Harry meets Peter at four and a half (four and three-quarters, Harry insists, because adults always tell him he’ll understand things when he’s older, but he’s old enough for it to be annoying). Harry’s playing in the sandbox at Oscorp’s daycare (kinetic sand, actually, because what’s the point in being a cutting-edge, fortune 500 company if you don’t have the newest stuff) and Gregory Haskins stomps on his sand castle. Harry’s eyes fill with tears of frustration as Gregory laughs and steals the Tonka truck out of the sand, but before he gets the chance to wail, Peter is there.

Peter has a mop of soft, chestnut curls, and kind, brown eyes. He has dimples in his cheeks when he smiles, every so gently, like Harry is a baby deer he’s afraid of spooking, and Harry blinks at him, surprised.

***

Or, Harry and Peter, over the years. MCU with Harry Osborn

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In which Molly Hooper gets a job, gets a degree, breaks a heart, has her heart broken, falls in love, keeps a secret, saves a life, runs a morgue, falls apart, pulls it together, and finds exactly what she didn’t know she was looking for–not necessarily in that order.

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“You’re not putting that up your butt,” Scott told him flatly and Stiles couldn’t stop the pissed off whine he made, but his friend continued. “Stiles, you can’t put that up your butt, you know that. Your butt won’t be ready for anything to go in it until-”

“Okay, okay!” he said, flailing his hands to stop his friend’s lecture. “Message received, no butt stuff until I’m pounced on by some freaking animal in the forest and ravished to within an inch of my life. Got it. Thanks, Scotty, I mean heaven forbid I actually try to take control of my life and give myself a fighting chance or anything.”

“Not all alphas are animals,” Scott said quietly.

Maybe he was right, but Stiles wasn’t holding his breath.

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“Collared Alphas are Careful Alphas”

Seriously? What the hell was that? Because putting a collar on someone was supposed to make them manageable or something? Sure thing.

Or: “Mated Betas are Better Betas”

Again with the control issues. But then again betas were by far the most common classification type, so Stiles assumed that was mainly posted to keep things kind of even.

His least favorite was definitely: “Keep Omegas Pure - Report Uncollared Unmated Alphas Always”

Just wow.

Stiles attended all the home economics classes, like a good omega, and took all his pills, like a good omega, and outwardly submitted to authority, like a good omega, but he didn’t buy into the whole structure dynamic thing. He just didn’t.

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“You want me to arrange a political marriage for your son?” Stiles repeats dumbly.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done this,” Talia Hale says, dark eyes twinkling over her impeccable blue pantsuit. “Senator Harvey and Elise’s match worked out perfectly, and they’re actually quite in love, from what I hear.”

“George Harvey was a little-known senatorial candidate from Kansas at the time, Madam President,” Stiles says slowly. “Your son – you, Mr. Hale,” he directs toward the man pacing tiny circles behind the president’s chair, “are the nation’s most eligible bachelor. Literally. I saw it on the cover of People.”

(Stiles is a political fixer. Derek is the president’s son. I’ve been watching too much Scandal.)

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Stiles picks at a stray thread that his fingers find in the dark. “You didn’t see his face, Scott. He was looking at me like I was the answer to every question he’d ever had, like everything was going to be perfect and sunshine and unicorns from now on. First time Derek’s told anyone ever how he feels.”

“And you yelled at him,“ Scott says.

“And I yelled at him,” Stiles agrees, burying his face in the pillow. “Although, to be fair, four years ago he left me standing in a hallway with my pants around my ankles while a reporter taped the whole thing.”

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“I’m building something better,” Peter continues. “B6-13 had become sloppy, unwieldy, subjective. I’m remodeling it into something superior. You could be part of that.”

“Yeah?” Stiles says, slamming the dishwasher closed so forcefully that he hears it reverb through the pipes. Starbuck barks sharply. “What are you going to call it? B-six-fourteen?”

The line of Peter’s jaw hardens. “I find it hard to believe that your mother tolerated such insolence when you were growing up.”

“You don’t know anything about how I grew up,” Stiles snaps.

Peter just smiles, predatory. “Don’t I?”

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(Stiles is a political fixer. Derek is the president’s son. I’ve been watching too much Scandal.)

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Tony sits in relative darkness, the TV on mute, Friday running searches like she has been every day for the past month. A month, since Quentin Beck’s grand plan crumpled underneath him on that bridge. A month, since a flash of light was able to distract Peter just as he was about to bring Beck down. A month, since Beck snatched him, since both of them disappeared. An entire. Month.

I’ll keep you updated. I promise.

I love you, kid. Rhodey’s on his way, alright? He’s coming. He’s gonna go as fast as he can.

I love you too. I’ll be okay. I promise. I can do this.

The last thing Tony heard Peter say.

Rhodey, Happy and Fury traversed the London landscape immediately afterwards. They found the glasses, but not Spider-Man. There was footage enough to incriminate Beck for what he was, but somehow, nobody was able to get a shot of when he grabbed Peter. Peter was knocking him around, looked like he was getting the upper hand, and then that flash of light.

Gone. Gone.

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What if Obi-Wan found more than the tractor beam's location in the Death Star files?

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Skydiver and tea shop owner Levi Ackerman meets the town’s resident mad scientist and tries to convince himself that he's not falling for her.

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“Bodies – those are something you understand, mostly; you know immediately exactly how much smaller he is than the last time you saw him. Too skinny, too pale; his cheeks cave in a little too much, from his face. He’s a shadow of something: he looks like the dead walking. His hands are stuffed down in the pockets of his hoodie and he looks tentative but not afraid.”

Derek Hale used to have a family. Now, he’s got a teenage human more trouble than he’s worth. Post-S2.

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He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. “There,” she spat. “Now your Blood’s filthy too!” DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with the epilogue.

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Inspector Nam Seon-ho insults the wrong person and is assigned the daunting mission of ending the illegal horse trade in Pyongan province. But those involved have no intention of stopping their lucrative lifestyle, and are not above using dangerous means to preserve it. Seon-ho and Yeon fall into peril; desperate to save them, Sung-rok finds himself on a collision course with the last people he ever expected to see in his lifetime.

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Life rarely goes the way one expects or wants it to. When Draco Malfoy returns to London after being abroad for the last five years, he has one goal in mind. To find his mother’s killer. With long forgotten myths manifesting and the past creeping up from the shadows, Draco finds himself in the middle of something much larger than himself. Secrets are revealed and bonds are tested while Draco tries not to become distracted by murder.

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After the events of Altissia, Noctis is consumed by guilt. Hoping to escape, he uses Umbra to flee to the past, only to discover that he can’t change what happened, but sometimes forgiveness can be found even in darkness. Explicit in later chapters, because it keeps getting longer.

This story needs a new summary because it ran away from me and got WAY longer than anticipated.

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Thranduil knows better than any that beauty is only skin deep, but what does he believe lies underneath? Early Third Age and beyond.

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When Alex Summers broke out of supermax to rescue his stupid kid brother, he had no idea it was going to be so fucking complicated.

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Peter startles awake when someone shakes him.

“Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.”

He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

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Canon AU – Merlin’s death is only the beginning; with no-one to protect the kingdom, Camelot falls to an enemy sorcerer and Arthur is forced to serve in the court that he once ruled. When an escape attempt goes horribly wrong, Arthur is rescued by someone he never expected to see again – and it’s their destiny to put things right.

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