest feels full of tissue paper and he can’t suck in a full breath.

Once the nuggets are in the oven and a glass of juice has been poured for Morgan, Peter searches through the cupboards for some tylenol or ibuprofen or anything really. Once he gets his hands on a bottle of ibuprofen, his shaking hands are barely able to twist the cap off, but once he does, he shakes out a handful of the tiny orange pills and swallows them, chasing them down with a glass of apple juice.

Some time passes and Morgan plays her music and Peter is almost able to take his mind off of the warning buzzing in the back of his neck and the increasingly painful stomach cramps that come and go like a wretched tide.

Once they’ve both eaten, (Morgan more than Peter, for once.) Morgan leads Peter down the hall to her room and shows him to a seat at a table set up with her pink-and-white porcelain tea set and stuffed animals resting in their own chairs in front of their own teacups and saucers.

Morgan picks up the teapot and “pours” the tea for herself and Peter and each of the guests at the table. Peter zones out for a moment, but Morgan must have said something to him because she’s staring at him expectantly.

“Petey?”

“Yeah?” Peter blinks. His stomach is full of bricks and it aches like it never has before. He clamps his arms around his middle and breathes as deeply as he is able.

“I said do you want sugar,” Morgan sighs, exasperated.

“I think I’m good.” Peter replies. He can no longer ignore the pain and his sweatshirt is damp with sweat.

Morgan sets the sugar bowl down on the table and rests her forearms on the white tablecloth. “You’re not very fun to play with today.”

Peter looks up and his head pounds. “I’m sorry babe. I just don’t feel very good. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”

Morgan sighs. “I guess. But only if it’s Nemo.”

“Nemo it is. You go get it started and I’ll be right in.”

As Morgan bounces off to the movie room, Peter stumbles into the bathroom, leaving the light off to ease his headache. He rests his head on the cool granite of the bathroom counter and breathes for a moment, working up the courage to fight back the nausea that threatened to cripple him. His heart is racing and so is his mind, trying to match up his symptoms with something, anything that he could remember from his time being a Boy Scout when he was younger and Ben was still around. It almost felt like it might be a black widow bite, but wouldn’t there be fang marks? Or maybe there wouldn’t, Peter doesn’t know.

“Petey? Are you coming?” Morgan’s voice pulls him from his head. He splashes water onto his face and takes small deliberate steps to avoid toppling on his way to the movie room. It’s only a couple rooms down the hall, but still, Peter is sweating and his legs are trembling and he practically collapses down onto the couch when he arrives. Breaths come in labored pulls and his head is swimming in pain.

Morgan orders FRIDAY to start the movie and FRIDAY complies, but Peter has a difficult time focusing on the movie, or anything besides controlling his breathing and not puking all over the rug.

Peter doesn’t know how, but somehow, he was able to make it through the movie and to Morgan’s bedtime. She had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he somehow hadn’t noticed until after the movie had ended.

He moves to wake her and everything hurts. He doesn’t remember feeling this horrible since the first spider bite. Oh no. It couldn’t be happening again, right? No, right. Yeah. It couldn’t happen again. Unless…

“Is it over?” Morgan sits up and rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“It’s over, baby. Time for bed. You should go and use the potty and brush your teeth really quick so we can get you to bed. It’s getting late.”

“I would do that all really quick if I could get a juice pop.”

Peter sighs. “Alright. One juice pop. Then bed.”

“Deal.” She hops up from the couch and bounds toward the kitchen.

Peter leans forward, an involuntary groan escaping from his lips as his stomach cramps again. When he stands, his vision blacks out, and he comes crashing down to the floor.

Tony’s watch buzzes on his real arm. Peter’s photo lights up the display. He pulls his phone from his pocket and picks up the call.

“Hey Pete, how’s it going? Everything alright on the home front?”

“Daddy?” Morgan’s voice is shrill, like it only is when she’s scared.

“Morgan? Are you okay?” This grabs Pepper’s attention and she comes closer to Tony and the two of them walk away from the center of the social circle to the outskirts where they can hear better.

“It’s Peter,” she says. “I think he fell down and now he’s sleeping really hard and I can’t wake him up.” Her voice wavers and Tony’s heart speeds up, fluttering and skipping over beats like they’re nonessential.

“It’s okay Morgie. You did great. Can you tell me where he fell?” Pepper’s eyes are wide and Tony fights to keep his demeanor calm when all he wants to do is freak out.

“In the movie room.”

“Did he hit his head when he fell?”

“I…” Morgan whimpers, “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay babe. No worries. Everything is all good. Mommy and I are going to be home in just a couple minutes, okay? It’s all going to be okay.”

“Okay…”

“I’m going to give the phone to Mommy, okay? And we’ll be home really soon.”

“Okay.”

He hands the phone to Pepper and they leave the party in a whirlwind of curt goodbyes and squealing tires until they are back at the apartment and running through the lobby, barking inquiries about Peter’s condition at FRIDAY.

When the elevator doors finally open at their penthouse apartment, Tony and Pepper sprint down the hall to the movie room. When they finally get there, Tony’s stomach drops. It’s a sight no parent should ever have to see, one of their kids pale and sweaty and passed out on the floor while the other looks on with tears in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks.

Tony skids across the floor and his knees creak when he droops down close to Peter (he would pay for that later). “Peter? Time to wake up buddy. It’s not bedtime yet.” He cups Peter’s cheek and he can see Pepper ushering Morgan out of the room out of the corner of his eye.

Peter shifts under Tony’s touch and groans. His eyes open, just slightly, and then close again. “Come on buddy. Talk to me. You can do it.”

“T’ny?” Peter breathes. His face is so pale. Way too pale.

“Yep, it’s me buddy. What’s going on?”

“I,” his face scrunches in pain and he lets out a breath, “I dunno.”

“It’s okay bud. No worries. Everything’s gonna be fine. Cho’s on her way, but she’s about 20 minutes out. Be honest, can you wait that long? Or should I take you to the ER?”

“I dunno.”

“Okay, okay. That’s fine. We’re gonna get this all sorted out, no problemo here.”

Peter hums and closes his eyes. “Oh, no siree, we’re gonna want you to keep those peepers open right now, okay? Peter? Open up.”

Peter hums again and opens his eyes back up. He gasps and sits up suddenly, like he just realized what was happening. “Morgan?” Peter whips his head around searching for the girl and Tony manhandles Peter back to the ground.

“Morgan’s fine, kiddo. She’s with Pepper.”

He blows out a breath. “Okay, that’s good. That’s good.”

“How long have you been feeling this miserable bud?” Tony maneuvers himself so that Peter’s head on his thigh and he tangles his fingers in Peter’s sweaty curls.

“Since yesterday. Got bit by a spider.”

“Again bud? You have quite the luck with spiders, huh?”

Peter squints up at Tony. “Could you turn the lights down? Head hurts.”

“FRIDAY, lights down to 15 percent.” She complies.

“Tony, I don’t—“ Peter claps his hand over his mouth and gags.

“Woah, it’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s get you—“ he pushes Peter up into a sitting position and rubs his back. Peter gags again and vomit splashes onto the dark carpet. “There you go. You’re okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sor—“ he doubles over again and groans.

“Hey, it’s all good. No apologies here. I was thinking this rug was getting to be out-of-style anyways.” Peter just whimpers.

“It hurts Tony. Like, really bad.”

“I know bud. I’m so sorry.”

Peter leans into Tony’s chest and Tony rubs his shoulders. “Make it stop,” Peter whines. “Make it stop, Tony, please.”

Tony holds Peter closer. Peter is hot. Like, just-ran-three-miles-in-the-August-heat hot. “FRI, ETA on Cho?”

“Helen Cho will arrive in seven minutes.” Even though she’s just an AI, Tony swears her tone is sympathetic.

“Can you tell me where it hurts bud?”

“My stomach and… my— oh Tony my head too.”

“Cho’s gonna be here any minute bud. Just hang in there.”

“Mmhmm,” Peter nods into Tony’s chest and he can tell that he’s crying. It makes his heart ache.

The next seven minutes pass slowly and painfully, but somehow, they pass. When Cho gets there, she takes the situation by storm and all Tony can do is watch.

“Did he say what kind of spider it was?” She pricks the back of Peter’s hand with a needle and hands Tony the saline bag with instruction to squeeze.

“Uh, no he didn’t.”

“How long has it been since he was bitten?”

“36 hours, max.”

“And what are his symptoms?”

“He said his head hurt, and his stomach. Fever and sweating. Nausea and vomiting too.”

She holds his eyelids up and flashes a penlight into both of his eyes. “Anything you want to add, Peter?”

“Hard to breathe. Can’t really move my legs.”

“Got it. It sounds to me like this might be a black widow bite. Were there two fang marks at the bite site?”

“I don’t… I don’t remember.”

“It’s okay. No worries. I’m going to give you muscle relaxants, painkillers, and something for the nausea.” She digs around in her kit and produces three syringes that she systematically plunges into Peter’s saline line.

“Givit to me straight, doc,” Peter slurs. “How long do I got?”

Cho huffs our a laugh. “You’ll be fine, Peter.”

“Oh goodie.”

“Yes ‘oh goodie’. You’ll still be hurting for a couple more hours, but we just gotta let the venom flush out of your system. So that means lots and lots of water.”

“Hope I don’ drown.”

“Looks like those painkillers are kicking in nicely,” Cho smiles as she packs up her bag. “Call me if anything changes.”

“Thank you.” Tony puts a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s no problem.”

As Peter fades in and out of consciousness, Tony works on getting him cleaned up and changed into a pair of Tony’s old sweats, carefully threading the IV line through the sleeves of his sweat-damp hoodie. The bite is swollen and red and Tony feels sick at the thought of Peter feeling so horrible for so long.

Tony wedges his arm under Peter’s and the two of them wobble over to Peter’s room together. Peter collapses into the bed and Tony helps him get comfortable, pulling up the comforter and brushing his slightly-too-long curls off of his clammy forehead.

“Daddy?” Tony whips his head around.

“Morgan? Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?” He sits on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Morgan just shrugs and fists her pajama shirt in her hands. He beckons her over and pats his knee. “C’mere madam secretary.” He pulls her close and bumps heads with her. “Pete’s fine. See?” He points over at Peter, and Peter raises his arm in a pathetic wave.

“Hiii Morgie,” Peter says, a touch too loud. “I’m gettin’ aaalllll better. No problems here, no siree.”

“See babe? He’s fantastic. A little high, but other than that, he’s doing great.”

Morgan looks back up at Tony and sniffles. “Are you sure?”

“Sure? Honey, I’m positive.” Morgan nods and crawls up into the bed with Peter, where he tucks her under his arm.

“Well,” Tony slaps his knees, “I think I’m going to turn in for the night. Holler if you need anything, okay?” Peter mumbles something along the lines of ‘okay’ and Tony switches off the lamp. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too,” Peter mumbles and Tony’s heart melts.

[softspiderling]

1 w/peter please 💛

Small kisses littered across the other’s face from this prompt list

“Coming, coming!” May called out, her voice muffled from within the apartment. When she opened the door, her smile wavered at the sight of your splotched cheeks.

“Hi May,” you said with a strained voice. “Is Peter here?”

May eyed you warily. “No, he’s at Ned’s. Something about building the new Yoda lego set?”

You huffed out in annoyance and your hands balled into fists. 

“I knew it!” you grumbled and followed May inside the apartment when the older woman gestured for you to come inside. She was hoping to diffuse the situation with a hot cocoa.

“What did my nephew do now?” she asked, leading you to the couch and sitting down with you.

“He was supposed to meet me at MoMa. We wanted to see Banksy’s new piece and it was his idea. I can’t believe he stood me up!”

May winced and scratched the back of her head. Yeah, that was not going to be solved with a hot cocoa.

“I am sorry honey, I am sure he didn’t mean to forget about you. Do you want a hot cocoa?”

It wouldn’t hurt to try right?

“No thank you. Can I wait in his bedroom for him?”

May nodded, gesturing her arms towards Peter’s bedroom.

“Sure honey, knock yourself out.”

“Thanks May,” you said and with a small smile, you headed to Peter’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Toeing your shoes off, you dropped down on Peter’s bed with a loud sigh. You weren’t that mad, more annoyed actually. But that didn’t mean that it was okay that Peter stood you up. So you reached for a book that laid on Peter’s nightstand and hoped that he’d come home soon, so you could yell at him.

About half an hour later, you could hear the front door open and Peter calling out to May, so you quickly put the book away. Peter and May talked for a bit and you couldn’t quiet hear what it was they were talking about, but you were about 90% sure that May wasn’t going to tell on you. So when you heard footsteps come closer, you sat up on the edge of the bed and crossed your arms, raising a brow at Peter when he came through the door.

At first Peter seemed genuinely surprised to see you, judged by his face, but the smile quickly dropped when it dawned on him.

“Oh crap.”

“Yeah, ‘oh crap’ seems about right,” you scoffed, standing up to put your shoes back on.

Peter dropped his backpack on the floor and rushed towards you, engulfing you in a big hug.

“I am so sorry, babe! Ned just texted me about the new Yoda lego set he got and I thought I’d just swing by real quick before coming to meet you and then I just forgot. Please don’t be mad?”

Huffing out against his chest, you rolled your eyes at him. You couldn’t even be mad at him. He sounded so excited when he talked about the new lego set.

“You’re a real piece of work, Peter.”

Peter pulled away just slightly to pepper small kisses all over your face, only stopping when you pushed him away with laughter.

“Fine, I am not mad, just stop, you’re slobbering all over me,” you said matter of factly and he only grinned toothily at you.

“I was just really looking forwards to seeing Banksy’s new piece. And today was our last chance, they’re bringing it to London tomorrow.”

He shrugged with his shoulders and held you close. “I mean, I could make it up to you.”

“How?” you asked, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“I could have Happy fly us to London with Mr. Stark’s jet and we could check Banksy’s new piece out there.”

“You’re not flying me out to London to see Banksy’s new piece.”

“No I am not,” Peter agreed, but the smile on his face was still far too wide for your liking. “But Mr. Stark is one of the main sponsors of MoMa and I am pretty sure that I can get us a private tour at MoMa tonight.”

[s-horne]

30. “Detention, again?” (Steve/Tony)

“Where’s Peter?” Tony asked as he walked into the kitchen, wiping his hands on his jeans absentmindedly. Huh, the jeans didn’t seem like his usual style and his shirt was definitely a little too old-manish for his liking. “That kid is always late home these days. Did he get detention again?”

There was a beat of silence and Tony looked up to see Steve and Bucky sharing a glance. Something started to stir in his stomach and he was suddenly on alert. What was wrong? What had he said?

“What?”

“Tony,” Steve started, voice soft as though talking to a frightened animal and, man, Tony had always hated when his husband spoke like that. “Peter doesn’t live here anymore.”

“What?” Tony felt his world slip sideways and he reached out to grab at the counter behind him. What was Steve on about? Of course Peter lived with them. He was their son. “Of course he does.”

They’d had Peter since he was a child, picked him up on a beautiful sunny day in May and promised him that he would be theirs until the end of time. They were good parents, him and Steve.

They hadn’t lost him, had they? No, he told himself fiercely, trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat, they were good parents. Peter was loved and there was no way that he would have been taken away from them.

Except that now Tony thought about it, there weren’t any sneakers by the door nor did he remember seeing any of Peter’s coats hanging in the cupboard when he’d hung up his jacket. There weren’t any textbooks littering the living room or any Legos on the floor for Tony to dodge. The kid had a habit of leaving a trial of his possessions behind him and Tony couldn’t see any dirty dishes in the sink – washing up was Peter’s job and he always did it when he got in from school. There wasn’t any music playing, either, and Peter always had music on, no matter what. So where the hell was he?

Tony let his gaze wander over to the fridge where there should have been numerous scribbled drawings that were meant to be representations of Tony and Steve but barely resembled blobs. Tony couldn’t see the unit very clearly without his glasses on, but he could see that there were less pieces of white printer paper and more sticky notes with very adult-looking lists on them. At the top of the door was a thin strip of photographs held in place by a large Mickey Mouse magnet. The photos were tiny, but Tony could just make out a graduation cap proudly taking up most of the frame. They didn’t know anyone that would be graduating, not for a few years at least. 

Tony tugged his gaze from the photos and looked over at Steve. His husband was looking back at him, sadness clear in those gorgeous blue eyes and Tony felt the strange urge to cry.

“He’s at college?”

Steve’s mouth twisted and Tony dropped his eyes. Ah. Clearly Peter was no longer at college – just how many years was Tony missing? 

“He graduated,” Bucky said. He took a final sip from the mug in front of him as he pushed his chair back and stood up from the table. “A couple of years ago now. Great ceremony, actually. We all went up and made a weekend of it.”

Bucky’s voice was unusually gentle and Tony looked up at him. It was a jolt to his system to see wrinkles on the face looking back at him, crow’s feet clear around Bucky’s eyes. Tony had been expecting to see a youthful complexion – the same one that he was so used to. To see evidence of years that Tony clearly couldn’t remember staring at him was one step too far. The urge to run to a mirror and simultaneously stay as far away from one as possible hit him suddenly and it was hard to breathe, pain striking Tony through the chest.

He looked back over at Steve and that time he couldn’t help but track every single change on his beautiful husband’s face that his subconscious hadn’t let him see before. This wasn’t right. It just wasn’t, couldn’t be, right.

Steve wasn’t old; he was still so young. They were both so young, running around their little boy kept them that way. Steve was meant to have smooth skin and dark brown hair – as attractive as the salt and pepper look was, it wasn’t right on his husband.

“So,” Tony cleared his throat, turning to stare at Bucky in disbelief, “where does my son live now?”

“Boston.”

Tony’s knees buckled and he was glad for the counter behind him. He couldn’t look at the pain etched in Steve’s face or the sympathy in Bucky’s so instead he focused on the floor. Even that made him want to sob; the kitchen had had grey tiles when Tony had last looked, so why were they now blue?

His little boy, his mind flickered back to. Tony’s little boy was apparently no longer a child. He was living in Boston and Tony didn’t even remember saying goodbye.

“I’d better go, Stevie,” Tony vaguely heard Bucky saying. “Let’s leave dinner tonight, yeah? We can do it tomorrow instead. Call me if you need anything.”

Tony nodded some sort of assent when he felt a hand squeeze his elbow and a body brush past him, but he didn’t move until he heard the front door close and arms wrapped around his shoulders.

Tony fell into Steve’s embrace without a second thought – whatever had changed, Steve’s touch would never be any different, nor would the comfort that it brought.

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s okay, I promise.”

Tony clutched at Steve as he tried to calm himself. It was frightening, but he trusted Steve’s whispered words. Steve would never steer him wrong; if he said they were okay, then they were okay.

“What’s wrong with me? And don’t you dare lie.”

Steve let out a sigh as he gathered Tony even closer, a hand cupping his neck and squeezing ever so lightly. “Dementia,” he finally replied, flat and dull. “You have dementia.”

Tony didn’t really know what to say to that. He was glad that his head was buried in Steve’s chest and he spent a long moment trying to breathe, in and out and in and out.

He knew what dementia was, of course. That much he would never forget. His grandad had had it, after all. Way back when he was a teenager, Tony had spent hours flicking through photo albums and talking to his grandad in a soft voice, reminding the man of his name over and over again. And now Peter was going to have to do the same.

“Am I…”

“No,” Steve was quick to reply, pressing a kiss to Tony’s head and letting out a shuddering breath. “It’s just a bad day, Tony. That’s all it is. You haven’t had one in a long time – we thought you were... It’s alright, though. Everything’s okay. It’s just a bad day.”

It wasn’t. Tony knew that much and he knew that Steve knew it too. He’d lost years in the space of an hour. He had gone to sleep seemingly in the present and when he’d woken up from his nap, he’d thought his son was still at high school. But apparently Peter had graduated from college and moved out of state. When Tony had woken up from his nap, he’d expected to walk into a grey-floored kitchen and to go out to dinner with a fresh-faced Bucky Barnes. But no. Their kitchen was now a hideous shade of blue and his husband’s best friend was pushing sixty.

Tony took a deep breath and reached around Steve’s waist to link his hands, twisting his wedding ring around his finger to ground himself.

“Do you want to call him? We were meant to talk to him tomorrow anyway.”

Tony didn’t trust his voice, but he needed to hear his son’s. He nodded against Steve’s chest and let himself have one more moment of calm before he pulled away.

 /

 “Hey, kid,” Steve said, setting the phone down between them on the coffee table and sitting back on the couch.

“Hi,” came Peter’s lovely voice through the device and Tony felt a rush of relief wash over him. That was his kid alright, safe and alive. So close and yet so horribly far away at the same time. “Everything alright, Pops? I thought we said tomorrow, didn’t we?”

Steve squeezed Tony’s arm and gave a soft smile. “Yes, we did. Your Dad just wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” Peter said, something in his tone that Tony didn’t want to dwell on. His next words were a lot brighter and Tony swallowed. “How’s the fence looking, Dad?”

Tony couldn’t remember for the life of him what was wrong with the fence or what he’d been doing to it. “It’s looking like a fence,” he replied and Steve chuckled. Clearly their stupid sense of humour hadn’t changed. “How’s Boston?”

There was the smallest pause before Peter started talking, well, gushing, really. “It’s incredible, Dad! The weather’s been really nice this week so I’ve been walking to work more and more…”

The more that Peter talked, the more obvious it became that he knew what the purpose of the call was. It was clear that Peter had been living in Boston for a while though he was trying to disguise that, changing tenses or dates when he was recounting stories and telling Tony about all of the places he liked to go to eat.

Every time it happened it tugged at Tony’s heart, knowing how much Peter was accommodating to help him, but he chose not to focus on it too heavily. This was his beautiful little boy, the light of Tony’s life. No matter what else was happening in Tony’s life, he had Peter. He leant back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes, letting his darling boy’s voice wash over him. As much as he was desperate to remember every tiny detail that Peter was sharing and to file it away and never forget, Tony knew that it was never going to happen.

       Tony was jolted back to the present by a voice in the background of the call. He couldn’t make it out too clearly, but Peter turned away from the speaker to answer whoever it was.

“I’ll be there in a moment, sweetheart.”

“He got that from you,” Tony commented, trying not to think about the ache in his heart at the sound of his little boy addressing someone he didn’t know with that endearment. It was easier to think about what he did know, who he knew. Focus on the things that would never change.

Steve smiled and leant over to press a kiss to Tony’s temple. “That he did, sweetheart.”

“Dad, I’m sorry, but I have to go. Is everything okay, Pops?”

Tony wanted to cry, but he wiped at his eyes to stave away any horrible tears. “Okay, kiddo. That’s okay.”

“Yeah, Pete, we’re fine. Aren’t we, Tony? We’ve got this.”

Tony swallowed and nodded as firmly as he could. “Of course we do. It’s only a fence, right?”

It was the right thing to say as Steve and Peter laughed together, a little wet but bright. “Of course.”

“That it is, Dad. You can manage a fence, surely. But I can come over next weekend, if you need an extra pair of hands. In fact, we’re both free that whole week. Shall I look at flights?”

Tony looked down at his hands, counting the age spots that hadn’t been there last time he had looked. But last time he’d looked, his boy was also just a baby in his arms. Or at middle-school science club. Or in detention at high school. Well, wherever he was, it wasn’t in Boston living with a partner.

“Maybe, kid,” Steve said quietly, thoughtfully. “If you can.”

“Of course. That fence can be a right bastard, can’t it? It won’t hurt to have a few people keeping an eye on it.”

“That would be lovely.” Steve patted Tony’s knee and fixed his smile.” Okay, we’ll let you go. Have a good night, Pete.”

“You too, Pops. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Peter-Pan,” Tony said quietly, wishing that Peter had hung up the phone before he had let out his loud sob.

      “He’s married?” Tony asked when Steve had placed the phone down on the side table, call ended and just the two of them left in their far-too-big house.

“Engaged.” 

“Oh.” Tony tried to smile. “Least I haven’t missed the wedding, then.” 

Steve’s face crumpled and he pulled Tony into his arms. “Do you want to know who, when?” he asked into Tony’s hair.

Tony shook his head. He did, desperately, in fact, but he really didn’t think he could cope with it just then. He didn’t want to have lost all of this. He didn’t want to have missed out on so many precious years.

How could he have forgotten Peter’s graduation or his own son’s first kiss? How did he not remember seeing the first streak of grey in Steve’s hair and the no-doubt-countless hours of teasing him about it? Tony wanted to remember; he wanted it all back to normal.

He shook his head again and reached out for Steve. When Steve tugged him into his hold, he collapsed into his chest almost desperately.

“He’s upstairs,” Tony whispered into Steve’s shoulder and tightened his arms. “Just tell me he’s upstairs. Please.”

Tony tried not to let tears escape when he felt Steve press a kiss to the top of his head. 

“He’s upstairs,” Steve agreed almost immediately and Tony did his very best to not listen to the tremble in his voice. He shut his eyes and let out a breath, casting his mind back to the very first day they’d brought Peter home, so tiny and fragile.

“He’s just upstairs. Science homework, you know how it is. We’ll have to drag him out for dinner.”

“He’s going to do great things,” Tony said, swallowing hard. “My little scientist.” 

“That he is,” Steve replied, his hands soothing over Tony’s back. “Oh, sweetheart, that he is.”

[notyetneedcoffee]

Wow!

I can hardly you’ve help me reach over 250 followers already. That blows my mind! Thanks to everyone for all the great feedback and encouraging likes. 

In celebration, I’m posting a prompts list. Feel free to pick one or two and shoot me a request. Let me know which Avenger(s) your interested in and if you have any “special” requests.

1. He sat in the corner staring you, just like he did every morning when you got coffee.

2. There was a secret meeting tonight and you’d never make it if you couldn’t find your pants.  

3. “Oh my God, is that an Ice Cream Truck?”

4. A hostage situation was not how you want to start your Monday morning.

5. You should have never looked that up on the internet.  

6. “How did you know to kiss me there?”

7. And there it was, your biggest secret on the 10 o’clock news.

8. “Hey, anything is murder weapon if you’re creative enough.”

9. He pulled on the Care Bear tee shirt and smiled.

10. “Hey, you’re the one who kidnapped me, remember?”

11. Why was the floor covered in broken glass?

12. The leather felt soft and warm.  

13. The car may be broken down, but at least it was shelter from the rain.

14. “THAT’S your password?!”

15. She moved way too fast for a lady of her age.

16. You could taste traces of salt and smoke on his skin.

17. “Don’t be such a grump, everyone likes ice cream.”

18. Why does my pillow smell like wet dog?

19. Who knew such a big guy would be afraid of a little spider?

20. You never expected him to bring you a cupcake.

21. “Do that again and I will spank you!”

22. The handwriting was perfect, like out of a calligrapher’s book.

23. He looked so young in the photograph.

24. A blood curdling scream interrupted the movie.

25. The entire tray of glasses crashed to the floor, but no one moved.

26. “Stay put, or I swear I will tie you down.”

27. The bouquet of balloons took up the whole van.

28. “I swore I would never lend him anything ever again.”

29. That thing was dead, no denying it.  

30. Of all days not to wear underwear, why today?

31. “Is wrong that I like that so much?”

32. The calmness in the room freaked you out.

33. Ice crystals covered just the body.

34. He ended up covered in dog fur.

35. “Please stay.”

36. You saw it slip into the tall grass.

37. Your blood chilled at that smile.

38. The sound of crying pulled you out of a sound sleep.

39. It had been four days too many.

40. “I haven’t tried this on an actual person yet, but it should be okay.”

41. The minute the sweet, pungent scent registered in your brain, I knew it was too late.

42. A tiny key fell out of your pocket and you had no idea how it got there.

43. “Come on, man! Don’t make me do this alone!”

44. Dammit, that was your favorite bra.

45. “After all this time, you would think I would be used to weird.”  

46. The hoodie smelled like him.

47. “Ha! You’re ticklish!”

48. You tried not to make a sound, but it was so difficult.

49. No one had proof, but the smirk said everything.

50. He even knew how you took your coffee.

51. “Why do you have glitter in your hair?”

52. Waking up to bright lights and the smell of disinfectant is never a good sign.

53. The point of the knife nicked the skin of your throat.

54. The last drop of whiskey fell from the bottle.

55. “You are not going outside in that!”

56. That sofa would never be the same again.

57. "I am not eating that.”

58. His hand slid under the blanket where no one could see.

59. The images on the drive had to be erased.

60. We all watched, afraid he would kill him.

61. Well, that was a malfunction if ever there was one.

62. The explosion left you ears ringing.

63. You couldn’t remember tasting anything so good.

64. “Right there. Deeper.”

65. His knee bounced up and down rapidly.

66. Finding him tied up in the kitchen was not the strangest thing to happen that week.

67. The shouts echoed clear across the floor.

68. “Touch her again and lose that hand.”

69. No one has the right to smell that good.

70. “I know it’s stupid to cry over a pair of jeans.”

71. The rank smelling water from the sprinkler system soaked the furniture.

72. If that music continued, he would likely murder someone.

73. “Why can’t you ever just do as you’re told?”

74. He washed away the grime with gentle hands.

75. Who knew so much could fit in a purse?

76. The cold water ripped the breath from his lungs.

77. “Um, I think she’d like the purple one.”

78. The flavor landed somewhere between rotten fruit and ass.

79. Who knew airbags actually hurt so bad.

80. “Get a room!”

81. Legos littered the conference room floor like colorful landmines.  

82. At some point the music stopped, but you didn’t notice.

83. You knew laughing was inappropriate, but the corpse looked hilarious.  

84. He sat off on his own, staring into nothingness, while the party raged around him.

85. Bright yellow ‘be happy’ panties hung from the ceiling light.  

86. “I don’t know if I remember how, but I would think it’s like riding a bike.”

87. The light was assaulting, brutal after such a night.

88. The alley smelled like stale beer and piss. At least somethings hadn’t changed.

89. The drug did its job way faster than anticipated.

90. “I haven’t heard this song in years!”

91. A small herd of baby miniature goats ran out of the elevator.

92. Cake for breakfast seemed like a great idea.  

93. The upside car in the lobby should have been worrisome.

94. “I just want a cup of coffee!”

95. Porn on a 200 inch screen was a whole new experience.  

96. Water washed away all the evidence as it spiraled down the drain.

97. “I’m not the person you think I am.”

98. The child stopped crying as soon as he picked her up.

99. People scattered, terrified and screaming.

100. It felt like coming home.  

[unabashedly-here]

Summary: Y/N has been living on the streets for a few months now and finds a temporary home near a street market where pickpocketing is common practice. She might have contributed to the reputation as well, but she had to survive somehow. Peter Parker, once a nobody, is revealed as Spider-Man by Tony Stark and given a place on the Avengers. It was his dream come true, but being locked away in the Avengers Compound was not the fantasy he envisioned. After trying to sneak out, Peter finds himself angering a vendor in the street market where he catches the attention of Y/N.


Word Count: 2.1k


Warnings: swearing, threats.


masterlist // next chapter 


Like every morning, despite how the weather might have been, the streets became quieter as the people went inside. Well, quiet for a city. It is never truly quiet, after all. In the quieter parts of the city, the bustling streets changed into the quiet neighborhood it will most likely remain until the end of the day. Only a few people remained, like a woman walking her dog, cursing herself for going out without a proper jacket, a couple with a stroller, just glad that the baby has stopped crying, and the man fumbling with the papers in his briefcase before running down the street and hoping his boss will be in a good mood. Even then, they soon disappeared, leaving only you. You were dressed in a black coat that did not completely shield you from the cold, but you weren’t bothered.


You were far away from where you have been staying for the past few months. The night before, you started walking and didn’t look back once. It was quite cold, but you didn’t really care. Fumbling with the pack in your pocket, you managed to get the last cigarette out. Your lighter wasn’t as new as it once was, but the black lighter did its job. As well as providing a bit of warmth, the cigarette also managed to calm your shaking hands. Taking a few long drags, you smiled slightly and leaned back on the bench.


As you started the walk back to Greenwich, you realized just how quickly your last cigarette went. Looking at the butt in your hand, you remembered when your mother first found out that you smoked. It was after a party and you came home, not trying to hide the unmistakable scent at all. Her expression was unreadable, almost as if the smell transported her somewhere else. The disappointment in her voice wasn’t enough to get you to quit the habit, but it did make you perfect hiding that you smoked. Nothing made you quit, not even your mother’s death. 


Your hands started shaking slightly and you cursed yourself. The nicer neighborhood slowly shifted into the gritty neighborhood you knew and hated. Your cigarette butt was thrown on the ground, joining the many others littering the sidewalks. Maybe the taxes were supposed to keep the streets clean, but you didn’t pay taxes so why would you expect it? Shoving your hands in your pockets, you slouched your shoulders and kept your head down as you walked past the slightly more active part of the city. It was just not a nice activity, compared to where you found yourself this morning.


The street market seemed friendly enough if someone was a tourist, but the nice enough exterior hid what really went on. Stealing and pick pocketing were common occurrences in the market. A purse gone there or some food stolen there. Tourists who are not overly cautious normally leave the market with a few less things without ever knowing. You should know. You contributed to quite a few of these minor acts of thieving.


Most of the time, you stole food to live off of. Maybe you took some money when it was out in the open, but you rarely stole things like rings, watches, or phones from unsuspecting people. Stealing was your last resort to survive on your own, but you didn’t feel particularly hungry right then. The effects of smoking on an empty stomach might hit later and you couldn’t care less. Finally you stopped in front of an abandoned building. There used to be a For Sale sign, but it was long since kicked over. Anyone else might have been scared to entered the old factory with untold terrors and creaking floors. Checking to see that no one was noticing you, you ducked into the building through a hole that was covered on the inside by a piece of old cloth. 


You rarely spent the night inside unless it was too windy and you needed the walls to shield it. More likely, you were hanging out on the roof which gave you the perfect view of the shitty place you called home. Four months ago, your mother died in a car crash and, to escape being put into the foster system, you ran away. The two of you weren’t very well off financially and there wasn’t a lot of money to take before you left so you had to make do with what you had and learn to survive. Tears prickled in your eyes and you aggressively shoved them away. Living by yourself in an abandoned factory and stealing until you were eighteen and not legally considered a runaway. ‘Mom sure must be proud of me,’ you thought bitterly. 

A sound from the market place below interrupted your pity party. Curiously glancing over, you saw someone with their hood up getting pushed around. “Poor sucker,” you muttered to yourself, prepared to rest a bit after your night away. Whatever was happening down there was none of your business and the guy had to learn not to wander into bad areas if he couldn’t defend himself. The ruckus continued as you glanced one more time. Someone you vaguely knew had a grip on the guy and anyone from a mile away could see the threats coming from his mouth. There were oranges all over the floor and the guy had one in his hand. Debating with yourself, you shook your head and stated, “Fuck it.” 


While you found yourself in a nicer neighborhood early that morning, Peter Parker was planning his escape from the Avengers Compound. Ever since Tony Stark revealed to the world that he was Spider-Man, he had been trapped in the compound everyday with school work and training. Sure, it was cool, but Mr. Stark was very strict about letting Peter leave to visit his friends. He only really let him visit Aunt May and only when he was with him. Well, Ned managed to save up his money to get the Lego Millennium Falcon and wanted Peter to hang out for a bit. Mr. Stark said no, but Peter was determined. 


Karen helped him alter FRIDAY so that Mr. Stark would see him training for the next few hours. Not wanting to draw much attention, he packed his Spider-Man suit and went out in normal clothes. It took him a while to get into the city, but he managed after an hour. It had been a long time since Peter was in the city and, although he remembered most of the streets to go down, he thought he saw Happy further down the street. It must have been paranoia, yet he dared not to take any chances. 

He pulled his hood up and turned suddenly down a street. 
The street he went down was full of markets and he dared not look at the vendors in the eye. Peter was fully aware he was in a bad part of New York so he just had to get through quickly without drawing too much attention to himself. With his head down, he managed to get through most of the street. It wasn’t until a vendor noticed him and tried to stop him. Peter violently jerked in the other direction only to bump into another guy. The burly fellow merely shoved Peter away. His reflexes kicked in and he steadied himself. Peter caught his breath and took another step. 


A stand selling questionable looking fruit was in front of him, but Peter’s reflexes, which were still high wired from his little situation, saw that it was going to fall after a girl accidentally knocked into it. The oranges went everywhere, much to the vendor’s dismay. Peter managed to pick a few up quickly and walked closer to hand them over. The man looked at him with pure hatred and placed a meaty hand on Peter’s shoulders. “I wouldn’t run away, thief,” he threatened, “I’mma show you why people know not to steal from me.”


“No, sir,” Peter said meekly, trying to hand over the oranges, “I was just trying to help.” He would be able to easily get out of the man’s grip, yet the man would know something was up and Peter just wanted to get out with no issue. His nose crinkled at the man’s foul breath as he tried to smile, as if that would make the man trust him more.


“Oh, sure. People like you just want to “help”, do you?” His sarcasm was practically dripping from his voice. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”


Based on his nearly graying hair and the wrinkles around his eyes, Peter could have guessed. “Seriously, I don’t want trouble-”


The man scoffed, “Think I wanted this either?” His grip went down to Peter’s wrist and his beady eyes seemed focused. He wouldn’t try to break his arm, would he? He would heal, but then Mr. Stark would definitely know that Peter had snuck out. Before he could slip out of his grip, he heard someone very close. “Oh, there you are!”

 He turned to see a girl, seemingly his age. You were expertly dodging people as if you’ve had years of experience. You weren’t necessarily dirty, but Peter could only guess that your home, wherever it might be, wasn’t the best. Your clothes were worn down and smelled like smoke. 
However you might have looked, you seemed to be talking to Peter and you might just be his way out of this. “Uh, yeah!” he tried to say confidently, “Here I am!” 


Your eyes sparkled mischievously and you subtly winked at him before turning to the man, still gripping Peter’s wrist. “Axel, this is a complete misunderstanding!”


“Are you telling me that I’m stupid?” Axel growled, his hand tightening. “You better head out, Y/N. I have no problem with you, but, if you stay, I might.”


Peter worriedly looked at you. He didn’t want someone to get hurt for him. He had to use his powers even if that meant getting in trouble with Mr. Stark. Before he could do anything, he jumped when you grabbed his free hand. “I’m not saying you’re stupid,” you said calmly, “This is my cousin, Damon. He just doesn’t know how things are done here.” Looking around, your eyes met Axel’s in a knowing glance. “His father is a police officer. You don’t want the police here more often than they already are, do you?”


The fire in Axel’s eyes died quickly at the mention of police and he dropped Peter’s wrist as if it burned him. “Okay, just keep him out of here,” he tried to threaten the two of them. 


“Ah, don’t worry,” you reassured, “He won’t be around here much longer. Damon’s just here to pick something up.” With that, you led him away from Axel who began picking up the oranges and mumbling. Quickly, you dragged him to the edge of the street and took a side street to an abandoned factory. Turning back towards the boy you just helped, you noticed how, even though his fiddling hands and facial expressions suggested an awkward teenage boy, his body language was deliberate, as if he was aware of everything going around him. “That’s a main street,” you mentioned, gesturing to the street next to them, “You’ll be fine there. I wouldn’t come back.” Looking back into the vendors, you stated, “Axel holds grudges like no one you would believe.” 
The boy only nodded so you went towards your makeshift entrance. 

Checking to see if any police were passing by, you met the boy’s eyes. He seemed still surprised to be in this situation. The two of you stared at each other for a while until you realized just how tense he was. The boy was on edge and seemingly jumpy as hell. “Hey, it’s okay,” you tried to comfort him, “It’s over now.” With that, you went into the factory without looking back. You just wanted to plan for how you were going to eat later.


Peter looked back at the busy street and took a small step before looking back at where you just entered. Why were you hanging out in an abandoned factory? It seemed suspicious and Peter knew, that if he didn’t go inside to check out what was going on, it would be the only thing on his mind. He quickly sent a text to Ned, saying that he couldn’t make it, and moved the cloth out of his way. You were wrong, to say the least. It was far from over.

[storageunits2020-blog]

Storage Units

15 Reasons Why You Should Be Storing Stuff You’re Not Using

Clear up your life, and stash away your stuff.

Ladies and gents, our society has a “stuff” addiction. Our society glamorizes shopping, encourages us to buy stuff we don’t need, and also tends to suggest we constantly upgrade. Stuff can be good, but there’s always truth to the phrase “too much of a good thing.”

If you’re big into shopping or just buying the latest and greatest, you might end up with a lot of gear that we just don’t really have room for. Sure, certain things can be useful once in a while, but that doesn’t mean that we always have room for it.

People who are highly minimalistic will tell you that having too much stuff in your home can cause a lot of problems. If you’re ready to start clearing up your life, it may be time to look into storage services like Shed.

You would be shocked at how much of a difference using storage can make. The reasons described below are proof that storing little-used items can help you change your life for the better.

Storing little-used items in a separate area makes your home easier to clean.

Did you ever notice how much dust tends to collect when your table is filled with odds and ends? Anyone who has tried to clean a room filled with items that are barely ever used can tell you that every extra item you own will make a room harder and more time-consuming to clean.

The more items you have in your home, the harder it is to keep your home from turning into a mess. If you hate cleaning, then you really should start moving items into a separate storage facility. When you have fewer items to pick up, move around, polish, and dust, your cleaning time drops.

The biggest change you’ll notice is how much more relaxed you are without a home jam-packed with stuff.

Did you ever notice how suffocating being in a home that’s filled to the brim with items can be? If you get a bit more annoyed and agitated in rooms that are crowded with things that are never used, you’re not alone.

Apparently, storing away things that don’t get much use can help ease anxiety and promote mental wellbeing. Studies have shown that rooms that have less objects inside them are seen as more relaxing.

The biggest issue people have when they decide to get rid of stuff in their homes is the potential of losing things that they may eventually need. That’s why it’s often wiser to use a storage service like Shed than it is to just toss out things that you use once in a blue moon.

With Shed, if you need one of the items that you have in storage, you just need to order it back to your home via the easy-to-use app. Within two to five hours, that item will be delivered to your home. When you’re ready to get it out of your home again, just call up Shed to have them bring it back into storage.

It’s easier to find things when you have less to sort through.

Did you ever have to sort through a messy house to try to find your keys? It’s a chaotic ordeal that can make you late for an appointment or just make you feel lost. If you’ve ever had to bolt through rooms, tipping over every little thing to find your keys or wallet, you already know how aggravating it is.

Most of us have had points where the stuff we’ve bought hindered our ability to keep ourselves organized. Putting stuff you don’t regularly use in storage cuts the need to hunt for keys, wallets, and other daily use items in half.

More stuff means more allergies.

Stuff collects dust, especially if it isn’t frequently used. The more cluttered up your place is, the more dust will collect. If you have allergies, all that extra dust can take a serious toll on your health and wellbeing.

Take a look around your home. Do you find yourself in an uphill battle with dust? If so, it may be time to clear out your home of the things you really don’t need.

It also dissuades unwanted pests.

There’s a reason why pests are attracted to hoarder homes, you know. Excess items give bugs and other pests new places to hide, multiply, and skitter around unnoticed. It’s also way harder to clean areas that have too many obstacles, which makes it possible for errant crumbs to turn into food for smaller critters.

By reducing the amount of goods you have in your home, you make your place less hospital to creepy crawlies. That’s actually why many pest control experts emphasize keeping a clean, litter-free home.

Having less stuff around your home is also seen as more visually appealing.

Most people can tell you that hotel rooms often seem to emphasize a mess-free aesthetic that keeps things bare-bones. That’s by design—and not just because it’s easier for the staff members to clean, either.

Visually speaking, minimalist homes tends to be seen as more appealing, more organized, and more enjoyable. Keeping your items to a minimum is a great way to make sure that you have a home that will continue to elicit compliments from guests for years to come.

Most people also enjoy having more space.

Homes are now being made at increasingly large sizes, and that’s partly because of all the extra items we now own. If you have an older, smaller home, then you probably might be feeling a bit cramped due to the amount of goods you need to own.

Every single item that you own, useful or otherwise, will take up space and make you forget how much room you really do have in your home. If you’ve been feeling pretty claustrophobic, there’s a quick fix you can choose.

The fix for this is really simple—storage! Even removing something as simple as a bread maker you only use twice a year can make a huge difference in how open, free, and airy your home feels.

By storing your stuff rather than throw it away, you can also figure out what you actually need.

If you want to downsize your life and free yourself from excess materialism, using a storage facility is a great way to do it. Shed automatically catalogues all the items that you choose to store with them. If you realize that you don’t use an item after about a year of it being in your storage facility, you simply ask for the item back and throw it out.

You would be shocked at how many things quickly become “out of sight, out of mind.” By using a storage facility to suss out what you really should keep stored and what needs to be tossed out, you can help release yourself from too much bulk in your life.

There’s also a slightly lowered chance of getting hurt from stepping on the wrong thing.

Old gear and other items have a natural tendency of getting in our way, and that tends to cause small accidents to happen. Parents who may have stepped on a LEGO or students who have fallen over a laundry hamper can tell you that tripping over small messes left on the ground is not a pleasant experience.

The less items that you have strewn about your floor or hanging off the edge of your desk, the better off you’ll be—at least in terms of the likelihood of trying to avoid accidents.

Think about how much work it takes to throw a party. You have to clean your home, make space for guests, lock up valuables, and also put together a nice menu for everyone involved. Cleaning and just keeping items out of the way, though, tends to be the biggest pain in the rear end.

The biggest hurdle entertainers face is making sure they have enough room for guests. By removing your stuff and placing it in storage, you are making it possible to get your home prepped for guests sooner and also free up space for any other people they may bring to your place.

Better still, having a storage facility allows you to effortlessly find special party supplies that otherwise end up jammed into difficult-to-reach places. Before the invention of professional on-demand storage, you probably had to hunt through tons of boxes in the attic to find your Christmas decor.

On-demand storage means that finding those decorations becomes fast and effortless—as does cleanup. This means you can easily order that special Christmas decor the day before your party, send it back after you clean up, and ignore the fact that it exists until next holiday season.

If you work at home, you might notice that your concentration will improve.

It’s amazing how much of an effect a cramped, junk-filled room can turn into a distraction. It makes eyes wander, minds turn undisciplined, and even exacerbate anxiety that can make it difficult to focus on subjects at hand.

A place that keeps a minimalist appearance is a place where you can focus. By removing all the “extras,” you’re forcing your mind to focus. After all, they can’t distract you if you decide to remove them from sight.

When you have less stuff, it’s easier to change your home’s appearance.

Did you ever notice how much all the extra little stuff you own dictates the look of your room? The more stuff you have, the harder it is to make a dramatic change in your home’s look. When you have a home that is minimalist in nature, your aesthetics become more malleable.

In a minimalist home, doing something as simple as changing the color of your sheets can turn your room into a totally different place. If you love flexibility with your home’s appearance, you need to get a storage unit.

Many people tend to keep items that hold bad memories, simply because they aren’t ready to let them go. They keep them in their homes, which leads to them being stuck in the past, which in turn, keeps them feeling depressed and anxious.

An “out of sight, out of mind” approach to items that have negative memories tied to them can be incredibly healing for people who aren’t fully ready to part ways yet. By taking those items out of your home, you give yourself enough time to distance yourself from the memories and overcome the trauma.

It doesn’t really make sense to have to brush aside your Christmas tree in order to get to other items in your closet, does it? When you use some goods only once a year, it sometimes is better to just store them elsewhere and have them delivered on demand.

With Shed, you no longer have to worry about sifting through your Christmas decor to get your Halloween-related goods. If it’s far more convenient to use a storage facility to store all those little extras in life, by all means, you should. More often than not, you’ll find that it’s worth every penny.

Reference : https://shedstorage.com/

[selfstorage2019-blog]

Self Storage

15 Reasons Why You Should Be Storing Stuff You’re Not UsingClear up your life, and stash away your stuff.

Ladies and gents, our society has a “stuff” addiction. Our society glamorizes shopping, encourages us to buy stuff we don’t need, and also tends to suggest we constantly upgrade. Stuff can be good, but there’s always truth to the phrase “too much of a good thing.”

If you’re big into shopping or just buying the latest and greatest, you might end up with a lot of gear that we just don’t really have room for. Sure, certain things can be useful once in a while, but that doesn’t mean that we always have room for it.

People who are highly minimalistic will tell you that having too much stuff in your home can cause a lot of problems. If you’re ready to start clearing up your life, it may be time to look into storage services like Shed.

You would be shocked at how much of a difference using storage can make. The reasons described below are proof that storing little-used items can help you change your life for the better.

Storing little-used items in a separate area makes your home easier to clean.

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

Did you ever notice how much dust tends to collect when your table is filled with odds and ends? Anyone who has tried to clean a room filled with items that are barely ever used can tell you that every extra item you own will make a room harder and more time-consuming to clean.

The more items you have in your home, the harder it is to keep your home from turning into a mess. If you hate cleaning, then you really should start moving items into a separate storage facility. When you have fewer items to pick up, move around, polish, and dust, your cleaning time drops.

The biggest change you’ll notice is how much more relaxed you are without a home jam-packed with stuff.

Did you ever notice how suffocating being in a home that’s filled to the brim with items can be? If you get a bit more annoyed and agitated in rooms that are crowded with things that are never used, you’re not alone.

Apparently, storing away things that don’t get much use can help ease anxiety and promote mental wellbeing. Studies have shown that rooms that have less objects inside them are seen as more relaxing.

The biggest issue people have when they decide to get rid of stuff in their homes is the potential of losing things that they may eventually need. That’s why it’s often wiser to use a storage service like Shed than it is to just toss out things that you use once in a blue moon.

With Shed, if you need one of the items that you have in storage, you just need to order it back to your home via the easy-to-use app. Within two to five hours, that item will be delivered to your home. When you’re ready to get it out of your home again, just call up Shed to have them bring it back into storage.

It’s easier to find things when you have less to sort through.

Did you ever have to sort through a messy house to try to find your keys? It’s a chaotic ordeal that can make you late for an appointment or just make you feel lost. If you’ve ever had to bolt through rooms, tipping over every little thing to find your keys or wallet, you already know how aggravating it is.

Most of us have had points where the stuff we’ve bought hindered our ability to keep ourselves organized. Putting stuff you don’t regularly use in storage cuts the need to hunt for keys, wallets, and other daily use items in half.

More stuff means more allergies.

Photo by Shelby Miller on Unsplash

Stuff collects dust, especially if it isn’t frequently used. The more cluttered up your place is, the more dust will collect. If you have allergies, all that extra dust can take a serious toll on your health and wellbeing.

Take a look around your home. Do you find yourself in an uphill battle with dust? If so, it may be time to clear out your home of the things you really don’t need.

It also dissuades unwanted pests.

There’s a reason why pests are attracted to hoarder homes, you know. Excess items give bugs and other pests new places to hide, multiply, and skitter around unnoticed. It’s also way harder to clean areas that have too many obstacles, which makes it possible for errant crumbs to turn into food for smaller critters.

By reducing the amount of goods you have in your home, you make your place less hospital to creepy crawlies. That’s actually why many pest control experts emphasize keeping a clean, litter-free home.

Having less stuff around your home is also seen as more visually appealing.

Photo by eniko kis on Unsplash

Most people can tell you that hotel rooms often seem to emphasize a mess-free aesthetic that keeps things bare-bones. That’s by design—and not just because it’s easier for the staff members to clean, either.

Visually speaking, minimalist homes tends to be seen as more appealing, more organized, and more enjoyable. Keeping your items to a minimum is a great way to make sure that you have a home that will continue to elicit compliments from guests for years to come.

Most people also enjoy having more space.

Homes are now being made at increasingly large sizes, and that’s partly because of all the extra items we now own. If you have an older, smaller home, then you probably might be feeling a bit cramped due to the amount of goods you need to own.

Every single item that you own, useful or otherwise, will take up space and make you forget how much room you really do have in your home. If you’ve been feeling pretty claustrophobic, there’s a quick fix you can choose.

The fix for this is really simple—storage! Even removing something as simple as a bread maker you only use twice a year can make a huge difference in how open, free, and airy your home feels.

By storing your stuff rather than throw it away, you can also figure out what you actually need.

Photo by Greta Schölderle Møller on Unsplash

If you want to downsize your life and free yourself from excess materialism, using a storage facility is a great way to do it. Shed automatically catalogues all the items that you choose to store with them. If you realize that you don’t use an item after about a year of it being in your storage facility, you simply ask for the item back and throw it out.

You would be shocked at how many things quickly become “out of sight, out of mind.” By using a storage facility to suss out what you really should keep stored and what needs to be tossed out, you can help release yourself from too much bulk in your life.

There’s also a slightly lowered chance of getting hurt from stepping on the wrong thing.

Old gear and other items have a natural tendency of getting in our way, and that tends to cause small accidents to happen. Parents who may have stepped on a LEGO or students who have fallen over a laundry hamper can tell you that tripping over small messes left on the ground is not a pleasant experience.

The less items that you have strewn about your floor or hanging off the edge of your desk, the better off you’ll be—at least in terms of the likelihood of trying to avoid accidents.

Think about how much work it takes to throw a party. You have to clean your home, make space for guests, lock up valuables, and also put together a nice menu for everyone involved. Cleaning and just keeping items out of the way, though, tends to be the biggest pain in the rear end.

The biggest hurdle entertainers face is making sure they have enough room for guests. By removing your stuff and placing it in storage, you are making it possible to get your home prepped for guests sooner and also free up space for any other people they may bring to your place.

Better still, having a storage facility allows you to effortlessly find special party supplies that otherwise end up jammed into difficult-to-reach places. Before the invention of professional on-demand storage, you probably had to hunt through tons of boxes in the attic to find your Christmas decor.

On-demand storage means that finding those decorations becomes fast and effortless—as does cleanup. This means you can easily order that special Christmas decor the day before your party, send it back after you clean up, and ignore the fact that it exists until next holiday season.

If you work at home, you might notice that your concentration will improve.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

It’s amazing how much of an effect a cramped, junk-filled room can turn into a distraction. It makes eyes wander, minds turn undisciplined, and even exacerbate anxiety that can make it difficult to focus on subjects at hand.

A place that keeps a minimalist appearance is a place where you can focus. By removing all the “extras,” you’re forcing your mind to focus. After all, they can’t distract you if you decide to remove them from sight.

When you have less stuff, it’s easier to change your home’s appearance.

Did you ever notice how much all the extra little stuff you own dictates the look of your room? The more stuff you have, the harder it is to make a dramatic change in your home’s look. When you have a home that is minimalist in nature, your aesthetics become more malleable.

In a minimalist home, doing something as simple as changing the color of your sheets can turn your room into a totally different place. If you love flexibility with your home’s appearance, you need to get a storage unit.

Many people tend to keep items that hold bad memories, simply because they aren’t ready to let them go. They keep them in their homes, which leads to them being stuck in the past, which in turn, keeps them feeling depressed and anxious.

An “out of sight, out of mind” approach to items that have negative memories tied to them can be incredibly healing for people who aren’t fully ready to part ways yet. By taking those items out of your home, you give yourself enough time to distance yourself from the memories and overcome the trauma.

It doesn’t really make sense to have to brush aside your Christmas tree in order to get to other items in your closet, does it? When you use some goods only once a year, it sometimes is better to just store them elsewhere and have them delivered on demand.

With Shed, you no longer have to worry about sifting through your Christmas decor to get your Halloween-related goods. If it’s far more convenient to use a storage facility to store all those little extras in life, by all means, you should. More often than not, you’ll find that it’s worth every penny. Reference : https://shedstorage.com/

[abzanascendancy]

In Today’s Magic Story...

Under the Cover of Fog

And we’re back! Ah, it feels so good! Once again we have tales to thrill and excite, and it’s on Ravnica! So let’s get started!

Before we get started with the story proper, let’s talk about the intro. I still want to get story involving the characters that we got to know and love throughout the previous years, and I hope that’s not segregated to the novels. We’ll see how it goes, as I said before, but they decided to bring it up, so I’m bringing it up too.

Also, no adverts a few paragraphs in? Progress!

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: the new Dimir flavor is “Yeah we’re spying on you. Deal with it: you can’t stop us.”

Oh wait, it’s working with our first-person protagonist. Speaking of which, I wish we knew more about them. Namely, their name.

Hold the phone. Jewel-encrusted battle mallets? That’s a thing??? I guess we know what the Orzhov are going to war with!

Side note, I can see the bone-carved armor being Rakdos, Dimir, or even Simic. The former because Rakdos, the Dimir because it was their motiff a while back, and the Simic because you can breed the best bone armor you can imagine!

Yo, he’s part of House Dimir! Right on!

This is a really neat worldbuilding detail. Normally you’d expect liquor to be named after the home field or something. Here, it’s named after a buttress, which is a support built against a wall -- which makes total sense, as Ravnica is a city plane. Genius!

Also I love how he steals the Buttress South Whiskey not to drink it, but to sell it. Not the jewel-encrusted hammer, oh no. But a bottle of booze? Yoink!

Also, you can poach Selesnyan trees. That may seem corny, but dryads exist. You could literally be poaching a sentient being if you’re not careful.

And our protagonist’s name is Merret!

Now it says his boss, Grimbly Wothis (btw, awesome name) is half-bull half-man. This could suggest minotaur, but remember, the Simic exist. He could just as easily be a mutant.

So Merret can do magic, but can’t focus it. I like that we get to see people that struggle with something that’s been second nature to everyone else.

Think about it, we never got to see someone learning a spell, or have trouble common magic. Jace’s illusions are second nature, Liliana raises the dead like raising a hand, and Gideon’s Eternal Aegis(tm) is reflexive. We got to see Chandra learning to control her magic, but that was already something she could do without thinking. It’s really neat!

Crowbar of Malintent better be a magic item in Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica.

Shame he doesn’t get the whiskey, though. Also surprising he has wife and kids and is working for House Dimir. You’d think they’d be a liability -- or perhaps they’re the reason he’s with Dimir in the first place. Shame if something happened, etc.

A sleek simic schooner with spirals. I love alliteration!

So who’s the investor?

We get a location name -- Keyhole Village!

Ooh, note that line there -- “I seem to remember it fit fine, once.” That could just be reminiscing, or it could be a Dimir memory alter.

I turn the knob and step inside. House Dimir has nothing on the traps that litter our floor. Wooden blocks sit in wait, ready to impale a bare foot with their sharp corners. A wheeled xylophone made of rib bones offers a fast track to a broken neck.

If you were ever a kid or have kids of your own, this is 100 percent relateable. Just be glad legos don’t exist here.

Okay, so Ravnica has gas lamps. Either they’ve discovered natural gas, or it’s a byproduct of Simic creatures. Take that as you will.

Hang on, the Dimir don’t pay you? Dimir agents gotta unionize...

Viashino eat maggots. And can distinguish between 12 different types.

Okay guy, why are you stealing from a posh neighborhood? Yeah, I get that you don’t wanna make anyone else’s life harder where you’re from (I assume), but surely there’s gotta be an asshole there you can pinch from!

Also, very nice artwork. Simple, but effective!

Throughout this story we’ve got references to various spells -- whiskey-aging spells, warming spells, and now cleaning spells. It’s the common-use magic that’s so exciting, so tantalizing in its possibilities!

Steal from your boss! What could possibly go wrong???

Oh wow, a whole family of spies! Impressive!

Oh no... that’s too tempting... an Elixir of Focus...

Also adding that to the list of items that need to be in Guildmaster’s Guide to Ravnica.

It’s amazing what you can do when you’re given an equalizer.

Hmm... there’s a certain gif for this magic... lemme find it...

Hmm... Something’s going on with that baby... hmm...

Oh, that’s not good... none of this is going good...

Also, merfolk apparently swear vehemently.

...but he didn’t take the whiskey. He specifically put it back into the crate. That’s why he summoned the fog.

"I'd take it out of your pay, but you'd spend three lifetimes earning back the cost of that whiskey. Then I thought I'd just take it out on your hide, but it seems you do have something of considerable value after all."  ... "I saw what that child did through the window, the trick with the candles." ... "A child like this is worth something," Grimbly Wothis says, attempting to pry the baby from my wife's arms.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

LIKE

WHAT THE FUCK

THE HELL IS THIS GUY’S PROBLEM

BLOODY HELL

THAT GOT DARK REAL FAST.

This is definitely going in for a “WHAT THE EVERLIVING FUCK” award.

Ah, looks like that focus potion is wearing off... bugger all...

Hang on, what’s all this? This can’t all be the baby’s doing...

No...

No...!

NO F*CKING WAY!!!

IT’S YA BOI, LAZAV!!!

"We don't want your son. At least not in that way. He will stay with you. You will raise him as you see fit. But in return for paying off your debts, we would like to ask that we send a tutor to your home to oversee his learning. Of course, we will also provide you a modest stipend so that you can adequately provide for his needs. And yours."

Wow. I’m... legitamately impressed. Actual good boss Lazav! Who knew!

Also can we notice how he has a f*cking sword in his artwork? Like, this guy doesn’t even need daggers: he could kill you with a broadsword and still leave no trace. He could lop of your head with it and the police would think the murder weapon was a hammer! That’s just bloody awesome!

Holy cow, now THAT was a story! The beginning was a nice set up, and while slow contained a bunch of worldbuilding details! The middle was alright, BUT THE F*CKING ENDING WITH LAZAV!!! THAT IS ONE OF THE BEST THINGS I COULD’VE HOPED FOR! He gets what he wants, but he’s fair about it. He recognizes talent, and is willing to provide support to see it continue. He wants influence, not control. This is everything I could’ve hoped for to see with the Dimir being heroes! If this is what we can expect from future stories, I can’t wait!

We got first persons! Surveillance flies! Jewel-encrusted battle mallets, only 150 platinum! Buttressess! Whiskey! Enchantments! Minotaurs! Fog! Crowbars of Malintent! Focus, or lack thereof! Alliteration! Investors! Keyhole Village! Posh neighborhoods! Gas lamps! Robbing bosses! Elixirs of Focus! Invisibility! Payback! Babies! Swearing merfolk! Kidnapping babies seriously though WTF??? Surprise Lazav! Good boss Lazav! Great Aunt Bea Arthur!

But will we continue this story, or will we get another juicy slice of life? Stay Tuned!