annab-recs

[annab-recs]

jake sully tags

all jake recs are at #p: jake sully

by genre

none at the moment

by length/type

#js: blurb

by trope

none at the moment

by au

#js: navi reader

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#js: hanasnx

[annab-recs]

sometimes you and JAKE SULLY bond just because you can. laying together, tangled limbs, breathing together. he picks up the end of his braid to offer it to you, and you do the same. watching the tendrils intertwine and fasten into a comfortable embrace. your breath is now one. you lay in each other’s atmospheres to bask in what it’s like to share this bond. thoughts are passed between you like vague emotions that bloom in your chest, the ghost of an idea you can just barely capture the smoke of. yet you can feel his heartbeat as if it’s in your own chest. he can feel the prickle of the hairs at the back of your neck where they lay on his bicep. you’ve mated before and completed tsaheylu, now you’re just experiencing it in love’s name for hours at a time. a connectedness you can’t share with anyone else.

[annab-recs]

Joaquin’s Dog-tags live rent free in my mind! Like sure I’ve seen Bucky’s before and Sam probably wears his too but seeing Joaquin’s tags bouncing around his chest instantly knocks the wind outta me!

good god imagine them when he's on a run or something. maybe the two of you are at the gym and he's on the treadmill. and the gym is quiet except for the occasional clatter of weights and the low hum of a playlist running through the speakers. you had been minding your own business, seriously! just grabbing your water bottle and cooling down—until you heard it.

that soft, rhythmic clink of metal.

your eyes flicker toward the treadmill, almost on instinct.

joaquín is mid-run, wearing one of his miami hurricanes shirts with the sleeves cut off, the kind that’s cut just right, showing off the sharp lines of his shoulders and the sculpted muscle of his arms. his tan, sun-kissed skin glistens under the fluorescent lights, sweat trailing down his collarbone before disappearing beneath the fabric of his shirt.

but it’s the dog tags that have you hooked.

the way they bounce against his chest, catching the light at just the right angles, clicking against each other in a steady rhythm—shit. you don’t even realize you’re staring until you’re tracing the path from his arms to his shoulders, then down, down, down, and suddenly you’re thinking about other ways you’d like to hear those tags click.

like maybe above you. maybe dangling just over your face while he—

"you good?"

joaquín’s voice pulls you back to earth so fast it almost gives you whiplash. you blink, barely registering that he’s slowed the treadmill down to a steady walk, now turned just enough to glance at you with furrowed brows and that soft, easy concern he always carries.

you nod. too fast. too stiff. because there is absolutely no way you can trust yourself to form actual words right now.

instead, you take the safest possible escape route—tilting your head back, chugging your water, and turning away before he can see the thoughts running through your head.

flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it.

[annab-recs]

— february ‘25 —

reminder to read the warnings before a fic & to support writers & reblog :)

organized alphabetically by fandom, then by pairing, then by author

marvel

— joaquin torres —

first impressions - @backtothefanfiction

type: oneshot, genre: fluff

summary: the first time sam introduces you to joaquin

commentary: THE BANTER!! also living for danvers!reader

sleep talking - @backtothefanfiction

type: oneshot, genre: fluff

summary: joaquin could never keep a secret

commentary: a-freaking-dorable 🥰

the aftermath - @goosewriting

type: oneshot, established relationship, genre: fluff, angst

summary: reader visits joaquín at the hospital as he wakes up from surgery

commentary: sooooooo stinkin cute omg i love 😍😍

star wars

— tech —

gravity - @umbramoons

type: oneshot, established relationship, genre: fluff

summary: reader is really tense at the shoulders and overall just kinda tired/stressed, so tech offers giving her a quick massage

commentary: soooo good! i need more soft tech in my life

[annab-recs]

tech tags

all tech recs are at #p: tech

by genre

#bbt: fluff

by length/type

#bbt: oneshot

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#bbt: established relationship

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#bbt: umbramoons

[annab-recs]

Sleep Talking | Joaquin Torres

Summary; Joaquin could never keep a secret.

Warnings: none, this is all fluff

A/N: I couldn’t sleep until I’d put something out so yeah, this is just a real quick short before bed kind of story. I’ll get back on my asks/wips/part 2s of stuff tomorrow. For now, enjoy this. Also sorry I haven’t done tags it’s late and I’m tired so hope this finds you fine.

You woke unable to breathe. “Ouch, Joaquin,” you grumbled as your mind and body slowly dragged itself from sleep.

“Huh?” He grumbled sleepily.

“Baby, you’re squishing me.”

“What?” he groaned, but you could tell he was only half awake.

“Roll over. You’re squishing me. And you’re making me feel like I’m sleeping with a freaking radiator. Jeez.” you moaned as he shifted slightly and you truly felt how stifling it had become under the covers.

“It’s not me. It’s you,” he sleepily grumbled. You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he grumbled another response. “No.” he said with a sigh as he rolled back over onto his back on his pillow. “It was you. I know you ate my sandwich.” he mumbled.

Sandwich? What was he- ohhh, he’s sleep talking.

You chuckled to yourself as you rolled over onto your side to watch him sleep. Every now and again his lips would silently move to talk again, but it was mostly silent. You were just about to close your eyes and go back to sleep when you heard the words, “Because I’m going to marry her.”

There was a pause as if he was listening to someone else speak before he said, “What do you mean who? Y/N who else. I’ve already got the ring. I’ve been keeping it in my underwear drawer for weeks now.”

You were suddenly wide awake. You didn’t know if it was just the dream or if there was some actual truth to it and his subconscious was bleeding through. But there was one thing for sure, you weren’t going back to sleep until you knew for sure.

You tried to be as quiet as you possibly could as you crept out of bed, reaching for your phone and turning on the torch. Your feet padded quietly across the floor as Joaquin continued to let out small little murmurs. Every tiny shift you made to open the drawer sounded like thunder in your ears and you desperately hoped he wouldn’t wake up and catch you in the act. You gave one last quick tug on the old dresser drawer and there it was. Barely concealed by a pair of underpants, a square blue box.

You stood frozen in agony as you warred with yourself over what to do. Did you look and ruin the surprise completely or did you pretend you didn’t know it was there and climb back into bed. But you couldn’t help it. Now you knew of its existence, it was going to be burning a hole in the back of your head. You just wanted to be sure he picked a good ring, you tried to reason with yourself. You could be a good actress. You could still look surprised. You tried to rationalise as your fingers pulled out the velvet box. I mean he’s asleep, he’s not gonna know. You thought.

“Baby? What are you doing?” Joaquin asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. You looked at him guiltily. This was no sleep talking, he was well and truly awake now, sitting upright in bed as his eyes squinted, trying to adjust to the light of your torch in the dim room. That’s when he looked at your hands. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. “Baby, I- wait, how did you-“ he paused as you continued to stand at the end of the bed frozen. Then he realised. “I was sleep talking.”

“Yes.” you finally said softly.

He groaned in frustration. “My mom said I could never keep a secret. I just wished for once I could have kept this one.”

“It’s alright,” you said.

“Did you look?” he asked.

“Not yet.” you replied. Your answer brought a soft smile to his face and he silently beckoned you over to sit with him.

“You know, I was waiting to do this on that trip to New York we were gonna take in a couple of weeks.” he began to explain, “but I guess this is good too.” Although it was dark in the room, you could tell he was beginning to blush as he took the box from your fingers.

“Y/N,” he said as his fingers deftly removed the ring from the box before he set it to one side. He tucked the ring into his fingers so you couldn’t see it just yet before he shuffled closer to you to continue his speech. “I have been in love with you from the minute I laid eyes on you. You can ask any of the boys, the second I saw you I said, that’s her, that’s the girl I’m going to marry. And of course they didn’t believe me, but I knew. You’ve been there with me for everything. Every hard day. Every promotion. You were always there to be my light and cheer me on.” he said, his voice shaking slightly with nerves. “You make every single day of my life, so much brighter and I don’t ever want to think of a day when you don’t wake up by my side. Y/N, will you do me, the greatest honour of my whole life,” he said, finally holding out the ring to you. “Will you marry me?”

It may have been 4am. It may have been in the dark of the night and extremely unconventional, but it was Joaquin. And you were always going to say yes to Joaquin.

[annab-recs]

helloo!

This is the first time I make a request so sorry if it's a little unclear.

Could you write a Tech x femreader where after a mission or something else (you can decide), reader is really tense at the shoulders and overall just kinda tired/stressed, so Tech offers giving her a quick massage. Maybe stablished relationship ? Better if it isn’t suggestive and just fluff.

thanks in advance if you choose to write this <3

I love this request so much, and I sincerely apologize that it took me this long to get to it. What I wouldn't give to relax with Tech. Thank you for the request, anon. (And requests are still open to all, BTW.)

Reblogs and comments mean the world! Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Gravity

Tech x F!Reader

Warnings: Kisses, but that's basically it

Word Count: 1,035

All was quiet in the Marauder as you made your way up to the cockpit. Your ears were still ringing from the firefight your squad had barely escaped from just a few minutes ago. One of these days, you were really going to give Cid a piece of your mind… just once your head wasn’t pounding.

The consistent hum of hyperspace became louder inside the cockpit, and you slumped into the co-pilot’s seat. It was no feather mattress, but it was more comfortable than most other places on this ship. That, and the company found there could soothe you better than anyone else.

Tech took a second to adjust the controls one last time before swiveling his seat to face you. The blue glow emanating from the viewport made the lenses of his goggles almost opaque at this angle, but it couldn’t hide the way his brow furrowed as he looked you over. “Mesh’la… you look unwell.”

A heavy sigh left your chest as you brought a hand up to rub your eyes. “I’m okay. Just tired.” 

He nodded as he pulled out his datapad, dropping his eyes to the screen for the moment. “That is understandable. Cid seems to have a habit of sending us on missions that are… far from relaxing.”

All you offered in response was a hum, your eyes closed as you tried to calm yourself. Maybe some of those breathing exercises you’d been learning would help. You took a deep breath, but that breath caught as your lungs expanded, exposing a pinched nerve toward the top of your spine. It took everything in you not to grumble as you rolled your shoulders carefully, trying to work at the sore spot without aggravating it too much.

There was silence beside you until you heard Tech sigh heavily. When you opened your eyes to look at him, he was putting the datapad down, a question in his gaze. Your sigh echoed his as you nodded, shifting in the seat so your back was facing him. It wasn’t often that he offered something as intimate as a massage, and you normally had to fight not to appear too eager when he did. Tonight, however, you were too exhausted to feel much about it other than relief. 

Your hair was carefully swept over your left shoulder, and Tech rested his hands on your shoulders. “Where does it hurt?”

“Between my shoulders… mostly.”

His hands slid to the indicated spot, and you tried not to gasp as his fingertips gently rubbed at your skin. He had removed his gloves - you could feel it in the warmth of his touch.

“How are you holding up?” he whispered softly. “I want to know everything.”

You leaned your head back, keeping your shrug slight as not to impede his progress down your back. “It’s just… not easy. I love running around with you guys, seeing new places and helping people where we can. But every once in a while, I wish things were different.”

Tech hummed, letting his hands move up to the back of your neck. “In what way?”

“Well, for one, we wouldn’t be working for some self-obsessed sleemo who hardly pays us enough to cover one meal, let alone six.”

He laughed, but there was a resigned tone to it. “You’re not alone in that sentiment.” Tech rested his chin on your shoulder, his cheek against the side of your neck as his fingers ran up and down the opposite side. “What else?”

You opened your eyes, shifting so your cheek lightly rubbed against his hair. “I wouldn’t say no to more of this. We don’t spend enough time together where it’s just us.”

“Now that is a fact.” Tech’s breath warmed your face as he leaned around to kiss your cheek. “I will admit, there are times when we’re on a mission, and I look at you and I just…” He paused as another quiet sigh escaped him. “It’s almost impossible to describe. There’s this magnetism, this… gravity to you. If I allowed myself, I’m certain I would crash into you and never separate from you.” Tech reached around to take the armrests of your chair and turn you to face him. “Am I making any sense?”

You smiled affectionately. “Just a little.”

To your surprise, Tech’s hand slid up to your cheek, cupping your face gently. “I can offer more of an explanation, if you’d permit me.”

“It’s okay. I think I understand.”

“Do you?” He tilted his head with a small smile as his thumb traced over your cheekbone. “Enlighten me, mesh’la.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing for what had to be the hundredth time. “It’s simple. It only makes sense that you would be drawn to someone you love.”

His touch stilled, and then his hand shifted slowly, coming to rest beneath your chin and lift your face tenderly. “Cyar’ika, you truly are brilliant.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t make that connection.”

“I did, but there’s a beauty in the simplicity of your explanation.” His lips quirked into a bigger smile, a twinkle visible in his eyes through the lenses of his goggles. “As well as other aspects about you, obviously.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Obviously.”

“Hush.” Tech’s fingers tightened around your chin as he pulled you closer, allowing his lips to hover over yours for a moment before fully committing to the kiss. And the sigh that escaped you this time wasn’t long-suffering or weary. It was nothing short of blissful.

After a moment, Tech pulled away just enough to whisper. “Now, my darling. You need to rest.” He smiled at your almost comically disappointed expression. “We can continue this at another time.”

“Promise?”

He placed a kiss on your left cheek. “I swear on your heart.” And then your right. “And on mine.”

You tried to pull him into another kiss, but you leaned back with a laugh when you saw his firm expression. “Fine, fine, I’m going. But I’m holding you to that promise.”

“I expect nothing less from you.” His expression softened as he watched you leave the cockpit, glad to see you leaving in better spirits than you had arrived. “Sleep well, my darling.”

[annab-recs]

joaquin torres tags

all joaquin recs are at #p: joaquin torres

by genre

#jt: angst

#jt: fluff

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#jt: blurb

#jt: oneshot

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#jt: established relationship

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none at the moment

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#jt: backtothefanfiction

#jt: goosewriting

#jt: sunsburns

[annab-recs]

First Impressions | Joaquin Torres

Summary: the first time Sam introduces you to Joaquin

Warnings: flirting, fluff, playful banter

A/N: I fell in love with this man during Falcon and the Winter Soldier. Completely forgot about him until I watched the new Cap the other night. So here’s this little before going to sleep drabble. As you will quickly be able to tell I love the idea of a Carol Danvers niece reader given the whole air force thing. Hope people enjoy. May write some more in the future.

Joaquin was smitten the second you walked into his house. When Sam said he was headed over with “some new recruit” he hadn’t expected you. A roughed up baseball cap on top of your head, faded baseball jersey, baggy oversized jeans and sneakers, dripping from head to toe and almost shivering.

“What happened?” Joaquin asked Sam as you tentatively stepped through the sliding door, not wanting to drip too much on this strangers carpet.

“He dropped me in the lake.” Your voice blurted out, completely unamused, shooting daggers at the still newly appointed Captain America.

“Yeah, well, still better that than a 40ft drop onto hard ground.” Sam retorted.

“Or you could have just not dropped me at all?!” You stressed, hands raised in the air, still in complete disbelief over this turn of events. “That’s the last time I’m ever flying with you.” You muttered and you saw Joaquin let out a little chuckle over the situation.

That’s when you really took him in. The guy who Sam sung the praises of. His supposedly best recruit, not that he would actually tell him that.

“Come on, I’ll get you a towel.” Joaquin said, leading you upstairs and to the bathroom.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything I could change into, do you?” You asked him, as he handed you a couple towels.

“Umm, yeah, of course, I’ll just go find you something.”

You didn’t wait for him to return before you whipped off your clothes and immediately jumped in the shower to wash the murky lake water off of you. You were grateful that it was an old tub and shower curtain situation and not one of those see through glass cabinet shower situations, not that it didn’t stop Joaquin from blushing when he came back into the bathroom a few minutes later with some clothes in hand.

“Oh, sorry- I didn’t realise you were- I’ll just leave these- uh- yeah.” He rushed out before quickly shutting the door again.

He hesitated a moment as he stood with his back to the door, his brain fixated on the small glimpse he got of your naked back from behind the shower curtain. He could feel the flush in his cheeks. The smile that threatened his lips. He fought to hide it as he went back down to Sam in the kitchen.

“So who is she?” Joaquin asked as he grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and passed it to Sam before picking up his own previously discarded mug to finish.

“She’s a Danvers.” Sam said, as if the surname alone held a lot of weight, but Joaquin still didn’t bite. “As in Carol Danvers… Captain Marvel.” Sam said, walking him through it slowly until Joaquin’s face began to flicker with recognition. “Carol’s her aunt. Before she became Captain Marvel she was one heck of an Air Force Pilot. Kid saw what her aunt did and decided to pick up the mantle.”

“And she’s good?” Joaquin fished, a flame for the woman upstairs really taking hold as Sam kept adding more fuel to the fire.

“Yeah, she’s fucking great. Best female pilot I’ve ever seen.”

“So you looking to set her up with a pair of wings?” Joaquin asked, even though he had a hint of jealousy to his tone. He enjoyed being the only person other than Sam who had access to the now not so secret military wings, but he also couldn’t deny the new found need to go flying with you on a sunny afternoon and treat you to a picnic on the top of a mountain or something.

“We’ll see.” Sam said sceptically, but Joaquin knew from the way Sam had even brought you to meet him he thought you had what it takes.

“What are you two girls talking about?” You asked as you came striding back into the kitchen in a pair of Joaquin’s joggers and his old air force T-shirt. You were using a towel to squeeze out your hair and Joaquin couldn’t deny you looked right at home in his house, wearing his clothes.

“Lover boy here was grilling me about you.” Sam joked, taking in the way Joaquin looked at you.

“Was he now?” You asked feigning interest and playing up to the little bit in order to embarrass him, but as you sat across from him at the table and really took him in for the first time, you couldn’t deny he was handsome- and if the T-shirt he gave you had anything to say, you definitely had a lot in common to bond over.

“Uh- um- no- I-“ Joaquin began to stutter bashfully.

“It’s all cool dude,” you reassured. “I know he’s just messing. You really shouldn’t let him rile you up like that.”

Joaquin sighed before he leaned in closer to you, “How do you stay so calm around him?” He asked as if Sam wasn’t there and you had all the secrets.

“Eh, when you grew up being told about your badass aunt with actual super powers, some guy in a read white and blue bird costume is nothing.” You joked.

“Hey!” Sam pointed at you, “don’t you dare turn him against me or I’ll drop your ass in the lake again.”

“So you admit it! You did it on purpose.” You said, slamming your hand on the table animatedly.

“Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t. What are you gonna do about it?” He asked back, but you didn’t say anything more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You rolled your eyes at him before fixing them on Joaquin instead as Sam’s phone began to ring. You both turned your eyes on him as he checked the caller ID. “I need to take this.” He said, before getting up and dismissing himself, stepping out the back door to take the call outside.

“Would you like coffee?” Joaquin asked to break up the silence the two of you were left in.

“Umm, yes, that would be great.” You said with a smile and he got up to pour you a cup full from the pot.

“It looks good on you.” He said as he came back over a moment later and handed you the mug.

“What, now?” You said confused.

“Uh, my shirt,” he said with a shrug, as he committed to the statement. “It looks good on you.”

You couldn’t help but blush slightly under his gaze. He was cute and confident and oddly endearing. “Thanks.” You smiled, as he sat himself back down. “I guess I’ll keep it then.” You joked.

“The only way you’re keeping that thing is if you were my girlfriend.” He replied, half as a joke, half as a way of informing you just how much that shirt meant to him.

“Well I guess you better ask me on a date then.” You smirked playfully as he took a sip of his coffee and he almost choked as he spat it back into his cup. But before he could say anymore, Sam came back through the sliding door.

“Alright lovebirds, you can stop having your meet cute moment now, we gotta go,” he said to Joaquin.

“And what about me?” You said indignantly, feeling a little put out.

“He’ll be back in time to take you out on a proper date later.” Sam retorted, marching back through the house to get his shit from where he’d left it by the front door.

“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” You asked, completely brushing over the rest of what he’d said. “I don’t even live anywhere near here!” You stressed. “You just brought me here and now you’re gonna up and leave me here!” You said indignantly.

Joaquin froze in the middle of the hallway next to you, looking from his mentor and back to you as he tried to keep up with what’s going on. He felt conflicted. “I mean, can’t she just come with us.” He offered. “I mean, you brought her out here because you wanted to see what she could do. So I say let her.”

Sam looked between the two of you slowly, before he conceded. “Uh, fine. But if anything happens with her it’s on your head.” He warned but you were both smiling.

“So, is this technically our first date?” You ribbed him as he began to usher you out the door so he could lock up.

“We’ll see. Depends if you like it or not.” He mused and you had to admit, his cheeky smile did make you swoon.

“And if I don’t?” You asked with a playful twinkle in your eye.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured you with just as equal playfulness and innuendo, “you will.”

[annab-recs]

The Aftermath

summary: reader visits Joaquín at the hospital as he wakes up from surgery.

relationship: Joaquín Torres x gn!reader

warnings: established relationship, spoilers for captain america: brave new world, mention and description of injuries and medical procedures, mention of accident and explosions, brief mentions of PTSD from events in Infinity War/Endgame, self-doubts and guilt

word count: 2.2k

A/N: i started writing this the moment i came home from watching BNW. can't believe it took me this long to write for him,, he's been rotating in my mind ever since tfantws <3 we really need more fics for joaquín, he’s so blorbo coded like cmon!! 🥹🥹 if you have any recs pls send them my way!

[all masterlists] 🪶 [mcu masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Sitting by Joaquín’s hospital bed, you bring your hands to your face as you remember his accident on the Indian Ocean. You had watched the broadcast in horror, your heart in your throat as his figure fell from the sky into the open water. 

At that moment, you couldn’t help but remember the video from all those years ago, where you saw how Rhodey had fallen as well, like a rock, everyone watching, unable to do anything to stop him. Just like War Machine, Joaquín had turned uncontrollably on his descent, one of his wings ripped from the suit by the missile exploding right in his face.

You’ve been in the Avengers’ orbit since a little before the battle against Thanos on Wakanda, where you had also fought with everyone, but then got blipped. The transition back to society with a gap of 5 years had been very hard on you, and while you stayed in contact with everyone who remained, helping out whenever you could, you didn’t really have it in you to go back out to the battlefield. Even after all this time, you still have nightmares about the snap and the Battle for Earth. 

Bringing your hands back into your lap, you let out a trembling breath, clinging onto the constant soft beeping of the machinery to tether yourself to reality and not fall down a spiral of despair. Every time your eyes roam over Joaquín’s injuries, you close your eyes, pressing the base of your hands over them, then open them again. Your sight is momentarily sprinkled with dots, and as it clears, you hope for everything to have been a horrible nightmare. But once your view clears up, he’s still there. Unconscious. Hurt.

The surgery he’d been in last night had felt like it was never going to end. Still, you had stayed the whole time, and once he got out, you stayed at his side. 

It’s been several hours since Joaquín got wheeled into his room, the head medic saying he was still unconscious but stable. You shift in the armchair by the bed where you sit. One of the nurses brought you something to eat earlier since you refused to leave, the wrapper of your sandwich still in your hands as your eyes start feeling heavier and heavier, and you can’t find it in yourself to fight the welcome embrace of sleep, slowly spreading through your limbs. You’ve almost completely dozed off when you hear a groan, and immediately your grogginess dissipates. You straighten up in your seat, the wrapper falling to the floor as you scoot closer to the bed, tears stinging behind your eyes. How you still have tears left, you have no idea, given how much you’ve cried in the past hours, terrified of losing the love of your life. 

Joaquín blinks several times, scrunching his face, eyes trying to adapt to the light. He lifts his good arm, looking at the tubes attached to it, and his gaze roams the room and down his body, face contorting in pain lightly. Then his eyes land on you, and his face immediately softens.

“Hey, there,” he croaks out. 

“You’re awake,” you whisper, holding his hand in your trembling ones. “I was scared you wouldn’t.”

“Pfft, it’ll take more than a meagre explosion to defeat the Falcon,” he retorts with a pained smile.

Normally you’d laugh at his jokes, enjoying his silly side, but right now you have no humour left in you. Another wave of tears rolls down your cheeks, and his smile vanishes.

“Please don’t joke about that,” you plead, giving his hand a squeeze. “You were hit by a freaking missile. From a fighter jet. While up in the air between two armies about to start a war with each other.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” He sighs. 

There’s a moment of silence where you again study his bruised face, your gaze landing on the massive burn covering his whole shoulder, streaks of red raw skin visible on his jaw and throat. Your brows furrow in frustration.

“I should have been there,” you mumble, angry at yourself for letting this happen.

“What?” he asks, craning his neck to fully look at you.

“I should have gone with you,” you say, bringing your eyes to look up at him. “Then I could have helped and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Joaquín exhales through his nose in disbelief.

“We were in the air, and I went head to head with the missile even after Sam told me to back off,” he retorts, shaking his head. “There was nothing you could have done.”

His tone isn’t scolding; he’s telling the truth and you know it. Still, you can’t help but feel like the outcome could have been different, if you had just been better, braver. You try to choke back a sob, unsuccessful, and his hold tightens around your hand.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He speaks your name softly. “This isn’t on you. Please don’t cry.”

You grimace, biting the inside of your cheek.

“For a moment I thought you died, Joaquín. I was so scared,” you say with a shaky breath, bringing his hand to your face, and he cups your cheek. You place your hand over his, holding onto it and leaning into his touch like it was the last time you could hold him like this.

“I’m sorry I scared you.”

Your heart shatters at the thought that even after getting hurt, after getting blown up, he’s the one apologising to you. He’s about to add something when the door opens and a nurse comes in. You back off a bit and hastily wipe your face with the back of your sleeves as she does some check-ups, both on Joaquín and the machines, taking some notes on her clipboard. She then takes one of the tubes attached to his arm, and places a syringe at the other end.

“What’s that?” you ask, suspicious. She gives you a quick look with a raised brow, but when she sees the state you’re in, her face relaxes again.

“Painkillers and antibiotics. He’ll need both of them,” she explains.

It doesn’t take long for the fluids to reach Joaquín’s blood system, and he visibly relaxes against the pillows and closes his eyes.

“Oh, hell yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he sighs, and the nurse chuckles softly. You still can’t get yourself to let go of your worry. Once she’s done with everything, she leaves the way she came, exiting the room. As the door closes behind her, your eyes land on the wrapper on the floor, and you pick it up with a sniffle, crumpling it up further.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?” you ask as you throw the trash into the bin from where you sit, to your surprise making the shot. He doesn't answer, eyes still closed.

“Joaquín?” you ask softly, not wanting to wake him in case he fell asleep again.

“Huh? Wha?” His eyes open and he turns to look at you, his face visibly relaxed now.

“You okay?” You take his hand again, and he gives you a squeeze.

“Hmm-mm,” he hums with a nod, blinking slowly as he tries to focus on your face. “I just think I’m… kinda high right now.”

That’s when you finally break, unable to hold back an endeared chuckle, shaking your head. Joaquín’s eyes are filled with warmth and then concern as they land on your face, brows furrowing as if he just noticed something. His hand comes up to wipe away the remaining streak of tears. He also playfully pinches your cheek for good measure, eliciting another smile of yours.

“That’s better,” he concludes, a smile spreading on his face as well. The smile that could light up any room he’s in, in your humble opinion. 

You prop your elbow onto the edge of the bed, head in your hands as you look at him, and he looks back at you with a silly grin. The beeps on the machine speed up a bit, and you look up at the screen, then back at him with a brow raised in amusement.

“Usually you can’t tell because I’m smooth as hell, but it’s true,” he notes, like a huge secret was just uncovered. “You still make my heart race.”

Heat prickles on your cheeks at his words and you avert your gaze with a snort. As long as your heart is still beating, you think, remembering that they had to resuscitate him after the accident, but you shake those thoughts away, preferring to focus on the fact that he’s still here, alive.

“I know that the moment you’re back on your feet, you’ll be out there again, suited up,” you start after a moment, shooting him a serious look. “So I won’t ask you to stop. But promise me to be more careful next time?”

“Pinky promise.” Joaquín lifts his hand, fingers curled except for his pinky, and you can’t help but chuckle as you mirror his gesture, curling your finger around his. He shakes your hand like that side to side for a bit, then drops it back down onto the bed. A strand of hair falls into his face as he leans back, and you brush it back, caressing over his bruised cheekbone gingerly. 

“When was the last time you slept?” he asks suddenly.

“Hmm.” You look at the timestamp on the muted TV in the corner, currently playing some movie or other. It’s only then that you realise you’ve been intermittently awake for almost two full days now. “Can’t really remember,” you lie.

“You need to rest. You look exhausted,” he remarks, gesturing to himself. “I’m taken care of.”

“No, I’m not leaving you,” you say, putting as much finality into your voice as you can in your state.

He says your name softly. You look away. He sighs.

“Well, if you insist on staying, then at least I can get pampered a bit, yeah?” he starts, and you narrow your eyes at him in feigned suspicion. He asks with a playful pout, “You know what would make me feel better?”

“Hmm?” 

Joaquín turns his head, offering you his cheek. You can’t help but laugh. 

“I thought you were high on painkillers already?”

“Even the best medicine holds nothing against your kisses.”

“Pfft, is that so.” Now it’s your heart’s turn to speed up. You two have been together for a while now, but he still makes you feel warm and fuzzy, and gives you butterflies in your stomach, when he isn’t on the brink of death, at least. “Well, in that case, I better get started on your dose.”

You lean forward, placing a kiss on his cheek, and he hums pleasedly. He doesn’t move, though, clearly waiting for more. You’re more than happy to oblige, placing kiss after kiss on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, being especially careful around his injuries. Finally, you hold his chin to turn his face towards you, and kiss the corner of his mouth, then his lips. It's chaste but sweet, and he smiles into it. When you lean back, his eyes are filled with love, slightly unfocused because of the meds, a goofy grin on his face. As you hold his face, you consider saying something cheesy, hoping he won’t remember it. But before you can speak, there’s a knock at the door, and someone steps in. It’s Sam. He looks surprised to see you.  

“Damn, you’re still here?” he asks with concern, then turns to Joaquín. “How’re you feeling?”

“Splendid, really,” he replies, leaning into your hand still cupping his face.

“He got a decent shot of painkillers,” you explain, looking up at Sam with a tired smile. “He’s high as a kite.”

Sam chuckles, then looks at you worriedly. 

“You need to rest. Both of you.” He places a hand on your shoulder. “Go home, I’ll take it from here.”

You hesitate, looking between the two, and Joaquín nods, his eyes pleading for you to also take care of yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Joaquín says, taking your hand from his face and giving it a squeeze. “I’ll be here when you come back.”

“Right,” you sigh and rise to your feet with wobbly legs now that the exhaustion is finally kicking in full force, and Sam holds you up when your knees threaten to give in. 

“Whoa there. You need a nap, ASAP.” 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” you say with a sigh, steadying yourself as he lets you go, his hands still hovering over your arms for a moment in case he has to grab you again, but you manage to stand straight. You grab your jacket from the back of the chair, and turn to Joaquín. “I’ll come back this evening, okay? I’ll bring your favourite snacks too. Don’t tell the nurse, though.” You wink at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re the best.”

“No, you are.” You lean over him to kiss him goodbye, whispering ‘I love you’ against his lips, and pecking him once more for good measure. The machine’s beeps speed up again.

“Love you too. See you later.” Joaquín brings his hand up to caress over your cheek one last time, then you leave the room.

Sam is still standing there, hands in his pockets, looking down at his friend as the beeps slowly start decreasing back to normal.

“Very cute,” he remarks, unable to bite back a teasing smile. 

“Don’t even,” Joaquín says and rolls his eyes playfully, knowing perfectly well that Sam will never let him live that down.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!]

[annab-recs]

POOKIE I MISS YOU

HI ANGEL!!! 🥰

[annab-recs]

hi! saw requests were open so just HAD to ask for a peter fic. preferably mcu!peter where avenger!reader gets hurt from a mission and peter gets so upset abt it. maybe add angst between reader and peter ???? fluffy end pls :')

summary: After you get injured on a mission your best friend comes to visit you in the infirmary, you start to realize that your feelings towards him might be more than friendly.

pairings: peter parker/reader

warnings: mentions of injuries and blood (not graphic), friends to lovers, a bit of angst, fluff at the end, no use of y/n

word count: 0.8k

a/n: this is such a good prompt. i haven't written any actual fics in like a year so this was fun to do. i just love peter so much. (also i'm so sorry this took so long)

You open your eyes, the fluorescent overhead light burns your eyes. You attempt to sit up but you can feel a sharp pain in your chest. Tears begin to form in your eyes, the pain is nauseating. You try to piece together how you got here. You remember the mission, you remember the dagger that was lodged in your chest what felt like inches away from your heart. You remember blood everywhere. And you remember hearing Peter's screams before everything went dark.

You thought that you were dying. It still feels like you're dying. You look around the room you're in. Your view isn't very good but you recognize the room as the infirmary in Avengers Compound. You try and fail to sit up again. The door slips open. Peter walks over to your bed.

"Thank god you're awake." His voice is shaky and his eyes are red rimmed. He takes a seat in the chair at your bed side. When you joined the Avengers, Peter was the one to show you around and help you adjust to everything. Peter has been your closest friend ever since.

"I thought that you were going to die. I was terrified. I would have stayed and waited here but Mr. Stark made me clean up and change before I could come back." Peter's eyes begin to water. It hurts to see him like this.

"It's okay, Peter. I'm okay. It's going to be alright." You try to reach out to him but the small movement causes another surge of pain. You wince, Peter puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Don't move. I know you want to but it's just going to hurt more if you do." Peter is clearly trying to steady his voice and put on a brave face for you but it isn't working.

He updates you on everything that's happened in the two days that you were unconscious, including what happened after you blacked out. Just talking to you seems to calm him down. It calms you down too. You can see just how much he cares.

"Are you okay, Peter?" You finally ask. Peter seems different than he normally is, he's just off in a way that you can't explain. His expression changes at your question, as if he's trying to hide whatever raised your concern in the first place.

"I'm fine. I just..." He trails off. His expression becomes wistful, then reluctant, then it snaps back to normal. "I just missed you. You're my best friend. I love the other Avengers but it's different without you." Your heart flutters when you hear these words.

"I should have done more to keep you safe. Mr. Stark told me to watch over you, I'm supposed to protect you but I didn't. This is all my fault." He adds. You see the desperation and guilt in his eyes. In this moment, you can only see Peter. The boy who puts too much pressure on himself because he cares about everyone and everything around him. The feeling you've been suppressing are beginning to surface. There's a deep level of devotion you feel towards each other. You would do anything for him and he would do anything for you.

"Peter, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." Tears begin to roll down Peter's cheeks. You feel yourself begin to tear up as well. Looking at him now makes you feel something that you've never felt before. You realize that you want to be there with him through everything, maybe not just as a best friend. Peter looks back at you, his eyes are glassy. There's something so endearing about him. You fight the urge to look away. You try to push the thoughts out of your mind, now is definitely not the time. Peter immediately senses that something is wrong.

"What's wrong?" He looks concerned again. "I can get you whatever you need to feel better." He grabs your hand and begins to brush your hand with his thumb. Peter looks into your eyes, he seems to have calmed down a bit after your reassurances. Peter glances down at your lips briefly, before bringing his gaze back up to your eyes. Your breath catches as he leans a bit closer to you.

"I was so worried that I would never get to see you again. All I could think about were all the things I never got to tell you." Peter leans in even closer.

"Can I?" He whispers. His mouth is centimeters away from yours. Peter looks more shy and nervous as he waits for your answer. But you don't hesitate.

"Yes." The word comes out lightly. The world seems to stop as his lips meet yours. Everything that's happened seems to wash away as the kiss clouds your mind. Eventually, Peter pulls back. His cheeks are slightly pink and he looks a little embarrassed. All you do is pull him back in.

taglist: @doyouknowwhoyouare13, @shefollowedthestars, @diorgirl444

[annab-recs]

AH HI!! so... i love the way you write ditzy!reader, and especially with steve idk it just warms my heart yk? The way they interact 😭 it's so lovely

Since I'm an angsty girly at heart, I thought about a situation where steve gets a teeny tiny bit frustrated with ditzy!reader, but it's just seconds, even less than that but it's enough to make her upset for making him upset but also a super fluffy moment between both of them and steve being mesmerized by her and just so much in love

ahh thank u lovie! pls enjoy!! — steve gets frustrated with his sensitive gf and makes up with her accordingly (hurt/comfort, established relationship, 2.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You keep Steve company during the last half of his shift like you always do. 

He’s grumpier than usual, though — all pouty and visibly brooding. 

You plop yourself on the front counter of Family Video and ask him what’s wrong, and he tells you that the day’s been hell and he’s just tired. There is no “but I feel better now” like there usually is when he’s upset but doesn’t want you to think it’s your fault. 

The “because you’re here” is typically implied. 

Not so much now.

You’re having the complete opposite day of your sulking boyfriend. Yours had been dreadfully boring, or at least you say it had been, but you find a million different things to tell him. You’re too excited after having spent so many hours without him, like a dog with a wagging tail. You’ve got the zoomies of the mouth, if you could even call it that.

“—And then I saw the cutest dog on the way over here. His name was Cappy, and he was huge, and the owner was so nice. He even let me pet him, and he literally felt like a cloud— the dog, not the owner.”

Steve is used to this. The whole rambling about nothing thing. He loves it about you, actually. It took him ages to coax you out of that shell after your asshole ex told you that you talked too much, convinced you that no one cared about what you had to say.

You’re more comfortable now, and Steve loves that you are, but right now he just can’t concentrate.

Keith’s been on his ass about inventory all day, and he just learned how to do it on the old, bulky computer this morning — but only after Robin made him an hour late to his shift. Everything’s just too much now. He’s overwhelmed to the point of spontaneous combustion. 

For the first time ever, you’re not helping.

“—And, like, I know when we move into our apartment, we’re technically not allowed to have pets, but like… What about a fish? Or a turtle?” you wonder aloud but don’t stop to let him answer. Sitting on the edge of the counter, you kick your feet and flit your eyes to the spotted ceiling. “What if I start feeding the deer in the woods, and they just start showing up at our backdoor? ‘Cause technically—”

“Babe, please,” Steve snaps suddenly when your sneaker knocks his chair. He’s buzzing with anger, and even though it’s not because of you, he doesn’t know where else to put it.

Your eyes go wide at the newfound bite in his tone. He’s not shouting at you, but it makes your heart stop like he is. You feel like a kid again, getting scolded for being “too much.”

“…What?” you squeak.

Steve sighs. A deep, heavy sigh. It doesn’t remove the leaden weight from his chest, though. 

“I’m… I’m really trying to concentrate here, and you’re just— you’re making it really hard,” he tells you through gritted teeth, trying hard to keep his composure.

You deflate like a popped balloon. “Oh…”

He can hear the waver in your tone, the way your voice sounds wet with unshed tears. But he’s too overwhelmed — internally raging and selfish with it. His sweltering temper makes his woe feel more important than yours.

“Yeah, so… Can you just— go bother someone else for, like, five minutes?” he asks, fists clenched on either side of the clunky keyboard, his gaze concentrated on the pixelated screen. “Robin’s probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Go find her.”

Your face crumbles like a balled-up piece of paper. Your chest gets all tight, and your eyes start to burn when tears gather behind them.

You’d always been a flower of melodrama — blooming eternally and constantly sensitive. So when Steve cut you off as you fantasized about a family of deer living in the backyard of an apartment you were supposed to share together, it felt like a knife in your chest. 

The irrational thought that he no longer wanted any of that with you was fleeting and vivid and burning. Irrational, still.

But now you’re annoying him. He’s told you as much, with an unusual harshness he’s never spat at you before. And now your fears feel much more real.

“I’m bothering you?” you ask him, barely intelligible through the whimper in your throat.

Steve huffs again. His elbows thunk against the desk when he puts his head in his palms, swiping his fingers through his hair like he always does when he’s antsy. 

“I just really need to get this done,” he tells you, softer now. He makes himself mad all over again, though, and gets sharper once more. “I need to finish this before I get fired, and then we have no apartment to move into because we have no money, alright?”

There it is. The root of all his anger. A lingering feeling of inadequacy. 

He wants a life with you, but all he’s got is a measly Family Video salary — which he’s lucky to have apparently, because he can’t seem to do anything right. It stirs like a fire in the pit of his stomach.

After another deep breath, he finally turns to look up at you. His honey eyes are wet and stern. The chiseled edges of his features are sharp. Gently, he pleads. “I really need to work here, babe.”

You nod, understanding and internally weeping. “Okay. I’m— I’m sorry, I was just— I’ve been missing you all day, and I got too excited, I think,” you confess, wringing your clammy hands in your lap like a scolded child.

“Don’t apologize,” Steve says with a huff, leaning back against the squeaking swivel chair. It’s old and has lost all its cushion. His stiff back aches all the more. There’s no relief, to any of it. 

He sits back up again and puts his unsure hands back on the keyboard. “Just— Just go, okay? Let me finish this.”

He leaves little room for argument.

You wouldn’t, though, even if you wanted to. Which you do. You’re just not strong enough.

—————

Steve tells you to go, but you end up in the kiddie corner across the store. 

Mr. Rogers puts on a bright red cardigan and sings a tune that makes you feel like crying. You sit on the color-blocked carpet, surrounded by block toys, and clutch a stuffed bunny to your chest. You can’t tell if the vintage VHS is making the screen blurry or if it’s the tears gathering heavy at your waterline.

Robin walks by you, does a double-take, and immediately reports to Steve.

“What did you do?” she interrogates with narrowed eyes, strolling up to the counter with a cart full of tapes to put away.

The hearty tap, tap, taping of the keyboard fills the silence. 

Steve doesn’t look at her until he’s finished up the last of his work. Only when it’s fully and finally complete does his hardened gaze dart to her. “What are you talking about?”

“Your girlfriend. She’s upset.”

“What do you mean she’s upset?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his obliviousness. “I don’t know. She’s singing the Mister Roger’s theme song and, like, crying. It’s weird.”

Steve’s brows pinch. His heart does, too. “Crying?”

“Well— not crying, exactly. It’s this really weird blubbering thing.” She fails to explain it so she tries to imitate it. A sobbing, sniffling sort of noise. She fails at that, too. Her scrunched face goes back to normal. “Like that.”

Deadpanned, Steve nods. “Wow, Robin. That was really helpful. Thank you.”

“Just go comfort your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve still thinks she’s joking. Robin doesn’t lie, but she does have a tendency to overemphasize the mundane. 

He goes to see you anyway, though, and doesn’t think twice about any of it — about what Robin said or what he had said to you before that.

He finds you in the kid’s section, in front of the tiny television, surrounded by brightly colored toys. He smiles at the sight of you, exhaling a sharp laugh through his nose.

“What are you doing all the way over here, huh?” he questions to announce his arrival, which you seemingly hadn’t noticed. “This area is usually for kids, ya know? Well, kids and Dustin Henderson.”

He doesn’t sound as annoyed with you anymore. You’re grateful for that much, but you still feel a bit sick about the whole thing.

Your nervous hands pick the cotton of the fuzzy bunny in your arms. You keep your gaze on the television in front of you, but you aren’t really watching it anymore. “I used to watch this stuff a lot growing up. The nostalgia sorta makes me wanna puke. But, like, in a good way.”

Steve scoffs. “Well, maybe we should turn it off then, ‘cause if I have to clean up vomit after the day I’ve had, I might actually go insane.”

He’s kidding. Mostly. The universe tends to be cruel like that, but he’d clean up all your messes a thousand times over if he had to.

He laughs at his own joke as he crouches to sit down next to you. He bends his knees, props his arms on top of them, and looks over at you. You don’t crack a smile for him, which is weird because you always laugh at his jokes. Even the ones that aren’t funny. Especially the ones that aren’t funny.

His smile ebbs to a wavering half-smirk as he knocks his shoulder with yours. “You okay?”

You think for a moment, jutting your lips out, unblinking at the television screen. “No,” you answer after a few seconds of silence. “But I’ll get over it. I think.”

Your honesty makes his heart wrench — like you’ve wrapped both your tiny hands around the beating organ and squeezed. It knocks the breath out of his lungs, a fish so ruthlessly pulled from the water. He tries to speak through the sudden lack of air. “Wh—What happened? Was it… Did I do something? Did you—”

“No,” you cut off his stammering with a firm shake of your head. “I did something.”

“Oh,” is all he says, pink lips pouting and wide eyes darting. “What does… What does that mean? Did you, like, step on a rogue VHS or something? ‘Cause I do that all the time, and technically, that��s Rob’s fault for leaving them out, so—”

You shake your head again, digging your nails into the delicate cotton of the well-loved stuffy in your arms. “No. I was just— I was botheringyou, and now I feel bad,” you confess, all quiet like a meek child who’s learning what it means to be sorry.

Steve — your oh, so oblivious one — goes aflame with embarrassment. He’d been too clouded by his own anger to recognize the venom spilling from his mouth; to understand that it would inevitably hurt you.

With chiseled features twisted in confusion, he shakes his head and stammers. “What? No! You weren’t— You weren’t bothering me!”

You turn to look at him, for the first time since he sat down beside you. Your eyes are glassy and swimming with hurt. You try to keep your trembling features stoic. You don’t want to seem as hurt by it all as you really are. 

You feel like you should, anyway. What right do you have to be sad when you were the one being a bother?

“You said I was,” you remind him, still soft but sterner now. “You told me to go bother someone else—”

“Oh, babe…” Steve says, deflating just as you had. 

He knows how sensitive you are, how deeply you feel things. You’re vulnerable, raw — it makes everything feel more personal than it really is. It makes grumpy jabs from your dumbass boyfriend hurt like a lemon on a weeping wound.

He tries to apologize, knowing that he hurt you and that it’s not up to him to decide that he didn’t. 

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to, babe,” he murmurs, swiping a tense hand through his hair and then gesticulating wildly with it. “I was just being a dick, you know? I’ve been super stressed all day and—”

“Don’t apologize. I was being annoying.”

Steve blinks at you with wide, wet eyes — like you’ve hurt him by talking so cruelly about yourself. 

“Baby, no. No,” he urges, ducking down to meet your gaze when you look away from him. “I’m just an idiot, okay? I put off inventory until the last second, and Keith’s been on my ass all day about it, and I just— I took that out on you, and that’s not fair, and I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, pursing your bitten lips to the side and twisting the long ear of the bunny between your fingers. “It’s not your fault, Steve…” you murmur, almost inaudibly.

He scoffs. It sounds like a bitter laugh. “Well, actually, it kinda is.”

“I just… I don’t really understand what’s going on sometimes. Or, like, a lot of the time,” you admit with a distracted gaze, eyes flitting everywhere but to the boy beside you. You’re too ashamed to look at him now. “And it’s harder for me to know when I’m talking too much, you know? Or if I’m being super annoying.”

“I know…” Steve nods, trying his best to be sympathetic of you. He loves how soft you are — too much to understand you completely. He loves how gently you treat the rest of the world, how unusually giddy you get in your gentleness. 

You swallow through a tightening throat and shrug to pretend your world doesn’t feel like it’s crumbling around you. “And I don’t care about annoying other people— well, I do, but it’s different with you, you know? Other people can’t break up with me for being too much.”

“The idiot that told you you were too much had exactly zero personality,” Steve tells you, mostly because he means it but also to see you smile. 

You do, just barely. A grin so soft only someone deathly in love with you could see. 

“You’re never annoying me, okay? Ever. I love hearing you talk. I love having you around.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, blinking back burning tears.

“Hell yeah! You’re, like, the best part of my day! The only good part of my day, now that I think about it.”

Biting back a grin, you tease, “Well, what about Robin?”

“Robin made me late today, so we’re kinda not friends right now.”

“That’s mean,” you scold despite the growing smile on your face.

Steve shrugs. “We’ll make up before I clock out. No big deal.”

You go suddenly shy, smiling sheepish and tilting your chin to your chest to peek at him through your lashes. “Are we gonna make up before you clock out?” you wonder quietly.

“Only if you’re willing to forgive me for being an insufferable douchebag,” Steve answers, only half-joking. He very seldomly feels worthy of your softness.

You look at him with it, anyway. 

Full on beaming now, you reach across the short distance to wrap him in a firm embrace. The position is only slightly awkward. Sitting side by side with your asses on the hard carpet, your arms wound tightly around his neck — a bit like a snake smothering its prey. 

Steve feels grateful to be held so ardently. 

His nose smushes into your neck. The sweet scent of your perfume entwines with the warm scent of your sweater. He smiles into your shoulder when it makes you giggle. You pull back from him then, just to steal a quick peck a moment later. Your lips smack audibly against his grin.

“Can we make out before you clock out?” you lilt with a shy smirk.

“…That is the single best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Your giggle fills the empty store when Steve rises suddenly and pulls you with him. He leads you toward the back, tugging you by the hand down the short corridor and rambling all the way. “Keith left for the day, so his office is empty, which means it’s fair game—”

“I am not making out with you in Keith’s office!”

“But his desk chair is crazy comfortable, and also, he’s a dick, so… who cares?”

[annab-recs]

late.

synopsis: your boyfriend’s superhero antics give you a fright, and it’s up to him to reassure you of his well-being when he returns home from the fight. 

author’s note: i’ll admit, this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time… likely since no way home came out! but i’ve been trying to get back into the swing of writing, and i figured it was a good idea to start with finishing up some works in progress before diving into anything new. so here’s some peter angst and fluff, just like the good ol’ days. enjoy!! 

wordcount: 1,613 

18. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 48. “Why are you crying?”

Peter Parker x Reader

      The window to the bedroom slides open, a figure in blue and red quietly stepping through the frame and carefully sliding the window shut behind him, all the while listening intently for any signs of life in the apartment beyond. Satisfied that he hasn’t woken his aunt, Peter turns around only to be startled by a figure sat in the darkness of the room, criss-cross on his bed. 

      “Shit.” He curses, huffing out a laugh when he realizes it’s only you. “It’s late,” Peter starts, tugging his mask off and tossing it onto his desk as he turns towards his closet to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

Keep reading

[annab-recs]

Hi there! Can I request something where MCU!Peter and the reader find out their baby has powers like Peter when the baby starts crawling, Peter is giddy and all but the reader is freaking out because now she has to take care of two spiders.

i really didn’t know what to name her 😭

pairing ➳ peter parker x reader.

masterlist

“okay, don’t freak out.” your husband put his hands up in front of his chest as he entered the bedroom.

“...what did you do?”

“oh, not me. annie.”

you put down your book finally and got out of bed, “okay. what’s happening?”

“she... you better see this.” peter wrapped his fingers around your wrist and pulled you along, “she started crawling.”

“peter, she started that weeks ago...” you looked at your husband in confusion. when you reached the room, you found it empty. peter let you go around, looking every corner of the room. you checked under the little crib and the box of toys, even the cupboards and the drawers– she was peter’s daughter and anything was possible.

peter just stood there with pursed lips and you looked at him, your brows pulled together, “um... don’t look up.”

you looked up and there your baby was, crawling around the ceiling like gravity was nothing to her. you gasped, “peter, what the-”

“i know, i know!” he held your hands, “i know it’s scary, babe. but look at her go.” peter smiled proudly as her daughter’s soft brown hair stuck up in all directions.

“i can’t even hear you! peter, get my baby down from the ceiling!” you sighed, tension rising up within your body as you stared at her too, “what if she falls down?”

“she wouldn’t i was right here!” peter claimed. you gave him a look and his smile turned nervous, “e-except for when i was not... sorry.”

you sighed, “you need to get her.”

“she looks like she’s having fun.” peter pointed out and you looked at the little girl crawling around in circles until she reached the fan, making your eyes widen further.

“peter!”

peter sensed your panic and quickly jumped up, clinging to the ceiling with one hand while he grabbed anne in his arms. she immediately went over his shoulder and tried to crawl back to the ceiling. all you could do was watch the scene unfold, your arms crossed over your chest.

“come here.” peter grabbed the little baby and hopped back onto the floor. you sighed in relief when she was back in your arms.

“hey, sweetie.” you cooed as you hugged her to your chest, “don’t do that... your father is scary enough like that.” you brushed her soft, chestnut hair back.

“hey-” peter protested but stopped when he looked at your worried expression, “hey...” he said again, softer. your husband walked up to you and wrapped his arms around you carefully, “it’s okay.”

“annie...”

“she’s gonna be fine. you think i’d let something happen to her?” peter placed a gentle kiss against your forehead.

you sighed, “i know. that’s why i’m worried about both of you.”

“you better be worried about your hair, babe.” peter mumbleb, again making you look at him in confusion. peter pointed to the way anne’s little fist was around a lock of your hair.

“oh, crap-”

[annab-recs]

Shhh

Just thinking about Eddie coming home from a three cities in five days tour, his voice completely gone.

He looks miserable when he tries to say hello to you despite better knowledge and you flinch at the sound, hearing the pain in the scratch deep in his throat. You clasp a hand over his mouth, shutting him up before he can hurt himself more.

Good thing there's a full weekend before he has to go back to the workshop on Monday, where his day job is waiting for him.

You tuck him into bed, throw a sketchpad and a pen at him and try to turn to get some camomile tea brewing but he snatches the back of your shirt and pulls you in, tucks you against his chest and just holds you there.

It's a weird silence, you can feel the words rattling around in his chest cavity and you're impressed and proud at how much restraint he's showing.

When he lets you go reluctantly, you smother his face in kisses, assuring him you'll be right back. He grins, voices a scratchy hum and softly slaps your ass when you wiggle out the bed.

In the kitchen, you start to get busy finding everything that will help to restore his voice again as fast as possible. You had started to miss it in all its ever-changing variations when you had come home on Monday to an empty apartment to many small voids where Eddie's presence usually lingers in the things he cherishes the most, uses every day.

Clothes and books - he packed too little of one, too much of the other as always - an off-white spot in the shape of a guitar over the armchair that's the only void that won't stay empty in his absence. Not only because you like sitting in this spot, though usually got no chance to sit in here when Eddie is around, but because it smells of him, because you can sink into the impression his presence has left there over the years.

You only have dried sage right now but you'll get fresh one and some other things when he's settled and asleep which shouldn't take too long, judging by the soft purple half-moons under his eyes. He's not getting any younger and hoisting amps at two in the morning after a busy concert days leaves traces now.

Maybe he has already passed out, you think. You've been busy in the kitchen for more than five minutes and he hasn't sneaked up on you yet, impatiently wrapping his arms around you from behind, sinking his face into your shoulder.

But when you get back to the bedroom with a pot full of steaming hot camomile and sage tea and a jar of honey, he's still awake, frantically filling the sketch pad with his scratchy-elegant handwriting.

He looks up when he hears you enter and makes a small, high pitched noise in his chest, his smile a soft curve of gratitude and admiration.

He pulls you back into the bed with him, pulls your legs into his lap and puts an obscene amount of honey into his first cup of tea. You chuckle and make a stupid joke about bees or something when your eyes start to move over the first page of five he had filled in your absence. You don't finish the joke, the thought fading as you fall into the report of his days away.

It's a ritual that you're fond of. It bridges the gap that had opened when you stopped dragging yourself to every gig just for the sake of it. You didn't miss the stress and the claustrophobic haze of it all - after all, you're not getting any younger either - but you missed his euphoria, missed to share his joy and whatever else got his blood pumping fast and hot and wild.

You read it all out loud, commenting in between, forming your inquisitive thoughts into yes or no questions, chuckling, marvelling, ranting, all while Eddie drinks his too-sweet tea in small sips and enlivens your narration with his facial expressions and small grunting noises.

You try not to laugh too hard, for it always makes him laugh as well and you think he knows you're holding back if the way he keeps kissing the corners of your tightly sealed lips is anything to go by. Like small thank you's because you caring for him when he's unwell still blows him away a little, even after all this time.

"You tired?" you ask, when the written report ends mid-sentence and you look up to find Eddie nodding off with his head rolling against the wall. He cracks open one eye, shakes his head, shakes himself awake and no to your question, a hand reaching out to the sketchpad in your lap.

"You can finish that later, Ed." You pluck the cup from his other hand before he can spill whats left in there over the sheets. "You look like shit."

He snorts a laugh, then coughs.

"Shit, sorry."

"S'ok-ay--" he croaks, using his vocal cords out of habit and coughs some more.

"Shhh," you say and start rubbing soothing circles into his back for as long as it takes for the dry, sore heaving to subside again.

"Okay, now you sleep. I'm going out to get some th--"

A hand over your mouth shuts you up. He's shaking his head, fumbling the notepad out of your lap at last with the other one.

Don't want you to leave. Take a nap with me?

"I won't be long, I join you when I get back."

He shakes his head again.

Please?

You barely have time to look at the word when he starts manhandling you up the bed and pulls you down with him, burying his face in your chest.

"Alright," you say, weaving your fingers into his hair while something more than his breath starts to spread warmth through your ribcage. "Alright, I stay."

You feel his muscles relax, his breath even out. Seconds later, he's asleep.

[annab-recs]

Oh, Baby.

What happens when you realize your period is late and you may or may not be pregant?

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word Count: 3.1K

Pure terror ran through your body on the way to Peter’s apartment. 

Usually it was a slight anxiety, the shaking of your leg in anticipation to see your boy; or the fingertips you tapped on the subway pole when there was no space to sit so your hands were forced to mimic the beat of the music running through your headphones. 

Usually you had a half grin, love sick look on your face knowing after the 10 minute train ride you would be in Peter’s room, in his bed with him all over you. He would kiss down your face, and you would push him away after he starts to blow raspberries on your neck. 

“Peter,” You would whine, moving your head away while simultaneously pushing lightly at his chest. “Stop, my neck tingles!” It was always the same complaint, the vibration of his lips and warm breath sent chills down your spine while also slightly buzzing a part in your brain that made you squirm far away. Then, Peter would laugh at your reaction like he always does and will give you the same ‘I’m not sorry’ look and say “I’m sorry baby, let me make it up,” and he would pull you into a kiss that left you pushing him off you in a different way. 

You would ask him for help with homework and he would walk you through it, sometimes explaining the same thing 4 times but slightly different each way so he could help you understand it the best way possible. He would kiss the tip on your nose, then your eyebrow and say “That’s it baby!” when he looked over your shoulder and watched you do the practice question he wrote down with no help. 

You would look over at Peter and have that same exploding love feeling that built up so ferociously that you felt like you were seconds from death if you didn't kiss him, or feel his skin on yours in that moment. And you would kiss Peter, and he would eventually lay you back on his bed and slowly both of you would pull each other's clothes off. 

So, usually you couldn’t wait to see him. 

But, today you were stoic. No excited foot taps, no headphones in either, the thoughts in your head were loud enough to block out any surrounding sounds. You didn’t even tell Peter you were coming over, scared you would let the reasoning slip. You hated to surprise him with this but you were too. No, blindsided. You were blindsided. 

“Hi.” Your words sounded timid. You looked at him in the doorway, eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw you behind the door. 

He caught on immediately, “Hi. You okay?” 

He pushed the door open and stepped to the side to have you enter. He noticed your silence in regard to his question. You pulled him into a tight hug, your arms wrapped around his middle and you squeezed, your head fully buried into his stomach, if you tried to get a big breath in your air was trapped in the cotton of his shirt. Peter let out a small ‘oof’ before wrapping his own arms around you. 

“Hi.” You repeated, you closed your eyes against him. You could feel the tears gathering behind your eyelids. 

Peter lent his mouth against the top of your head. He smelled your hair and whispered back, “Hi,” then repeated his question, “Are you alright?” 

You gave him a final squeeze and pulled back. His brown doe eyes looked into yours, his eyes told you he was concerned he looked at your face and saw the frown, your eyes looked red, you looked nervous, scared even. 

You swallowed hard, “Can we talk?” 

Peter let you push him down by his shoulders unto his bed, he kept quiet and gave you his undivided attention. He watched you open your mouth, he could see the frustrated look on your face when you couldn’t form the words you wanted to say. He tilted his head slightly, giving you the ‘It’s okay, it’s just me’ look. 

You looked down, not being able to look him in the eye in shame. 

“I can’t do this.” You mumbled, trying to find the words. 

“Do what?” Peter’s voice had an edge.

“This.” You motioned between the two of you. 

“Use your words.” He sat straighter, bracing himself for the blow you were about to deliver. 

He watched you as you let a few tears drop. You looked away from him, he shouldn’t have to go through this with you. He was a kid, and so were you. But he had more responsibilities than any other kid you could think of at this age, Spider-Man, being top of the class, juggling friends and May between giving you all the time in the world. He shouldn’t have to deal with this, nor should you. It was unfair. 

You shook your head. If you spoke now the dam would break and you wouldn’t be able to say anything. 

“Y/N, If you’re going to break up with me I need you to say it.” Peter spoke with authority and your eyes went wide. 

“No! No! I’m not-” You dropped off, not even wanting to say the words. 

“I’m not- I wouldn’t do that, okay?” 

“I just-” You felt the tears coming, you couldn’t stop them. You broke into a sob, “Please don’t be mad at me.” You felt the air leave your lungs, you couldn’t fucking breathe, the room felt like it was closing in and all you wanted was Peter to hug you and tell you it would be okay. Because that’s what Peter did, he never knew what it was but the first instinct was always to say it would be okay because for the better part it usually would. 

He pulled you down unto his lab by your hand and pushed you into his chest, letting his heartbeat fall into your ear. He ran a hand down your hair, he felt you sob and rack breaths against his shoulder. He was shushing you before you broke into a loop of half crying and half choking repeating the words “please don’t be mad at me,” and ‘i’m sorry,”  over and over.

You noticed it 2 hours ago. It was all because you replaced the toilet paper. 

You had gone into your bathroom cabinet looking for the extra toilet paper rolls you kept stashed underneath and you saw your tampon box. You thought, “Huh, I haven’t had my period yet this month.” And shrugged, it was no biggie, a few days late didn’t matter. You weren't on birth control, Peter used condoms and that was fine. You had a scheduled period without it being scheduled, usually it was around the same week each month, but when you actually thought about it you had to ask, ‘Wait. When was my last period?’ 

The instant panic set in, you looked at your phone calendar. 3 weeks. You were 3 weeks late. It wasn’t a few days, it wasn’t even a week off course. It was a month. You couldn’t be, no way. It happened to people sure, but not you, not Peter. It wasn’t supposed to happen, not like this. 

You paced around your room at first in denial. ‘No, I’m not pre- Stop. Don’t even think about that, you’re fine, it’s okay. I’m not-” You looked at your phone, thumb hovering over Peter’s contact name, you almost called him, but settled for an in person meeting. 

“I’m not mad, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” His voice was soft and smooth. It was caring, endearing even. It wasn’t fair for him. 

“You’re going to hate me.”  

He squeezed you. “Stop.” He always hated negative talk.

“Nothing you’re going to say will make me hate you.”

“This time it will.” 

“Tell me.” He challenged you. 

Your crying settled, you were better now. You were able to form sentences. 

“I’m late.” You held your eyes shut, waiting for the explosion. 

“For what?” He ran a hand up and down your back, he was soothing you while you were about to drop a bomb on him. 

“No, I’m late.” You looked at him in the face. You had to be brave. 

Peter looked confused. 

“My period is late, Peter.” You spoke each word independently scared you would spew the words out so fast he would make you repeat them. 

He took a deep breath in. 

“Okay.” 

“A month late, Peter.” 

He nodded his head. 

“Okay.” 

He had to be strong right now, he might be slightly panicking on the inside but clearly you were the more upset one and it wouldn’t be good for both of you to be freaking out. 

“Do you think you’re pregn-” 

“Stop.” You cut him off. 

“Don’t say it.” 

He closed his mouth and tried to find his way around the question.

“Do you think you might be?” You both were not to say the P word. 

“I don’t know.” Your words broke, the tears were about to start again.

“Did you take a test?” 

You hated how adult Peter was right now, he was making you seem so immature and childish about this. 

“Are you mad at me?” You wondered if that was the reason behind the blank face he wore. 

“What? No. No, not at all. It takes two to make a b-” He tried to calm your fears but you stopped him again, you got louder this time. Not quite a yell but edging that way.

“Stop saying things like that!” You pushed away from him and stood up. 

“Do you even understand this? Do you know what this means? Do you get what I’m saying?” You were upset with yourself but Peter was here to take the heat so right now it was his problem. 

“Baby,” He tried.

“Don’t call me that right now.” Your tone was bitter. The word made you mad.

He sighed, “Okay, sweetheart. I-” He paused to find the right words but couldn’t. He felt defeated right now and he hasn’t felt like this ever. He was the fixer, he solved all your problems and was the one that made you feel better when you were in the dumps. 

But this was a problem he couldn’t solve.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” It was honest. He couldn’t make it better but he wasn’t trying to make it worse. 

“I don’t know!” You exploded on him. He didn’t take it personally, he knew you were in crisis mode. “Just,” You pulled at the roots of your hair, desperate for your boyfriend to do something, make this go away, stop the panic and fear and shame. 

“Just fix it!” You pleaded. 

He stood and held you to him. Tears wet his shirt, he felt his own clouding up his eyes so he shut them. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can fix this one.” His voice made him sound defeated. You broke him. 

“You always fix it.” You reminded him. 

“I know.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Did you take a test?” He sounded more authoritative this time. 

“No.” 

“Okay. I can do that, I can get you one.” He felt a little happy he could do something for you. 

“Okay.” You pulled from him. 

“Okay?” He watched you nod at him. 

“Get the good one. The expensive one, I don’t trust the one dollar ones.” 

“Got it. What else?” He was putting his wallet in his back pocket, he would be going to a bodega not even a block down the street. 

“Nothing.” You couldn’t imagine anything making this more bearable at the moment. 

“Okay.” Peter nodded at you and looked you over, he hoped you would be okay the five minutes he would be gone. “I love you.” The words made you choke up. He still loved you, even now. 

You smiled, he knew you needed to hear that.

“I love you too.” You watched him step out his bedroom door. 

“Wait,” He turned to look at you, waiting for you to finish your thought. 

He watched you grin shyly, “Can you get me a chocolate milk too?”

“Anything for you ba-” He cleared his throat, “darling.”

You nodded and watched him leave. 

Peter returned in record timing pulling the chocolate milk from the bag, (the good expensive stuff too. Peter felt like you deserved the extra $2 splurge) and leaving the test hidden in the opaque plastic, you shouldn’t have to stare at it until you were ready to take it. 

You took the bottle from him and twisted off the cap with a crack of the seal. 

“Gonna have to crack open a cold one for this.” You cheers the empty space in front of you and down a quarter of it and pass it to Peter. He holds his hands out in a passing manner, “No, I’m trying to lay off the hard stuff.” You laughed and insisted he take it, “C’mon I think you deserve a shot after today.” 

He sighed and looked around, “Alright, just one okay? Don’t let my sponsor know about this.” 

You giggled while you watched him drink an equal amount before he handed it back and you replaced the cap. 

“We’re gonna need this for later.” You placed the bottle on his nightstand. 

You lent your head on his shoulder. Your voice is quiet, “We’re gonna be okay, right?” 

“Yeah. We’re going to be just fine.” You nodded against him. You chose to believe him.

You stood and pulled the test from the bag. He got you the nice one like you said, 2 tests inside. It was the digital “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant” one. No squinting at lines, saying “is that a double line or a single?” 

You let out a heavy breath and looked at your boyfriend. How he is so calm right now is beyond you. You looked at the test again and the trip to the bathroom seemed long and lonely and you didn’t want to be alone. You gave him the sweet eyes that usually got you what you wanted. 

“Can you come with me?” 

He sat up like a spring, walking ahead of you. “Of course.”

You peed on the stick while Peter sat on the side of the tub and talked to you about something because you were pee shy and couldn’t do it in the silence of the room knowing Peter was right next to you.

Laying the test flat on the sink you asked Peter to set the timer for 5 minutes. You didn’t know how long 5 minutes could be until now. 

You sat next to him thigh to thigh on the tub slinking your hand between his. 

“Be honest. Are you freaking out just as much as I am?” You looked at him to see his reaction. 

He laughed, more like a chuckle. “Oh yeah.” 

“You’re better at hiding it than me.” You pushed the curls falling into his eyes away. 

“You didn’t need me to freak out, you needed me to support you. And I do.” He squeezed your hand in his.

You didn’t want to ask but this was the reality of the situation. 

“What happens if it’s positive?” You held your breath.

“I don’t know.” He wishes he could say more. 

“Neither do I.” You were in the same boat. 

If the ship was sinking you'd go down together. 

“I love you. I will always love you no matter what, positive or not I'm in your corner.” He looked at you and let himself be scared. 

“If it’s.. If I’m pregnant,” You almost choked on the word, it was the first time you said it.

“If I’m pregnant, I don’t want to keep it.” You refused to look at his face. This was the shame, the immediate thought crossed your mind the second you started to question it. 

“Okay.” He nodded. He agreed. He accepted. 

“You’re okay with that? Or are you just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?” 

“It’s your body, your choice.” He didn’t give his opinion. You noticed that. 

“No. It’s your baby too. You get a say in the matter.” You were not backing down.

He thought of his next words carefully. 

“We’re not bad people for not wanting a baby right now.” 

That was all you needed to hear from him. Conformation. He was in this with you. 

His timer went off. You both looked at eachother, your heart felt like it stopped. You both sat for a moment, you both knew that this was the last moment before your lives changed. Positive would mean a whole new conversation about what was next and negative would mean you both needed to take a step back and reevaluate how you’ve been doing things. 

You stood and shook your hands out. You blew out a breath. 

“I’m gonna look now.” You still haven’t moved. You didn’t want to see the result. 

You sat back down next to Peter. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” 

“Do you want me to look?” 

You nodded, “Please.” 

You watched him stand, walk to the sink and peer at the test. He turned and looked at you. You couldn’t read his face. You held your breath in anticipation. 

“Negative.” 

Both of you smiled at the same time. 

“Oh thank fucking God!” You cheered and fist pumped. 

“I thought my heart was going to fall out of my ass.” Peter breathed out. 

“I’m not pregnant! We’re not pregnant!” You danced around and high 10 Peter. 

He wrapped his arms around you for a hug, you both latched onto each other and held each other in silence. The moment needing no words. 

“I’m getting on birth control ASAP.” You talked into his collar. 

“I didn’t want to suggest it but I think that’s a very good idea.” He kissed your temple. 

You pulled away and looked into his eyes. They were light and warm, you realized how much he internalized his emotions and thoughts so you could freak out. 

“I love you. I love you more than you will ever know. Thank you for being here with me, I would’ve really lost it if you weren't here.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Oh, so that was you keeping it together?” 

“Hey! I think I did pretty good.” You swat at his chest.

“If pretty good is hanging on by a thread, then you did an awesome job.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“Hey, I love you too, okay? More than you will ever know. I’m here for you no matter what.” He lent down to give you the first kiss since you arrived. 

When you pulled away you looked at him and said, “You know what would be really good right now?” 

“Hmm?” Peter looked at you like a love sick dope fiend. 

“Celebratory chocolate milk.”