Summary: Bucky AU. After a major deal falls through, your father’s business almost falls apart. In a desperate attempt to save his livelihood, he seeks the help of his oldest friend, George Barnes, who happens to be the CEO of one of the most influential businesses in New York. He agrees, but on one condition. You have to marry his son.
Word Count: 2,418
It was just like any other normal Saturday night. At least it should have been. You were snuggled up on the couch with Bucky, watching a new horror movie (at Bucky’s insistence), a bowl of popcorn resting on top of your belly, which seemed like it never stopped growing over the past few months.
You gripped Bucky’s hand tightly as the suspenseful music picked up again, signaling that something was about to happen. Your every last nerve was on high alert, which seemed to amuse your husband. You never did understand his odd fascination with these horror movies, but you decided you’d humor him this time. After all, he had agreed to watch the musical with you last weekend even though you knew they weren’t his favorite. It was the least you could do.
Summary: Over centuries you’ve always been killed mere weeks at the most before meeting your soulmate causing endless pain. Having been at every social standing possible, from a princess to a servant, you can’t think of another you could be. The current life as a bestseller doesn’t allow the endless circle to stop but can your soulmate finally meet you?
Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, and Avengers (implied)
Disclaimer: I do not own any Marvel characters of plots. Nor do own any gifs, images, songs, jokes or videos that may appear. I do however own anything original in this work and if this appears anywhere off Tumblr I didn’t post it.
Warnings: Death, angst and fluff.
A/N: Dreamt of this without knowing which fandom I should put it in. I haven’t done anything other than Riverdale or Dolan Twins in the last few months therefore I decided to give Steve a little loving and pain.
If there was anything to be assured about it was the knowledge about soulmates being real. In the beginning of time, as stories have been passed down, people worshiped the ideal of having a soulmate, one would pray for the perfect one. Over the centuries mentalities formed on ‘forced love’ and the belief was cast aside.
When the world was starved of love the belief of soulmates returned with greater oomph. Historians brought it back into teachings along with recounts of centuries where, even when the ideal was welcomed, royals denied their issues soulmates in turn for more ‘suited’ ones on a social hierarchy base.
((The request says it all. This involves INCEST WHICH I DO NOT CONDONE IN REAL LIFE. This is, however, fiction AND got/asoiaf s…..yeah…haha))
((I HOPE YOU LIKE IT))
Word Count: 2,101
“Sandy please!” the sound of your sweet voice filling the
small room that had been given to Sandor when he took on the position as
protector to the crowned Prince was enough to make your brother groan and roll
onto his side. He cracked open one eye and attempted to glare at you where you
sat on your knees beside his bed. “Thank you,” you giggled when you noticed he
Does it bother you that Stan Lee, the creator of Spider-Man, wants him to stay cishet?
clearly, yes. it’s narrow-minded and unfortunate that he can’t see how important lgbt+ rep is. that being said, how he feels about it isn’t that important to me.
i love spider-man, i’ve always loved spider-man, and i’m not alone. spidey has been around for over 50 years, he has been portrayed by several different live action actors and voice actors, he has been written by countless different writers, illustrated by countless artists, and at that point he is no longer just stan lee’s. spider-man belongs to the people, he stands for more than what just one man thinks – even if that man created him (during a time when ZERO diversity was even considered for these superhero characters i might add)
so yeah, it’s unfortunate that stan lee can’t put aside internalized prejudices and try to see the bigger picture, but it isn’t surprising seeing as he’s ancient and most people his age are bigoted towards the lgbt+ community. but his bigotry isn’t going to stop me from loving spidey, or making lgbt+ headcanons for him, bc like i said: spidey belongs to a lot more than just stan lee now, and his word on the character stopped being law a long time ago.
Darling, you are wild. You are beautiful. You are powerful. Your hair is molten gold poured into the cool water of a crystal spring. Your smile is radiant and white, like the burning stars which scorch through the velvet night sky with pinpricks of light. You’re voice is the hungry roar of a lion, growling with commands and luring with enchantment. Your eyes are shimmering pools of emerald. I would love to drown in these eyes. I would gladly sink my body into the warm green water, let it engulf me to the crown of my head and down to the tips of my toes, as my lips would gasp upon the sweet nectar pouring into my lungs. I would gladly drink in your body, smooth as olive oil and carved like the rugged edge of some marvelous mountain. Oh Achilles! I sing of thee! I sing of your violent spirit, your vain pride, and godly glory, but mostly of your beauty and the kindness within you. I sing of the weakness you hide. A weakness folded behind the soft flesh of your delicate heel. It is your love I sing of; our love. For I loved you more than any other man. I was the tender spot within your heel and you… you are the weakness within my heart, however I do not consider this a weakness as some men do; No, it is a strength. You are my strength. Even in the depths of this dark and desolate place, I can feel your lips on mine, and I yearn for the day in which my body will once again feel yours next to mine. My fingers crave to touch the curves of your hips and brush away the tears from your fluttering lashes. My plain brown eyes long to burn your godlike image once again into my brain. I want to breathe you in. I want to smell the salty scent of sweat upon your skin, the sweet perfume of pomegranate and sandal wood upon your feet, the hint of almonds wafting from your neck. I want to feel your ichor pulsating in my blood, our heartbeats rhythmically pumping in my ears, and your teeth gently nipping at my flesh. Thinking of you keeps me from drifting away in this place of lost and forgotten thoughts. Here, in this place of shadows, I stare at two iron gates laced with rust. I sit before these gates, pondering when they will part open and bring you back to me. Sometimes I sing to them. I sing to them about you, Achilles. Oh Muses, I sing of the rage of Achilles, but also of his love! Let him return to me. I will wait and listen to your heartbreaking wails above. I will bear this terrible ache in my chest as it molds into a great blackhole. For I know, that someday you will return to me. Someday I will be able to sing of our love reunited and then… then we will be harmonious. We will be together. We will never have to be apart. We will be whole. When that day comes, I will sing of us. The world will never forget of the skillful Achilles or his lover, Pa-tro-clus. They will sing of us, together. Yes, we will be legends darling, and you… you will praised just as you always wanted. You will be loved by all, but adored mainly by one; myself. For I will always love you more than those mortals above. I will always love the man who shines of gold. My foolish, prideful, hero; Achilles, Aristos Achaion, The best of the Greeks, my beloved companion of sun warmed figs, fevered spring, and unconditional love. My darling, Achilles, you will always have my heart. -Your beloved Philtatos, Patroclus
No, I’m not being mean. You were a prostitute, a literal whore. The town favourite for that matter. Granted you were the only whore in town but that doesn’t change the fact.
Being the town whore had its perks- no innuendo intended. When the butcher was unfaithful to his wife by visiting you you now got a discount on his goods. When the priest visited your chambers for more than prayer, you now got a part of the churches collection. The towns seamstress entrusted you with her unorthodox fantasies, and now you get free dresses every month. And on and on went your little schemes.
Needless to say, you had at least a little bit of dirt on all the men in town- and more than a handful of women as well.
Well… almost all the men.
The only man in town who hasn’t darkened your doorstep was currently attempting to woo yet another woman. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought he was stealing your customers with how much of a ladies man he was.
Gaston Jacques Desrochers, town hunter.
For some god forsaken reason he decided he didn’t want you. And not that you cared or anything, but he was the only person in town you hadn’t any blackmail opportunities on yet and that was simply bad business.
Bad business is bad business, and bad business must be remedied. What better way to do that than find out what makes that man tick.
Your eyes followed him, taking in note of his moments. The way he adjusted his hair at the slightest breeze, the bright white sparkle of his teeth when he smiled, the glisten of his pink lips after his tongue darts out to moisten them, the flex of his Captain’s jacket over his muscles at the slightest movement, you especially took notice of his firm little tush in those form fitting trousers of his.
Maybe this wasn’t entirely about business.
Nibbling your bottom lip in thought, you looked into the mirror beside you and used your pinky to adjust your lipstick. “Perfect.”
Waltzing up to the tall brute, you brush your shoulder against his bicep. “Bonjour, Gaston.”
“Bonjour, Putain,” Gaston muttered as he examined a bouquet of flowers, running his strong fingers over the delicate petals- man you were too observant.
“Oh, why so rude?” You huff, giving him a side glance.
“Well, you are a whore, are you not?”
Shrugging, you realized he had a point. “You know, I always did love a man who could appreciate flowers,” reaching a hand out, you placed your hands on his forearm. “Especially when he’s so gentle with the petals, nothing better with a man who knows how to work with his hands.”
Glancing up, you saw him raise a brow to you, though there was slight amusement in his eyes. “I suppose…”
Smiling, you sighed, hooking your arm with his. “Now that I think about it, I’m rather hungry. Would you like to escort me to the bakers for lunch?”
Gaston removed his arm from yours and took a step away. “Actually, I have plans to go hunting with Lefou this afternoon, so I have to prepare for the trip.” With a cocky smirk, he gave you a curt bow. “Good day, Putain.”
Taking a deep breath, you adjust your bustier and turn on your heel. Time to try a different approach.
“Bonjour Gaston,” you greet, sliding into step with the man. You could tell he wasn’t up to anything at the moment, and decided to strike.
“Bonjour, Putain,” he responded casually, causing your upper lip to twitch in annoyance.
“How is your day going along?”
He shrugged casually, “I don’t have anything in particular I want to do today,” Gaston looked to you with a small smile. “But spending my time with the village whore isn’t on my to-do list.”
His words corroded away your smile, your hand slipping from his arm.
“Good day then,” he tilted his hat down in parting and made his way towards the tavern.
At your wits end, you sat in the tavern, downing a pint as you looked for ways to coerce the town hero into your bedchambers. You looked about the tavern, spotting your victim sitting by the fire, his companion leaning on the arm of his chair. They were chatting about, Gaston fiddling with his knife. Briefly, the thought of Lefou being more than Gaston’s companion crossed your mind. It would make sense, he never did take well to the wenches about town- and frankly not a person in the village could deny you.
Watching him, you saw him repeatedly ignore the advances and admiration of the rather breathtaking beauties of Villeneuve- the Triplett’s, Paulette, Laurette and Claudette. The thought faded when you saw the look in his eyes as Belle and her father, Maurice, strolled into the tavern.
He sat straighter and adjusted his jacket, his eyes keen and lips in a smile. He walked up to the pair and attempted to strike a conversation, obviously attempting to woo her and her father. You’d used the same tricks many a time. She simply brushed off his advances and sat down at a booth across from her father, a bar wench coming up to them asking what they’d be having.
She showed absolutely no interest in him, and yet at the very sight of her he was filled with rapturous want for her.
This could be useful.
For weeks after, you showered Gaston with affection on a regular basis. Nothing too sexual nor invasive, of course. Wouldn’t want to be crude. But you’d comment on how you noticed his kill was extra bountiful that day, or his hair appeared silkier than the day before. Once you simply spent the day at his side since LeFou was feeling under the weather.
He’d grown accustomed to you and your fawning, you’d caught him many times waiting in a particular spot for you to come with your daily greeting only to appear to have just arrived when you did, or he’d unconsciously preen himself before your arrival, waiting for your praise.
All was going according to plan.
After almost a month of constant fawning, you simply stopped. No more “Bonjour Gaston, your coat looks particularly dashing on you today,” or “You’re the bravest hunter in town, Gaston! You brought home the King of the Forest all on your own!”
And Gaston had noticed.
At first, he brushed it off, just one day wasn’t anything. He had LeFou to praise him after all, and that had been enough for years. It could be enough for a day.
But the next day, it wasn’t enough.
Gaston sought you out, obviously enough, though he tried to make it appear as though he’d simply crossed your path- in a small village, it’s common enough, he reasoned. You gave him an even frostier shoulder than he’d given you. You didn’t look in his direction, you spoke but a word at a time to him, you outright ignored him.
In fact on the third day of your silent treatment, Gaston found you and a client sitting in his chair at the tavern, the drunken fool had a hand on your thigh, the other slipping coins into your bosom. You in turn had your arm around his neck, leaning into him and whispering in his ear, all the while feeling Gaston’s eyes bore into you.
You left with your client that night, coercing yet another secret from the drunken lips of a loose man to use later (he had an illegitimate child he kept hidden in a town over).
The next day Gaston was boldly waiting at your doorstep that morning when you escorted your previous client out, patting him on the shoulder as he nursed a hangover. Gaston was fidgeting with a mix of emotions he couldn’t bother to understand, all he did comprehend though, was that he needed your praise again, and he was going to get it one way or the next.
“Gaston,” you nodded towards the man as you ushered the man out your door.
“Putain,” he responded in a huff, “I know what you’re up to.”
“Is that so?”
He took a step towards you, boldly stepping upon your doorstep and forcing you too look up to meet his eyes. “I am not a man to suffer the whims of women.”
“Of course you aren’t, dear,” you sighed, smiling sarcastically up at the man. “And that’s why you’ve found yourself at the doorstep of a whore who merely got bored with you.”
“I am no one’s sloppy seconds,” Gaston muttered, glowering down to you.
Trailing your fingers up his coat, you chuckled, popping open one of his buttons. “I am many things, Gaston, but sloppy? Never,” taking him by the ruffles of his undershirt, you pull him down to you. “Besides, I don’t think you’d be here right now if you didn’t want to.”
Narrowing his eyes, he whispers. “I am a man of integrity, putain, I earn my pleasure, I do not pay for it.”
“Looks like we have something in common then,” you chuckled, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “However, I think since you’re special, first ride’s on me.”
okay so i just read all your tags on the Jake Zyrus post and it's exactly what i've been trying to explain to people! there's little to no LGBT+ representation in the Philippines and part of it is because of how being gay is viewed. to most Filipinos you're either gay (and you want to be a woman) or you're a lesbian (and you want to be a man) which obviously isn't true but to them there's no comprehending how you could be attracted to the same gender w/o wanting to be the opposite, you know?
^^^^ BIG YES!!! ^^^^
this is honestly so truee… and one of the biggest reasons why i never identified as gay when i was living in the Philippines.. cause the meaning we pinoys were socialised into learning was that. like talking about LGBT representation in the philippines, all of them are trans celebrities
like we dont have any representation for masculine gay men and feminine gay women in the Philippines.. (i bet Piolo Pascual and Enchong Dee are gay though) but yeah, we HAVE ZERO OF THAT. and i always loved being a man.. it just so happens i’m attracted to men and i tried so hard to fight off that feeling because not only i was raised in a Christian household, studied in Christian schools, and was living in a Catholic country but because i thought that “being attracted to men must mean i wanted to be a girl” and im like “no thats not me!” and I denied it for years growing up. and i would also like “date some girls” to try and deny it (thankfully ive never had sex with them lmao and i wouldnt anyway)
and when i got to London UK at 16, and got exposed to the gay scene.. i was like hold on a sec.. there are guys here who are masculine or love being a man but love guys and im like SAME! so i really embraced it only when i found someone i identified as
like i had to explain this to my mom and grandma too because they asked me if i got married to a guy, would i be the girl or the boy? and i’m like.. we’re both boys! i’m a boy and we’ll both be boys. we’ll both be fathers. like i’m gay because i like boys but not because i want to be a girl. like it took them a while to understand but that’s the same thought my parents had initially. so it was a pain to come out too cause they thought they lost a son and im like… i’m still a man, you dont see me wanting to be a girl or ever acted that way; i’m still your son, i’m just attracted to men. and im glad my parents got what i mean ever since and have learned about it. surprisingly, my dad ended up being more understanding about it than my mom
but yeah, i’m so glad someone knows what im talking bout.. cause seriously the philippines has a LOOOOONG way to go when it comes to the LGBT community.. let alone being educated about it
Summary: Sherlock receives an unexpected letter from you.
Pairing: Sherlock x Reader
Warnings: Agsty, but also fluffy.
Word count: 829
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one-shot. I don’t know why, but it’s one of my favourites and it really deserved to be posted.
John knocked on Sherlock’s bedroom door. Sherlock was walking around the room holding a picture of you in his hands.
-Sherlock, it’s me. – John said carefully. He hated bothering Sherlock in moments like this but he had to give him it. It was important, really important. -I’m not in the mood, John. – he said from the other side of the door. -I know, mate, but I have something for you and I think you’ll want to read it.
Sherlock decided to open abruptly the door and face John. His eyes were irritated, he’s definitely been crying.
-What? I’m not ok, John and I think I will never be the same again. Can’t you see that my family’s world is falling apart? Esp- -Especially your world, I know and I’m sorry but I think she would like you to read this. -What’s this? – he frowned as John handed him a little, beige envelope. -I just found it in the living room. – Sherlock read the words written on it.
“To my everything”
-Thanks, John. – he whispered keeping his eyes on the envelope.
Sherlock closed the door and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was your handwriting and he knew it, but he doubted whether opening it or not. Sherlock hesitated a while until you crossed his mind. He could remember you smiling; laughing; kissing him for the first time; visiting a crime scene just because you wanted to be with him; marrying him; telling him you were expecting; giving birth to your children; playing with them; taking care of them; hugging him when he was feeling down; kissing him; loving him. He loved you, and even if reading it could break his heart he wanted to do it because that would be what you’d wanted him to do. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As soon as he opened them he took the letter from the envelope and started reading.
My dearest Sherlock,
If you’re reading this letter that means I’m gone. I know it hurts but I know the madness that you feel will soon subside. Taking that bullet for you was what I had to do. I would not let them hurt you. I would not let the father of my children die and leave them alone. I did it because I love you. Yes, I love you and I will always love you. Once a wise man said, “Whatever you decide to do, make sure it makes you happy.” And you know what? It did. It made me happy because I knew I was doing the right thing. I was saving the lives of my beloved ones: my children, my friends and you. I must thank you for all the things you did in my life. For all the things you did for me. All of them. I’m glad to had spent such beautiful moments with you. I have to thank for the family we built together. Without you, I would not happen. Oh, God. Writing you shouln’t be this hard; but for the first time it is. I’ve been writing you letters everytime I was not home, everytime I was out of town, everytime I thought about you. I have always been there writing you letters, and of all them, this is surely the first you’ll open. I always knew that you wouldn’t read them until my final hour. I knew you’ll need to read them all once I’m gone because you’d feel the necessity to. You’ll miss me for some time but you’ll realize that I will always be next you. Always. Everytime you’ll need help, I’ll be there. Everytime you won’t know what to do with our children’s behaviour, I’ll be there to help you too. Everytime you’ll decide to give up on a case, I’ll give you a million of reasons to keep trying to solve it. Even when you’ll get high, I’ll be there to remind you that you must give up on drugs for your own sake. I’m sure you’ll do great. You’ll be the best father my children could ever have. Rosie will keep loving you (even if she will keep throwing you the rattle). I know that John and you will keep accepting those insane cases you both love to solve. And you’ll still be my favourite consulting detective. Sherlock, remember me with smiles and laughter, for that’s how I’ll remember you. If you can only remember me in sadness and tears, then don’t remember me at all. I won’t let it happen. Never. Oh, dear, we only part to meet again. So goodbye, Sherlock. Don’t forget about me. Please, I want you to know that you were loved with everything in my being. I wish you all the happiness life can offer.
-Sherlock? You alright? – John said as he opened the door. -Yeah – he mumbled and shed a tear on his right cheekbone - Just have some letters to read.
Tonight I walked into my hometown theater with my mom, little sister and some of my best friends, proudly displaying the Wonder Woman logo on my chest and with an electric feeling in my veins. I can’t remember the last time I was this excited personally for a film or any story really. Sure the return of Star Wars to the silver screen was glorious, but this was different. This was about me. For the first time in my life I was going to see a female superhero on the big screen, in surround sound, kicking ass and saving the world with a story all her own told through the eyes of a real life badass female.
Honestly I don’t think I really understood that until it was starring me in the face 30 minutes into the film and I didn’t know what to do. One moment I was cheering for the reveal of Wonder Woman in her full armored glory and the next I was in tears. Tears I didn’t know I was crying until they rolled off my face. Tears that came down streaming too quickly for me to stop. Tears that became the physical embodiment of happiness. Tears that made me realize I finally felt SEEN and HEARD and even PRAISED for nothing more than being, being a strong woman despite growing up in a world where we are told to be anything but.
This fact was so relevant that Diana’s comedic relief became my reality. Her confusion at her lack of a voice and control over herself in this new world further opened my eyes to the fact that we live in a society that finds it appropriate to allow us to think not having a place is normal and expected. Sure the film is outdated, this isn’t the 1940s, but the core sentiment is very much still present. Women struggle every day to have their stories told and opinions heard. It’s easy to believe that we live in the bubble that our movie theater creates for us, and that everyone finds it laughable that Diana can’t speak when she wants to because in reality she should be allowed to do so. The fact of the matter is that it’s quite the opposite outside of those doors. So many believe that women do not have a place next to man and that there is no reason for even a fictional story centered around an independent woman to exist.
As an immigrant woman in her early 20s who is the first in her family to attend and graduate from a private university in the United States, I have to disagree and point out that there are far too many reasons for me to list for a story like this to be told. Too many lives around the world that could be changed with just a little bit of hope and optimism about the future for women. However, I also realize that I am viewing the film through a specific lens and that, ultimately, I am not the audience that needs convincing of this fact. The audience that needs convincing doesn’t even know that THEY do. I learned this tonight as my brother and father found it all to easy to criticize Wonder Woman and compare it to the rest of the films in both the DC and Marvel universes. As someone who studied film in college, I can understand their attempt to be objective, although ultimately they were men talking about a movie that could otherwise mean nothing to them.
As I sat in the car and attempted to put into words how I felt about the film, it dawned on me. I am totally and 100% biased about Wonder Woman without even knowing I would be. It hit me when my brother compared the film to DC’s Man of Steel by saying “I mean it’s a really good DC movie but I will always love Man of Steel the best. Then again I am partial to Man of Steel because I love Superman, he is my favorite.” That’s when I realized I don’t have the luxury to have a “favorite”. Wonder Woman is the first film of its kind and a damn good one to top it off. It and she are my favorites because they are my ONLY.
My brothers have grown up with SuperMAN, BatMAN, SpiderMAN, AquaMAN, Iron MAN and the list goes on. This is “just another superhero movie” to them. To me it is “THE superhero movie”. They’ve never had to wait years to see themselves on screen the way WE have. They couldn’t possibly comprehend what the film means to me because they have lived a different life and never once had to worry they would not be represented on the screen, in theater, in writing, in music…
Today I witnessed an amazing film with beautiful cinematography, a well thought out story, compelling characters, an incredibly moving score and a leading lady that had me at the edge of my seat whether it was by her words, her skills or her array of emotions, but in the end what I really witnessed was history.
Tonight I walked out of my hometown theater with my mom, little sister and some of my best friends, proudly displaying the Wonder Woman logo on my chest and with an electric feeling in my veins. This time with a hope that stories like this will continue to be told and that little girls like my sister will never have to ask why there are no girl hero stories as I did when I was young. There are so many emotions going through me right now, but at the end of the day I feel nothing but gratitude for the care that the cast and crew took in delivering a very special piece of movie magic.
Thank you DC, WarnerBros, Gal, Chris and especially Patty Jenkins. You have rocked my world and that of many others with your art.
Science Partners (Peter Parker x Reader) - Part 7 - Finale
A/N: Here it is… Part 7!!! I really never imagined this turning into a 7 part series!!! Thank you all so much for the love and support!! I think I will make this the last part but that doesn’t mean I’m done with Peter!! So send me in your ideas for Peter or other Marvel characters!! Again, thank you all so so so so much for all of the love and support on this series!!! Enjoy!! xx
Peter’s heart nearly jumped into his throat. He snapped his gaze up to your face, his hand squeezing yours tightly. You gently rolled your head over to face him, a soft smile gracing your gorgeous face. If Peter hadn’t taken a few shaky deep breaths, he was sure to break down even harder into tears.
“Hey there,” you croaked, your voice harsh from no use.
“Hey, darling,” Peter said shakily, brushing his fingertips over your cheeks. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes but the brightest smile you had ever seen was plastered across his face. “I was so worr…”
“When was I going to find out?” you interrupted. You hated seeing his smile quickly fade but you needed to know. If you weren’t going to talk about it now, it would never be talked about.
Peter swallowed hard and dropped his gaze. He set his jaw before mumbling, “I don’t know.”
He began to pull his hand away to nervously play with it in his lap but you held on and gave it a squeeze. This caused Peter took look up into your eyes. You had a gentle smile spread across your face and Peter’s racing heart began to slow down. “Peter, you know you can tell me anything,” you said softly, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.
He nodded slowly, dropping his gaze once more before saying, his voice hoarse, “I was afraid… I was afraid that you wouldn’t like me anymore… That you would just be in it for the Spider-Man…”
Your heart broke a little at his words. Did he really think so little of himself that he thought all you would care about was a superhero? In a mimicking gesture, you brought Peter’s hand up to your chapped lips. “Who was it that I danced with at Homecoming? Who took me home that night? Who… who’s name did I yell as that man took me away?” You said this last question with a shaking voice, remembering that night in the alley. Peter shot his gaze up at you, his gold-flecked eyes rimmed with red from crying, his jaw clenched, and his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “It wasn’t Spider-Man… It was you, Peter.”
Peter opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, unsure of what to say. He was certain that you would look at him differently, certain that your feelings would change knowing that he was so disappointing compared to the Spider-Man. “I just… I thought you would…”
“Stop loving you?” you asked, an eyebrow raised. You shook your head, releasing Peter’s hand and placing yours on his warm cheek. “I would have understood, Peter. You have a big weight on your shoulders and need someone there to support you.” Peter placed his hand over yours, pressing your palm into his tear-stained cheek. “I will always support you… And I will always love YOU, not Spider-Man.” Peter smiled broadly at you and shot forward, crashing his lips against yours.
“I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips, moving them smoothly along yours. You smiled against his soft lips, placing a hand on each of his cheeks. He pulled away for a moment to stare into your eyes. He was almost breathless, a soft chuckle coming from him as he realized just how relieved and happy he was to have you safe.
“Besides… you know I like Captain America more…” you said teasingly, giving Peter a wink. He rolled his eyes at you before letting out another chuckle and recapturing your lips in his.
After one more day in the hospital to make sure all vitals were okay, you were cleared to go home. You weren’t quite cleared to go back to school yet, however, because of the concussion you sustained. Your days at home were boring but Ned and Peter were over every evening after school. They did their homework as you distracted them with videogames and movies. Things were back to normal. You and Peter forgot about the break-up, thinking of it as more of a little break than anything. Ned was very relieved for he was able to take up his old hobby of teasing Peter as he nervously pecked your lips.
Your first day home, you were sure Peter and Ned had arrived before school even ended. Ned brought you your favorite cookies from the bakery near his house and his new Death Star Lego set for the three of you to work on. Peter brought you a bouquet of sunflowers, very cheekily claiming that they were the only things he could think of that would come close to rivaling the beauty of your smile. Needless to say, you blushed for a long while and Ned teased him endlessly about it.
“Are you going to start reciting Shakespeare now, Romeo?” Ned laughed. Peter’s face went dark red and stayed that way until you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, telling him that you loved the flowers.
“You could’ve laid off the cheesiness though…” you said before breaking into a giggly smile, taking your opportunity to tease Peter as well. Ned laughed along with you as Peter stood embarrassed, eventually joining in on your laughter. Peter was so happy to have his two best friends back.
Your second day home, as the three of you argued who would win in a fight, Iron Man or Hulk, you all heard a large explosion come from the direction of downtown. Peter swallowed nervously, pulling at the collar of his shirt. You could see the red of his suit peaking out but he didn’t do anything. “Well…” you asked, looking at Peter confused.
He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s probably the guy that kidnapped you and he told me not to…” he began to mumble. He stopped as he saw your expression change into one of disbelief and what looked like anger. You looked kinda cute when you were angry…
“You’re kidding? You’re just gonna sit on your butt and not do anything?” you asked in utter disbelief.
“He said he would hurt you, (Y/N)…”
“He already hurt me! You’re a superhero, Peter! You’re… You’re my hero.” Peter’s cheeks turned pink at your words. “You’re going to listen to a bad guy and not do anything?”
Peter shrugged his shoulders again but his expression began to look a little more confident. “I… no, I guess not…”
“He hurt your girlfriend, dude,” Ned chimed in. Peter nodded, his nostrils flaring as awkwardly tore his clothes off, revealing his super suit.
You smiled at him, watching his cheeks flush pink. You’d never seen him in his suit in person before. “Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you said, standing up from your position in bed. Peter strode over to you quickly, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist and kissing you like his life depended on it. Your skin tingled with ecstasy. He pulled away and flashed a bright smile at you. “Just be careful,” you said quickly, as he swung one leg out of your window. You chewed your lip nervously but just couldn’t help but smile. You had your Peter back.
He gave you a nod before slipping on his mask and swinging off to the source of the explosion. You sat back on your bed with a happy sigh, staring at the window where Spider… no, where Peter recently sat.
“So, did Peter catch you up at all on the chemistry homework?” Ned asked, breaking you from your thoughts. You shook your head ‘no,’ looking down at your friend on the floor. Ned was in the middle of doodling the Death Star rather than working on his own homework. He scoffed playfully before saying, “Well, what kind of science partner is he then?”
You both broke out into laughter at this, your still healing ribs hurting a little at the action. “You’re right, Ned, he’s a terrible science partner.” You looked back at the window, your chest swelling with love and happiness. “But he is an amazing boyfriend.”
A/N: Short and sweet!! I thought this was a pretty good wrap up for the series!! I really hope you guys enjoyed the series! Let me know what other Peter fics you want to see or just other fics in general! I can write for a lot of fandoms! Once more, thank you all so much!! xx