Some Words To Use When Writing Things:

Xavier came home ⭐️

Silver Wit: IV - Let Barricades Be Bygones 

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'“Cool, cool. Great, even,” Peter hums his approval. Leaning in impossibly closer, somehow taking care not to touch me, he whispers into my ear.

“So– we’ll just have to get to know each other better, then.”"

Silver Wit Masterlist Silver Wit on ao3 taglist: @silverzoomies, @quickandsilvers, @icannot3

tw: more adhd coded trauma and vulnerability, not sure it warrants a tw

a/n: i cannot believe it and i apologise deeply for doing this, but i wrote another entire fucking chapter of this first conversation between speaker and peter. i promise this is the last one - their conversation ends at the end of this chapter i am baffled that i ever intended on having their first interaction be a couple of minutes. even a few seconds. wtf also idk how i keep churning out these chapters so im not sure if the quality of the writing is being maintained - i'm still very impulsive, though, so i'm publishing them as i go anyway. i have no beta so please forgive me

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The two of us bathe in silence for a moment that to me – feels simultaneously both like eternity and nary a trice. Calling this ‘perplexing’ would be a gross understatement. 

I wonder how long this moment is for Peter.

My god, how easily the flutters in my chest from only moments ago had turned into aches, so much like thunderstorms buried deep within my chest; bitter storms not unlike the London rains that punished me not long ago. At my heartstrings is Aphrodite pulling, breaking, tearing away with forces unattainable by any of us mortals, but she has absolutely no need. Whatever the higher powers may do upon me would be in vain; I would feel this deeply for Peter regardless of anything that tried to stop me.

I can’t bear holding my words back anymore. “Peter…” I whisper, my voice breaking, a tremble, a tremolo.

“Yeah?” From his eyes being fixated on the floor, back to me they flicker in an instant. I can just about see wells of stifled sorrow threatening to spill from them; only a dam he’s been building for years is stopping the flood. His mask of jocular self-deprecation is cracking. 

It’s difficult to read his expression, but he can’t read mine either. 

In the few years of my life, admittedly so far short - living as whatever it is that I am - I’ve learned that in silence readily comes doubt. The mind panics as it reels, from a self-loathing spiral to desperately attempting to console itself; often, with little to no success. If in Peter I see myself, perhaps he’s the same way.

A small part of me hopes he sees me in himself too. 

“I think I understand… I get what you meant now. How you told me that what I was saying felt like it was straight out of your head?” I confess.

The unreadable look on his face turns into that same sombre smile I saw from before. He shakily nods as he takes in a breath, shallow.

“Maybe you’re afraid - that those people who’ve already gotten to know you as Quicksilver - wouldn’t like to see you change – no, not change; open up. That you don’t want to upset the equilibrium that’s already been established?”

I’m making sure to look him in the eyes. He needs to know whatever I’m saying is the truth and nothing but the truth. “But the person I met here was you, Peter. I didn’t meet ‘Quicksilver’,” I say slowly, such that he has the time to ingest every single word that I’m saying to him.

Peter swallows and hums an affirmation, his head dipping before he nods.

I continue, “I… can’t even explain how much I understand being afraid of being honest. Being authentic. But from what I’ve seen, whoever ‘Peter’ is? He’s hilarious, he’s kind, and he’s insightful. He’s loveable. Even from the little while we’ve sat here together, I know for a fact that there’s more to you than meets the eye. You don’t have to keep hiding. We already have to do enough hiding as it is.”

“Thank you… seriously,” Peter whispers, choking. He takes another breath in, lets it out, and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, I– I need a second. It’s not that I’m not thankful that you’re being so nice. I am, really. You’re being so understanding and I– I just… gotta process everything. I’m good, promise.” 

I nod and internally smack myself in the head once I realise he can’t see it. You absolute pillock. “Of course. Take whatever time you need.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, relieved. Through the look on his face, I can see clearly how quickly his mind is racing. As he props his head up in his hands, elbows on his knees, his eyes remain closed. The outside has to be shut out – inside is chaos enough. It doesn’t matter that I’m growing anxious waiting for him to respond. He needs this respite. 

Peter finally opens his eyes and returns his gaze to meet mine with a timid smile. “Sorry about that,” he breathes. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear what you said. I worry about it so much, but I just can’t tell anyone, y’know? Like, that’s the entire problem. It’s a fucked up paradox.”

Shaking my head, I say, “Mm-mm, it’s alright. I think I do understand, now. I mean– it wouldn’t be fair to say that I know exactly what you feel,” I glance up at the clock above the fireplace. “After all, we did just meet for the first time only half an hour ago.”

“Wow… Half an hour? Man… it feels like I’ve known you for ages. Or that you’ve known me for ages, anyway…” Peter murmurs in disbelief.

“I know. It’s… strange. I– I will never know what it’s like to be you, that’s impossible, and I’ll never try nor claim to. But… I just can’t shake this feeling. Somehow I feel like we’re–” I catch myself before I say something daft. What the hell are you thinking?

“Don’t overthink it,” Peter interjects. Silently, I thank the Fates for saving me from impulsively humiliating myself. “I feel it too, man. I mean, yeah. We’re not the same person, obviously. You have your own personality and I have mine, but…” He stops for a second, his face turning pink once more. “I’ve never ever met someone else who’s so much like me– At least, someone else who’s… I don’t know what you would even call it, but… different; and I’m not talking about being a mutant.”

Peter stills for a breath. “Like, fine, sure, we just met. Doesn’t mean it’s not true. I’ve been more myself around you than I have anyone else in years.” It’s a relief to see how quickly he’s bounced back.

What Peter just said doesn’t register immediately, but my eyes fly wide open the moment it does. The blush I’ve been trying so hard to force back down decides to bend to my rule no longer. My heartbeat is drumming against my ribs. Pursing my lips in my completely flustered state, I turn away to hide whatever idiocy is emanating from my entire being. 

Without meeting his eyes, I say, “I’m glad you said it and not me, because I think I might have died if you hadn’t agreed. And… I agree– about never meeting someone else like me before. I don’t know how else to say this, but it’s really comforting knowing I’m not the only one who’s… like this. Whatever ‘this’ is.”

He sniffs then chuckles; the sound of it sends reverberations saccharine straight into my heartbeat. “You aren’t the only one, and now I finally know I’m not either, so, thank you; and seriously, thanks for saying what you said. I never thought I’d ever hear anyone tell me what you just did.”

“I meant all of it,” I say sincerely.

He tries to suppress that smug smirk I’d seen so many times before. “All of it? So… Loveable, huh?” he finally says.

Fuck.

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Mission abort. Mission abort. Turn around now before you can never go back. 

“Oi! You know what I mean, stop poking fun at me. I was trying to be nice and you just take it as an opportunity to take the piss out of me? You’re such a prat,” I swat at him as I joke.

“I know, I know. I’m just making a little fun. What’s a prat? Also... taking the piss? Does that mean what I think it means?” Peter asks, a sly grin plastered across his face.

I sigh loudly. “Oh come on, you can get these from context, can’t you?” I say, exaggeratedly exasperated. Inwardly, I’m tickled pink.

“Oh, the genius can’t take the time to teach the idiot about one little thing?” He feigns a fainting spell in despair, much like those so common in tragic theatricals. Charming.

“Hey, you’re not an idiot. But seriously, do you actually want me to sit you down so that I can teach you British slang? Learning is my entire thing, and even I have to say that that sounds like a dreadful class,” I cock my head to the side, raising an eyebrow dubiously. 

Peter beams coyly, tousles his hair, and bounces his leg. “If I get to listen to you talk the whole time? Yeah, man, I’d take a whole course. I know you said that you think Slavic languages sound pretty, but your accent is real pretty, y’know? It’ll probably get even stronger if you start talking about all of your English stuff. Come on, I can’t miss that.”

I blink. Did not expect that response, at all. I did think to myself that I would eventually educate him on British slang, but I didn’t think he’d actually want to sit down and learn about any of it.

“You’re… probably right, actually. I imagine my accent would start getting even more painfully British if I actually focused on talking about… well, Britain. Still though, I truly don’t believe you’ll enjoy sitting through me lecturing you about our weird insults and euphemisms.”

“Try me,” Peter taunts me, a coy smirk lacing his tone with mirth. “Hell, I’ll even speak some Russian to you in exchange.”

“Really?” I ask, doubtful. I can’t lie, getting to hear Peter speak in Russian does seem really appealing. Not because it’s Peter, I tell myself. It’s just getting to hear a Slavic language for the first time. I’ve always wanted that, right? 

Peter nods.

“Don’t complain when I come back with a three hour lesson plan, then,” I jokingly warn him. The teasing is starting to grow on me. I can see why he’s been doing it to me so much now.

He grins, pleased. “I’ll ace this class. You don’t even know, man. I try not to brag about it–”

I point a finger at him accusingly. “You try not to brag?” I interject rhetorically. “That’s definitely not consistent with whatever I’ve seen so far.”

“Hey! That’s just about my powers. I’m a totally badass speedster and I’m not afraid to show it. If that means I’m bragging, then fine,” Peter harrumphs, defensively denying whatever I insinuated, and I snicker. “Anyway, like I was saying - before someone rudely interrupted me…” Peter looks at me pointedly, to which I disapprovingly raise my eyebrows in response. 

He continues, “I try not to brag about it, since I’ve been maintaining this whole class clown schtick I have going on? But I’m actually a pretty good student. Only when I want to be, though. I’m not good at the actual studying bit.”

“I’m honestly not surprised, Peter,” I say, and I genuinely mean it. 

It’s not like he had tried to be overtly intellectual while we’d been getting acquainted with one another, but he did carry himself with an intelligence – admittedly, an intelligence that might have gone unnoticed to some if they hadn’t paid attention. It takes brains to consistently pretend not to have them. “And also, you really don’t have to dumb yourself down for me. Please don’t. I actually actively dislike it when people do.”

Peter tilts his head side to side. “Oh, so the little genius wants me to get on her level? Challenge accepted, I’ll do it, just you wait,” he chaffs. 

For all of my worries that I’d be treated differently for being slapped in the face with the ‘genius’ label, Peter’s nonchalance about it really eases my spirits. Hell, the boy was even incorporating it into his banter. I’ve been so afraid that it would make people think that if I was honest about it, that I was being haughty, ‘holier-than-thou’. To Peter, it’s as if it’s just another regular thing about me– it doesn’t make me an outsider, and he doesn't think I need to be placed on a pedestal. I can finally breathe again.

Still, I don’t want him to get the impression that I’m just an arrogant arsehole. “Oi, bugger off. I don’t think I’m better than you or anything like that. I’m just saying; you shouldn’t have to pretend to be someone else, right? Like we were literally saying just a moment ago? Especially if being ‘someone else’ means you have to hide your strengths,” I clarify.

Peter squints as he looks off into the middle distance, calculating something in his head. “Hey… I couldn’t impress you by breaking into the actual Pentagon, right?”

I frown. “I never said that.”

Peter touches his hand to his heart, shaking his head. “Didn’t have to– heard you loud and clear, man. It wasn’t good enough for you, that’s fine,” he showily gestures and huffs with finality.

I roll my eyes at the melodrama. “Again, never said that, but sure mate, whatever you say,” I concede with a sigh. 

“Listen, I made a vow to myself that I’d impress you. Fine, the superhero stuff doesn’t cut it for you. And y’know, I gotta say, I was kinda expecting that the whole superhero thing would impress girls by default. You’re gonna be a challenge, but Peter Maximoff will not be defeated. So… Maybe I just have to take the intellectual route with ya’, huh?” he ribs at me, ruffling his hair.

Teasing Peter is fun, but being teased by him is mortifying.

I can maintain my calm. I can be smooth. “Alright, sure then, if you insist,” I fold my arms and press myself back into the cushions behind me. “I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on trying to win my admiration, but it’ll be entertaining to watch your many attempts. What do you have for me?”

Peter bubbles his lips with a loud pop. He looks at me warningly. “I know I said I only brag about my powers, but fuck it, I’ll boast about this– And hey, before you complain, you invited me to.”

“Fair enough, fair enough. Go on, the floor is yours,” I motion for him to proceed.

“Yeah so, no one would expect it, but I get top marks all round, baby. Only the teachers know that, ‘cause I wanna keep things on the down low, yeah? But hey, you’ll find out for yourself soon, right? I’m gonna take this class o’ yours, and I’ll turn in assignments, I’ll go to every class, I’ll do all of your required reading—” Peter rattles on.

“Really?” I interrupt to ask dubiously, bringing my hand up to my chin, “What about the recommended reading?” No one does the recommended reading. This has to be a joke, right?

Peter clicks his tongue and winks. “Hey, if it’ll get me in with the teacher, I’d do all the reading and more. I can totally be a teacher’s pet. You just wait and see.” 

Let me implode right now.

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“But uh, seriously, joking aside,” Turning sincere again, Peter clears his throat again and adjusts his seating position on the sofa to face me better. Thank god, he was joking. “I know I can get carried away trying to joke about things and all? But what you said before that means a lot to me.”

Right. That.

“Oh, uh– Don’t worry about it, yeah?” I’m getting embarrassed again remembering what I’d said. I was so caught up in the moment, I called Peter loveable? I know we brushed it off, but this is a nightmare. Why did I have to be reminded of that? 

I find myself unable to stop over-elaborating in an attempt to cover up my awkwardness, “I just think you should start being more yourself, Peter. Since that’s what you want, right? Maybe break out of your shell? Oh, god, that’s too much of a cliche– uh, live more authentically? Be who you really are? Ugh, no, now I sound like some counsellor. How do I even say this? I… just hope that you can feel comfortable being yourself some day.”

“Hey, you don’t needa freak out. I get what you’re saying, and uh… thanks. Thank you, I mean. Don’t wanna make you think I’m not appreciative or whatever,” Peter begins twisting a silver lock between his fingers. “And uh… I hope you get to take them off one day, if you want. The gloves, I mean.”

The gloves – I’m caught off guard. I try to look down at my hands but I don’t see them. All I do see is the leather gloves covering them, separating me from the rest of the world. There are a few biological mutations that propelled humans into becoming the complex lifeforms that we are today. Overdeveloped brains, larynxes capable of complex speech, bipedalism. Our hands. Our capacity for fine motor control, for heightened kinesthetic sensitivity in the pads of our fingers, grip with the opposable thumb. It can easily be argued that our hands are one of the core ways in which we as people can interact with the world around us.

Mine are covered. “I do want to. I hope I can.”

Peter smiles ever so slightly, and lets out a breath of relief. I didn’t even realise he was holding his breath. Tension leaves his frame, and he relaxes. Just how worried was he for me, exactly? Was it just as much as I was worried for him?

“Good, good. I’m glad,” he tilts his head slightly to meet my eyes. They’re looking into me, bittersweet. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…”

“It’s alright. Go on,” I encourage him.

Peter takes a sharp breath and looks around - I don’t think at anything in particular - and brings his hand to cup the side of his face, fingers twisting the hairs that frame it. Looking away, he asks, “Do you think you’ll ever be okay touching somebody else again?”

My body trembles at the thought — what if I can never take the gloves off? All I’ve been thinking for the last few days since leaving my parents was to cover, protect, shield. Of course, I covered myself up after that first attack. How could I even think to let myself be vulnerable to that kind of torment again?

It was like Hades himself had personally devised for me some tortuous punishment. I didn’t even know what I was being punished for. My heart is sinking at the realisation; this buffer between my skin and the external world wouldn't be my safety if it was for forever. It would be my own prison. The harrowing reality is that I have no idea if I can ever let myself escape it.

I blink slowly, swallowing, and try to hold the tears back. “I want… to be able to.”

The gloom in the air is blatant and palpable. Whatever Peter’s thinking, he’s giving me no indication whatsoever as to what it is that’s going on in his mind. “This might sound a little insane–” he hesitates, a flurry of anxiety in his eyes.

“No, say whatever it is you want to say. I’ll hear you out.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m just proposing this, so it’s totally fine if you don’t like the idea. Wouldn’t blame ya at all, no hard feelings. But, y’know - only if you want - whenever you think you’re ready to… take the gloves off? I don’t mind being your test subject. I can be your lab rat.”

Shock doesn’t begin to describe this. My heart catches a beat. My jaw slacks. My stomach twists. My eyes widen. The butterflies come back. I squash them down. 

“Peter, I don’t think you understand what you’re offering to me,” I whisper. 

Before I can make out his expression, he looks away. “It’s okay, if you don’t wanna. You don’t have to justify it.”

“No, no, it’s really not that. I’m honoured and so grateful that you’d even offer, but… I really don’t think you would if you understood what it meant,” I try to explain. 

He nods, and I go on, “You’d be letting me into everything. I could see your whole life, know every thought you’ve ever had, feel every emotion you’ve ever felt. I could know everything there is to know about you. You don’t have to give me all of that. It’s not even about how we just met. No one should have to give me that, and I’ll never ask for it.”

“... Oh.” 

“... Yeah. I don’t think you really want to be my ‘lab rat’.”

Peter presses his hand into his jaw, his forehead tenses and his eyes frantically dart around. He blows a puff of air out into his hand and it escapes with a hiss.

“Okay… do you wanna make a pact, then?” he eventually asks.

With much hesitance, I ask back, “What kind of a pact?”

“I try to stop hiding myself from everyone, you try to stop hiding your skin. I’ll already be trying to be real, authentic, right? Share myself with everyone and all? And… If I’m already doing that…” he trails off, beginning to himself. “Then maybe it won’t be so different if you actually touch me.”

For once, I truly don’t know what to say back. Peter cuts into the silence, “Shit, that’s not what I meant. You know that, right? I don’t mean touch me like tha–”

“Peter, I know that’s not what you meant,” I interject in his panic. God, it’s like looking into a mirror.

He stops talking, taking in my words. “Okay, uh– good. Good.”

Sighing, I say, “I don’t know, Peter, we barely know each other. I don’t want you to impulsively promise to let me in like that. If we were already really close - like childhood friends for years, or, I don’t know, if it wasn’t literally the first time we’d ever spoken to each other? Maybe things would be different. It’s not because I don’t like you or anything, honest to god. I just… You shouldn’t. You would stand to lose everything in this pact. I can’t do that to you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Peter rustles his hair, shoots me an oddly confident smirk for the context, and he shifts. Biting the inside of his cheek, he begins shuffling his way over to my side of the sofa. What in the actual fuck is happening? 

Processing the sight of Peter edging closer and closer towards me feels… unreal. It’s as if I’m an audience member watching a scene play out before me on a screen. My heart is a furnace whose fires crackle raucously in my ears, head-splitting. There’s simply no possibility that I’m here on this plane of existence, at this moment in the temporal line. He’s dangerously close now – teetering on the line between the platonic and… something more. 

I just know my face is red.

In a pace so slow it almost kills me, he slinks his arm behind me to rest on the back of the sofa. In a dulcet tone most incongruous with his demeanour, he softly asks, “Is this okay?”

Whether I nod or only tremble out of how flustered he’s getting me is almost unknowable. Taking in a breath, deep, so deep it nearly feels like I’m not breathing at all, I attempt to desperately cling onto whatever sanity is left within me. I give him a nod with more certainty.

“Cool, cool. Great, even,” Peter hums his approval. Leaning in impossibly closer, somehow taking care not to touch me, he whispers into my ear.

“So– we’ll just have to get to know each other better, then.”

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haunting the narrative

find me on instagram !

For the I love you prompts how about tasm!peter and

[  ASLEEP  ]:     sender, having climbed into bed to cuddle the receiver (who they believe to be asleep), tells them that they love them.

🥹💕I just think this radiates Peter energy 😫

AN |  Alright, so this is just soft and with a happy ending❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 3.3k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Peter?” It was the combination of how softly you said his voice contrasted to your rapid knocking that captured his attention more than anything. He stopped what he was doing, jumping off the couch before almost running to the door. He opened it without hesitation, only to frown deeply when he saw you on the other. Peter was always over the moon to see you…but he hated seeing you upset. You looked at him with teary eyes, lips trembling with effort not to cry, “hi.”

“Hey,” he pulled you into his arms before you could say anything else, and you fell apart as soon as he touched you. You buried your face into his chest, holding on to him tightly as he brought you inside and closed the door. His heart broke as he listened to you sniffle, trying your best to hold in your tears, “it’s okay, sweetheart. It’s alright, I’ve got you.”

“I know,” your soft response was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt, “‘m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he rested his head on top of yours, rubbing your back in soothing circles, “you don’t ever have to apologize.”

Peter felt you nod in response before the emotion overwhelmed you and the tears started to roll down your cheeks. It wasn’t long before he felt the cotton of his shirt get soaked. He held you, rocking you gently back and forth until you slowly calmed down. The boy possessed many amazing qualities and skills, and giving the best hugs in the world was one of them.

“C’mere,” he loosened his grip, smiling softly when he saw the pretty pout on your lips, already missing his touch. He took your hand in his, his much larger one dwarfing yours as he led you to the couch. He set you before kneeling in front of and tenderly brushing away your tears with his thumb before pushing a few rogue locks of hair behind your hair, “do you know what this moment calls for?”

“For me to stop being a blubbering idiot?” you asked meekly, the corner of your mouth twitching up ever so slightly. 

“First of all - no,” he tutted softly, “and secondly - you’re not an idiot. The moment calls for hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” your eyes widened in excitement and you reminded him of a kid on Christmas morning, “will there be mini marshmallows?”

“You should know by now that I always keep  a bag on hand for you,” he gently tapped your chin with his knuckle before standing up, “just back, get comfy, and I will be right back.”

“Do you need a hand, Pete?”

“Absolutely not,” he insisted, “you stay and I’ll be back. Less than ten minutes. Pick out something to watch - and it better be something good!”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, such a normal thing for either of you to do, and as always it made your stomach burst with butterflies. You watched him go, already feeling a million times better; Peter had that effect on you. No matter what happened or what was going on, he always made everything better. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter made good on his promise and was back in even less time than he originally promised, two large mugs in his hands. You gratefully took one of them and moved so he had plenty of room to sit next to you. He set his own mug on the coffee before grabbing the big, fluffy blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over the two of you. He’d never admit it, but he bought that blanket because you had liked it so much at the store and he wanted you to have it at his place whenever you wanted it. He was thoughtful like that, among so many other things.

You pulled the blanket around your frame before cuddling up into his side before putting your feet on the table. Next to Peter, whether at his place or yours, or anywhere else was definitely your favorite place in the world. You’d put on some random show, more for background noise rather than anything else. 

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a few moments of quiet. You knew it was coming but it still made you sigh softly, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I hope you know you can tell me anything.”

“Of course I know,” you gently nudged your arm into his side, “you’re my best friend, Pete. I trust you more than anything or anyone in this world.”

“Yeah?” he teased softly, giving that boyish smile you adored, “glad to know the feeling’s mutual.”

You finished off the rest of your hot chocolate and set the mug down, shifting in your seat so you were facing him. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to meet his eyes, knowing it would make you want to cry all over again. It wasn’t even Peter himself that made you want to cry; if you were being completely honest with yourself, it was that you knew he would never be yours.It was something you’d accepted over the years - not that it made it any easier - which is why you forced yourself to date other people. 

Not that any of those worked. You knew why this never did. This time around, your current boyfriend figured out exactly why. 

“Matt, umm…he broke up with me today,” you confessed, voice dropping so much that the average person definitely would not have heard you, but you knew that Peter heard you loud and clear. His eyebrows raised in surprise, so high they almost disappeared into his hairline. 

“I…what?” he asked softly, clearly not believing what you had said. Although there was no reason you’d lie to him. It just seemed so sudden, “he broke up with you? That makes no sense. You two were so good together.”

Too good together if you asked Peter Parker.

“Well,” you exhaled slowly before shrugging your shoulders, “I guess we weren’t. At least not to him. So…he ended things today.”

“Did something happen?” he asked softly, putting a finger under your chin to turn your face up towards his. He could see that the tears were welling up again and wished he could do something to make it all better. Peter could see that you were struggling with trying to find the words, “did he do something?”

“No,” you shook your head, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and pulling his hand away. Despite the fact that he broke up with you - for the most valid of reasons - you couldn’t find it in your heart to dislike him. He wasn’t a bad person….he just got caught up with someone that happened to be in love with someone else, “he didn’t. I’m not…it sucks, but I’m not mad at him. I guess it’s just the situation.”

Peter could tell that you were holding back and not telling him the entire truth but he always didn’t want to push you. He knew you’d talk about the full details if and when you were ready.  He let out a small sigh to commiserate with you before reaching over and putting his hand on your face, resting it on your cheek, “well, if you ever want to talk about it, just let me know. And if it’s any consolation, it’s his loss. Anyone would be a fool to let you go. You’re gold, sweetheart - I can’t believe he didn’t see that.”

You swallowed thickly, desperately wanting to ask what about you, Peter? Do you want me?

But you didn’t. You weren’t about to throw about two decades worth of friendship out the window just because you couldn’t get your feelings in check. 

“Thanks Pete,” you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything else. Did he really have to look at you like that? With the sweetest, most honeyed eyes that made you want to get on your knees and beg him to love you? You nodded instead, keeping your mouth shut, “there’s some girl out there that’s going to be so lucky to get to love you one day, Parker. Whether or not you see it, you’re a huge catch.”

His cheeks flushed a pretty shade of rose as he turned his head away. You laughed softly. The sound went straight to his heart and was easily his favorite sound in the world. He gave you your knee a small squeeze, “well, I guess one day we’ll both find those people that are worthy won’t we?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed softly, “can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Can I stay tonight?” you asked, as if Peter Parker ever said no to you, “you know what, I’m so rude. I just kind barged right now and didn’t even ask if you had plans or were busy. I shouldn’t just-”

“Shh,” he put a gentle finger to your lips to keep you from rambling further, “I am never too busy for you and before you argue, you are never a bother. Besides, I didn’t have plans. Just maybe some patrolling, but it can wait.”

“You don’t have to put that off,” you insisted softly, “there are more important things out there than just me.”

Doubtful, he wanted to say. 

“I don’t mind-”

“Peter, I can just go home,” you promised, “or stay here if you don’t mind.”

“When have I ever minded?” he teased as you grinned sheepishly, “never. And I don’t mind now. Stay, please. You practically live here anyway, don’t act like some sort of stranger.”

“Okay,” you felt ready to cry again, “thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he insisted sweetly, “and you got lucky - I just washed and put on my clean sheets.”

“Ahhh, you’re my hero,” the idea of slipping into his warm bed with the smell of fresh laundry and pillows that always smelled like him was heavenly, “thank you, Peter. Will you…don’t be out too late?”

“You just want me for my warm body,” he playfully huffed but you grinned like the Cheshire cat, “all these years, I should have known.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a radiator,” you stuck your tongue out at him, “one of the many good things that came out of you being bitten by a radioactive spider.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he teased, “there’s some clean stuff for you in the dresser, okay? Are you sure you’ll be fine-”

“I’m sure, Pete,” before you could stop yourself or overthink it, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be okay if you promise me two things.”

“Anything.”

“Come home soon,” you pleaded softly, “and come home safe.”

“I always do,” you raised an eyebrow, silently reminding him of the many times he came home battered and bruised, “you know I’ll always come home to you.”

“I know,” you wondered if he picked up on how quickly your heart was suddenly beating; you were sure he did. You swallowed thickly before turning your face away, “I guess I’ll let you go then.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, “I know it’s pointless to say, but don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

“It is pointless,” you snorted in amusement, “but I’m just gonna go to bed and maybe watch a movie or something while you’re out.”

“Don’t wait up.”

“Again, pointless to say,” you were both well aware of that fact, “I’ll see you soon, Pete.”

“Soon, sweetheart.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Once he left, you padded to his bedroom and snuggled up in his bed, letting the warmth and familiar smell surround you. Nothing made you feel better and more at home than being in his bed. You helped yourself to a shower as you often did before rummaging through his drawer and picking a pair of his boxers and a sweater to put on. You felt so much better already, but then, that just proved that Matt had been right all along. You pushed that thought to the back of your mind as you cuddled up in his and turned on the TV. You knew you weren’t going to be able to focus on much so you turned on a show the two of you had seen a million times.

Despite your best efforts to stay awake, you were fast asleep in less than an hour. It was definitely the combination of warmth and comfort and the overwhelming feelings you were currently trying to process. 

Peter came back at a relatively early hour, deciding that things were quiet enough for him to go home. And honestly? He really just wanted to go home and see his favorite girl; his girl  - at least in his mind. His heart panged when he remembered the fact that you were unfortunately not his and likely never be his. But he could pretend, right? There was no harm in it. 

When he got home, landing on his firescape, he was ready to tap on the window to let you know he was back, but then saw that you were sleeping peacefully. A smile crossed his features as he quietly let himself in, landing on the floor with the softest thud. The boy made quick work of pulling off his mask before grabbing some pajamas out of his dresser and quickly changing in the bathroom. He thought about changing in the bedroom but didn’t want to give you a heart attack in case you woke up. Not that you hadn’t seen him shirtless about a million times before, but still. Peter was a gentleman.

Once he came back out, he walked to his side of the bed and watched you for a moment, taking in your small, light snores and even breathing. He pulled and blankets back before climbing into bed as quietly and gently as he could. Despite his best efforts, you made a small sound, “Peter?”

“It’s me,” he whispered, “‘m back. Just rest, sweetheart.”

He immediately felt the warmth of your body and he realized just how badly he wanted to hold you. Like really, really badly. You listened to him try and get comfortable while maintaining a proper distance and smiled to yourself, “can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” oh. You could practically feel the smile on the boy’s face, “but I guess you can ask something else.”

“Will you…will you cuddle me?” the shocked look on Peter’s face was something to behold. You let out a small little exhale before slowly turning around to face him. Even in the dark you could see the pretty flush on his cheeks, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he was quick to dispel any of your worries as he swallowed the lump in throat. He wanted nothing more, “I-I always want to.”

You hummed in content as you scooted closer to him and you felt him wrap an arm around you. Before you could say or do anything, he pulled you closer, causing you to bump noses and laugh softly, “you’re so warm.”

“You’re so soft,” he sounded like he was in awe as you tangled your legs with his, “so soft and delicate.”

“Peter,” you leaned into him and buried your face near his chest before closing your eyes again. Alright, this was definitely your favorite spot in the entire galaxy. You laughed despite your best efforts to stay away, “you smell ‘s good.”

“Oh yeah?” you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head, “so do you.”

You smiled to yourself as you let yourself get lolled back to sleep. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as Peter tried to keep calm as you slept in his arms. He wanted to get some rest too, but found that it was almost impossible with how loud his thoughts were. He tried to ground himself with the feeling of you in his arms, along with your steady breathing. It all served to remind him just how deeply in love with you he was.

He laid there for a while, trying to figure out and process his own feelings. Eventually he ended up watching you, trailing his fingers over your cheek and along your jaw before sighing softly. How were you so pretty and soft and lovely and everything? It almost wasn’t fair. 

“I hope you know how much I love you,” he whispered into the dark, accompanied by a wistful little sigh, “maybe one I’ll actually be able to tell you.”

What he didn’t know was that you were awake as well, unable to fall asleep while you were in his touch. You tried to control your inhale, still contemplating if you should say anything or just let him think you were sleeping. But you were pretty sure that he might have just said the words you’d been wanting to hear for the years.

“Peter?” you whispered after a few moments, so softly that he almost didn’t hear it. But you could hear the small sound of surprise that he made, “I wasn’t fully honest when I told you that Matt broke up with me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He broke up with me because he said he wasn’t the one for me,” you could feel him watching you intently with baited breath, “he told me that I could never love him like he deserved to be loved because…because I was already in love with someone else.”

“O-oh.”

“Because I’m in love with you,” you confessed, finally getting it all out in the open, “because it’s so obvious.” 

Peter was silent for a few moments, his mind racing as he tried to figure out if you were being serious or just repeating what Matt had said. You pulled back so you could face him, reaching over and brushing some of his wild hair out of his face, “and he was right.”

“He was?” he asked softly, setting his hand on top of yours where it rested on his face, “sweetheart?”

“He was,” you promised, “it’s always been you, Peter. I just never thought that you’d feel the same. If I did-”

“I would have said something years ago,” he finished for you as you nodded, “me too. I…I feel so dumb. All this time…”

“It’s okay,” you insisted sweetly, “we’ve always had each other - and we always will. Now we can just…do all the other stuff too.”

“All the other stuff,” he teased and you laughed softly, a mixture of adoration and nerves, “hmm, you might have to tell me more. Just to make sure that we’re on the same page.”

“First of all,” you leaned in so your lips were almost brushing against each other, “like kissing, you know?”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?”

“I insist on it, Parker,” the two of you were grinning at each other like fools, “please.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?” you saw his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, a sight he was sure would kill him. He pulled you towards him, his large hand splaying on your waist as you stared at each other intensely. 

“Don’t,” you insisted softly, “don’t ever stop.”

✨ EVAN PETERS ICONS/HEADERS ✨

• TATE LANGDON

• images can be adjusted to be used as icon or header

© to @evashitox

like if use/save

Fanart of Spectra dying in a gluetrap

Pure poetry.

some old stuff, 2023-06→2022-05

(why i can't select them all at once i can only select one by one I'm dying 😭)

james buchanan ‘bucky’ barnes

masterlist • marvel • 04/20/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs four

one two three five

𑣲 light I @sun-kissy

bucky meets you, his bright, new neighbour, and is instantly endeared

𑣲 bucky hcs I @/sun-kissy

𑣲 people pleaser!reader I @winterarmyy

𑣲 must be fate pt2 pt3 pt4 I @/winterarmyy

Y/N has been crossing paths with this particularly sweet alpha all day long; this must be fate right?

𑣲 sleepy heads I @/winterarmyy

That time when the reader accidentally fell asleep on a stranger’s shoulder in the subway ride home. The stranger in question, however, is none other than the former Winter Soldier, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

𑣲 valley-girl charm I @rainydayathogwarts

In which reader from the 1940s knows just how to play the damsel in distress to get exactly what she wants in the modern age after coming out of the ice.

𑣲 starry eyed I @flowersforbucky

reader gets a special gift from her secret santa

𑣲 alls well that ends well to end up with you I @/flowersforbucky

bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

𑣲 no one does it better I @/flowersforbucky

sent on a mission with the man you never intended to fall for, you run into someone from your past who your heart has never been able to fully let go of.

𑣲 love language I @/flowersforbucky

snapshots of your relationship with bucky told through the five love languages.

𑣲 moth to a flame I @/flowersforbucky

bucky is triggered into the winter soldier during a mission and then goes MIA, until he seeks you out in the middle of the night.

𑣲 rule number one I @mrs-elsie-barnes

Bucky is happy to find you still in his bed the morning after the night before, but Steve isn't impressed.

𑣲 never again I deactivated account

natasha likes to touch bucky's dog tags and bucky, well, he just wants to know why his favorite girl isn't talking to him.

𑣲 the other guy I @seventven

pietro proves to y/n that bucky is into her by doing everything in his power to make him jealous

𑣲 voicemails to an unmanned inbox I @pellucid-constellations

When Bucky takes an argument a little too far, you take off. All he wants is for you to come back home. 

𑣲 flashing lights pt2 I @/pellucid-constellations

Bucky’s worst fears come true when he’s called to a scene. If he’s the one with the dangerous job, then why is it your life that’s hanging in the balance?

𑣲 jealous I @/pellucid-constellations

You keep talking about the owner of that new bakery and it’s rubbing Bucky the wrong way.

𑣲 five moments in time I @/pellucid-constellations

All of the moments in which Sergeant Barnes let the nurse on his unit know he’s not gonna stop trying to win her over. Even from beyond the grave.

𑣲 stay still pt 2 I @buckysknifecollection

What if your soulmate was the one person you had hurt the most?

𑣲 dog tags I @/buckysknifecollection

You are a kept prisoner by Hydra, your role is to fix Soldat’s metal arm whenever it gets damaged in a mission. You grow fond of each other and you decide to save him.

𑣲 slipping away I @kashimos-hajime

and now, he’s not your bucky anymore.

𑣲 dr. bee I @malum-forev

Bucky has quite the reputation but all it takes for him to want to change is an hour with an outspoken little Bee.

𑣲 eyes never lie I @/malum-forev

Sam and Bucky try to recruit (Y/N), Bucky's ex and a former Avenger who has left that life behind. But they realize her life has changed completely once they meet a her daughter with striking blue eyes.

𑣲 her weakness I @buckysfaveplum

you’re an enhanced individual with strong abilities and one moral code- you only fight with them when your opponent is also enhanced. during the fight with john walker, that code gets broken when bucky is hurt

𑣲 misery loves company pt2 pt3 pt4 I @shurisneakers

grumpy x grumpy drabbles

𑣲 saturn I @/shurisneakers

you die. bucky tries to bring you back (or) close to a year after you die, bucky's desperation finally finds an answer. but it may not be the one he's hoping for.

𑣲 unsolved I @/shurisneakers

Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

𑣲 by the warmth of the oven I @elixirfromthestars

You are baking cookies for the Avengers holiday party when a certain super solider comes into the kitchen tipsy for the first time...

𑣲 boulevard confessions I @/elixirfromthestars

Being a third wheel to Peggy and Steve wasn't your ideal Thursday night fun. However, when they tell you Bucky is tagging along you eagerly decide to join them. That is until a third party makes its presence known.

𑣲 knock you down a peg or two I @navybrat817

Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

𑣲 stood up I @/navybrat817

Bucky asks you out on a date and doesn't show.

𑣲 sugar plums I @blythesarchives

The soldier has an attachment to you.

𑣲 Подарок I @/blythesarchives

You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

𑣲 limbo I @/blythesarchives

Not quite Bucky, not quite Soldat, but all yours.

𑣲 cut your hair I @/blythesarchives

You help Bucky cut his hair.

𑣲 fugitives I @/blythesarchives

While you and Bucky flee from captivity in Berlin, Bucky shows his thanks to you for always being by his side.

𑣲 just as you are I @/blythesarchives

He tries his best for Valentine's Day.

𑣲 some other guy I @espinosaurusrexex

Everything was finished: the buffet was ready with sweet goodies, people were wearing their ugliest Christmas sweaters, and the music spread Christmas spirit wherever it reached. But you were still not enjoying it as much as you should. Something was missing, but what could you have possibly forgotten?

𑣲 when it all falls apart I @bucky-bucket-barnes

The fate of the universe was in your hands. Bucky and you had been sent to retrieve the soul stone, a seemingly simple task. Unbeknownst to you, there was a hefty price to pay for such an exchange. You’re able to return to Earth, but it’s soon apparent part of you was left in Vormir.

𑣲 just one kiss I @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss?

Some old Our life self insert drawings! Such a coincidence Liz and I are both pinays, we're destined to be sisters.

Chewy wife