Wedding

In Peter's small apartment, the air is heavy with the smell of sweat and cosmic energy. Carol Danvers sits on the couch, her dress clinging to her body. Her silver hair falls over her tanned shoulders, her eyes filled with the weariness of another battle.

5 months have passed since her and Peter's relationship and flirtations

Peter stands beside her, his hands shaking.

"You need to... you need to change. I... have a T-shirt."

Carol laughs, her voice like distant thunder. "Come here, baby."

She takes Peter's hand and pulls him onto the couch. Peter falls to his knees, his face right in front of Carol's breasts. His breath is hot. Carol unzips her dress, slowly, as if revealing a secret. Her breasts—large, firm, with the tips glowing yellow under the light of the lamp—jump out. Peter gasps.

“Touch them.”

Peter’s hand reaches out, his fingers sliding over Carol’s warm skin. He grabs her nipple, twists it, and Carol sighs—deep, deep in her throat. Then she puts her hand behind Peter’s head and presses. She buries her face between her breasts. Peter sticks out his tongue, licks, sucks, like someone tasting life for the first time.

Carol stands up, takes Peter with her. She rips off his clothes, like they’re paper. She pulls down his pants, and Peter’s cock—hard, young, full of blood—jumps out. Carol kneels, wraps her hand around it, rubs it, and then opens her mouth. Peter leans against the wall, throws his head back, and moans as Carol's tongue swirls around his head, as she moves down his throat, as her saliva spills over his thighs.

"God... Carol..."

Carol stands up, takes off her pants. Nothing underneath. Beautiful vagina. She throws Peter on the bed, spreads her legs, and sits on top of him. Peter's cock is right in front of her vagina. Carol lowers her hand, rubs herself, she's wet, hot, ready.

"Look at me."

And down she goes. Slowly. Peter feels Carol's warm, tight walls wrap around him, he feels her body swallow him. Carol begins to move, up and down, in circles, in a rhythm that seems to shake the entire galaxy. Her breasts heave with each thrust, sweat pouring down her neck, dripping onto Peter's stomach.

Peter reaches forward, places a finger on Carol's clitoris, rubs. Carol throws her head back, her hair cascading down her back like a silver waterfall, and screams. Her cosmic energy erupts—not light, not an explosion, but a wave of vibration that shakes the walls, that shatters the bed, that splits reality.

Peter reaches in too. Inside Carol. Deep. His sperm is hot, full of life, full of the future. Carol falls on top of her, gasping, and in that moment, a crack opens—a new reality, where Peter is 18 and Carol is 54, where they have a daughter with red eyes and spiderwebs.

Carol presses a kiss to Peter's forehead.

“Did you learn, kid?”

And Peter, with a tired smile, replies:

“I promise I will learn.”

Nine months later, in the same small apartment, the walls now covered in cosmic crystals, Carol lies on the bed. Her belly is round and large, her skin gleams in the moonlight, and golden veins of energy run through her skin like rivers of stars.

Peter sits beside her, his hand on Carol’s belly, feeling how their daughter kicks, how each kick creates a small wave of energy that turns the lights on and off.

“Are you scared?” Peter asks, his voice shaky.

“No, honey.” Carol smiles, sweat dripping from her forehead. “She’s just testing the world.”

The pain begins. Carol takes a deep breath, her body glows, her energy erupts, not for war, but for **creating**. Peter takes her hand, feeling his bones tremble under Carol’s pressure.

“Breathe, Carol. With me.”

Carol screams, not from pain, but from power. Her energy peaks, the apartment ceiling opens, the stars come down, and in that instant, **their daughter is born**.

Fiery red hair, eyes that are blue one moment, gold the next, and small hands that shoot out cobwebs and cosmic rays at the same time.

Peter hugs her, tears in his eyes.

“What’s her name?”

Carol, tired but radiant, answers:

“**Nova**. Because she’s the new star we made.”

Nova cries in Peter's arms, each tear creating a new reality, where Spider-Man and Captain Marvel fly together, where galaxies are connected by webs, where the love of a 54-year-old mother and an 18-year-old son has changed the entire multiverse.

Carol reaches out, places a finger on Nova's cheek.

"You're the strongest thing I've ever made, little one."

And Peter, with a smile that's now bigger than his 18 years, says,

"And we, together, are the best parents no other reality has ever seen."