#peter mendes angst

[itsamendesmadness]

Thinking of you

Shawn Mendes x Female reader 

Summary: The reader receives a gift from Shawn while he is away on a guy's trip. 

Warning(s):  SEX TOYS MASTURBATION 

a/n: I had so much fun writing this piece. I think it's my best work so far. Remember to reblog if you want to see more stuff like this. Don’t be afraid to comment. 🫶✨

The constant ringing of your phone wakes you up. You disconnect it from its charger and roll to the other side of the bed. You have two missed calls from Shawn and decide to call him back. Just in case something happened. 

*Phone rings*

“Good. You’re awake” a brisk voice answers the phone. Causing you to instantly blush of how excited he sounded just to hear back from you. “Hey babe, is everything alright?” you respond to the cheerful guy. “Yes. Everything is alright. I just got a little anxious going into the airport, but I felt better when Mike arrived.” You could tell he was trying to mask how anxious he really got. “Airports are anxiety inducing. I totally get it.” you say trying to validate his feelings. “Yeah. Thank you, y/n. Anyways, I ordered a little something for you. It should be at the door any minute now.” he says. “Mmm… I wonder what it could be.” you respond jokingly. 

After a little while of talking on the phone with Shawn. You get an alert on your phone from the outdoor security camera detecting movement. “It's here” you tell Shawn who is still on the phone with you. You proceed to put him on speaker and head to the door. When you opened it you didn't expect what you were seeing. It was a picnic basket with a bouquet of red carnations wrapped in brown kraft paper. Inside laid a beautiful plate of chocolate waffles with strawberries on top and just beside it there was a small pink bag with sparkly tissue paper. 

You struggle getting the basket inside without it tumbling to the ground. Shawn is laughing at the sound of you grunting trying to lift the basket onto the kitchen counter. “Babe, stop laughing. If you make me laugh my arms get even more weak.” you comment laughing. “I’ll stop. Damn… I really miss you.” you could tell he was telling the truth from the change in his tone. “Do you see a little bag?” he asks. “Yes. I am opening it now.” The tissue paper ruffles as you take it out of the bag revealing the inside. “Omg! Shawn!” you scream. 

You take the item out. You feel your face getting instantly red. “I wish I could see your face right now.” He responds playfully. You’ve never owned a toy before of any shape or form…not even vibrating panties. Well, there is clearly a first time for everything. 

“Umm… Should I put them on?” you ask him nervously. “Yes, but first I am switching to FaceTime.” The phone rings changing into FaceTime. You answer the phone and place it leaning on a vase in your kitchen counter. This way Shawn could get a good view of everything. The black laced fabric tickles your soft skin as you put them on. “Oh- they look so good on you.” he says as he comes into view. His hands flew to rest on his head. “I love how you look with just a top and panties.” he says, biting his lip. 

You feel so good when he talks that way about you. You love when he reassures you. 

“Doesn't this need a remote?” you ask him. “Yes, I have it…It’s an app on my phone so I can control it at anytime, anywhere. Saying this, I want you to wear them all day.”  he responds with a smirk on his face. “You are so bad” you respond. “Look, I have to go now, but please don’t take them off, okay?” he says. “Okay. Bye. I love you” you respond. “I love you.” he says as he hangs up. 

The fact of having to wear this all day knowing that it could go off at any given moment gave you massive anxiety. You needed to get some stuff done for the apartment before Shawn came back from the guy’s trip, so you went to the grocery store. You threw on some sweatpants and one of his baggy white shirts to try and disguise the fact that there is a bullet sized vibrator inside your panties.  

Arriving at the grocery store everything is running smoothly. He still hasn't activated it. At this point you thought it was all a joke and he really wasn't going to do anything. He probably wanted you to die of anticipation or embarrassment. You proceed to cross things off your list. This was going to take a while because you took the shopping cart with the bad wheel. Every movement you made a squeak followed.

 You found yourself at the cereal aisle when a subtle buzz started coming from your pants. “Oh- fuck.” you said out loud. The old lady next to you stared at you with a serious face. “These prices are crazy right?” you said to her trying to hide that your man was having a field day in your pants. Shawn was going crazy with the buttons, alternating from slow to fast. You can’t deny it felt so good, but this can’t be happening right now. Not at the grocery store. You grab the cereal and sprint to the cash register to pay for the few items you crossed off. 

Luckily there weren't a lot of people in line. You crossed your legs and acted like you really needed to pee. Hopefully, this would help you distract yourself. 

You finally paid for everything, grabbed the bags and fast walked to your car. “God. Fuck.” you screamed getting into your car. You rested your head on the steering wheel to hide your face from the people walking up and down the parking lot as you came in your panties. “Wtf?!” you said laughing. You grabbed your phone to text Shawn.

Phone messages read:

Shawn: How was it? 

y/n: I came in my car at the grocery store parking lot. 

Shawn: Baby, you are so bad. 

y/n: Shut up! I love you.

[shawn-is-my-giant-jellybean]

"Tell me how do you like it?"

"You like it rough? intense?"

"Yes." She breathed down his neck.

Lost in Ecstasy

(Blurb)

I'm back!! I'm so sorry anon for taking so so long to write this. It's probably been over a year. I was going through a lot and wasn't in the headspace to write at all. But I'll try being consistent now. I took the liberty to modify the ask a little bit. Hope you like it.

Warnings : smut, age-gap, early 30s!reader × late 20s!Shawn

Soft, dim lighting casts a sensual glow throughout the room, illuminating the figures of Shawn and Y/N. Their bodies are intertwined, their breaths heavy with desire.

Y/N, her voice low and filled with anticipation, whispers into Shawn's ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"Tell me, Shawn. How do you like it?"

Shawn's eyes meet Y/N's, his desire evident as he responds, his voice husky.

"I like it rough. Intense. I want to lose myself in the moment with you."

Y/N's lips trace a path along Shawn's neck, her touch igniting a fire within him.

"Mmm, yes." She bites gently at his earlobe, sending a surge of electricity through his body. Their bodies press closer together, their connection intensifying with each passing moment.

The room fills with the sounds of their mutual exploration, a symphony of pleasure and desire. Their movements become more urgent, a dance of ecstasy and fulfillment.

In the midst of their shared passion, they lose themselves in the moment, reveling in the raw intensity of their connection. Skin against skin, their bodies merge, fueled by a hunger that can only be sated by each other.

Breaths mingling, they push the boundaries, exploring the depths of their desires. Each touch, each whisper, brings them closer to the edge of bliss.

The room becomes a sanctuary for their unyielding passion, a place where inhibitions dissolve, and their deepest fantasies find expression.

Time seems to stand still as their bodies move in perfect harmony, seeking pleasure and surrender. In this intimate space, they find solace, fulfillment, and a profound connection that transcends the physical realm.

As their climax approaches, their cries of ecstasy fill the air, a testament to the intensity and satisfaction they find in each other's arms.

Finally spent, they collapse into a tangled embrace, their bodies still humming with the lingering echoes of their passion.

Breathing heavily, Y/N and Shawn lay in each other's arms, their bodies basking in the afterglow of their passionate encounter. Their eyes meet, a shared understanding passing between them.

In the silence of the room, they find solace in their connection, knowing that their desires are fulfilled and their souls entwined.

[yournameoneverypage]

Falling Forward

Shawn Mendes x Reader. Angst, fluff.

Word Count: ~2.6k

A/N: It may be an “anon”, but I know who requested this. (She’s one of my besties.) 😉 I hope you like it, bub, especially since you requested it so long ago! I’m sorry it took me way too effing long to get it written. 😕 Call it a very belated birthday gift. 😋

So, I didn’t follow the prompt exactly. Well, I did, but I distorted the perception a bit? (That's probably not the best description, but I think you'll see what I mean.) I tried with the angst, I really did, but I feel like my angst is never really all that angsty.

~ ❤️ ~

You were sitting at your desk, rubbing your eyes, when you sensed you were no longer alone. You might’ve been startled by how he’d snuck up on you if you hadn’t smelled his cologne. You could find him in the dark just by his scent alone. It was maddening, because you hated how much you loved it.

Sure enough, you swiveled your chair to see Shawn standing in the doorway of your room, leaning against the frame.

“What are you doing here?” you said in greeting, trying to keep your tone indifferent. Your voice often tried to betray you in his presence; it was a genuine struggle.

He shrugged the shoulder not leaning against the door. “I came to see if you wanted to hang out for a bit.”

“Maya isn’t here.”

You thought maybe you simply imagined the... hurt that flitted through his honey brown eyes before he said, “Yeah, I caught her on her way out. Who do you think let me in?”

///

Maya was your best friend, who Shawn had had a thing for ever since you’d met him nearly six months earlier through a mutual friend who you had no idea had any clout whatsoever. You suppose, that was the point. Jaiden wasn’t the type of guy to just throw facts around like, ‘yeah, Shawn Mendes is a friend of mine’. You had to earn his trust before he let you completely into his inner circle.

Apparently you had finally managed to do so the night you found yourselves all at the same bar and being introduced to the beautiful, bright-eyed, pink-cheeked, affable popstar.

Maya and Shawn instantly connected. You were happy for her, of course, but you had liked him for a while, had been a fan of his longer than she had, and well before you had ever met him. You had to remind yourself that she was your best friend and “dibs” was for children.

You did your best to shake off your disappointment, while Shawn tried his hardest to dispel your sometimes debilitating shyness.

There was one moment, one brief, shining moment, just as you were truly starting to relax in his presence and open up, when you thought maybe, just maybe, the tiny spark you had thought you felt flare between the two of you might be realized, but then Maya made a slightly suggestive comment and snatched away his attention.

Even though you knew she hadn't purposely done so, - Maya was an outrageous flirt, - it left you cold and on the verge of tears. As you willed away the wetness of your eyes, and forced yourself to smile, you felt a wall around your heart begin to build and fortify.

You said your goodbyes shortly thereafter, but not before Shawn asked for Maya’s number. You excused yourself for the ladies' room, not wanting to witness the very possibility of anything more between them.

///

You never felt excluded from conversations whenever you found yourselves spending time with Shawn, and quickly settled into the banter that flowed freely between you, but you did feel like you sat stuck slightly along the circumference of Shawn and Maya's little flirtation bubble. You could only take so much before you made your excuses to leave them to their privacy.

You wondered how much longer it would be before they hooked up. You were surprised it hadn't happened already. You didn't know how you were going to handle it once they did. You would have to make yourself scarce when they began dating, and find other places to crash before he started staying over. You wouldn’t begrudge Maya for having a sex life with Shawn, but you knew it would kill you if you had to see the proof of it standing in his underwear in your kitchen afterwards.

Your heart tightened in your chest and you forced those thoughts away.

You almost questioned why he had chosen to stay then to entertain you, but you didn't want to see that look again. It made your skin itch uncomfortably.

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t hung out alone together before, but the texting was easier. You texted all the time about things from mundane to thought-provoking. You loved it when it was just the two of you, even though you held that close to your chest, but simultaneously you hated it because, in these instances, all the stronger, more-than-friends feelings you had for him tried even harder to surface. It was easier for you to talk to him when there was distance and a screen between you.

If only you were selfish and could just take what you so desperately wanted.

If only you were brave enough.

How would he react if you did, and what would that do to both your friendships, with him and especially Maya? It wasn't worth the risk.

“You could’ve called first?” you suggested, falling into your usual bantering to try to alleviate your sudden discomfiture, spinning back toward your laptop.

“Do I ever call?” he chuckled.

Touché. Your apartment was near his favorite coffee shop. As soon as he learned that, he started coming by all the time.

“You should just give me a key at this point,” he smirked. “Besides, I knew you’d be home,” he said, pushing off the frame and crossing your room.

“Because my life is oh, so boring?”

“Because I know you have a deadline for Monday and would be working through the weekend.” He set a to-go cup beside you.

You sighed and tilted your head back to look up at him. “Thank you.” You brought the cup to your lips and took a tentative sip. Of course, it was your favorite.

Shawn placed his large hands on your shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. Your stomach flipped. From the rush of caffeine, obviously, not his touch. “All that caffeine probably isn’t good on an empty stomach. When was the last time you ate anything?” He raised an eyebrow when you took too long to answer. “Mhm,” he smirked. “That’s what I thought. Take a break, sweetheart. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Your heart skipped whenever he called you ‘sweetheart', which was both too often and not nearly enough. Your heart was a traitor, too.

When Shawn was gone, you sighed and tried to refocus on your work. It was futile now that the man you were in love with was only two rooms away. It was getting more difficult with every passing day to bury your feelings.

You felt a flare of anxiety, nearly overwhelming in its intensity. This was not the time to fall apart. You didn't have the luxury this afternoon of leaving him with Maya and fleeing. You couldn't let him see your vulnerabilities or he wouldn't stop till he pulled everything out of you that you were trying to hide from him.

Breathe. Just breathe…

Thankfully, upon his return, you had calmed yourself down and the attack had retreated. You pretended to be engrossed in your assignment but if Shawn had paid any attention to your laptop screen, he'd easily see you hadn't made a stitch of progress since he disappeared to the kitchen.

“What happened to ‘take a break’?”

You held your hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

He snapped your laptop shut, - he didn't have to ask if you saved your work as he knew you were a little OCD about that, - and set a bowl of noodles and two chocolate chip cookies before you. He knew you better than he should as someone else’s soon-to-be boyfriend. Your comfort foods, where you carried your stress, how much you loved anything chocolate.

You reached for the cookies.

"Noodles first," he playfully reprimanded.

You scowled. He just smirked and threw himself across your bed, languorously stretching his long frame out. Damn it. Now your bed was going to smell like him.

Shawn snagged your journal from its current place on your nightstand. It was your own fault, really, for leaving it out, in plain sight. “What's this?”

“Nothing.” You made to snatch it out of his hands, but then you thought, why bother? You never wrote his name in your journal, or the name of the friend who he belonged to. He would never know the staggering crush you had was on him.

Even though your face burned hot, you didn't stop him from cracking it open, - you think you secretly wanted to see if he'd figure it out, - and busied yourself by inhaling your noodles even though they were still a little too hot.

"'There must be a reason why the greatest love stories never have a happy ending.' Well, that’s bleak."

"We can't all be optimists."

Shawn rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Says the biggest optimist I know."

He had you there. You were normally a wide-eyed and hopeful, glass-half-full kind of person.

“'Never trust a man whose smile steals the breath right out of your lungs.'" Without reading the actual entry that followed, he flipped to another page. "'What’s worse than knowing you want something, besides knowing you can never have it?'"

Most of your entries began with a sentence or quote that reflected your mindset on that particular day.

His eyes stayed locked on your neat scrawl, his thumb and index finger poised to turn another page, as he cleared his throat and asked, "Who's the guy? Do I know him?" He finally looked up at your silence.

Your answer was to lower your eyes, shrug noncommittally, and stuff one of the cookies into your mouth.

You wondered which passage it was that caused Shawn to abruptly close the small, leather book and mutter, "You should've told me not to read it."

"I shouldn't have to. Are you happy now? Curiosity quelled?" You immediately regretted your words and tone. You had been trying for sarcasm but it came out too harsh. You were normally quick to apologize, but you were suddenly equal parts frustrated, terrified, and annoyed.

"Look," you cleared your throat and took a deep breath to steady your voice. "I should really focus on getting this assignment done." You can't be here anymore. I'm not strong enough. Not today. "Thanks for the coffee, and- and noodles, and cookies. I should be able to push through now, so…"

"Yeah, okay." Shawn stood and began to leave. He paused in the doorway. "You don't ever have to thank me for taking care of you. As someone who…"

You felt the wall around your heart fissure and you held your breath, balancing between hope and heartbreak.

But instead of completing his thought, he only sighed. "Don't work too hard." And then he was gone.

///

Shawn met Maya at the café beside the coffee shop.

She knew it hadn't gone well with the way he stalked toward the corner she'd settled into. She raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

Shawn just growled and tugged the curls that had found themselves twisted in his hand. "She's definitely into someone; it's just not me," he sighed wistfully, squeezing into the booth that was too small for his 6'3" frame. He dropped his head into his palms and rubbed his eyes. "Her journal is one long, unrequited love letter."

"You read her journal??"

"In my defense, I didn’t know it was her journal. At first.”

"You read her journal."

"I know, I know. But she didn't stop me! I just- I thought maybe, maybe, I'd see my name in there.”

"Boys are so dumb," Maya huffed, sliding out of the booth and tossing a twenty onto its surface. "Girls too, for that matter."

"Where are you going?"

"To put an end to this. I'm tired of waiting for you two to get your shit together."

"What?"

"It's you, stupid."

"What is?"

"The boy she's writing about."

///

Your door was still open. "Give it over," Maya demanded upon entering your room.

"Give what over?"

She glowered at you.

"He told you. Of course he told you. No. Just go. Just… leave me alone."

"Like hell. Give it."

"Does my privacy not mean anything to anyone??" But still you retrieved your journal.

"You let Shawn read it, but I'm your best friend."

You tossed it on your bed toward Maya, who quickly snatched it up and began to page through it. “Ha! I fucking love being right! Bub, why didn’t you tell me??"

Your eyes began to water. Maya took your hand and pulled you toward your bed. She settled herself cross-legged in the middle of it, facing you as you assumed the same position.

"Why didn't you tell me you’re in love with Shawn?” Maya asked softly.

You nearly collapsed with the relief of not having to hold it in anymore, of not having to pretend. Finally, the tears spilled over. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" She reached for you to swipe them away. "What is there to be sorry for?"

"What do you mean 'why'?? You two are…" You completed your thought with a gesture.

Maya immediately connected all the dots. Every single one of them. "Oh, honey…" She then laughed. "You are so oblivious, babe."

"Gee, thanks."

"He's not into me. He's into you."

"No, no, no, no, no," you chanted, rising from your bed and beginning to pace around your room. Your entire world had abruptly flipped upside down and you were grasping for a way to right things again, because this was just… too much. If your unrequited love wasn’t as unrequited as you thought… "But you two flirt all the time."

"I flirt with everyone, hon, which you're well aware of. So does he. It's just fun for us; it doesn't mean anything." A realization suddenly dawned on her. "Shit. I'm so sorry, bub. I never considered how it must've looked to you… You must hate me."

"Of course not," you exhaled. *It's just- I always thought- when he started coming around I thought, he's just being nice. Get in good with the best friend, you know?"

"You're right in your assumption, but he doesn't hang with you because of me, he hangs with me because of you. It always frustrates him when you disappear on us. You've really done a number on his confidence, hon, and his heart... He's crazy about you, and he thinks you're desperately into someone else. You should probably correct that, hm?"

///

Shawn stood in your doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Hi."

You were as far away from the door as you could get, twisting the rings on your fingers. "Hi."

“Permission to enter?”

You nodded.

He took a few tentative steps forward and closed the door behind him. With the audible click, your heart quickened. He paused beside your dresser and picked up your small, metal infinity cube. He changed its shape before setting it back in its place and clearing his throat.

“Maya said you had something to tell me.”

“I’m sorry about how I spoke to you earlier.” That’s not what you knew she’d meant and what he was expecting to hear, but you weren’t ready to acknowledge anything else in that moment.

“I’m sorry, too. I should’ve stopped reading your journal the second I realized that’s what it was.”

How had you found yourself standing before him? Had he moved, or had you?

“You didn’t stop me. Why?”

“Shawn…”

“Say it.”

“I- I think maybe you know why?” you muttered, blush growing darker, and lowered your eyes.

His chin started to tilt toward you. His lips parted.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

"It's not obvious?" he hummed, touching the tip of his nose to yours.

You were fighting between stepping back or falling forward. “Shawn…”

“Just tell me that it’s me.” His lips brushed yours, testing. They were soft, softer than you could have imagined.

“It’s you,” you breathed, rising to your tiptoes and winding your hands in his hair, as you’d wanted to do since the first time you met, and you brought his mouth back to yours.

~ * ~

@chocochipcookie305 @mendesblurb @monikamendes @mendesficsxbombay @silverswallow @misti-ka @fallinallinshawn @hiding-behind-a-flower @benito-mi-vida

[hedwig221b]

Witch or magical Stiles recs..?

Hi! I did magical!Stiles fic recs here! This time, let's focus on witch!Stiles (my beloved)

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles' skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he's even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There's something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can't help wondering if magic might be involved.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.” “Back.” “From the dead.” “Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.” Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You by literaryoblivion

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.

The Ink Under My Skin by rainsoakedshoes

Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. “I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Destiny is the Rising Sun by asswords

Stiles and Derek are best at keeping secrets – the biggest one being the fact that they knew each other long before Scott had to go and become a werewolf. (The second biggest secret belongs to Stiles, something about how he’s not allowed to tell Derek he’s the trusted advisor and kind of a witch.)

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

These Scars Tell A Story (But It’s Not Mine) by HappyJuicyfruit

Derek’s eyes widened in confusion as Stiles babbled at him. “I know it’s not up to you, but you’re like, my guard, right? You’ve been keeping an eye on me? Tell your mom I wouldn’t lie about this, my dad deserves to stay here. He’s happy here, please let him stay!” Guard? Keeping an eye on him? “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles face crumpled, his hands clung to Derek’s shirt tighter as tears and snot dripped off his chin. Derek frantically tries to think of the right thing to say. “You think- you think I’m your guard? That I’ve been watching you to, what, make sure you don’t do any magic? Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Beacon Hills is a sanctuary for supernaturals. We allow people to use their magic. I was just trying to be your friend.” Stiles breath hitched. “My friend?”

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse | creature!Stiles | bad friend Scott

[madxyy]

Selfish

| pairing : peter x reader

| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man

| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst

author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol

2 am. 

It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.

You really did. 

Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’

Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’ 

As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …” 

You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips. 

Selfish. You can’t help it. 

You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber. 

It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence. 

Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.

Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.

“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat. 

You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.

Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one.  “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection. 

Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero. 

Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.

“I can't” You choke out a sob. 

“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos. 

He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt. 

“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity. 

You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.

The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal. 

Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.

He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.  

Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.

“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more. 

The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.” 

Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.

Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”

This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”

“Of course,” You whispered. 

The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.

[greenparker]

Confessions. | Tasm Peter Parker x reader.

Summary: It's been a year since you'd seen Peter, last conversation being an argument. You both are trying to reconnect. Pairings: Tasm! Peter Parker x reader.

Warnings: Angst angst angst, and a little fluff. Notes: This took me forever to write (literal days) and in the middle I gave up, so I am sorry lol. I fear it cant get better than this lol. It is very long too.

And honestly it could be any Peter I just made it tasm bc hes my fave lol ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆ The summer air pressed down, thick and stifling, carrying the weight of the past alongside the heat. A gentle breeze tugged at your hair, offering little relief from the knot in your chest. Each step toward the diner felt heavier, your mind replaying the last time you’d seen Peter and how everything had gone wrong.

You couldn’t help but blame yourself. If you had just opened up and shared what you were going through, maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Instead, you had pushed him away, shutting him out when he tried to help. When he wouldn’t give up, you lashed out, saying things that cut deeper than you meant.

At the time, your emotions felt like they were spiraling. Your family was falling apart, and the cracks in your relationship only deepened. Your boyfriend proved unfaithful, validating Peter’s concerns. But instead of leaning on him, you pushed him away, overwhelmed by everything you couldn’t fix.

Meanwhile, Peter was grappling with his own struggles. His uncle’s passing left a void that weighed heavily on him. He became secretive, often returning home with bruises that hinted at battles you didn’t understand. When you tried to reach out, he would shrug it off or change the subject, erecting a wall that made it difficult to connect. It felt as if he, too, was drowning, unwilling to let anyone in to help.

In that silence, you both became islands, each caught in your own storms, too afraid to share the depths of your pain.

Your stomach churned, a whirlwind of emotions—fear, hope, and perhaps regret. The distance between you stretched beyond time; it was the silence and unresolved tension that loomed like a wall. What would he say? What would you say? A part of you wasn’t ready for this conversation, yet another part longed to reconnect and feel that old bond—if it still existed.

It had only been a year, but it felt like a lifetime, both of you swept up in the whirlwind of college, relationships, and work. Neither of you had taken the time to mend what had broken, and as painful as it was, you’d resigned yourself to that reality. So when Peter called last night, it felt like a lifeline.

His voice was rushed, tinged with exhaustion—something you’d always sensed in him, but now it seemed more pronounced, as if the weight of everything had finally caught up. Seeing his name flash on your screen made your heart skip, a flood of emotions crashing over you. After a year of silence, you had convinced yourself he was done with you, that what you had was lost. But now… maybe there was still something left to say.

You hadn’t planned to meet up to fix things—not really. You came because he deserved to know why it all fell apart. It was only fair.

The bell above the door jingles softly as you step into the diner, a familiar sound that comforts and unnerves you. Your eyes scan the cozy booths and the enticing aroma of coffee and warm pastries. Laughter and clinking silverware fill the air, but everything fades when you spot him. Your heart leaps into your throat, momentarily silencing the chatter around you.

Every nerve ignites with anxiety, tightening around your chest like a heavy weight. As he catches your eye, time seems to freeze. The world falls away, leaving just the two of you suspended in this moment. You give a small, awkward wave, your hand trembling slightly as you fight to steady your breath.

With each step toward him, your stomach flips. Memories of laughter and unspoken words flood your mind, and a bittersweet ache settles in your chest. This is it—you’re about to face the past and confront everything unresolved between you. His gaze felt like it was boring into your soul as you slid into the booth, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Your heart raced, each beat echoing in your ears. Two milkshakes sat before you—one your favorite flavor, the other his. If the tension hadn’t been so thick, you might have smiled at the thoughtful gesture. Instead, your chest tightened, the sweetness overshadowed by uncertainty.

His expression was inscrutable, a mix of longing and something else you couldn’t quite identify, leaving you unsettled. The distance that had grown between you over the past year felt both 

Daunting and intimate, the air around you thickens with unspoken words. Did he feel the weight of this moment, too? You opened your mouth to speak, noticing he did as well, both of you caught in the awkward dance of searching for the right words.

“Sorry,” you blurted, interrupting him. His expression faltered, gaze dropping to the table as if your apology had knocked the breath out of him. The air grew heavier, and you gathered your courage, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I didn’t handle things well the last time we spoke. I pushed you away when all you were trying to do was help.”

Those words felt heavy yet honest, perhaps the most sincere you’d been in a long time. You couldn’t meet his eyes, focusing instead on your trembling hands in your lap.

Peter stared at you, clearly caught off guard by your admission. He hadn’t expected it so soon, if at all. A tightness settled in his chest as he realized how much you’d changed. A year ago, this conversation would have felt impossible. Back then, you were so guarded, keeping your feelings locked away. Every time he tried to break through, it only sent you spiraling further into panic.

“Look,” he finally says, his voice quiet and hesitant, “I didn’t handle things well either. I wasn’t as open with you as I should’ve been. That wasn’t fair.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his honesty. “I know,” you said softly. “I thought pushing you away would make it easier to cope with it, but it just made me feel more alone. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you were gone.”

Peter’s gaze softened, and a hint of vulnerability crept into his expression. “I wanted to be there for you, but I was scared too—scared of how much I cared and what that could mean. I thought if I stepped back, it would give you space, but it just left me feeling empty.”

You nodded, your heart aching at his words. “I was overwhelmed. I didn’t know how to ask for help or even admit that I needed it. I thought I could handle everything on my own.”

“That’s a heavy burden to carry,” he replied, his voice thick with empathy. “You shouldn’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, Y/N. I always have been, even when it didn’t feel that way.”

“I pushed you away when I should have leaned on you,” you confessed, your voice trembling slightly. “I was afraid of being vulnerable, of letting you see how much I was struggling.”

Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes locked onto yours. “It’s okay to be vulnerable with me. I want to be someone you can rely on, not someone you have to hide from.”

You swallowed hard, the sincerity in his gaze making your heart race. “I want that too,” you admitted. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of getting hurt again, of opening up and having you leave.”

“I promise I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm yet gentle. “No matter what happens, I want to be part of your life. I want us to figure this out together. Just… please, don’t shut me out again.”

A warmth spread through your chest, igniting a flicker of hope within you. “It’s just that… I can’t keep living with secrets between us. I need to understand what’s going on with you—what the truth really is.”

Peter nodded, though a hint of hesitation flickered across his face. “I’ll tell you the truth,” he said, his hands nervously fiddling with his ear, as if trying to ground himself. “I just don’t want to overwhelm you... It’s a lot to take in, and I’m scared of how you might react. But you deserve to know.”

A soft smile crept across your face, the tension between you easing, but a flicker of anxiety lingered in your chest. “That scares me…” you whispered, and you noticed his expression shift to one of genuine concern. “Are you a serial killer?”

He blinked in surprise, a hint of worry furrowing his brow. “What? Me? A serial killer?” A laugh escaped him, but it was tinged with disbelief. “If I were, I’d at least have a cooler backstory. Maybe a tragic past involving a lost puppy or something.”

You laughed, the warmth in his eyes shining brightly. “Well, that’s a relief! I can handle a guy with a tragic past.”

Peter chuckled, the air feeling lighter. “See? We’ll figure it out as we go. And if we stumble, we’ll just pick each other up, right?”

“Right,” you replied, your heart swelling at the thought. Just then, an unexpected wave of nostalgia washed over you, bringing back memories of laughter, late-night talks, and the comfort of simply being together. “I’ve missed this, you know? Just talking to you like this.”

“Me too,” he said, his expression softening. “It feels good to finally be open again. I’ve missed our connection.”

The moment hung in the air between you, charged with unspoken emotions. But just as the conversation began to flow, his phone buzzed sharply, cutting through the warmth of your exchange. You froze, your heart sinking at the interruption.

Peter’s color drained from his cheeks as he awkwardly dug into his pocket for the phone, fingers trembling slightly.

Just when things were starting to get good.

“I’m so sorry, just one second,” he mumbled, clearly flustered, rising too quickly as if escaping the moment. “I promise I’ll be right back.” His words felt hollow, an empty promise that echoed in your mind.

As he stepped away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were on the brink of something new and fragile—a chance to rebuild what had been lost. You just hoped the universe would give you a little more time together before everything changed again.

You narrow your eyes, nodding reluctantly as you watch him step outside. Through the window, he paces, hand flying to his forehead while gripping his phone tightly. Whatever’s happening on the other end of that call weighs heavily on him, stress radiating from every movement.

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. You recognize that look—the guardedness he wore when secrets loomed, back when everything began to unravel between you. It gnaws at the fragile peace you were just starting to rebuild.

Avoiding the urge to stare, you absentmindedly swirl the straw in your milkshake. A frown tugs at your lips as you glance at his empty seat. Disappointment washes over you like a cold wave, settling deep in your chest. You had hoped this time would be different, that this conversation could finally bridge the chasm between you. Instead, it feels as though the universe is playing cruel tricks on your heart, taunting you with a distance that stretches further as your heart plummets into uncertainty.

You fiddle with the straw of your milkshake, a lump forming in your throat. When you look back, the realization hits you like a punch to the gut—he’s completely gone. Your heart sinks under the weight of disappointment. Deep down, you knew how this would go, but all you can manage is a heavy sigh, your fingers tangling in your hair as you try to calm the rising tide of emotions.

Thirty minutes stretch into an hour, each passing minute weighing heavier on your heart. You feel foolish and vulnerable, the familiar ache of longing creeping back in. It’s like being a teenager again, anxiously waiting for Peter Parker to return, and this time, it isn’t fun. Memories of youthful hope mix with the sting of embarrassment.

Your mind races with excuses you’ll have to hear later, each rehearsed line more deflating than the last. What could he possibly say to justify this? You want to believe he’ll return, that there’s a reason for his sudden departure, but reality is harsh. The diner feels colder, the laughter around you more distant, as if you’ve been dropped into a world where you don’t quite belong anymore.

You fidget with your phone, glancing at it repeatedly, half-hoping for a message or call to lift the weight of uncertainty off your chest. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, and with each passing second, the knot in your stomach tightens. You remember the warmth of his smile and how he always made you feel understood, deepening the longing within you.

What if he didn’t come back? The thought sends a chill down your spine, and you bite your lip to suppress the swell of emotion threatening to spill over. In this moment of waiting, you realize just how much you’ve missed him—his absence feels like a piece of you is missing. As the minutes drag on, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever truly find your way back to each other.

Lost in thought, your waitress approaches, a small smile playing on her lips. Her cheerful demeanor pulls you from your spiral. You offer a weak smile in return, though it feels forced. “Are you guys finished with your milkshakes?” she asks lightly, unaware of the storm brewing inside you.

Your mind races as you search for an answer, your mouth opening and closing in hesitation. You glance down at the milkshakes—his is only halfway finished, while yours sits untouched, a stark reminder of what was supposed to be a lighthearted reunion. A wave of sadness washes over you; it feels like another piece of the past slipping away. You’re ready to head out, but the emptiness beside you weighs heavy in your chest.

He’ll call you. He always did after moments like this, didn’t he? There was a fragile comfort in that thought—a flicker of hope that he’d reach out again, even if it took time. Maybe he just needed space to sort through whatever had pulled him away this time. You squeeze your eyes shut, wishing for clarity, but the familiar ache of uncertainty clings to you like a shadow.

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” you reply, your voice distant and hollow. A twinge of guilt creeps in for being curt, but the waitress's expression shifts as she registers your mood, her smile fading into understanding. “Thank you,” you add softly, appreciating her empathy.

You pay your bill, your fingers lingering on the cold glass of your milkshake before you push it away, the sweet, creamy flavor now a bittersweet reminder of what could have been. A resigned sigh escapes your lips as you gather your things, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

As you turn to leave, you catch a glimpse of the empty seat, a pang of longing stirring in your chest. What if this time was different? What if you took the plunge and reached out to him instead of waiting? The thought ignites a flicker of determination within you. With your heart racing, you step toward the door, ready to take control of the narrative, hoping that maybe he’d still be waiting on the other side.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆

Now it was 12:30 a.m., and the silence of your phone felt like a weight pressing down on your chest since Peter had walked away. Your heart was heavy, each beat a reminder of the void he left behind, and your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts. Had you been foolish to take his call the night before? Maybe you were both better off apart; it was painfully clear that handling the complexities of him—and of yourself—was a struggle.

You had sent a few texts, each carefully crafted to shield your heart from disappointment. It was a reality you had to face: you weren’t as close as you once were, and the warmth of shared moments had faded into echoes of what could have been.

Sitting at your desk, the glow of your laptop illuminated the room as your fingers flew across the keyboard. Words poured out with surprising ease, ignited by the events of the day that swirled in your mind. In a day filled with uncertainty and heartache, writing became your solace—the only good to emerge from the chaos. Each keystroke felt like a small act of defiance against the heaviness in your chest, a reminder that even in turmoil, creativity could flourish. You were supposed to be asleep, but your mind refused to quiet down, racing with thoughts that wouldn’t let you rest—completely indifferent to the fact that you had to be up early in the morning. A sudden knock at your door halts your fingers mid-typing, the soft tap breaking the stillness of the night. Your heart skips, pulse quickening as your eyes shift to the door. This late? Unannounced?

Visitors at this hour weren’t typical, and a flood of possibilities surged through your mind. Who could it be? You sit there for a moment, listening. Silence follows, except for the hum of the clock on the wall. Another knock, firmer this time, sends a shiver up your spine.

Pushing the chair back slowly, you stand, moving toward the door with tentative steps. You hesitate, hand hovering over the handle, unsure if you want to open it. One eye closes as you peer through the peephole, the distorted fisheye view revealing Peter on the other side. He stands with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, his shoulders slightly hunched against the cool night air.

Your breath catches in your throat, heart racing with a mix of confusion and something more. What was he doing here, especially after all this time? You squint, taking in his familiar tousled hair and the worn jacket you remembered all too well. Memories of your last encounter flood your mind—words left unsaid, tensions unresolved.

For a moment, you hesitate. Do you open the door, or let him knock again?

His voice, raw and familiar, cuts through the stillness. "Y/N... I know you're there..." Peter's words hang in the air, making your face go pale as you press yourself against the door, heart pounding in your chest.

You don’t respond, but your pulse betrays you—quickening at the sound of his voice, the voice you’ve tried so hard to forget. He’s here, and he’s breaking through the silence you had built around yourself like armor.

"I can explain everything, truthfully. I swear." His voice trembles with an honesty that catches you off guard, and for a split second, you feel the walls around your heart shake. Memories flood back: the laughter, the stolen moments, the times you thought you understood each other without words. "Please?" His voice cracks, laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from him before. He sounds utterly defeated, like he's been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and for the first time, he’s letting it show. You glance through the peephole again, seeing the exhaustion etched into his face, his eyes dark with sleeplessness and regret.

“I… I don’t know how to make this right. But I need you to understand," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t want to hurt you. I never meant to. There’s so much I couldn’t tell you... but I’m here now. Please, just open the door, let me explain. I’ll tell you everything—no more secrets. I swear, I’ll make this right.”

The vulnerability in his words makes your heart clench painfully, tears threatening to well up despite yourself. His words hang in the air, raw and heavy, each one chipping away at the resolve you've been trying so hard to keep intact.

You feel torn between the bitterness still lodged deep within you and the undeniable pull of the boy you once trusted with every part of your heart. His voice softens, barely holding together. "Just give me one more chance... please."

You clench your jaw, trying to steady yourself. Could you trust him again? Could you believe him this time? You stay frozen, hand still on the knob, torn between the part of you that wanted answers and the part that was terrified to hear them.

Your hand trembles as it grips the doorknob, the weight of his words crashing over you. Something deep inside you, the part that still remembers the warmth of his presence, twists, and before you can second-guess yourself, you pull the door open just a crack.

Peeking through, you squint at him—his tired, hopeful eyes meeting yours. The moment he sees you, a wave of relief washes over his face. He exhales deeply, his hand shooting up to his face, rubbing his forehead like he’s trying to gather the pieces of himself. It’s like the sight of you alone has pulled him from the edge.

"You have an hour," you say, your voice steady but firm, keeping a barrier around the vulnerability still lingering in your chest. “I have work in the morning. No more secrets.”

He nods quickly, as if he expected you to slam the door shut in his face. "I swear—no more secrets. I’ll tell you everything. I owe you that much."

The rawness in his voice pulls at you, but you force yourself to keep the distance between you intact. You aren’t ready to forgive, not yet, but you can’t ignore the flicker of hope in his eyes, the way he stands there like he's holding his breath, as if he knows this might be his only chance.

"Alright," you murmur, stepping back and opening the door just enough to let him in. "Start talking."

You watch him closely, nearly impatient as he hesitates. His hands rake through his messy hair, and he paces your living room, searching for the right words, each step heavy with unspoken weight. Your gaze is unwavering, as if it might pierce through the silence, staring into his soul as he gathers the courage to finally bare it all. "Maybe... maybe you should sit down," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. You sigh, a quiet sign of both exhaustion and surrender, and nod. If sitting down is what it'll take to finally hear the truth, you'll do it. You sink onto the couch, tucking your knees up to your chest, eyes fixed on him as he stands there, gathering himself. The room feels tense, each second stretching between you like a held breath. Peter takes a deep breath, his fingers raking through his messy hair as he stands in front of you. "Alright, this… this is harder than I thought," he starts, his gaze flickering down before finally meeting yours, as if searching for a sign of understanding.

"I need you to know this isn’t easy for me to say. For a long time, I’ve had to keep things hidden. It wasn’t just to protect myself—it was to protect you." He stops, biting his lip, and his hands tremble slightly before he shoves them into his pockets.

You’re about to ask, to press him to finally say what’s weighing on him, but he beats you to it. “I know it might not make sense right now, but… the bruises, the scars you saw—they weren’t from some fight or accident. I got them trying to keep this city safe." He takes a breath. "I’m... I'm Spider-Man."

The words hang in the air, almost surreal, and it’s like the entire room stills. He watches you carefully, his gaze intense, as though bracing himself for your reaction.

Your mouth falls open, and you let out a short, incredulous laugh, shaking your head. "No… this is some kind of joke, right?" But his serious expression doesn’t falter, and the reality of it starts to sink in, leaving you staring in stunned silence. Then, everything clicks into place—the constant lateness, the last-minute cancellations, the bruises and cuts he brushed off as nothing. All this time, you thought he was just a little clumsy, maybe a bit accident-prone. But now… it all fits together with startling clarity.

“I know… I know it’ll take time to get used to this, but—” He stammers, his voice trembling, betraying the fear that you might be angry with him. Though you haven’t said much, he can read the mix of emotions on your face—hurt, confusion, and a flicker of understanding. “Please, just give me a chance. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you, if you’ll let me.”

His vulnerability pulls at your heart, and the way he stands there, visibly shaking, makes you realize just how much he values your friendship. You take a breath, your voice softening. “I just wish you hadn’t felt you had to hide it from me.”

“I didn’t want to put that burden on you,” he replies, his sincerity cutting through the tension. “But I can’t change the past. I promise to be open with you from now on.”

You pause, allowing his words to sink in as you absorb the weight of his presence. Biting your nails, you contemplate the uncertainty that looms over your future. The truth is, fear gnaws at you—not just for him, but for the implications his secret holds for you both. What if something were to happen? The thought sends a chill down your spine. You can't shake the image of the risks he faces, and the reality that your world might shatter if he gets hurt.

As you wrestle with your emotions, a deep sense of protectiveness wells up inside you. "I’m scared, you know?" you finally admit, your voice trembling slightly. “Scared of what could happen to you, and to us.”

Finally, he takes a seat beside you, his hand gently resting on your forearm as you frown. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the gravity of your words. They hit him like a freight train, a painful reminder of the truth he’d tried so hard to hide. Deep down, he knows you’re right; that’s precisely why he never confided in you. Yet, even as the reality of the situation sinks in, there’s a strange comfort in the release of his secret, like a weight lifted from his chest. Peter's fingers brushing against your arm sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks, catching you off guard as he speaks. "I understand how you feel, but you need to know this—nothing will ever happen to you." His voice is steady, filled with an unwavering conviction that wraps around you like a shield. You can see the determination in his eyes, a promise that he intends to keep, and it ignites a flicker of hope within you, even amidst the chaos of emotions swirling in your mind.

You gently guide your hand to his, lifting it to your face and resting your cheek against his palm, closing your eyes as you soak in his warmth. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, not just from the revelations but from the weight of everything that had come before. “We can start over,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. As you open your eyes, you find him watching you with a soft expression that makes your heart flutter. In that moment, the world outside fades away, and all you want is to lean in and kiss him, to bridge the distance between you and turn this fragile moment into something beautiful. 

You decide to take a leap of faith, the weight of uncertainty giving way to something deeper. Leaning in, you capture his lips with yours, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. The kiss starts softly, tentative, as if testing the waters, but quickly deepens into something more urgent.

As your lips move together, a spark ignites, igniting a fire that you both had kept smoldering for far too long. You feel the world around you dissolve—the fears, the doubts, the chaos of the outside world. It’s just the two of you, tangled in a haze of emotions that feels long overdue.

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as if to fuse your very beings. He responds instantly, a low, soft sigh escaping him, reverberating through you. The kiss becomes more passionate, electric, a silent conversation filled with all the words left unspoken.

Peter’s warmth envelops you, wrapping around you like a blanket on a cold night, and you realize it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. His hands slide down your arms, holding you firmly yet tenderly, grounding you in this moment. You lose yourself in the taste of him, the urgency of his lips moving against yours, as if he’s pouring out all the things he could never say into this single, electrifying kiss.

You pull back slightly, breathless, your foreheads resting together, hearts racing in sync. You gaze into his eyes, searching for the answers, the clarity you’ve been craving. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” you confess, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of shared silence.

His expression softens, his thumb caressing your cheek, as if to memorize every contour of your face. “Me too,” he breathes, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to be with you like this.”

The kiss resumes, more fervent this time, as if you’re trying to pour years of longing into this moment. Your lips meld together with a hunger that has been waiting to be unleashed, a promise of what’s to come. You feel his hands cup your face, holding you delicately yet possessively, as if he’s terrified to let go.

Finally, you break apart, both gasping for air, the space between you filled with an unspoken understanding. It’s a new beginning, a promise of trust and love that will only grow stronger with every shared moment. With a newfound sense of determination, you lean back into him, allowing yourself to savor the lingering warmth of his presence, knowing that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll tackle them together, side by side.

[buckyalpine]

always you’s angst only ending … feed us a tiny lil drabble of maybe bucky not stopping until he and bruce and maybe even shuri (cause bby’s the smartest) find a way to bring her back?

like he enters the portal, scoops up her body, and kisses her back to life. then throws her over his shoulder, locks her in his bedroom, and makes love to her for like a week straight.

“she’s barely been back for a month- AND SHE’S ALREADY PREGNANT?!”

- ur local angst slut who’s actually hella sensitive and cannot handle this shit, gossip girl 💋

Always you angst alternative ending 

18+

Okay YES, if your a pure angst fiend, you may ignore this but I'm here to mend hearts from the sadness that was this fic.

Warnings: Angst, FLUFFFFFFF, Smuuuttttt, happy ending 

5 years later

Bucky refused to accept you being gone. He tried to heal, going to therapy, grief counselling, medication, writing letters, everything under the fucking sun to help him come to terms with the fact that he’d never see you again. 

It was impossible.

It ate him alive.

He was physically stronger, pouring all his time into the gym to find a way to numb the pain but he was more mentally fucked than ever.

It had been 5 years, nearly 6 and the raw pain he felt was still fresh. Every night, he'd wake up searching for you. He couldn't let go, holding onto the pieces you had left behind. He wrote to you as often as he could, keeping a locked diary of things he wanted to tell you, letters he knew no one would see but what else could he do when he wanted to talk to you so badly but you weren’t there. 

That didn’t stop him from finding a way to pour his heart and soul somewhere. 

_________________________________

Happy Birthday babygirl,  I wish I could wake you up with kisses today, tell you how special the world is with you in it, make you pancakes, feed you in bed because I know you’ll cuddle up in the sheets until noon. Buy you a pretty dress, take you out, maybe even go dancing, even if its just me and you and Steve’s playlist of songs from the 40′s. I’d hold you close to me all night until your feet were sore or until Tony told us to turn the cheesy music off. 

I know he secretly ships us (Peter taught me that word) 

If it were up to Stark, he’d throw you the biggest birthday party ever; that wouldn’t stop me from trying to sneak you away for some more birthday kisses. birthday cuddles. Birthday sex...is a new song Sam introduced me to. 

I wanted to do so much with you today sweet girl. Show you how much I love you on your special day. I should have shown you before it was too late. I regret it every single day. I’d give anything for just another day, just so you’d know. 

It was always you. 

Steve brought you some flowers today, Sam brought some balloons. I hope you see them from wherever you are. It’s not the same without you here angel.

We miss you baby. 

I miss you. 

Till we meet again,  JBB 

_________________________________

Hi Baby, I know it’s not a special occasion, I have no real reason to write today. I missed you though. I wanted to tell you about how I jumped out of a plane today and all I could think of is how much you would have laughed because I didn’t use a parachute. You’re laugh is the sweetest sound in the world and I’d give anything to hear it just one more time.

Sam recorded it all, you would have been the first person he showed the footage to. I’d probably ignore you both and then you’d probably tease me about being grumpy and I’d want a kiss to feel better. And a hug. Maybe some cuddles. Please? 

Also you’d be proud of me today, Red Wing broke and it wasn’t my fault. Promise. I even apologized to Sam after but he doesn’t think I’m being sincere. And I’m not because red wing is a little shit. So is Sam. 

I miss you sweets. I wish you were here. It hurts. Everything hurts. 

I hope we meet again. I’ll never let you go. 

Yours, JBB

_________________________________

My y/n,

I’m sorry. I should have told you. I regret it everyday. I’ll never stop trying to find a way to get you back. 

I love you,

JBB

_________________________________

It’s been almost 6 years. It still hurts.

Till we meet again, JBB

_________________________________

I can’t anymore. I need you back. 

JBB

_________________________________

There were some days where Bucky was able to focus, writing as much as he could, spilling all of his feelings onto the paper, a tiny part of him hoping that one day he’d be able to give you all his letters so you’d know you were all he could think of. 

Then there were the days where sobs tore through his body, his breathing labored, only managing to scribble three words before crumbling into a dark abyss. Bucky wracked his brain every single day; if you were able to go back once, there had to be a way to get you back again. Bruce and Tony had spent countless hours in the lab trying to find a way to reopen the portal but nothing led to you. 

*****

Bucky stared at his burner, pressing call and ending it before it could go through multiple times before finally letting it ring. There was only one other person he could turn to. He knew he wasn’t going to be immediately welcomed back into Wakanda but this wasn’t just about him. Everyone wanted you back. Nothing was the same without you there. If there was a 1% chance to get you back, he had to try. His chest felt tight as the jet landed in a secluded area having arranged a private meeting with Shuri, the one person he trusted with his life. 

"I-I have a favor to ask" Bucky's eyes were already pleading with her, his heart racing as he approached her, ready to fall on his knees. 

"Anything Sergeant Barnes" Shuri smiled, sensing he was there for something urgent, nodding for him to continue. There was zero hesitation as she immediately agreed to come back with him to try and get you back, bringing her own lab equipment with her so she could work with Bruce. After filtering through a number of timelines and timestamps, she’d managed to pinpoint the portal to find you but it wasn’t without its consequences. 

“You understand you may not return” Shuri whispered as Bucky threw on his tactical gear, insisting on getting you all on his own while rest of the team watched in pin drop silence, reluctantly letting him go alone “And y/n...we can get her back but there's a chance she may not...” 

She squeezed his hand before he stepped onto the platform, not wanting to finish the sentence but he already understood. He knew it was possible he’d find you again but it didn’t mean he’d find you alive. 

“Then at least I get to say goodbye” He gave her a strained smile; he had to bring you home one way or another. If this was how he had to go, he would run happily to his death; he’d be at peace knowing he died trying to find you. With the push of a button, he was instantly thrown into a warp, transported to where you had last been with Nat. Everything came to a halt as he found himself at an abandoned hydra base, the cold nipping his skin. Bucky blinked, his vision focusing on the fuzzy figure laying on the ground, his feet moving before he could process anything. 

There was no one else around. 

It was you. 

His doll. 

His y/n.

He sprinted to you, tears clouding his vision as he approached you, dropping to his knees, both fear and hope fighting for dominance. He found you. You were there. But would he ever actually get you back? Were you even breathing? 

“Y/n?” Bucky cradled you to him, scooping you in his arms and chasing the portal that had already began to close. He held your face to his neck, his metal hand protecting your head, holding you securely against his body as you both fleshed back to the present. 

The team gasped as he appeared on the platform again with you safely tucked in his arms. They didn’t dare move, everyone holding their breaths while Bucky laid you down with you still in his arms, his hand softly stroking your cheek. 

“Y/n? Doll?” His heart was beating erratically, your skin was warm, a glimmer of hope burning stronger as he gently shook you, pressing his cool metal hand against your face. “Please” 

“C’mon doll, come back to me baby, I have so much I need to tell you” He pleaded, his warm breath fanning against your face, tears brimming his eyes. Tony and Steve itched to whisk you off to the medbay while Sam silently shook his head, wanting to give Bucky an extra minute, hoping you’d be able to wake up in the super soldiers arms where you belonged. 

“Baby, wake up sweets” Bucky couldn't help himself, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, trailing feather light kisses down your face while cuddling you. “C’mon I l-love you” His voice cracked, his lips finally pressing against yours. They were still soft, warm, you had to wake up, you had to-

Your lips stirred, your eyes cracking open, taking your first breath as your eyes focused on Bucky. 

“Sweetheart?” Bucky's eyes grew wide, unsure if he was dreaming or not, scrambling to hug you closer, cupping your face gently.  

“Bucky?” Your voice was a raspy whisper, leaning into his touch, feeling his tears fall onto your skin as he pulled you into his chest. 

“My doll” He let out a soft sob, cradling your head as you buried your face into his neck, moved to cling onto him, the last thing you remembered was darkness and now you were in his arms again surrounded by his warmth, his scent. Everyone stayed rooted in place, tears falling freely, dying to grab you, hug you, hold you again but they were not about to separate the two of you, not after how badly Bucky had yearned to get you back. 

“Bucky” You wept, your mind still piecing together how you were back but it didn’t matter, not when he was holding you again. 

“Hi baby” He whispered against your hair, wiping your tears with his thumb, cupping your face, kissing you all over before capturing your lips again, relishing in your touch, feeling your fingers card through his short locks. You lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world no longer existing. 

“Okay white wolf, When do we get to say hi to our girl” Sam snorted, sniffling seeing you tucked in Bucky’s arms, the brunettes lips curved into a smile for the first time since you’d been gone. Bucky loosened his hold around you, helping you to your feet, giving you one more kiss before letting go. 

“Come here” Steve scooped you up immediately after, struggling not to squeeze you tight, “We missed you sweet heart, so much”

“Hasn’t been the same without you” Sam gave you a once over, determining you were well enough for a slightly bone crushing hug before having you grabbed away by Tony. Tony wasn’t able to say much, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling, hugging you the longest, reluctant to let you go. You were engulfed in Nat’s arms as she wept, squeezing you like her life depended on it. 

“You saved me” She whispered in your hair, her tears falling onto your skin, “Don’t ever do that again” She hissed sternly, grabbing your face to look at her, “Don’t ever ever do something like that again” 

“Give me my baby back” Bucky grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulder as soon as everyone had gotten their hugs and kisses, not interested in giving anyone a second longer when he needed you so badly. You squealed, giggling as he carried you straight down the hall towards his room without glancing back. As soon as he locked the door, his hands were all over you, holding you tightly to him. 

“Your baby?” You shyly whispered as he rested his forehead against yours, nodding and chasing your lips. 

“M’never letting you go again doll, never” He trailed kisses down your neck while unbuckling the straps of your gear letting it drop to the floor. “I want to love you, I want to hold you, I want to make love to you, I want it all with you” 

Bucky tore your clothes off, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you over to the bathroom, turning the hot water on, hot water pouring over both if you. The steam made you woozy, your body turning into jelly under his touch as he massaged your muscles with delicate touches, his lips ghosting over every bruise and scar that had marked your skin. You let out a needy whimper, staying close to him, your butterflies erupting in your tummy every time he touched you. 

“Bucky please”

“I want to love you so badly baby, love you the way you deserve” Bucky willed himself not to take you right there, focused on rinsing off and grabbing a towel, carrying you over to his bed. He tossed to towel off, climbing on top of you, neither of you having the patience for a slow build or teasing. Your belly clenched feeling his hard length rut and rub against your bare cunt, your slick coating his cock. 

“I need you” He rasped while you whined, wrapping your legs around him, bucking your hips up. “You have no idea baby, God I need you” His eyes were pleading with you, his cock starting to leak feeling your arousal. 

“Wanna feel you Bucky” You spread your legs for him, your breath hitching feeling the tip of his cock rub through your folds before pressing into your entrance. 

“Gonna make love to you so good sweet girl” Bucky whispered as he started to push his cock in, his heart beating faster, cock growing harder feeling your heat pull him in deeper. He groaned, letting his body weight fall onto you as he started to thrust, pleasure consuming both of you immediately. 

“JAmessss” Your gasp melted into a moan, your head pressed against his pillow as he filled you, stretching you open, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock. “Stretching me to so good Buckyyy” 

“Yeah? You feel so good wrapped around me baby” He rasped, his orgasm already creeping down his spine as he pressed sloppy kisses all over your face, overwhelmed with emotion and the feeling of you under him. Your moans made him twitch, nearly growling when he felt your nails dig into his skin as he kissed your cervix with each roll of his hips. 

“I missed you so much baby, didn’t know what to do with myself, I-I couldn’t breathe without you, couldn’t live-” Bucky could feel tears brimming his eyes, struggling to keep them away, “Fuck I missed you so much, I felt like I was drowning every single day” 

You sniffled over his words, your heart connected with his, squeezing your thighs around his waist, desperate to keep every inch of his body pressed with yours. 

“It-it was always you” He kissed your forehead, as he kept you caged under him, moaning against your skin.

“I love you” you cupped his cheeks, brushing his tears away, his nose lightly bumping against yours. You pulled him down for a sweet kiss, only pulling away for air. All of it was so much all at once, the quietest cries and softest kisses, feeling every inch of each other, making up for lost time. Bucky pulled the covers over you both, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth, hiding you from the rest of the world, savoring this moment with just the two of you, his sweet girl back in his arms again. 

He let his arms roam across your body, stroking your waist, your thighs, gently cupping your breasts, softly suckling your nipples, his body trembling as he tried to hold his climax off and make this moment last forever. 

“M’gonna marry you, you know that?” His hands came to lace with yours, pinning you against the bed, eyes locked with yours. His pace didn’t falter, thrusting into you, loving the way your pussy fluttered around his cock, rolling his hips so he could push into you deeper. “W-will you? Will you marry me babygirl” 

He knew you had just come back but he wanted nothing more, unable to stop the words from slipping out. You let your own tears fall down your cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. 

“Yes” You whimpered, sniffling back sobs as he stroked your head, smiling against your lips. 

“Gonna make you my wife baby, marry you and take care of you until my last breath” He started to fuck you faster, panting, the muscles in his body tensing. 

“Tell me more Bucky, please?” You whined, your heart aching for more, everything you’d always wanted with the one person you’d always been in love with. 

“Oh baby, M’gonna get you pregnant sweet girl, have a family with you, everything with you, take care of your swollen belly, make love to you even when you’re full of me, show you how much I adore you princess” You gasped as he braced himself, his grunts growing louder, his body heat radiating off him, unable to stop the pleasure that was growing. 

“Tell me your mine baby” He whined, wrapping his arms around you while you threw your head back, your eyes rolling back at the feel of his pubic bone rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust. 

“I’m yours Bucky” 

“Fuck don’t stop y/n, please, I need it” His voice was needy, desperately clinging onto your body, craving to hear nothing else. “Say it again doll”

“I’m yours Bucky, all yours soldier” You moaned louder, your legs shaking around him “I’m gonna cum” 

“Cum with me baby, same time, please” 

“BuckyBuckyBucky- You cried our, your walls staring to flutter, ready to fall off the edge with hi. 

“M’right here, I got you, togther, c’mon, cum with me princess” Bucky rolled his hips, pounding you into the mattress, biting down onto your neck as he felt your nails scratch down his back while white hot pleasure tore through you, your pussy milking his cock. 

“FUCK JAMES” Your body trembled as he fucked you through your high, burying his face into your neck, his lips brushing by your ear. 

“YES, Yes baby, my good girl, my sweet girl, s’perfect for me, yes, I’m gonna give you my cum, get you pregnant, have a baby with you, take care of you, love you, all of it with you baby, fuck- I LOVE YOU- UGGHHH- 

Bucky collapse on you, filling you with his cum until the bed was damp, his body jolting from sensitivity each time you fluttered around him while kissing his temple. He hardly moved, a steady stream of cum still pouring into you, staying connected to you the entire night, cuddling you next to him. 

“I finally have my baby back, my sweet sweet baby, she’s back” 

It has been nearly a week since you were back but you hadn’t left Bucky’s room once. You only took a few moments to eat and sleep, the rest of the time wrapped up in each other, connected in the most intimate way possible, while whispering sweet nothings, 

It was everything Bucky needed. Emotional. Warm. Soft. Loving. 

He couldn’t help the tears every time he was inside you, he finally had you back, wrapping his arms around you every time you made love, making sure you knew exactly how much he had always adored you. As much as he wanted to take you apart in every way imaginable, he couldn’t help but slip into missionary every single time, wanting to see your pretty face, feel your body, have your legs wrap around him as he came inside you. 

*****

You threw on your coat while Bucky slipped his arm around your waist while you both made your way down, passing through the living room on our way out. 

“Damn future Mrs. Barnes” Sam whistled, along with the rest of the team, everyone gathered for a night for a movie. “Where you off to?” 

“The three of us are going out for dinner” Bucky smiled with a child like grin, snickering to himself while the team looked at you with confusion. 

“Three?” Steve cocked his head, noting the way you shied into Bucky’s chest, giggling while he kissed your head, his hand slipping down to brush over your belly. “THREE?”

Steve’s eyes grew wide as he shot out of his seat, pointing at your tummy. “THREE” He whipped his head to Tony, Nat, Sam and Clint who slowly connected the dots. “THREE” 

“For fucks sake, it hasn’t even been a month Barnes” Tony snorted, while everyone pilled onto you both, a large mess of hugs and tears. 

“You didn’t waste any time, huh” Sam wiggling his eyebrows while Bucky wrapped his arms around you, his hands splayed on your tummy. 

“Never again” He whispered, tilting your chin to kiss you deeply, “Never ever again” 

Tags: @glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury   @peaches1958   @spiderman-stilinski   @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut    @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl    @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club  @eralen   @perdidosbucky-yyo  @clqrosmgc      

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Understand"

@wolfstarmicrofic October Prompt 3 [Bonfire]

Warnings: reg is a confused boi, a bit of angst

Word Count: 636 words

A/N: Aroace Regulus, my beloved <3.and I think this is the longest one I've written. This might not be accurate. I'm not aroace myself, so I'm sorry if I got something wrong!

The crackling bonfire cast a warm glow over the group. James animatedly recounted the highlights of his latest date with Lily, who nestled comfortably against him. Peter sat nearby, listening intently.

Marlene and Dorcas roasted marshmallows, their playful banter filling the air. Evan lounged with his head resting in Barty’s lap, eyes half-closed, but a smile played on his lips as Barty complained about studying for the umpteenth time to Remus.

Remus leaned back against Sirius's legs. Sirius perched on a tree stump above him, effortlessly charming as he cracked jokes and joined in the stories.

Across the circle, Regulus frowned at the couples, arms crossed. Sirius looked at his brother, wanting to go to him but hesitating.

With a sigh, he tapped Remus's shoulder and caught his eye, nodding toward Regulus, silently asking for support. Remus offered an encouraging smile, nudging Sirius gently. "Go," he said.

And who was Sirius to ever question his words?

“Hey,” Sirius began, “Mind if I join you?”

Regulus shrugged, “Not like I could stop you,” he replied.

The brothers had only just started to mend their relationship, so Sirius felt a need to be careful. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.

Regulus stared into the flames. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “Everyone here is so… wrapped up in their feelings. And I don’t… understand.”

Sirius frowned. “You don't understand feelings?"

"I don't understand romantic feelings. There was this guy a year above. I—I thought I liked him. He was charming, and everyone else seemed to think he was perfect. I thought maybe I should feel something for him, too.”

“But you didn’t?”

Regulus shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I tried. I really did. I wanted to feel that spark, that excitement everyone talks about. But I just... didn’t."

Sirius didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know how to understand.

Regulus turned to Sirius, curiosity glinting in his eyes. "How did you fall in love with Remus? What told you?"

Sirius paused, surprised by the question. "It wasn’t an overnight thing, really. It crept up on me."

"How?"

“At first, it was just his laugh. I remembered hearing it across the common room, and it would make everything else fade away. Then, it was the way he listened—like he genuinely cared about what I had to say, no matter how stupid. It made me feel seen."

“And then?” Regulus pressed, trying to understand something foreign to him.

“Then it was the little things,” Sirius continued. “The way he’d always remembered my favorite snacks or how he’d nudged me when I got too loud. But it was more than that. I wanted to be there for him, to support him when he was feeling down. I wanted to share my world with him.”

Regulus still looked puzzled. “But how did you know it was love and not friendship?”

Sirius chuckled. “I think it was when I realized I constantly thought about him, more when he wasn't around. I wanted to know everything about him, not just the surface stuff. I always wanted to be around him and felt this warmth in my chest whenever I saw him smile.”

Regulus furrowed his brow. “And it just clicked for you?”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, nodding. “It clicked when I realized I didn’t just want to be his friend; I wanted to be something more.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way about anyone. Not even close.”

Sirius placed a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. “That’s okay, you'll figure it out. You have all of us to help you."

“I just wish I understood it better," Regulus mumbled.

“If we all understood each other and ourselves, the world would be a hell of a lot different,” Sirius said.

Regulus sighed heavily and looked at his older brother. "You quoting that from Lupin?"

"Maybe." He grinned.

They sat together for a while before Sirius got up and turned to his brother. "Come on," he nodded toward the others.

Regulus frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 18/?

Prev | Next

Happy belated birthday to the GOAT Alfred Pennyworth and my little meow meow Jason Peter Todd-Wayne

“So, Ellie isn’t your cousin; she’s your sister even though you’re pretending she’s your cousin.”

“Yep,” Danny said while popping the ‘p.’

It was his dad’s birthday. Auntie Raven and Uncle Roy had visited to celebrate. Right now, Danny was trying to explain his family dynamic to Lian.

“And Auntie Jazz is pretending to be your aunt, but she’s really your older sister.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m so confused.”

“The only thing you have to know is that you’re my only cousin.”

Lian was still confused but nodded, happy. She didn’t bring up Mar’i again. The last time she had, the whole mood had gone sad. She didn’t want Uncle Jay to be sad again.

“What’d you bring, daddy,” Danny asked, changing the subject. His family tree was weird, and he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

“I made him a bracelet!”

“That’s so cool! I asked Jazz to take me to a used bookstore and bought him a few books I think he might like.”

Lian giggled, “He’ll love it. Uncle Jay is a bookworm.”

Danny and Lian fell into laughing fits. The two fathers found their respective children playing and giggling amongst themselves. It warmed Roy’s and Jason’s hearts.

“Hey, munchkins, Jay is about to cut the cake. Are you guys coming?”

The two children looked at each other and ran out, their fathers following them.

 Danny and Lian ran outside to a table Jazz, and Raven had put out. Balloons and banners were decorating the table with presents in the middle.

Raven brought out the cake and set it on the table.

Jason couldn’t help but revel in the joy and contentment permeating the air.  

He felt peaceful as his little family sang the birthday song, and if he wished for his happiness to last forever, well, no one would have to know.

____

Alfred couldn’t help but feel the loss of his missing grandson as his family sang Happy Birthday.

Still, he smiled as his remaining grandchildren, son, and great-grandchild wished him a happy birthday. And when he blew out the candle wishing for his family to be complete once more, well, he was allowed to think selfishly on his special day.

They ate the chocolate cake, and he was about to open birthday presents when the doorbell rang. Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. Could it be…?

No, better not to get his hopes high.

“I’ll get it,” Bruce said.

The family continued celebrating.

Bruce came back with a package, his eyes misting a little.

“It’s for you, Alfred. It’s from Jason.”

The room got quiet. Alfred got the package with shaking hands and opened it. Everyone in the room waited with bated breath. Here was the proof that Jason was alive.

Alfred took out a first-edition Dracula signed by Bram Stroker.

His grandson hadn’t forgotten him. He sent Alfred a birthday present that was special between the two of them.

Alfred couldn’t send him a present.

The older man couldn’t help but cry.

Have some fluff; have some angst

@idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks

[spidrzfall]

I'm Not Her. Part 2 ( bad ending ) ⤑ Peter Parker.

WELCOME TO PART TWO the bad ending ! The end of the story for "I'm not her!" Enjoy you guys, I actually think that I might have cooked with this one, but I could be wrong anyways. Love you guys, xoxo - A.

☆° Peter Parker x Male Reader

  ☆°• ANGST !

°•▪︎ Fem readers DNI ♡♡

♧ warnings: mentions of cheating, swearing ! ♧

NOTES : Gwen isn’t dead in this universe, her and Peter only had a fallout !

♡ READ PART ONE : Click me!

♡ the good ending : Click me!

┏━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┓

It had been a week since the fight with (M/N), Peter couldn’t wrap his head around the fact it even happened in the first place, a part of him feeling guilt, guilt for hurting someone he’s meant to care about deeply. How’d it get this bad, how did Peter let it get this bad he didn’t have time to ponder on who or what, he just knew he needed a distraction. His mind couldn’t linger on the guilt forever and by the looks of it (M/N) wasn’t going to talk to Peter any sooner. As Peter threw on his winter coat, his blue and white striped scarf, and his cyan colored beanie, walking down his apartment's stairs to the main lobby before being engulfed by New York City’s winter air, the coldness hitting his face as his cheeks coated red. 

(M/N) didn’t know what to think. He only sat with himself wondering how Peter could say those things to him, maybe it was a slip up like Peter had claimed and even if it was, it just wasn’t okay. It didn’t exclude the fact (M/N) felt like it wasn't worth anything to Peter. He felt useless and scared. Scared of what was to come in the future from their fight; Would it even help if they reconciled? Was it going to make a difference in their relationship going forward? (M/N) didn’t want to ponder on the future, he knew if he did it would only make him go crazy.

Peter walked through the snowy streets, somewhat blinded by the snowfall but didn’t pay any mind to it as he kept walking eventually wandering into a small grocery store nearby being reminded he needed some groceries anyways. Skimming through the isles his mind made up a list along the way as he would prop each thing he needed into the handheld grocery basket. His mind cleared as he tried to recall each thing he didn’t have at home keeping in mind his budget, afterall The Bugle only pays him a few bucks for his photos.

(M/N) knew he wanted to forgive Peter, he couldn’t stay mad at him forever. As much as Peter did hurt him he still loved the man. They had a prominent future ahead of them and afterall every couple has their fights - given not all fights are because one of you can’t get over your ex - but regardless he wanted to talk to his boyfriend. Feeling like he couldn’t smile if it wasn’t smiling with Peter, Feeling a chunk of his heart missing from his chest with how much he missed the brunette. That longing he felt to be back with him, to mend what was broken. (M/N) knew what to do, bake. He needed to bake those chocolate chip cookies he would make for Peter during the wintertime, which Peter claimed to absolutely love.

Peter propped the small carton of milk into his basket as he walked further into the store. His shoulder bumping into somebody as his eyes made their way to the person as a quick apology slipped his lips. His own brown eyes making contact with the same blue eyes he had once fell in love with, Gwen. Peter stared at her as he felt his chest hurt, that similar spike in it becoming noticeable, she was the first to speak “Peter, Hey. It’s been a while, It’s so funny running into you here.” Peter's mouth went dry, it had been so long hearing her voice not knowing how to reply as he only admired her until he snapped out of it replying back to her “Yes, oh my goodness. Hey, yeah it has been a minute. How are you doing?” Peter faced her as his imaginary list of groceries left his mind the minute he heard her laugh. “I’ve been doing okay, well better since when we broke up, and really learned to manage myself a lot more. How about you? How has life been treating you, I'm sure you’ve found someone by now. It's been like 4 years now hasn’t it?” Gwen spoke her voice silk in Peter’s ears.

“Somebody?...oh uhm…” Peter hesitated as his mind ran an autopilot for a bit “no. I don’t have anybody” Peter spoke, lies spilling from his lips leaving a sour taste in them. Technically speaking in a sense he and (M/N) were on a break or at least that's what Peter told himself to ease himself of the guilt. “Really? Here I thought somebody already had you as theirs” Gwen replied as she took in note of the fact Peter wasn’t in a relationship ignoring the hesitation when he said it. “Don’t worry I don’t have anybody yet, either” – “Really?” – “I don’t think I could find anyone as amazing as you.” 

That made Peter pause, his cheeks coating a slight pink color as he chuckled, “I could say the same…” Peter replied, his morals out the window as he said it. Gwen’s smile became more noticeable as her cheeks flushed “Snow’s falling down rough, you know, my house is a bit of a walk from here, If I recall you still live in the area right? If It would be fine with you, maybe we could walk, maybe talk a while whilst the snow clears?” Gwen spoke sheepishly as she shifted her weight from one leg to another. “I think I’d love that a lot.” Peter replied quickly as he gave her a reassuring smile.

(M/N) had finally finished, his house warm and smelling of chocolate and vanilla as the cool breeze occasionally made its way into his decorated apartment. Taking the batch of cookies out of the oven as he smiled widely, they were perfect, setting them down on the marble counter of his kitchen before walking to the stove to check on the hot chocolate, a warm smile on his face. Grabbing a metal thermo and putting the warm hot chocolate into it, his heart warming up in the process, his mind running with the possibilities of how the interaction would go. Grabbing the batch of cookies, biting into one as he put the rest of them into a small purple cloth before gently placing them into a goodie bag. Taking his apron off and folding it before rushing to his bedroom to get changed. 

Being all bundled up and cozy as he took the elevator down to the main lobby, a smile on his face as he looked at his hands, the thermo and the bag of cookies in them as he walked with a spark, with a meaning, with love and excitement. Making his way to Peter’s apartment, remembering to bring the copy of the keys Peter got him. Seeing the brown colored building in view as he sped-walked entering the inside of the building’s main lobby, shaking off the snow as he walked up the stairs to the 5th floor. Exhausted as he walked up each stair until reaching the top as he rubbed off the exhaustion as he went to the familiar door; E8. 

(M/N) took a deep breath. He just needed to go in, give Peter the cookies and that was it. As he slowly inputs the key into the lock and slowly pushes the door open.

There was momentarily silence in the apartment as (M/N)’s eyes landed onto Peter's living room couch, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes stinging with threats of tears surrounding him. His hands became weak as he dropped the thermo and bag of cookies, causing Peter to snap and Gwen’s head as well. It wasn’t a sight to see with Gwen on Peter’s lap as they kissed, Peter paused for a moment, as his eyes landed on (M/N)...his (M/N).

“(M/N)...”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a guest over. I think I should go, I made you cookies and some hot chocolate, maybe you should share it with your girlfriend”

“(M/N) wait–”

It was too late, (M/N) only picked up the thermo and the bag as he put them down on Peter’s counter before hurrying out the apartment. Peter slipped an apology to Gwen as he made his way out the apartment making a beeline to (M/N) as he yelled out to him “(M/N)! Wait please! Let me explain, I know it looked bad but it was a spur of the mome-” – “Oh just like the spur of the moment at the restaurant! I can’t believe I wanted to forgive you!” – “(M/N) please, I didn’t think It would happen!” Peter pleaded as he walked down the stairs following the other. “Didn't know! Peter she’s your ex, you don’t bring your ex home unless you have intentions to sleep with them…Did you even tell her about us? About…me” (M/N)’s voice cracked as he stared at the once doe eyes he once loved.

Peter stood there with guilt as he lowered his head, knowing better than to lie to him. As he stood there on the top of the stairs, his boyfriend only a few steps below him who was standing there looking at him through tearful eyes. How he hated seeing him cry, hated it even more when he knew he was the reason he was crying. “I made you those stupid cookies you loved, Jerk. Fuck! I put my whole love into them Peter! I came here hoping we could work it out because I-” his voice cracked as he took a deep breath “I love- Loved. I loved you.” – “loved…?” 

Past tense. Somehow that wounded Peter even more as his own eyes teared up as he let them slowly run off his cheeks. Staring at his ex-boyfriend through tearful eyes, seeing him leave, Peter stood there momentarily before going back upstairs as he walked in, seeing Gwen with the bag of cookies - which were partially broken - on her lap as he sat next to her, his heart empty. “Everything okay?” Gwen asked as she handed him a half broken cookie as she put one in her mouth. “Yeah…everything is fine” Peter whispered as he took the cookie and took a bite out of them. “These are literally delicious, theyre so sweet” Gwen commented 

But how could it taste sweet? They were sour…after all they were only sweet when Peter ate them around (M/N), but like broken cookies come broken hearts.

┗━✦❘༻༺❘✦━━┛

[channoticedmeuwu]

☆ WHO I THINK TXT IS WRITTEN BY !!

featuring — TUBATU & THEIR AUTHORS | g — headcanons, fluff, angst, slice of life, coming of age | w — NO PAIRING !! mention of food ++ not proofread

a/n — v much tried not to cry during soobin's,,,, watched this clip of him getting emotional during a live while reading moa's supportive comments & genuinely have sm respect for this man

CHOI YEONJUN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “POPULAR” — THE WEEKND

a schoolboy who just wants to be amongst the class. a teenage boy outgrowing his youth, and beginning to realize he's pushed everyone in his circle away, and panicking because maybe it's too late to mend relationships. the boy who's watching everyone grow with him, yet not with him. a boy watching his distanced friends link arms as they jog towards the canteen, watching the girls sit together as they absorb each other's quiet in the library, watching the group of friends sneak out of class and sit by the benches. a boy realizing he's not like everyone else; pictures of friends taking trips together on social media, envying the respective bonds of friends underneath a girl's post— her girlfriends commenting “you look amazing!!” “god, marriage when!?”, and then boys who'd tease her with throwing up emojis.

yeonjun is written by a boy who watches people partake in street fashion, groups of friends catching the train after school and falling asleep on each other's shoulders. yeonjun is the result of a boy who's learning to refuse isolation, a boy who's accepting his flaws and embracing them, a boy who's working on himself. a boy slowly realizing what beauty he can hold in himself, a boy realizing he's alone— but refuses to stay that way.

CHOI SOOBIN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “SNOW ON THE BEACH” — TAYLOR SWIFT

a woman who's watched her lover change into a cold person. a woman who's craving the warmth of an old lover, the comfort of a relationship that was too good to be true. a woman whose emotions get the better of her, a woman who misses the twinkle in the eyes of their lover. a woman who realizes that her love isn't being reciprocated the same way anymore, who watches her lover's skin turn colder by the second. a woman watching her lover be consumed by the winter of the universe, to be changed completely and transformed. and she can't do anything but cry— watch them and cry and hold their cheeks and beg for them to come back.

soobin's eyes reflect what love was lost after being savored for a while, soobin's smile thaws hearts of those like his author. soobin is not picture perfect; but he cups teary wet cheeks and empathizes like no other.

CHOI BEOMGYU

💽 ( SONG_REC.) “CALLING” — METRO BOOMIN

a peter parker who's just gotten bitten by his spider. beomgyu is everything that peter's expectations for himself are. peter, who wants to bury the factor of his own fear, who wants to be the hero everyone feels reassured to see. peter wants for his first instinct to not be panic, confusion, or to start making a far-fetched calculation that doesn't help him in the task at hand. peter wants to shrug at the face of danger— to not be afraid for his own leap of faith. peter wants to be carefree, a cheerful soul who doesn't have time to worry because of how fast he moves.

but as time moves on, maturity is what peter sought, not a pretty face with a cocky smile. and peter gives beomgyu depth as he grows himself, a sense of responsibility sharpening the features of a new spiderman, learning the ability to accept his own fear instead of just pushing it below. peter writes beomgyu to be brave; not fearless. someone who's humbled at his wins, who grows stronger at his loss.

but peter unknowingly soon manages to parallel the expectations he never thought he'd meet— and instead of building beomgyu to be someone he'd wish he were, he grew him to be just like him. to know when to laugh and to accept his own emotions when necessary, beomgyu turned out to be a carefree soul who believes in justice and his right to his own story.

KANG TAEHYUN

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “THANK U, NEXT” — ARIANA GRANDE

a young lady who was nit-picked by the beauty standards of a black and white society. a young lady who never understood where her greys would fit. a woman who is growing to shun away a mold she is aware she would never fit. taehyun's unique beauty is a result of a mind curious to sculpt their own standard. a stubborn soul, who embraces their differences, who moves on from the fact that they are not like the others, and recognizes that it's what catches everyone else's attention.

taehyun's emotions are quick to reach his features, moulding themselves to reflect what his heart feels. his eyes turning softer, the corners of his lips growing into a smile, the tension in his forehead dissolving as he grows fonder; taehyun was written to be observed by those who were just like his author. those who recognized their own place in a community, or the lack of said position, and always embraced it. taehyun was the result of self indulgent art that stood as a symbol for those who appeared to not fit a “beauty standard” — whatever beauty standard meant, anyway. subjectivity was never meant to be moulded into a standard, and taehyun stood to be a reflection of that.

HUENINGKAI

💽 ( SONG_REC. ) “A MARRIED LIFE” FROM UP

two 5 year olds who met at preschool and now have distance in their friendship due to one of them moving out of town. a pair of children who sneakily panic when they realize they scribbled on the wall with crayon. children who struggle to throw snowballs at each other because of how cold snow feels. two kids who stare out the window and guess the cost of cars passing by based on how expensive they look. two kids who announce that they'd like to get married as a way to show their tight knit bond.

two kids who always left the corners of their sandwiches, and argued if the head or the butt of the dinosaur nugget should be eaten first. two kids, who'd cry if the other cries. two kids who are now too far apart from each other; overwhelming sadness only emerging from a tiny body in the form of incomprehensible tears.

two kids who begin writing to each other in colorful crayons, whose journey of writing to each other never reaches its end. two children who exceeded the height marks on their walls, who grew up to be able to fit more words in their letters. hueningkai is the spark of their relationship, the cursive and the colorful. an innocence which never grew into maturity when it came to each other, a pair of kids who were too old to sit on the porch and swing their legs, or watch clouds.

hueningkai is the tears prickling in their eyes when they run to each other after years, an embrace that sends heart palpitations towards toes. hueningkai is the innocence they never grew out of, a pair of former children crying in each other's arms, an overload of sensory, a platonic kiss to each other's forehead. a soulmate bond, and an unspoken understanding.

txt — masterlist

main taglist (hmu to get added!) — @koishua @navyhyuck @allegxdly @daystiny  @kdyism  @neotism  @bluejaem  @radiorenjun  @sleepylixie @oifelixcmerebrou @mrkcore @imdamnconfused  @sicluvz @abhirami20 @tyongishs @emvrd @brxght-world @1921choi @bangchansbae

I’d appreciate if you’d give me a little feedback on the drabble if you read, whether it’s an ask, a reply or in the tags of the rb! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[dj-spiderman]

Hello, Just here to make a small request

I'm not sure if you write for Ben Reilly but if you do could we get some platonic mentorship between him and teen reader who sees him as a big brother?

If you do anons could I be 🐉 anon? Have a good day/night man!

THE BETTER BROTHER

- Ben Reilly & Teen!M!reader

- Genre: Platonic fluff (little bit of angst w/ comfort towards the end)

- A/N: You can absolutely be 🐉 anon! Anywho, was gonna make it straight fluff, but I thought it’d be cute to have it so that in reader’s dimension, he was Peter Parker’s brother, but Peter died. And with Ben being a clone of him… y’get me?

“Your pose is off,” Ben corrects your hand placement, giving an approving nod as the two of you stand watch for any anomalies “perfect pose.” He confirms, looking towards you like a proud parent.

“Your pose is off..” You grumble, struggling to maintain the placement of your hands. You managed for near a minute before clambering onto the ground behind.

It was dead silent in the moment. Ben’s head had snapped to look down at you, simply staring. Your eyes locked together before the older boy broke out into laughter.

Your face went red with humiliation and anger, immediately scrambling to your feet and pushing him over the ledge. His laughter cut off with a scream before he managed to web himself back up onto the rooftop they paroled.

“Oh you’re in for it now!” He huffs, tackling onto you. The two of you tumble across the roof, Ben now holding you in a weak, yet firm, chokehold. “Admit defeat!”

“You’re defeat!” You retaliate, squirming around in his grasp.

“That doesn’t even make sense!” He groans, having you smack at his head after freeing an arm.

“Take that!” You grin, squirming a bit more before slipping free. “Haha!” Your cheers of victory soon cut short as he recovered quickly.

Eyes wide, you take off quickly, beginning to hastily swing away. “You can’t run forever!” He calls out, not far behind, getting giddy about the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“I’m not running!” You cockily call back, sticking out your tongue, only to crash onto the side of a building. Comically so, peeling from the wall and down onto the fire escape just below with a heavy thud and groan.

“And yet again! I stand the better brother!” Ben cheers, only to cut himself off after hearing you mumble about.

“Brother…?” Your voice is small and slightly pained, reminiscing on the past.

Your brother, Peter Parker, hadn’t passed long ago. It’s why you took up role of Spider-Man. But that didn’t stop the hole in your heart from growing. As though that sibling bond was missing.

But Ben.. Ben made it easy to move forward. He mended that spot to fit right in. And now, now he was actively taking the role of your older brother? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah.. yeah okay, you’re the better brother.” You reply, a small smile playing at your lips as you stared up at the older boy. “But I’ll beat you next time.”

“Oh you’re on!” He challenges, already getting a head start as he began to swing off.

And you weren’t far behind, happily laughing and taunting him. It was the happiest you had been in a while. Ben really was the best brother.

[the-red-butterfly]

Not-Yet-Written-Fics Game

Tagged by @fishing4stars to reveal my not-yet-written fics.

This is fantastic actually the amount of things I have on the back burner is HUGE I'll have to pick and choose, oh dear.

For Your Life Hate Me (Twilight) As story about Carlisle and Jasper (very self indulgent) where they get kidnaped by María and forced to fight (like in Jasper's old days). To keep Carlisle alive Jasper is forced to do some not nice things that horrify Carlisle but he'll do them to keep the man who took him in safe, even if Carlisle hates Jasper in the end.

The Adventures of Young Man Henry Winchester and his Violent Grandsons (Supernatural) Henry Winchester survives his death by Abadon! And now he has to get used to modern life without his family. It is extremely painful and sometimes his grandsons are no help. The start of their relationship is very rocky but it'll eventually lead to better days. I'm very fond of this one.

It's The Ashy Taste Of Sacrifice (One Piece) Sanji and Zoro get turned into animals and (spoilers) in the end Sanji has to bear the brunt of this happening and suffer a life as a fox. The premise is silly but I promise you the contents are not. I am making this boy SUFFER and that is just a universal constant. Full of platonic friendship and hurt/comfort ✨And Zoro being a better bro to Sanji.

To Look Like Her (One Piece) And to keep up with the point before. This is a story about Sanji self sabotaging his body because he realizes that when he's sick he looks like his mother and he wants to KEEP that look. It does not end well for anyone. The Straw Hats get rightfully very pissed and concerned about this.

Mending The Tears One Spoonful At The Time (Sam Rami Spider-man) This is just a whole ass ploy to better the friendship between Peter and Harry. Harry realizes something is off with Peter when he notices his friend is ALWAYS hungry. When Harry offers help Peter's pride gets in the way and Harry has to devise ways to secretly help Peter.

Homeward Bound From The Sea (Frozen) Frozen AU where Agnarr survives the shipwreck but is lost for some years in an island until he's eventually found by a fishing-ship. He gets rescued and returned home but things are hard for father and daughters equally. Full of Agnarr!whump and everyone having to adapt to this new reality. Kind of non-verbal Agnarr in this one.

When Doriath Fell (Silmarillion/Tolkien) AU where Dior and Elured and Elurin survive BUT actually Dior did die he just came back wrong. So Dior raises his children as a feral creatures in the forest surrounding Menegroth. But Elured and Elurin sort of have to take care of their father as well because the man is not well. Of course, this thing is full of angst what did you expect?

The Price Of Freedom (Sandman) Hob rescues Dream from the fishbowl of doom and Dream thinks he needs to repay him with devotion and love (just like he did with Alianora). Surprisingly shippy but not really? HobxDream is not endgame at any rate, but Dream is convinced that's how he needs to repay his friend for saving him. Very angsty, the sky is blue, next.

Reverse 'Verse (Firefly) Another AU (of course) where instead of River being taken and brainwashed it is Simon who becomes the mortal weapon/assassin. And in turn it is River who has to take care of him and escape. Lots of sibiling feels.

I have so many, so so many, but i better not drag them up into the surface less I get tempted into working on them XD but here are some honorable mentions of ofter fandoms I have wips in: SPD Power Rangers (don't laugh), Batman, Hocus Pocus and a ton for Criminal Minds.

If you feel like asking about any of these drop me an ask and I might feel inclined to doodle something about it 😂

No pressure tags: @arlenianchronicles @slightly-crimson-tornado @bad-at-names-and-faces @loonysama @byrambles @i-did-not-mean-to

[crazyk-imagine]

Life of the Party

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!reader

Characters: Sirius Black, Fem!reader, James Potter, Lily Potter nee Evans, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadows, Nymphadora Tonks (briefly mentioned), Harry Potter (briefly mentioned)

Warnings: Angst, this is random, during the first war, has bits of the sceond war involved, this probably doesn't track with the timeline, but certainly kept me entertained, not all information is accurate but that's to be expected, I had no idea where this was going, the last line makes me cry on the inside

Word Count: 2,601

A/N: Was I watching "Only Murders in the building" while writing this, giving it the murder mystery vibe, I feel it has? Maybe. No regrets though.

James took his time proposing

Voldemort slowly started getting stronger and then Peter joined him.

There are no known reactions to the bloodroot poison... I made up my own, hence the murder mystery vibe.

This is partially inspired by "Life of the Party" by Shawn Mendes

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m telling you to take your shot, it might be scary.” You shrug, "maybe she's ready for you two to take the next step." You're just hoping that if you push him a little more, they can be even happier.

And maybe, James can finally shut up about wanting to have the same last name, whatever comes first.

James nods, taking in every word you’re saying.

“We don’t have the time to be sorry," you tell him.

The faint whispers of evil lurking around every corner are slowly becoming louder in your mind.

You hold your breath for a second.

“She’s right,” Marlene shrugs.

Dorcas shakes her head, not liking it when the two of you agree with one another.

The blonde shares a look with the girl closest to her. “Why doesn’t he just man up and ask her?”

The dark-haired woman shrugs, “I don’t know. You’re asking the wrong person.”

Sirius leans against you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder, "am I hearing that Prongs is going to be an idiot again? Still don't know how to pop the question, do you?"

James rolls his eyes. "Thank you," he says to you before running off. "Look at that, we're alone now."

“Are we invisible to you, you dolt?” Dorcas grabs Marlene’s wrist and hauls her out of your home.

“I think he's going to do it now.”

“He’s not.”

“You want to bet?”

The blonde nods, “I do. Ten pounds.”

“And a butter beer.”

Marlene scowls, “fine.”

They shake hands.

“You’re on.”

-

He sneaks around your home, making sure no one can see him. You shake your head. "Nice try, Sirius."

"What?" He pouts, following you after you brush him away from you.

"Don't push me away. I know you love me." He flutters his lashes as if that will further prove his case.

"I would love some peace and quiet. Besides, shouldn't you be checking on Remus right now? It's almost his time."

He sighs, "yeah. I just... wanted to see you before."

"Well, you did and now it's time to say goodbye."

"Fine, fine," he lets out a deep sigh, as if you've done something to him. "Promise me one thing?"

You stare into his eyes.

“You’ll tell me if you’ve been seeing things when I get back.”

You nod, gulping because you know what’s going to happen before then.

The corner of his lips curls upwards, thinking about being alone with you and hopefully asking you something he should have had a long time ago. "I'll be off now, little miss “life of the party”. I'll see you later?"

You rest your hands against the counter, preventing yourself from falling. You nod, "of course, Pads."

He smirks, shaking his head to rid him of his thoughts although he’s always fond when you call him by his nickname. "Alright, I'm off."

"Bye," you whisper, listening to his motorbike get farther from your home. You groan, raising one hand to your head. It's worse.

'The whispers get louder when the ticking stops.'

You want to forget it, but you can't.

His screams haunt you; you can't see his face, you don’t know who it is but it's more than enough to ruin your sleep, invading your mind at the most inconvenient times.

Your family's large grandfather clock chimes.

Nothing's going to work now, you know it. You don't know why you’re going in here but it’s the one place you believe to be in your best interest to reside in during this time.

You grab your wand from your boot and wave it.

The bookshelf moves out of the way.

A heavy breath escapes you.

No one but you know of your meek at home potions room. It's better this way, none of them will ask any questions or throw themselves into research.

By the time your clock chimes again, James and Lily will be the next future couple followed by a sweet little baby boy who will help carry on their family line.

Remus will be trying to finish his potion for the upcoming full moon.

Sirius will be the last of his siblings but not of his family's pureblood status.

And Peter-

“Come out tonight. Come out tonight,” you mutter, closing your eyes for a moment, waiting. "You found me."

"I never wanted this to happen."

"If you didn't want it to happen, you wouldn't have joined him. You wouldn’t have cowered into his grasp because you think he’s getting stronger."

"I- I'm sorry."

"Are you? Because I think you don’t have the time to be sorry. Or are you just saying that because of the bloodroot poison you put in my drink last week?"

Peter pauses in the doorway. "When did you know?"

"It's obvious when somethings not right with your body and you're stupid to think I wouldn't notice."

"You really want to fight with the person who could kill you?"

"You already have."

"It wasn't my choice."

"You didn't know whether you should have stayed on this side and when they found you, you chose to put that damned mark on your arm. You made a decision long ago. I'm just," you hold your breath, finding it hard to take a simple breath now. "Wondering what made you change?"

"Nothing," he mumbles.

"That's such a lie and you know it!"

His head snaps in your direction. "Everyone made me this way!"

You struggle to gulp down the saliva that filled your mouth.

"I was tired of being the joke of it all," he sniffs.

You don't know whether to feel bad for him or help him.

"I wanted the jokes to stop. I thought they would when we grew up, but they barely did."

"What jokes?" You whisper, now losing your voice.

"It doesn't matter now, what's done is done."

"Soon to be done. You're here to report to him that I'm dead, right?"

"N- no."

"You're distracting me, waiting until the end."

"Stop it."

"I hope you feel better."

"Better?"

"Thinking you chose the right side-" You take a step closer towards the table, your hand reaching out for it until you lose your balance and begin tumbling forward.

Peter reaches for you and holds you.

This is the last time he'll ever see you. And it hits him, what he's done to his friend.

There are no changing things now.

He adjusts you, cradling you in his arms as he sits behind you; the way a friend should comfort another one in need.

"Are you happy?"

He glances at you from the corner of his eye, staring at your side profile. "What?"

There's no more fight left in you and there's one thing you want someone to know, your last fighting words were something that will haunt your murderer. "Knowing you chose the wrong side."

"I-"

You close your eyes, not wanting your last sight to be of the secret you kept from your friends.

The grandfather clocks chimes once more and the whispers of his mind fill the silence.

Peter throws his head back, tears trickling down the sides of his face.

Nothing will ever be the same and no one will ever know what he's done.

Not until the end of the first war.

He carefully moves away from you and places you against the desk making it look as if you were sitting against the desk when you pass.

He kept it quiet of how you passed until the night he purposefully let Sirius take the blame for everything.

No one was able to truly move on after, most of all he and-

“She called herself the “life of the party” forever making a fool of herself,” he chuckles to himself.

"Pads, are you telling Harry the same story?"

The man in question turned around with his precious godson bundled in his arms. "No."

"Why lie when we all know it, Sirius?" Lily asks, holding her son's bottle as she tries to take the boy from him. "It's time for his bottle, Sirius."

"I can do it."

"No."

"Come on," he whines, with his bottom lip quivering.

It takes her back to every time when he would beg for your attention. She purses her lips, adjusting Harry in her arms. "It's almost nap time."

"Fine. James, sleep fort?"

"Of course, how else does one take a nap?"

She shakes her head at the two, knowing you would have something to say about it. "James."

"Coming, dear."

"I'll be here while you go help the man of the house."

"Hey."

Sirius raises his arms, "I'm kidding. I'm kidding."

He's left alone with his thoughts, something that's become more dangerous than before.

He thinks back to the story he was telling his godson, which was the night before your guys' seventh year when you decided to do some digging and found the bottle of fire whisky he had hidden, saving for a special occasion and ended up giving yourself a nickname.

You were so, so... drunk.

-

You smile and raise your hands, not at all careful to hide the bottle of fire whiskey. “It's time to be the life of the party.”

Everyone was confused as to why you did this, why you’d lost yourself.

"Someone needs to get her down from that table before she trips and breaks something," Lily hisses.

"We can use magic to heal her."

"Now is not the time to sass me, Sirius."

"Uh- nope, that one was me," Remus raises his hands.

"Someone please, help me get her down."

The three boys take a step forward at the same time.

"Come on, darling. It's time to come down."

You pout, holding the bottle close to your chest. "I don't wanna."

James snorts. "Can it, Prongs."

"I didn't say anything, Padfoot."

"Boys, please. Let's just get close to the table and then Pads can try and ease her down while we help?" The werewolf adds.

"Siri, come up and join me."

"Join you?"

"Become the life of the party with me."

“Sweetheart, I already am.” He holds his hand out for you to take. “Come and party with me down here.”

“No,” you tell him.

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Prongs, Moony,” he jerks his head to the side. “Over here.”

They follow, leaving the red head to deal with you.

“Alright, boys. Moons, you grab the bottle while Prongs my boy,” he smacks the bespectacled boy’s shoulder. “You distract, pull her in with that odd charm that drew your rosy, red head in.”

“I feel like I should be offended.”

Sirius raises a brow, “are you?”

“No.”

“Then you’re fine. Ready boys. On three.”

“Please don’t try to use sports analogies,” Remus interrupts.

“Rude.”

“Hey,” James calls out for you. “Look at me.”

This gives Remus enough time to remove the bottle from your hands and for Sirius to pull you down.

“What made you want to get up on a table?” He asked, holding you in his arms.

“I wanted to get away.”

He glances up, knowing you probably don’t want the others to hear. “Get away from what?”

“The images in my mind.”

“Do you-”

“She needs to have something other than that damned whiskey in her system. Bring her over to the couch,” Lily tells him.

-

He never knew what you saw before that night and didn’t ask when you didn’t remember anything that happened.

This was one of the first few sights that haunted his mind, followed by his best friend and his wife a year after.

That’s why when he saw you for the first time, he was going through so many emotions.

His voice calling out to you wasn’t out of the norm but seeing him when you turned around after the light taps on your shoulder was certainly a surprise.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him. “Sirius?”

He throws himself forward, almost squeezing you with his might. “It’s been too long, darling.”

Your hands shake as you fist handfuls of his shirt tightly, wrinkling his shirt in the process. “I- you,” you push him back. “You shouldn’t be here. You- you- Sirius you can’t be here,” you whisper.

“You shouldn’t be either but here we are. Just focus on this.” He cups your cheek.

“What?”

His thumb brushes across your cheek. “We’re together again.”

“You should be out there, living your life and- and teaching Harry so much more.”

“I am right where I need to be.” He smiles at you, staring into your eyes. “I’m back with you.”

You gulp, “you’re still an idiot.”

“No, I’m Sirius.”

You shake your head and pull him in for another hug… until an echoing voice causes you to furrow your brows.

“Pads! Pads!”

“Oh no,” you mumble.

“What?”

“Pads turn your stupid head around.”

“Who’s calling me stupid?”

You’re happy you let go of him when you did otherwise, you’d be on the ground with the two idiots you find yourself lucky enough to call friends.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the two of you.”

“I know,” you assure Lily. “It’s okay. I’m just happy to see you guys again.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer. “Me too.”

“Don’t forget about us,” Marlene calls out.

You two spin around, finding her and Dorcas running towards you guys.

“Took him long enough.”

“Marlene,” you hiss.

“What? I can’t pretend like you haven’t been depressed since that night. Everyone missed you and then when the first war came and we came here, you were so relieved that he wasn’t here but longing for him to come to you and you know it. You can’t hide it.”

You roll your eyes.

“So, you did miss me?” He says, staring up at you with a stargazed look in his eyes.

You turn away, avoiding his gaze. “No.”

“Someone’s lying, and it isn’t Sirius,” he says, attempting to egg you on.

“Come on, girls.”

“Wait- no.” He chases after you.

-

All of you stop, staring around the cemetery.

“What do we do now?”

“We wander around in true spirit fashion.”

“I vote we leave James behind,” you say, raising your hand.

“I second that vote,” Lily and Marlene add.

“Lily pad,” James gasps.

“Dorcas, come on. Don’t do this to me.”

“I’m with the side that doesn’t whine and complain.”

“But I’m nothing without whining and complaining. I was the only male here till Pads decided to join us.”

“I can see why they didn’t want you around.”

“Pads! I’m offended now!”

“Oh, well.” Sirius shrugs.

“You two haven’t changed a bit,” you comment. “It’s nice. I’ve missed seeing all of us being like this.”

“Like what?” Lily asks.

“Being young, not worried about a war coming our way.”

“I think we can all agree on that.”

“Did you all hear Moons has begun to pursue Tonks?” Sirius says.

“No."

"No way.”

-

You lead the others towards Diagon’s Alley, feeling a butter beer kind of night is something you all need.

“Don’t give her any fire whiskey. Otherwise, her “life of the party” personality will come out.” Marlene teases.

“That was one time,” you defend yourself.

“Lies,” Dorcas says, coughing into her hand.

“You all suck.” You pout.

Sirius leans in, “how’s it feel?”

“Don’t be like that, Sirius.”

“What? So, Sirius? I can’t, that’s who I am.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

You stare into his eyes. ‘I missed you more than anything, Siri.’

“I do.”

His smile widens, “I knew it.”

You close your eyes, wanting this to fill the blocks you made in your memory.

Everyone needs a little happy scene they can think back to.

-

Taglist

@twinkletwinklenotastar

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

condemned (my heart is on the mend)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61478452 by minnieishere The building is on fire and Peter might be freaking out, but really it's okay. Because he has family by his side. He just doesn't know it yet. Or, I'm terrible at summaries - the one were the Parker's apartment burns down and Peter moves in with Tony. Words: 2471, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Aunt May Parker (Marvel), Ned Leeds Relationships: Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Aunt May Parker & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has a Heart, Peter Parker Has Issues, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Burns, Major Character Injury, no one dies, Parent Tony Stark, Parent Pepper Potts, Hurt/Comfort, no beta we die like men read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/61478452

[novankenn]

Regrets of One... Freedom of the other

(A/N: I have not read any Spider-Man comics since I was a kid. I used to buy them at a second hand store for like .50 to a 1.00. So this whole “Paul/Mary Jane” OMD arc has been a complete surprise and a kick to the gut. So after watch about 6 to 8 videos on the situation, reading some Tumblr posts and Reddit posts about the situation for background… I choose to write this. It’s more than likely severely OOC, but being a person who has had someone I love just dismiss me and everything we had… it hit a place and I felt the need to write this.)

Mary Jane was lost. Her relationship with Paul Rabin wasn’t what she had latched on to. The illusion of family and stability having vanished. Yes, they were trying to mend things since the “loss” of their children with couples counseling. But in the back of her mind, there was a doubt. Was any of it real?

Stepping away from everyone, in the small apartment of her Aunt Anna, she pulled out her cell phone. She didn’t know why, but she had a need to talk to Peter. It was a hope that even with the separation of four years, and the mess that was the end of their relationship… that maybe… maybe he could be that shoulder she really needed.

She had never erased his contact. She had blocked him, and deleted every text or voicemail he sent or left, but she still had his number. So with shaking hands, she unblocked his contact, and hesitantly tapped out a short text.

Peter. It’s MJ… can… can we talk?

For several minutes, she stared at the screen, waiting, hoping… but there was no response. Not even a notification that he had seen her message.

Peter… I really need to talk to you. Please?

Again, for several minutes, Mary Jane watched the screen of her cell.  Dread slowly building with in. Had Peter finally chosen to cut all ties with her? Was he purposefully ignoring her pleas to talk?

/==/

Peter was finished. Finished with it all. “With great power comes great responsibility” was what his Uncle Ben had told him. But in Peter’s depressed and angst filled mind, he added… “But it also brings pain, suffering, loneliness, and ridicule.”

Peter had felt his phone vibrate as he sat in the backseat of the couch bus on his way to Bar Harbor, Maine. He didn’t even open the text messages. He just looked at the notifications, dismissed them, and then turned off his phone.

“She made her choice…” Peter muttered to himself, “... and it wasn’t for us, for what we once had.”

Leaning his head against the window, he watched the passing scenery with disinterested eyes. It would be a few more hours before he was in Bar Harbor, and then on his way to Yarmouth. A couple of weeks ago when everything was on falling apart, he had made the rash decision to apply for a Temporary residency and work visa for Canada.

As much as it hurt him to walk away from everything, he needed the clean break. He needed to start fresh, somewhere away from all the painful memories. He was even lucky enough to land a couple of photography gigs, which would help him get settled in what he hoped with be his new home.

/==/

A few days later, MJ after a rather disastrous session of therapy was sitting alone in a small out of the way coffee shop. In her hand again was her cell. Once again, the text app was open. But this time there were tears in her eyes.

Peter, please answer me. Tell me off if you need to, but don’t just not respond… I… I really need someone to talk to about everything. Please? (Message undeliverable - Try again?)

It was the final nail. Peter was completely gone. After so many attempts to talk to her when she had first returned. After basically stalking her… he was gone, and that hurt her more than she thought it would. Yes, she had Paul. They had spent four years suffering and surviving. They found a family… but the children had turned out to be nothing but an illusion. 

Things were falling apart with Paul. What they had, was it even real? Had it been born out of real love? Or was it something of convenience? Born of a need to survive in that hellscape? MJ didn’t have any answers, just questions up questions. Doubts building upon doubts.

/==/

Peter was content. The small jobs he was gaining as a photographer were actually fun and relaxing. Travelling around the province taking shots of landmarks, monuments and tourist destinations for travel brochures paid the bills. He felt a twinge of regret for not saying goodbye to anyone. Of just getting up and leaving.

In his downtime alone in his small apartment, he would check the news on New York. The minor crime rates had risen slightly, but so far it appeared as if the innumerable about of heroes in the city were doing their jobs, and keeping the people pretty safe. That fact, suppressing the nagging feeling that he should have stayed. That he should have struggled through it all.

“I burned so many bridges…” Peter muttered to himself, “... too many bridges.”

Tossing his phone down on his bed, he stretched out and closed his eyes, for a quick nap. He had another gig coming up. It was a fluff piece for the local paper. They wanted shots of the crowds and attractions at a local fair opening in a few hours. As he let sleep claim him, his mind never once thought back to the trash barrel in which his infamous suit, the symbol of his alter-ego, met its final demise. The flames had devoured it completely.

/==/

It had been a couple of months, and MJ and Paul’s relationship was reaching a breaking point. She had been reaching out to everyone who she knew and had connections to Peter. But no one knew what had happened to him. He had just vanished, and making matters worse were the headlines and editorials in the Daily Bugle. 

Is the Spider Menace FINALLY over?

Where is the Spider-man? 

One less Freak in New York. Spider-Man MIA.

It all made a chill run up MJ’s spine. She knew Peter had trouble accepting her relationship with Paul. That he had tried desperately to hang on to what they once shared. Had the final realization that it seemed over, added with all the trials he suffered through… finally pushed him too far?

“No… he wouldn’t have.” MJ sobbed, her firmly clasped over her mouth, in an attempt to muffle the sound. Recalling the last few moments she had shared with Peter.