#peters comic corner

[petersartstuff]

I've been rewatching the Cognouza arc and I doodled this while watching episode 138 cause this moment stuck with me. Might make this a more finished product at some point idk

[erinwantstowrite]

chapter 19 doodles!

i would doodle the fight scenes but i don't hate myself enough for that, which left out a huge chunk of things to draw </3

anyways ZATANNA MY LOVEEEE!!! i actually had so much fun writing her this chapter because her magic was fun because it was so stylized but still had loose rules. whereas writing Loki's magic was a bitch and a half. and picking on Constantine was fun too

[vertigoartgore]

2001's Amazing Spider-Man Vol.2 #29 cover (LGY : #470) by cover artist Lee Weeks and inker Scott Hanna.

[mcudc616]

[robins--corner]

jasonr todd .,....

w one of my old bbgs changed to b a DC oc bc i dont want to remember who i orig made her 4

[queen-mabs-revenge]

actually that amazing spider-man 228 post made me curious...

comics ppl, reblog this with your favorite obscure, deep cut, bargain bin issue and why it's your special little guy in the tags

[oopey-doopey]

Spider-Man “fan club” that consists of all the people that have accidently found out his identity or seen his face and decided they would keep his secret but be total freaks about it.

They want to know everything about his civilian life and sort of idolize the person Peter is as it takes a true kind and courageous soul to take the mantle of a hero as Spider-Man and never run from it. They see him as the best person alive and aim to serve him as discreetly as possible...

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

“Beware…The Werewolf by Night of 2099!” Miguel O’Hara - Spider-Man 2099 (Vol. 1/2023), #3.

Writer: Steve Orlando; Penciler and Inker: Jason Muhr; Colorist: Raúl Angulo; Letterer: Cory Petit

[carolingarts]

You, a child in your sandbox: oh man, a batman x spider-man crossover between Marvel and DC would be so cool!

Me, a gigachad alpha with sigma grind set, balls of steel and a monster truck: oh man a dark gritty exploration of the human psyche in a swamp thing/justice league dark x venom crossover between Marvel vs DC would heal the wounds I brood over with my queer lover over long dark cold nights.

We are not the same.

(In a world where the current American government doesn't exist I'm convinced this comic exists and if i could travel the multiverse I would *be there*. It's the one with basic income, universal housing, gay rights. I just know it is.)

[radroller]

The Incredible Hulk #378 “Rhino Plastered”

Written by Peter David and Kurt Buseik, Illustrated by Bill Jaska and Jeff Albrecht

[petersartstuff]

History comic I made over this past semester that I had the pleasure with collaborating with the Ohio History Center for!

You can read about the process of creating it here

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

This headcanons is for all my friends who suffer from social anxiety like me!

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter understands your struggles in a way few others can. He was the kid who sat alone at lunch, the one who stammered through conversations, the boy who felt too much and spoke too little. So when you shrink into yourself at a crowded event or hesitate before speaking, he doesn’t push. He waits.

- He is patient with you, always. If your hands shake when ordering at a café, his fingers brush against yours—not grabbing, not forcing, just reminding you he’s there. If you struggle to meet a stranger’s eyes, he fills the silence effortlessly, making bad jokes until you breathe out a quiet laugh. He knows how much effort it takes, and he never belittles it.

- When you’re overwhelmed, he finds ways to help without making a big deal out of it. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” he’ll say casually, like he wasn’t watching you from the corner of his eye, counting the seconds between your anxious glances. He makes excuses to leave early, to find a rooftop where it’s just the two of you, the city stretching wide beneath your feet.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he believes in you, too. He knows you’re stronger than you think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you after a stressful interaction, “but you did great. And I’m proud of you.”

- One day, when you stand your ground, when you speak up even though your voice shakes—Peter looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you’re the bravest person he’s ever met. And to him? You are.

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony is used to fast talkers and smooth charmers. He’s not used to you. The quiet, hesitant way you speak, the way your gaze flickers away when too many eyes are on you. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then, he realizes—he doesn’t need to do anything. He just needs to be there.

- Social situations? He handles them for you. If someone puts you on the spot, Tony is already redirecting the conversation before you can panic. If a gala feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating, he whisks you away with a perfectly crafted excuse. No one ever questions him—he’s Tony Stark, after all.

- But he also refuses to let you believe your anxiety makes you less. When you apologize for stumbling over your words, he raises a brow. “What, you think that matters to me? Have you met me? I stumble over my words all the time. It’s called being devastatingly charming.”

- He builds little comforts into your daily life without making a fuss. Noise-canceling headphones that match your style. A secret signal for when you need an escape. He makes sure you know—“I got you, sweetheart. Always.”

- One night, when you tell him you feel like a burden, he physically stops in his tracks. Turns to you, eyes serious in a way they rarely are. “You think being loved is a burden?” And when you don’t answer, when you shrink under his gaze, he exhales. Steps closer. “I don’t throw around the ‘L’ word lightly. But I love you. You get that, right?”

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve is a protector by nature, but he learns quickly that you don’t need protecting—you just need understanding. So he listens. He doesn’t try to fix you, doesn’t tell you to “just be more confident.” Instead, he sits with you in the quiet moments, in the spaces where words aren’t needed.

- When your anxiety flares up, his presence is a steady, grounding thing. His hand finds the small of your back in crowded rooms, a silent reminder that he’s there. If your breathing gets uneven, he murmurs, “With me, sweetheart. Deep breaths. In… out.” And when the world is too much, he shields you—not with his vibranium, but with his warmth.

- He notices the things you don’t say. The way your shoulders tense before you speak, the way you fidget when too many eyes are on you. He never rushes you, never forces you to talk before you’re ready. But when you do—when you finally find the courage to tell him what’s on your mind—he listens like it’s the most important thing in the world.

- He makes you feel safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to pretend with him. When you’re exhausted from socializing, he doesn’t take it personally. Instead, he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Want to stay in tonight? Just us?”

- And one day, when someone comments on how quiet you are, how shy—you shrink back, but Steve? Steve straightens. Levels them with that unshakable, unwavering gaze. “Not everyone needs to be loud to be strong.” And the way he says it—the quiet pride in his voice—it makes you believe it, too.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor does not understand at first. He is a god, a warrior, a king—he has never hesitated to speak his mind, never faltered in the presence of others. So when he notices your reluctance, your anxious glances, he frowns.

- But he learns. He watches the way you grip the hem of your sleeve when you’re overwhelmed, the way your voice gets softer when too many people are listening. He learns, and he adapts. Because that’s what love is.

- If you are uncomfortable in a gathering, he makes it known. “My beloved tires of this company,” he declares in the middle of a conversation, and before you can protest, he is leading you away, unbothered by the stares. To Thor, your comfort is more important than social niceties.

- He does not see your anxiety as a weakness. When you apologize for needing space, he shakes his head. “There is no shame in feeling.” And then, softer, “I would battle a thousand foes, but I cannot battle your thoughts. So tell me, my love—how can I ease them?”

- And when you finally speak—when you let yourself be vulnerable, let yourself be seen—Thor looks at you like you are more powerful than any storm he has ever summoned.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- Loki is used to masks. Used to hiding, used to maneuvering through conversations like they are battles to be won. But you? You don’t wear masks. You don’t need to. You are soft-spoken, hesitant, but there is a sincerity in you that unnerves him.

- He sees the way people overlook you, the way they dismiss quietness as weakness. It infuriates him. But more than that—it intrigues him. Because he sees what they do not. He sees the way your mind works, the depths beneath the surface.

- When you struggle with your words, he fills the silence with his own. When you are anxious, he redirects the attention elsewhere. He will never let the world swallow you whole.

- But when you grow comfortable, when you begin to speak more freely with him—Loki listens. No tricks, no arrogance. Just listens. And if anyone dares to mock your hesitance, they will learn why he is called the God of Mischief.

- One day, you tell him you feel small. Insignificant. He tilts your chin up, his green eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You are not small,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You are the only thing in this realm that makes me feel real.”

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint notices things. He notices the way your hands tremble when too many people are watching, the way your eyes flick toward the door in crowded rooms. He notices the way your breath catches before you speak, the way you fidget when someone puts you on the spot. He notices because he’s been there too—the kid no one thought twice about, the one who had to learn to take up space in a world that wanted to ignore him.

- He helps in his own way. Casual, unspoken, never forcing. When he sees your shoulders tense in a loud bar, he makes a joke so ridiculous, so absurd, that you forget why you were panicking in the first place. If you start to shut down at a gathering, he suddenly remembers an “important thing” he has to show you outside—just the two of you, away from the noise.

- He doesn’t push you to talk when you don’t want to, but when you do? He listens like every single word matters. Because to him, it does. He knows what it’s like to feel unheard, and he refuses to let you believe your voice is anything less than important.

- He’s protective, but not in an overbearing way. If someone tries to rush you into speaking, he’s already cutting in, redirecting the attention, making himself the distraction. If someone mocks your quietness, his usual easy grin goes sharp. He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his words are just as sharp as his arrows.

- But what really gets him? The way you trust him. The way you let him see the parts of you the world doesn’t always understand. One night, after a long day, you let yourself lean into him, burying your face against his shoulder. And Clint? He just holds you closer, arms firm around you, like he’s never letting go.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha understands. She understands in a way no one else does. She was trained to be invisible, to fade into the background when necessary. She knows what it’s like to measure every word before speaking, to feel like too many eyes are on you.

- With her, there’s no pressure. No expectation. She never pushes you to be something you’re not. If you don’t want to talk, she doesn’t fill the silence with meaningless chatter. She lets the quiet exist, natural and unforced, because she knows sometimes words aren’t necessary.

- She is your shield in public. If she sees you struggling in a conversation, she subtly shifts the focus onto herself. If someone tries to pressure you, she gives them a look—a cold, unreadable thing that makes them shrink back immediately. No one messes with you when Natasha is around.

- But in private, she’s different. Softer. When you tell her your fears—your worries about being a burden, about not being enough—she listens, then gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

- And one day, when you stand up for yourself—when you find your voice even though your hands shake—she watches you with something like pride. Because she knows exactly how strong you are.

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knows what it’s like to feel out of place. To feel like the world moves too fast, too loud, too much. So when you get overwhelmed, when the anxiety becomes too sharp, he doesn’t tell you to “calm down.” He just takes your hand. Grounds you. Stays with you.

- He’s not much for words, but he doesn’t need them. He knows when you need space and when you need him close. If you’re panicking in public, he subtly moves in front of you, blocking the world from view. If you need an out, he makes an excuse without hesitation.

- He’s fiercely protective, but he never treats you like you’re fragile. He knows you’re strong, even if you don’t always believe it. “You don’t have to be loud to matter,” he tells you one night, his voice quiet but sure. “I see you. That’s enough.”

- When you have bad days, the kind where speaking feels impossible, he never makes you feel guilty. Instead, he just sits with you, silent but present. Sometimes, he’ll read aloud, his voice low and steady, filling the empty spaces with something comforting.

- And when you finally whisper, “Thank you,” he just shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me, doll.” And the way he says it—like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you—makes your heart ache.

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt hears everything—the shift in your breath when you’re nervous, the way your heartbeat speeds up in crowds. He hears the words you don’t say, the ones caught behind your teeth, and he never pushes them out. He lets you speak at your own pace, in your own way.

- He’s a lawyer, a talker, a charmer—but with you? He is patient. Gentle. He knows the weight of words, the way they can soothe or break, and he chooses them carefully when speaking to you.

- If a social event becomes too much, he senses it before you even say a word. “Wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, already reaching for your hand, already leading you somewhere quieter, somewhere safer.

- He never lets anyone make you feel small. If someone talks over you, dismisses your words—his easy charm vanishes. His voice turns sharp, his lawyer’s precision cutting through their ignorance like a blade.

- But when it’s just the two of you—when the city quiets, when the weight of the world is gone—he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank is not a man of many words, but he doesn’t need them. He sees you—the way your hands curl into fists when you’re anxious, the way you shrink back when too many eyes are on you. And without a word, he adjusts. He puts himself between you and the world, silent and steady, your shield against everything too loud, too much.

- He never tells you to “just relax” or “get over it.” He knows what it’s like to have demons clawing at your throat, to feel like your own mind is working against you. So instead, he stays close. A hand at your back. A steadying presence beside you. A quiet, unspoken promise—I’ve got you.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Frank’s entire demeanor changes. His voice drops, his posture shifts. “You got a problem?” And suddenly, the room is very, very quiet.

- But when it’s just you and him—when the world is far away and you don’t have to be anything but yourself—he’s softer. He pulls you into his arms, presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You don’t gotta be anything but you.”

- And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you finally believe him.

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is a man of chaos, of violence, of war. But with you, he learns the art of stillness. He sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way your hands tremble when too many eyes are on you, and he knows that kind of fear. He’s lived with it—not the fear of people, but the fear of never truly belonging.

- When crowds press in too close, when anxiety wraps around you like barbed wire, he moves instinctively—positioning himself at your side, shielding you from the world. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t pry—he simply becomes a wall between you and whatever is making your breath hitch.

- He’s rough around the edges, all sharp angles and battle scars, but when it comes to you? His hands are gentle, his voice low and steady. If you can’t meet his gaze, he tilts his head just slightly, lowering himself to where you are—never forcing, always waiting.

- If someone dares to mock your quietness, Marc is not a man of restraint. He looms over them, voice eerily calm but laced with danger. “Say that again.” He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his presence alone is enough to send them running.

- But when you’re alone, when the night is still and the world is quiet, he holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered. “I get it,” he murmurs into your hair. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” And you know, without a doubt, that he means it.

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- Johnny is fire, and you are the quiet ember he never knew he needed. He is loud, bold, reckless—the center of every room he walks into. And yet, when he’s with you, he finds himself softening, lowering his volume, learning to exist in the quiet without burning it away.

- He doesn’t always understand your anxiety, but he tries. He notices the way your fingers twitch before speaking, the way you flinch at unexpected attention, and he makes it his personal mission to be your buffer.

- If you ever feel overwhelmed at an event, he pulls you aside with the easiest excuse in the world—“Sorry, gotta steal my girl for a sec.” And just like that, you’re swept away, safe in the warmth of his presence, away from prying eyes.

- When someone comments on how “shy” you are, he grins wide, throws an arm around your shoulders, and says, “Yeah? Well, she’s also the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person in the room, so I’d shut up if I were you.” And somehow, you know he means every single word.

- At the end of the day, when the world feels too big and your voice feels too small, Johnny pulls you into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “You don’t have to be loud to be heard. I hear you.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- Reed’s mind moves faster than most, always ten steps ahead, lost in equations and theories. But with you? He slows down. He listens, truly listens, because he knows how hard it is for you to speak sometimes—and if there’s one thing he values, it’s the power of a voice that chooses its words carefully.

- He’s observant, even if he doesn’t always show it. He notices the subtle shifts in your posture, the way your breathing changes when anxiety creeps in. And without a word, he adjusts—offering his hand, shifting attention away from you, giving you space when you need it.

- When someone talks over you, dismisses your words, Reed is not an aggressive man—but he is precise. He calmly redirects the conversation, effortlessly reinforcing your point until the offender realizes their mistake. It’s a quiet kind of defense, but it leaves no room for doubt: your words matter.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he encourages you in the gentlest ways. When you whisper your thoughts to him, he repeats them out loud, ensuring your ideas are heard. He never takes credit for your brilliance—he amplifies it.

- And when you’re alone, when the weight of the world is too much, he pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he murmurs. “You are enough, exactly as you are.”

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- Felicia is a storm wrapped in silk—a whirlwind of charm, confidence, and mischief. And yet, with you, she is something softer, something gentler, something she never thought she could be.

- She adores the way you shy away from attention, how you linger in the background—not because she wants you to hide, but because she loves the way your beauty is something only those who look closely can see.

- When you get anxious in public, she drapes herself over you like a shield, whispering teasing remarks into your ear until you laugh and forget why you were nervous in the first place. She makes the world feel smaller, safer—like it’s just the two of you, even in a crowded room.

- If someone insults your quietness, her entire demeanor shifts. The playful smirk sharpens, her eyes go cold, and she takes a single step forward. “Wanna say that again, sweetheart?” No one ever does.

- But when it’s just the two of you, when the night is quiet and you’re curled up in her arms, she presses a kiss to your forehead and murmurs, “You don’t need to change for anyone, least of all me. I love you exactly as you are.”

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen is a man who has faced horrors beyond comprehension, who has seen the vastness of the cosmos and returned unchanged. And yet, you—soft-spoken, hesitant, shy—unravel him in ways he never anticipated.

- He is a man of logic, of knowledge, and yet he finds himself studying you as though you are the most intricate spell he has ever encountered. He learns your tells, your fears, the quiet ways you ask for help.

- When your anxiety becomes too much, he doesn’t try to “fix” it—he simply exists beside you, grounding you with his presence. If words fail you, he conjures illusions of calming landscapes, filling the space with something serene, something safe.

- If someone belittles you, his voice turns cold, clipped. “Do you always judge people based on volume, or is it just when you lack the intellect to comprehend quiet strength?” His words cut deeper than any blade, and the offender is left stammering, humiliated.

- But when you’re alone, when the world has faded away and it’s just the two of you, he takes your hands in his, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and whispers, “You don’t need grand gestures to be extraordinary. You already are.” And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Namor (The Sub-Mariner)

- Namor is a king, a warrior, a force of nature that bends to no one. He is fire and water, fury and grace, and yet when he looks at you—quiet, hesitant, soft in ways he has never been—his arrogance falters. He has ruled the depths for centuries, but he would kneel for you.

- He does not understand your reluctance to speak, the way your hands shake in crowded halls, but he does not mock you for it. Instead, he watches, learns, and makes sure his court knows that your words carry the weight of a queen’s decree.

- When you feel small, when your voice wavers, Namor’s is strong enough for the both of you. If anyone dares to belittle your quietness, his voice booms across the room, regal and unyielding. “You would do well to remember that power is not measured in volume, but in presence.”

- He encourages you to stand tall, not because he wishes to change you, but because he knows the depths of your strength, even when you don’t. He will remind you as many times as necessary—until you believe it, until the ocean itself whispers your name with reverence.

- And in the moments when the world is too much, when the pressure of existence weighs heavy on your chest, he takes you to the water. He carries you effortlessly through the waves, where silence is sacred and your anxiety cannot reach. Here, with him, you are weightless.

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny Blaze has stared into the abyss and walked away burning. He has made deals with devils, has felt Hell’s fire in his veins, but nothing terrifies him more than the thought of you feeling like you are alone.

- He knows what it’s like to be trapped in your own mind, to battle demons no one else can see. So when he sees your hands tremble, your voice falter, he doesn’t push—he just stays. A quiet, unwavering presence, reminding you that you don’t have to fight alone.

- When your anxiety is a storm raging inside you, he lets you borrow his fire. Not in words, not in force, but in touch—a steady hand at the small of your back, a whispered joke to pull you from the darkness. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just makes sure you know you’re not broken.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Johnny doesn’t bother with threats. He just looks at them, eyes burning gold, voice like gravel and embers. “Wanna run that by me again?” One glance at the fire flickering beneath his skin, and they never do.

- But when the night is still, when his demons are quiet and yours are loud, he holds you close, presses a kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “You don’t need to be louder to matter, sweetheart. You’re already everything.”

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie has never been good with words, and Venom has never needed them. But when it comes to you—shy, hesitant, unsure of your place in the world—they both learn a new kind of patience.

- Venom is fascinated by you. “WHY IS SHE SO QUIET?” the symbiote demands. “SHE IS STRONG. THEY SHOULD FEAR HER.” And Eddie just sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, buddy, but not everyone wants to be feared.”

- When your anxiety flares, Eddie keeps you close, shielding you from the world with the ease of a man who has spent a lifetime on the outskirts. And if that isn’t enough? Venom coils around you, a silent, watchful protector, daring anyone to make you uncomfortable.

- If someone ever makes fun of your quiet nature, Eddie lets out a slow, measured breath—then smirks. “You really wanna keep talking?” And before they can respond, Venom grins wide, teeth gleaming. “WE COULD EAT THEM,” the symbiote suggests, only half-joking. (Probably.)

- But in the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and sighs. “You don’t have to change for anyone, least of all me.” And Venom, surprisingly gentle, echoes, “WE LIKE YOU AS YOU ARE.”

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa has ruled nations, fought wars, stood against gods. But when you look up at him, eyes hesitant, voice barely above a whisper, he feels like a man first and a king second.

- He is deliberate with his affection, precise in his understanding. He does not rush you. He does not try to fix what is not broken. Instead, he offers his hand—steady, unwavering, waiting for you to take it when you’re ready.

- When your anxiety makes you withdraw, he does not let the world swallow you. Instead, he ensures that you are given the space to exist on your terms. You are not just "his" in the public eye—you are your own, and he will defend your right to be exactly as you are.

- Should anyone dare mock your shyness, his response is quiet but lethal. “Do not mistake her silence for weakness,” he says, voice like the edge of a blade. “There is power in stillness. And wisdom in restraint.” And just like that, the room remembers why he is king.

- But when the throne room is empty, when the world is quiet, he cups your face with hands that have known both war and tenderness. “You do not need to raise your voice to be heard, my love,” he whispers. “I will always listen.”

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra moves like a shadow, speaks like a blade. She has spent a lifetime in the dark, but with you, she learns that love does not need to be loud to be real.

- She understands your silence in a way few others can. She does not push, does not pry—she simply exists beside you, unwavering, patient. If you need space, she gives it. If you need grounding, her hand finds yours, steady and sure.

- When your anxiety takes hold, she does not fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she teaches you how to fight—not because she expects you to, but because she wants you to know that you are strong. Even in stillness. Even in silence.

- If someone ever dares to mock your quietness, Elektra doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. One sharp glance, one tilt of her head, and suddenly, the offender remembers they have somewhere else to be.

- And when the night is quiet, when it’s just the two of you tangled in silk and moonlight, she runs a slow hand down your spine and whispers, “The world does not deserve you.” And you believe her—because in her eyes, you are more dangerous, more beautiful, more powerful than anyone could ever understand.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

hi, im in love with your writing, please don't stop

can you do something where Bucky can't find sunshine and nobody else is concerned because they know that you're okay? like you went to the mall or to get coffee, but didn't tell Bucky

oh! and I'd love some more sunshine and peter parker chaos. he's bestie material!

I need something funny and sweet after today, or I'll just reread old stories from you 🤧

thank you 💞💞💞

Caffeine and Chaos

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Bucky's protective instincts are on display when he can't find you. But when you return, Bucky's frustration gives way to fondness, even if he won't admit it.

Word Count: Roughly 1k 

Warnings: Fluff, comical violence, teasing, banter, flirting, a little bit of Peter’s self-deprecating humor

Author’s Note: This was such a cute idea; hope you enjoy :)

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Divider by: @strangergraphics 

“Where is she?”

Bucky’s voice cut through the otherwise quiet room.

The team didn’t flinch, accustomed to his daily grumbling.

Clint lazily flipped through a magazine, paying no attention to the scene unfolding.

Steve was polishing his shield, attempting his best to mediate. “Breathe, Buck.”

Natasha sipped her tea and barely looked up. “She’s fine,” she said, her voice unworried.

Sam barely stifled a laugh and leaned back in his chair. “Dude, she’s not your responsibility. She’s grown, man. You don’t have to track her every move.”

“Where. Did. She. Go?” Bucky repeated.

Tony was too busy typing on his tablet to care about Bucky’s panic. But the smirk on his face was undeniable.

He glanced up briefly. “Bucky, c'mon. You know she’s fine. She’ll be back before nightfall.”

Just as Bucky opened his mouth, he closed it once more. The door to the room swung open, and there you were, bouncing in like a ray of sunshine, Starbucks cup in hand.

“Bucky! Look what I got!” you chirped, instantly taking the edge off his simmering frustration.

His neck snapped around so fast you were sure you heard something crack. “Where did you go?” His voice was almost too calm now; you knew that wasn’t good.

You blinked, taking a sip of your iced coffee. “We ran out of my favorite coffee creamer and I went to drop off my almost overdue books at the library because I’m responsible.”

“By yourself?” he demanded, his eyes narrowing.

“Well, no,” you replied. “I had Peter with me.”

Peter, who had somehow remained unnoticed in the corner until this moment, immediately regretted his existence.

“Uh. Hey, Bucky,” he squeaked, his voice laced with panic.

Bucky’s intense death glare shifted to Peter. “You let her leave?”

Peter looked back at you in betrayal.

“I told you he’d kill me; should’ve never let you talk me into it,” he muttered under his breath.

You rolled your eyes. “It was barely an hour.”

Bucky, however, didn’t seem convinced. “And what if someone grabbed you, huh?”

You frowned slightly, raising the drink in your hand. “Then at least I’d have my coffee?” You shrugged innocently.

Bucky exhaled so forcefully you thought he might pass out from sheer frustration. “Go. Sit. Down. Now.”

With a sigh, you obediently went to the couch and flopped down.

Peter tried to sneak away unnoticed, but Bucky was already one step ahead. He grabbed the back of Peter’s hoodie with a firm grip.

Peter sighed. “This is it. I’m a goner. Say nice things at my funeral.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, Bucky. It was just a coffee run.”

“Next time, I’m coming with you,” Bucky muttered, his voice still holding that soft edge of fondness despite his grumbling.

You grinned, too pleased with yourself. “As if you could keep up.”

“Oh, I could keep up just fine, sunshine,” he shot back, his words softer now, laced with affection.

He let go of Peter, and the boy scrambled upstairs.

Meanwhile, Sam exchanged a knowing glance with Steve.

That was never a good thing.

Still polishing his shield, Steve muttered loud enough for Bucky to hear, “You know, Buck, I didn’t think you’d be the type to get whipped like this.”

Sam snickered, his grin wide. “Yeah, man. Look at you. All tense when she’s gone for an hour. It’s almost cute.”

“Shut up, both of you,” he grumbled, clearly trying to hide his embarrassment.

Steve, barely able to suppress his own laugh, added, “You’re in deep, Bucky. You’re one stop away from buying her flowers and writing a song about it.”

“I swear to God, Rogers, I’m going to throw you off this fucking building,” Bucky threatened.

Sam leaned back in his chair, looking way too entertained by the situation. “You’re already whipped, Buck. Might as well embrace it. The song’s gonna be a ballad, right? Something with violins?”

Steve and Sam laughed, ready to keep taking shots at Bucky.

Without warning, Bucky grabbed a vase from the nearby table and hurled it toward Steve and Sam.

Sam ducked behind Steve, who instinctively raised his shield, deflecting the vase with a loud clang. The vase shattered against the shield, sending shards of ceramic skittering across the floor.

However, not a single person flinched. It was like this kind of chaos had become second nature.

You tugged on Bucky’s sleeve, your voice soft but firm. “Come on, Bucky. Sit down,” you said, pulling him gently toward the couch.

He let out a long, aggravated sigh but obeyed, dropping down beside you. “This is why I spend my free time alone,” he muttered under his breath.

“You’re right.” You leaned into Bucky’s side. “We should spend more of your free time alone.”

Bucky pretended not to shift to make you more comfortable against him. “Next time, I’m coming with you,” he muttered.

You hummed in acknowledgement, curling into his side like a content cat basking in the sun, slowly falling asleep.

With a quiet sigh, Bucky threw a blanket over you, pretending not to notice Steve and Sam stifling their laughter as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp @winchestert101 @thatesqcrush @bamitzzsam @grubler @peaches1958 @helen-2003 @ickearmn @Kimmie113080 @Xgbtmdmx @buckysbunnie @Shower-me-with-roses @pigeonmama @civilbucky @piinksdoll @desimarie12 @sleepysongbirdsings @barnesb420 @Suffereroflife

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Much love x

- Maeve

[invincibledc]

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐌𝚰𝐋𝐘 𝐗 𝐒𝐏𝚰𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙

Summary!: when patrolling, you can’t help but meet another from your dimension.

Genre!: crack fic(?) this is for my own amusement.

Note!: reader is a male. An oc of mine for spider!reader appears. Every Spider-Man has to have their Deadpool. Also this is not proof read

Word count!: 806

Info!: Protege of Peter Parker, in their dimension/universe, Peter Parker use to babysit them. But due to the curious mind of a fourteen year old, they followed Peter when he left them. Thinking that they were asleep but really was following him. Looking over a cornered they didn’t notice a spider crawling its way to them in weird colors. It bites them, making them yelp. Short story, they finished tying a mugger up and running into a dimension of dc. And now they live with the batfamily.

Relaxing, in your spider suit, being a Spiderman in this dimension, universe, or whatever it is, fuckin` blows!

I mean, you can't even go outside and get a simple piece of air of freshness! You can't even try and take a shower before Damian as he hates your guts despite the other men here telling you he doesn't.

But does throwing a ninja star at you tell you otherwise??

No, it doesn't!!?

It almost reminds you of Lori. He’s always thrown sharp objects at you, it almost makes your skin crawl. Despite you crawling on a building as of now.

Patrolling the beautiful streets of Gotham City. If you can hear the sarcasm.

Neither less, you finally reached the top of the building. Pressing the comms, you alerted Bruce that you made it to your position. And then there's the little twelve-year-old brat yapping off in your ear. “Spiderman, make sure to focus thoroughly through this patrol this time. I will not save you and watch how you owe me your life.” you can hear that smug smirk on his face. Gritting your teeth, you hung up on him.

“Little brat, always on my damn case. Can't he just give a guy a break?!” you don't know what's up with the little shrimp, but either less. You have to stick with it. You started to web up goons, but that was only the beginning.

You were dealing with a huge thug, a grown-ass man versus a fourteen-year-old who is agile like a spider. You shoot your webs at the big man’s hands before swinging under his legs, turning your body with your webs, you pull your arms. Forcing the male to get slammed hard and knocked out.

“Phew… that wasn't bad at all. Wasn't it guys?” you said looking at the reader reading this story. with a grin, your expressive mask showing a happy expression. But soon that moment was ruined by you trying to break the fourth wall.

Hearing a girlish scream, you turn around to see the same-looking portal that had sucked you up into this world. You felt excitement, hope, and happiness. As much as you loved the whole family here, you had your own back to your universe.

But, of course, you had forgotten about the girlish scream as a kid with strawberry blonde short hair, tied into a small ponytail, a freckled face, and hazel eyes, hit you hard. At your body.

“Lori?!” you exclaimed, looking at the slightly tanned boy who straddled against you. Meet Lori, aka, the deadpool of your spiderverse. He had a katana holder strapped across his body. But never mind that, Lori’s eyes widened as he saw that he was on top of you.

“Spidey!!!” he squealed, pulling you into a hug despite the awkward position. He then lifted your mask, peppering your face with kisses.

“L-lori! Lori! Stop man!” Lori finally stopped and hopped off you so cartoonishly. Magically he pulled out his Deadpool mask and put it on.

“Bro! It took so long for me to force a wizard to open some wacky portal so I could find you! When Peter told me you were missing, I had the biggest hunch that you went to another comic world!”

You raised a brow as Lori hopped in front of your face, wagging his finger in front of you. “Like bro, how could your best friend be behind like that man!” Lori couldn't help but comically sob into your chest. The thirteen-year-old boy then perks up, his also expressive mask showing him narrowing his eyes.

“Someone's coming.” Lori pulled out a Glock 19, aiming it above as the mask’s eyes went into silts.

“When did you get a Glock?!” You exclaimed, pulling the gun from him. Lori looks at you before shrugging.

“Why not? Always carry something heavy yo!” Lori could be visibly seen pouting behind his mask, reaching to go grab the gun from you, you threw it up, webbing it to a wall.

“OH CMON!” Lori said In disbelief at how you could do this to him.

“Are you done with this reunion Spiderman.” a voice called out, Lori and you turned to face the voice. You pulled your mask down, Lori got into position, pulling his katana out. There stood Damian with his katana in hand. His eyes narrowed.

“What the—” Lori interrupted by the said Robin, “I don't know who you are, but I'm guessing you’re from Parker’s world.”

“I mean, no shit pipsqueak.” you could’ve sworn you saw Damian clench his jaw before he released it.

“Then I’ll have to take you to where you will stay.” Damian didn't know why, but having another person who showed the same interest made him a little irritated. This is a comrade of yours, so he must treat him with respect.

Even though he ‘hates’ you.

[foolsocracy]

The thing about the spider man in the noir comics is that he really tries to trick you into thinking he's a lone wolf, that every person is an island. I mean, he even tricks himself into believing it.

And honestly, can you blame him? So many people he comes across are out to get him. Everyone leaves him somehow-- death or betrayal or otherwise. But despite that--- despite that!! There is an underlying theme of community that is so vital but easy to miss with all the misery that the comic throws at you.

but right from the beginning its someone else picking Peter up, dusting off his shoulders, guiding him, whether it be Aunt May, Ben Urich, Felicia Hardy, Jean De Wolfe, or hell even JJJ.

There's been some discussion about how noir Pete is different than his other iterations, and one aspect of that being that he doesn't really have a persona when he's in the mask. He's always angry, headstrong, emotional Pete. And I agree! But I keep thinking about how much of his image as The Spider-Man is about otherness, loneliness, and solitude.

He is so other in fact, that he's not even perceived as human. They depict him with 6 legs, 2 arms, and a skull-like, blood-filled face with an open maw. On one hand, I am aware that the Goblin is purposely smearing the spider in the paper, but it would be wild to assume that this doesn't effect the public's view of the spider man too.

This is a crazy departure from Peter Benjamin Parker, kid nephew of Renowned Socialists May and Ben Parker. He lives and works at a welfare center that houses and feeds the homeless. He cares deeply about the people around him, strangers or otherwise. He's compassionate!

The panel of him leaning against the wall and being physically ill in horror stands out to me all the time.

Another part of the noir spiderman that diverges from the typical spiderman tropes is that he is clearly lacking the friendly neighborhood part and I'd like to think that the origional Noir run and the EWOAF follow up was setting up for that type of thing to sort of come around. I don't think he will ever really reach that status with how the noir universe is set up, don't get me wrong. He's got some horrifying eldritch spider god looking over his shoulder and he's an intense, dark son of a bitch. I mean it more in the way that he himself needs a community and needs to recognize that he HAS one as Peter Parker!

He comes to this realization a few times, as seen in the panels of the original post with Ben Urich and Robbie. The thing is that he never really, truly gets there. Ben dies, Robbie is lobotomized, Felicia doesn't want to see him anymore, but he does call for Jean De Wolfe in the last issue of EWOAF, who comes! Progress!

Anyways, all that is to say that despite what he believes, Peter needs (and wants, even if he tries to repress it,) to be with and confide in other people. The comics set up a really good arc for him to learn this in following volumes/issues... if anyone ever bothered to write them </3

just fell to my knees

[metalnchains]

He’s staring again. Even with one earbud in, music blaring, and a turned back, you know he’s boring holes into your back. Why he’s here terrorizing you is beyond you. You’ve never addressed him by the wrong rank, never bumped into him, never spoken out of turn to your knowledge. To your remembrance your longest conversation was whether or not he and his team had had a good flight over here, nothing offensive about that right? So why he’s once again chosen to sit here in a hard plastic chair that’s far too small for his hulking frame is a mystery. You know it’s his choice now. You’d interrogated Kate after the first time. She was wholly amused by your plight apparently, assuring you he wasn’t a threat to you. He was just…like that apparently. His team always comes in boisterous, happy to be on flat ground and in good company with Kate and the captain leading. The captain is always polite but distant. He and Kate always seem to need to get down to business quickly to help ease the weight on their shoulders. Being at the top came with heavy burdens. The sergeants are more chatty. They’re quick with a quip for you, or a light hearted jab for the other sergeant before heading into the conference room. He’s always the last to enter building, massive, intimidating, and silent. The first time he entered he’d stared at you with furrowed brows as you greeted the small crowd. His stare cut through any lighthearted chatter on the tip of your tongue. Scuttling back to the desk and starting on those end of quarter reports seemed a much safer option than standing there waiting for any orders from Kate. And it would have been a perfect plan…If he hadn’t stayed outside the conference room on guard duty not even ten feet away from you. No words, no acknowledgment just that god awful staring. Your polite attempts at small talk eventually petering out into embarrassed paper shuffling. Now you can say you’re almost used to it. It’s still unnerving to catch the skull out of the corner of your eye. Or steal a glance at just how deep and dark his eyes are. But at least he’s stopped trying to kill you with his furrowed eyebrows. His expression has smoothed out to boredom instead of unease, and mistrust. Your best guess is that the sound of a keyboard, and a stapler just aren’t much of a threat. Whatever it was you’re thankful.

You’ve started to bring them coffee for their meetings. The puffy rings under their eyes noticeable. Your hands nearly shake when you bring him a cup for the first time. Sitting at your desk feels easier and less heavy now that you’ve gone and approached him successfully, even if he’s not moving to actually take a drink. You feel accomplished, like a little kid brave enough to go and check for monsters all by themselves instead of asking an adult to do it for them. You have to stifle a laugh with a cough at how comically small the little styrofoam cup looks in his massive hand. Almost like a child’s toy teacup. He takes his coffee black. You’ve only seen him drink a sip or two in the several times they’ve been here over the last few months. But he’s never reached for the creamer or sugar you always leave on the chair next to him. He’s started to nod at you when you hand him the cup. When his finger tips had brushed yours the last time you handed him his cup it had felt like a spark. You’d almost said sorry to him for touching him, it was so unexpected. His fingers had been warm though. Warm and slightly rough with callouses. Winter was the worst. With the end of the year looming the workload you and everyone else were expected to complete become more and more. Your poor wrists were taking the brunt of it. The ache was getting harder and harder to ignore, and lifting them to stretch or rub at the aching muscles was only getting you so far. Still the reports, spread sheets, and now frequent coffee runs didn’t let up. The 141 had been here for nearly 2 weeks now. Meeting with Kate and god knows how many other people all over base. The lieutenant’s stare hadn’t even registered in your frazzled brain as you tried to survive these damned reports. He’s never approached your desk before today. Never even come close to stepping behind it. But today he’s leaning over your chair, nearly touching you. His body heat is radiating out warming you quicker than the ancient central heating in this building could ever dream of. With a grumbled “can’t sit ‘ere watching ya break yer wrists luv” he placed a wrist rest by your keyboard. His face is so close when you turn. You’re close enough to see the brown of his eyes, and that they’re crinkled a bit like he’s amused at your warming cheeks. They’re deeper than you’d ever glimpsed in your periphery, but they’re so very warm.

Suddenly having him stare at you with those eye of his doesn’t seem so bad.