Latest Posts by s0larst0rm555 - Page 4

everyone rise for the only movie ever

the masculine urge

the feminine urge

the human urge to yearn for the existence of dragons

serendipitous salvation | peter parker

Summary: After everything he’s been through, Peter finds himself coming back to the one constant in his life: you

Pairing: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, wounds, fighting, etc…

A/n: I don’t know where y’all have been hiding, but I’ve been an Andrew!Spidey whore for a decade now and I’m so happy to see him finally getting the love he deserves! Anyway, I hope this isn’t so bad and that you enjoy :)

It was an accident, a complete and utter accident. But it’s one that no matter how hard he tried to fight, he couldn’t stop it from happening.

Peter Parker never meant to fall in love with you. He never wanted to need another person again, never wanted to put his heart in a position where it could be shattered again.

And yet he did. Because as soon as Peter’s eyes met yours, he fell in love.

He likes to think it wasn’t an instant thing, because when he met you for the first time, you were in high school. He was with Gwen, and she was his everything. But looking back, he knows that’s not the truth. It fills him with guilt to think that even when she was alive, there was a part of him that was in love with you. And he didn’t even realize it.

It took him years to figure it out, even after Gwen was gone. He didn’t want to admit to himself that he had fallen in love with his best friend, especially knowing the danger that knowledge could put you in. Because in the end, it mattered less that you knew of Peter’s love for you, and more that his enemies didn’t.

Holding the heart of Spider Man was, and is a dangerous game to play, whether you knew you were his heart’s keeper or not. And Peter tried his damnedest to keep it from you, with every cell in his body.

Until he couldn’t anymore.

He thinks about that moment with both sorrow and joy, the moment he allowed himself to feel something, allowed himself to tell you how he felt. He didn’t go into it expecting anything from you, only hoping that maybe you felt the same, while in the back of his mind praying that you didn’t. Because that way, you couldn’t get hurt. And yet, you did. You felt the same.

When Gwen died, he was broken, a shell of his former self.

“It’s all my fault. I couldn’t save her.” He had said to you in tears. The night he lost her was the night he realized he couldn’t live without you. It was also the night he realized he needed to push you away, to save you from him…but he couldn’t.

The only person who could bring him out of his grief, was you. And Peter knew that. You let him cry, let him be angry, and allowed him the chance to process everything he was feeling. You gave him all of you, every ounce of life you had, to help him find himself again.

“Because if there’s a breath left in your body, then life is worth living.” You had told him. Peter takes that with him everywhere he goes. When things get tough, that’s what he remembers, repeating it like a mantra.

As the years past and you both got older, Peter’s crime fighting days felt behind him. He continued to wear the suit and do what he could to protect those in need, but it came to a point where he no longer felt he could do all the things he used to. The one thing that remained a constant though, was his nightly patrols.

Each night he’d sling through the city for a few hours, watching as the city slept. And every night when he felt it safe, he’d slip through the window of your apartment unit, landing gracefully in your bedroom.

You’d gotten used to it by now, staying up into the early hours of the morning, the sky still dark and motionless. You’d wait for him each night like clockwork, as if it were a routine you had held for a lifetime. And it felt like it was.

So when you hear the click and slide of your bedroom window, you’re less than surprised. It’s a sound you’ve come to welcome, an indication that Peter has made it home safely.

“Long night?” You question with a tilt of your head.

Peter pulls his mask off, a smile adorning his face as soon as he sees yours. He flashes you his teeth awkwardly, his smile slanted.

You recognize the look of pain immediately, a grimace overtaking his features. Waving your hand, you motion for him to sit on your bed as you pull your first aid kit out of the bedside dresser. He complies rather easily, pulling down his suit to reveal a rather large gash on his chest.

Your eyes widen at the sight. It’s not something you’ve seen in a while, since Peter decided to limit his duties to midnight patrols. But you’re still used to it, from all those nights in your teens and early twenties when he was off fighting the worst of the worst. You were always the one to patch him up. Before Gwen, and after.

You lean down slowly, examining the wound carefully. “What was it this time?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He starts. But when you give him a disapproving look, he sighs, “Just some guy with a knife.”

“Looks to be more than just some guy with a knife.”

Your words aren’t callous or laced with anger. You’re simply stating a fact. And while woven in your tone is a heck of a lot of concern, Peter can find no judgment. It doesn’t surprise him, you’ve never been one to make him feel judged, but it does make his heart race just a little faster.

“Maybe.” He says, as you begin treating his wound, hissing lightly at the burning sensation the alcohol is causing.

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Mhm.” He nods. “Like hell I imagine.”

You let out a light chuckle at his response. You don’t blame him for trying to find the humour in the situation, you’re sure if you were in his position, you’d do the same.

When you’ve finished, Peter’s breath is short and ragged. He watches wordlessly as you dress his chest with gauze, observing just how delicate you’re being with him.

It’s always been like that though, you taking care of him. You saving him from himself.

“You’re really beautiful you know that?” He breaks the silence.

Your eyes meet his briefly, your bodies facing one another. You quickly realize just how intimate this seems and it makes you collapse in on yourself. You cannot allow yourself to feel this kind of hope. Maybe he feels the same.

“How am I supposed to respond to that?”

This time your tone is far off, almost like you’re trying to detach yourself from reality. And Peter begins to wonder how and why his question could catch you so off guard. You had to know how beautiful you are…

“You don’t have to.” He states, bringing one hand to rest on your cheek. He gently turns your face towards his, allowing his eyes to reach into your soul. As you gaze into them, you find yourself getting lost. They’re like pools of embers, like a warm fire, like home.

“I love you.” He says like it’s not the most important thing he’s ever said to you.

“You can’t-” You pull away from him, letting his hand drop. “Peter, you can’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” He asks so softly, it almost breaks your heart.

Your eyes search his for an answer, desperately trying to figure out what to say next without breaking down. “Peter-“ You can only manage to whisper his name. And it’s never sounded so wrong coming out of your mouth before.

He looks at you again, seeing the tears that are threatening to fall, and he can feel his heart shattering all over again. He’s lost Gwen, and now he’s losing you.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long.” You finally say, your voice hoarse. “I can’t let myself believe you feel the same, because if you don’t…”

Your words trail off as Peter’s hands reach up to cup your face. He hums lightly, a soft smile growing on his face. “There is no universe that exists where I’m not so in love with you, that’d I do anything to make you mine.”

A joyful laugh bubbles from your throat. “I’m already yours.” Your thumb grazes his cheek with a tenderness you’ve never expressed before. “I always have been.”

“Can I kiss you now (Y/n) (L/n)?” He asks, his heart beating in time with yours.

You smile, leaning forward and placing your lips on his. “Now, and whenever you like Peter Parker.” You place your lips on his again, a feeling you’ll never get used to.

Your kiss is one that takes his breath away, one that makes him feel deliriously at peace. And as he kisses you, he remembers your words that became his mantra: you are Peter Parker’s breath, you make his life worth living.

The Amazing Spider-Man (2012) dir. Marc Webb

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

[2] [3]

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

──────────────────────

──────────────────────

Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

──────────────────────

It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

Orbitational Pull

peter is disastrously bad at talking about how he feels. friends to lovers!

NOTE: tysm @gotkindabored for helping me post this, and also being all-around lovely! pls go easy on me, im VERY rusty :)

“Hey you,”

She hears it from the familiar corner of her bedroom, one that she’s used to. He sounds hoarse and out of breath, and his suit is slick with rainwater. She looks beautiful, of course. There isn’t a moment of the day she doesn’t steal his breath.

“Peter,” she says, voice low and careful, but even still- he can hear the honey-sweet affection his name is spoken through, “You’re early tonight, huh?”

He cracks a smile, and looks her over- he can’t help it.

He fell on her fire escape, one night. Her crappy college apartment, a shared place with her own room. It was months ago, feels like decades now. Of course, he knew who she was before that night. He knew she was the kind girl, who smiled at him every time she passed him in the hallways. He’s had a crush on her since was ten, when she offered him a chocolate bar the day after Halloween, when Aunt May had just packed a granola bar.

Keep reading

“we should be mad at the duffers,” i say into the microphone. the crowd boos.

“no, she’s right,” someone says. “we should be furious.” it’s joseph quinn himself.

1 2 3

Shout out to Steve Harrington for apparently being the only genre-aware person in the Hawkins group, grabbing something to defend the group as soon as they hear a weird noise, poking stuff around with an oar, not letting the cursed girl spend too long on her own… and when Dustin mocks him, he snaps back, “considering the people in this room have nearly died about half a dozen times, I don’t find it funny”. He’s so right and he should say it. Steve KNOWS he’s in a horror film and he’s built to be the final girl.

me: *an intellectual who knows that tfatws is an acronym for the show and each letter is to be pronounced separately*

also me: thefatwuss :)

👏👏👏

anyone who thinks they’re in bucky barnes’s arms instead of going to therapy clap your hands

everyone assumes bucky was a cocky, sarcastic, ladies man but he literally took his date to a science convention and sat down to read the hobbit when it first came out

haha remember when peggy carter moved on after losing steve and saved the world like fifty times and fell in love with a hot as hell disabled vet with a heart of gold and went on to create SHIELD... then avengers endgame obliterated her entire arc and turned her into a voiceless love interest

If you think overturning Roe vs Wade was a win today, from the bottom of my heart, go fuck yourself.

Going on a job interview:

Them: what is your biggest weakness?

Me: NOSE SCRUNCH

I’m gonna cry, is there even a way to make paras real?

Like some kind of VR game or a VR portal or immersion game something like that?

I just want them to be real so bad. There’s no way to hold them tight and I need a hug from them so bad now.

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) - 1.05 • “Truth”

I'll Show You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You're not used to being put first, but Bucky will put you before anyone else

Warnings: None, I don't think

Words: 939

A/N: This is based on an idea that @marziwritesfic had, and wanted to read. So, I wrote something... I hope its okay.

Main Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist Permanent Taglist

He had noticed it a few times, brushed it off the first and second, but now, it stuck with him. He thought back over those moments, remembered the surprise in your voice, the raise of your eyebrows. Or, how you would turn shy and lower your head, hiding your face. 

The first time it had happened, Bucky was picking you up for a date. He had arrived at your door, flowers in hand, at seven o’clock. He was on time, bouncing in his toes to fight off the nerves as he waited for you to open the door. 

But when you opened the door, peeking around the frame to see him, it was as if he were hours early. While your make-up was completed, your hair was in a messy bun and you wore your dressing gown. 

Now, your appearance didn’t bother Bucky. What was strange, is that Bucky knew you to be very punctual. In your words, “early is in time, on time is late, and late… well, best not bother”. 

So why were you not ready?

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be here on time, people normally aren’t.”

You had seemed even more shocked when he offered you the flowers, the bright colours eye catching against the pale paper which held them. 

“No ones ever gotten me flowers before.”

No, that couldn’t be right, Bucky thought. You were beautiful, both in mind and spirit, how could someone not have graced you with flowers before now? Had your father not gotten you some, a valentine maybe?

A damn right shame. 

Still, you took the flowers with warmed cheeks, hurrying to put them in a vase of water before making your way to the bedroom to finish getting ready. 

Though Bucky brushed this from his mind, he thought back on it now. How surprised you were which his punctuality and the small gift of flowers. 

The second time, you and Bucky were walking down the road. Your hand was tucked into the crook of his arm, tight against his side, smiling at the little exchange of words between you both. 

Bucky’s name had been called and when he turned around, Steve was there. He smiled, a bag with a local bookshops brand in hand, as he made his way over to you both. 

Watching the blond make his way over, your hand left from Bucky’s arm and you slipped behind him. Bucky, at the time, had thought you were nervous, maybe shy, because a six foot giant was making his way towards you. 

“Hey, Stevie,” Bucky greeted him with a hug before pulling away and reacing behind him, for you. “Sorry, I can’t really stop, Y/N and I have plans.”

You had looked at him with wide eyes, your mouth slightly open. Your eyes fluttered between the two men, not knowing what to say or do. Should you stay, go? Say hi or keep quiet. 

“This is Y/N?” Steve asked with a smile before turning to you. “Bucky doesn’t shut up about you, I think we all know your favourite flowers and music by now.”

“Oh, erm, hi,” you shyly waved, ducking your head down. 

“I’ll let you guys get on, but I got that book you wanted, I’ll put it in your room,” Steve said. “I’ll see you guys later. 

When Steve was just a few feet away, you had quietly whispered to Bucky that he could go with Steve if he wanted, he didn’t have to go shopping with you. Bucky hadn’t realised what you were really saying, really thinking, at that point. He didn’t realise that you thought you were a place holder. 

Looking back, he don’t know how he had missed it. But, Bucky was a fool among many other things. 

However, after that interaction, he started to place closer attention. 

You were surprised when he arrived at your home after work, in disbelief when he actually wanted to introduce you to his friends.

Bucky realised that you weren’t used to being treated with respect. And that floored him. 

You were amazing, in every way. How could someone not treat you in the way you deserved? How could no one give you flowers, or arrive on time to outings, or come to see you after work or in general, or introduce you to their friends? How could someone not put you in front of all others?

Bucky pulled the highlighter packet from his bag as he sat beside you on the couch, throwing an arm along the edge behind you. 

“Here, I saw these and thought of you,” he offered you the packet of pastel pens. 

“For me?” You asked, taking them hesitantly. 

He couldn’t sit quietly anymore, couldn’t listen to you think that you weren’t worth a single thought to anyone. You had to know what you were worth. 

“Y/N, I know that you’re not used to being put first,” his fingers nudged under your chin, making you meet his eyes. “But I will always put you first, you are my priority. You come before everyone else, if you need me, I’m there. I’m not going to be late to see you, I’m not going to cancel on you. I will buy you things because they remind me of you, because I want to. You are worth everything to me.”

Your lower lip wobbled as you listened to him, his words filling you with warmth whilst simultaneously breaking your heart. 

Finally, you had found someone who considered you worthy of their time, effort, and love. Finally, someone felt you were, potentially, the one. 

“And I’ll show you that every day.”

Permanent Taglist: @buckyzwhore @tripletstephaniescp @xoxsbd88xoxox @tenaciousperfectionunknown @draw-back-your-bow @sammypotato67 @sskhair @kittenssss-blog @hallecarey1 @thegirlnextdoorssister @waywardwifey

Marvel Taglist: @stardust-galaxies @loopy-lupinn

bucky barnes as your boyfriend

Bucky’s most favourite thing to do with you is basic domestic stuff that others take for granted — buying grocery, shopping furniture, baking cookies and such.

He loves the little banters you have over which sauce tastes better and which chair is more comfortable. He can’t get enough of the way your face scrunches up as you try to explain to him why your choice is better than his.

“Okay fine. Your choice is better than mine.” He grumbles despite knowing this is true. “I mean you did choose me.” His smirk is evident at his own little joke as you playfully slap him on his arm, shaking your head.

Bucky loves assisting you in mundane activities though you absolutely hate it. Because more often than not, he ends up messing stuff in the cutest way possible than actually helping you.

Like when you had decided to make chilli and Bucky clumsily touched his cheeks while cutting the peppers and you had to apply cream to his face. You both had laughed until your stomachs hurt as he nearly looked like a snowman.

Bucky lives for this stupidity though, and so do you. Bucky once lived a life of precision and discipline and he had hated every second of it. But now when he fools around with you, he cherishes those memories and keeps them close to his heart.

Bucky’s favourite dialogue probably is “I told you so.” Because in this relationship, he isn’t the only silly goof, you’re just as silly as him, if not more.

You love doing your stuff by yourself and when Bucky insists on helping, you outright refuse him. So Bucky waits until you finally give up and ask for help.

All the times that you insisted on shifting the furniture by yourself or carrying your own bags but then got tired and finally asked Bucky. He loves how independent you are, but a part of him preens when you ask for help from him.

If he hates something, it’s how you undermine and overwork yourself. Somedays you’re stubborn on completing your work despite being tired and you don’t listen to Bucky when it comes to work.

But what comes after is Bucky’s favourite part where he tries his best to relax you. He loves long soothing baths with you where he leisurely washed your hair and massages your back.

Seeing you relaxed and sated makes him happy too because Bucky loves nurturing. He spent a part of his life being a weapon, but he considers this a second chance, so he loves when he’s able to provide care.

Bucky definitely has a whole garden of little plants that he religiously looks after. The bonus point is, alpine loves to rest amidst the cool plants and you can’t stop taking cute photos to show Bucky.

Bucky may be one of the most feared assassin, but he’s a silly little fool when it comes to you. He doesn’t like showing you his injuries from missions, but one “let me take a look.” from you is enough for him to show you the wound.

Most of the conversation go like this, “I’ll bandage that up for you.” He shakes his head like an adamant child. “It’s nothing.” You sigh at his antiques. “You’re bleeding for godssake. Let me do my work!”

Thought he pretends to not like it, he secretly loves it when you gently clean his wounds and apply bandage. The way you take care of him not only makes him feel loved, but also nearly brings tears to his eyes.

But the same applies to you too. He takes utmost care of you, refusing to even leave your side whenever you’re sick. You insist that you’re fine and take care of yourself, but he knows better.

He often prepares a special soup whenever you’re down, whose recipe he doesn’t share with you and instead tells you it’s his ancestral recipe, but you know it’s from a YouTube channel but he won’t tell you which one.

Bucky’s a sucker for physical touch. May it be holding hands while walking down the street, or keeping a hand on your waist as you eat, or dancing to cute songs playing on your phone, or laying your head on his chest as you sleep, he craves it all.

For Bucky, the most precious thing in the house (of course after you) is a ring which is kept safely in the drawer next to his bed. You both share a closet, and so it was no use keeping there, but he knows you feel like the small drawer is a sacred thing for him and rarely touch it.

He still remembers the time he realised he loved you. A cheesy movie was playing on the TV which you were supposed to watch, but as you fell asleep on his chest, wearing his hoodie, a sudden life changing realisation struck him. He was in love with you.

And ever since then, he right away knew that if he was ever going to marry someone, it was you. He had planned everything about how he was going to propose you, date, time, place, everything was set and he just knew it was going to be magical when it happened. And he knew it was going to be soon, real soon.

For Bucky, the four walls you live within isn’t his home. For him, home is where you lovingly hug him when he comes back from his missions. Home is where the delicious aroma of his favourite cookies wafts through the house as you prepare them for him. For Bucky, you are his home.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

this is utterly self indulgent and written in like one night? also it’s my first time writing like this, so pls be kind.

If you liked this, pls comment and reblog as it motivates me!! hope you have a good day!

Hii! I don’t know if you still take requests, also I’ve never ever really requested anything. What would you say about the prompt "I'm sorry, I just really need a hug right now." With avenger Bucky? Just a comfort bubble with Bucky to brighten up a cloudy day, that’s what I see here. Or a cheer up after a miserable mission that went sideways. Just anything to get a hug from Bucky. It’s just a suggestion though, no pressure! Sending love ❤️

M, I loved the plot. I love writing fluff for our grumpy supersoldier <3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: He thinks that the world owes him this—a safe haven. A special place that's only his, and that never fails to make everything fade to white noise. When Bucky is having bad days now, all he needs to do is find comfort in your arms.

A/n: Feedback is really important to me. Tell me what you think and I’ll adore ya forever :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warning(s): I also do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded anywhere else.

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist 

Send me a prompt + Character!

ㅤㅤㅤ — getting used to receiving —

His dark days used to be cold and lonely.

Not just any type of cold—the permeating one which sinks into your bones like leeches sink their teeth in whatever they find. Bucky used to feel so cold all of the time, that he grew used to it. In both lives, before and after the fall, his days which were not so good always felt like that: the old and uncomfortable tinge of ice in his veins.

Now, there's you, and nothing brings him more warmth than the way you put him in his embrace.

When he comes back from the mission, it's all he wants.

Therapy. Avengers. Captain America.

(Winter Solider. White wolf. Bucky Barnes. Sgt?)

Sometimes, Bucky finds himself.

Other times, he disassociates, uses punching bags in Sam's basement, drinks with Yori, and even cries now.

Being alive is exhausting, but sometimes, Bucky finds himself and something beautiful as well:

The sight of the Shield which means so much to him in the right hands.

People being good. Forgiving.

The exquisite joy a good food that melts on the tongue brings—those little things that are beautiful and make life worth living are his favorite bits, and the ones he holds onto.

(His therapist is proud of him. What a wild concept, he thinks.)

Still.

Through all of the colorful things piercing the white noise, the favorite beautiful thing he's found while being alive in this 21st century is undoubtedly you.

When you open the door for him, Bucky thinks thank fucking god.

I'm home.

Your hand leaves the doorknob and your arms open wide, and that single image is the reason why he smiled more times these few months than he has in years.

"Hey, you," you say.

His two favorite words.

Bucky throws his duffel bag somewhere behind you and then steps into your embrace.

It's all he wants a lot of the time.

After missions — especially the hard ones like this one they're still stuck on — is everything he wants and craves.

Something about the way you hold him is holy to Bucky.

He's aware that love is supposed to be such a strong, gripping feeling—the drowning sense of peace in being with a person, but you terrified him at first with that power.

The one to bring him peace.

Your arms fit around Bucky's shoulders and in his arms, you melt. Always. As if he was a hot pan and you were butter, your body becomes as relaxed as it can be, surrendering inside both his warm and cold cage.

It terrified him the first time Bucky felt you so comfortable in this position.

You had laid your head on his chest for so long on the couch that his heart had started to pound right where you laid.

"Doesn't—isn't the metal arm a little... uncomfortable? For this?"

"Nope," you said. Softly. Sleepy.

"Oh." He was surprised. He'd always imagined it was. "Okay."

"Never been comfier," you mumbled. Bucky's heart had lept because something told him not only your words were true, but that you were almost asleep.

Since that day, it was here that Bucky liked spending a lot of precious time.

Whenever you hugged him, Bucky was able to think about only the good bits.

Whether he was holding you more or you holding him like right now, fitting your bodies like a puzzle became his founding pillar for peace.

(Sam had even joked about it.

"Dude. You look so chill lately," he had laughed.

"Do I?" Bucky asked, deadpanned.

"Look! Not even now—man, the corner of your mouth just quivered tryin' to be funny about this," he had laughed. "This is golden."

Inevitably, Bucky joined him in laughter. "I'm glad you're entertained."

"Oh, I'm more than entertained," said Sam. "I'm happy for you.")

Bucky felt you sighing against his chest, slowly.

Then, he felt your cute nose nudging his neck, right below the ear.

He chuckled—little wolf.

In probably two seconds, you'd make a comment about—

"You smell like dust," you sounded whiny, but then the feeling of a kiss blooms on that spot of his neck, and Bucky's brain goes even a little quieter. "It's ok. We'll shower."

"Will we?" he asks, interest peaking. You laugh at him, but now with the offer on the table, Bucky switches his plans of cooking you dinner and asking you to update him on the last episodes of the series you were talking to him about over the phone. He picks you up by your thighs, laughing at the squeal that comes out of you. "Alright. Let's go."

"Bucky!"

"What?" He plays dumb, kicking the door behind him with his foot. "You don't wanna shower with me?"

You laugh at him, and Bucky leans his head to get a kiss from you. "I'll cook for us later."

Mouth still touching his, your words come off muffled by both the kisses and the smile. "I've been waiting—hm—for your food for—weeks."

"And you'll get it," he switches to place one last kiss on your neck, then pays attention to hold you right as he switches your weight onto only his metal arm so he can open the bathroom door. "Shower first. I don't wanna see those little faces of yours every time you get your nose on me. They distract me, and the kitchen is not—"

"—a place to be distracted," you join him, holding on for dear life on his neck. "I know."

As if I'd let my most precious thing drop, he rolls his eyes internally.

Bucky gets inside the bathroom but still keeps you in his arm for just a moment longer. He likes to hold you in any way he can. "Let's shower. Then food. Then more hugs on the couch 'cause I need to tell you some stuff, then..." he lets his words drift off, and shrugs his shoulders.

You shake your head, smiling at him. "Coy comes out as a terribly smug look on you, and you know that."

"You love it," he says, pressing a kiss to your mouth as he lets you down gently.

"I do. Love every bit of you," you say, a little shy as you always are when telling him cheesy things.

(If the world could only see the nasty, filthy things you say with a smile on your face.)

He holds your face in his hand and kisses you a little more. He missed being able to do that. "I love you more, angel."

You fought him on it, but Bucky liked to believe he was right.

And it would always make him smile to think you also believed your words.

🏷 b.b. tag list ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions-blog ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fiftyshadesofokay ; @peonyophelia ; @murdermornings ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @fandoms-writings ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckspumpkin ; @sltwins ; @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @sstan-hoe ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @maladaptivexxdaydreaming ; @holl2712 ♡

And it do b making me nervous doe

Everyday I feel single as fuck

And everyday I continue to read and increase my expectations

pissed its the second time im writing this bc my laptop fucked up the first 

anyway i ran over here bc i realised i am very much OBSESSED with certain mannerisms or little actions of fictional characters

lets talk abt the hands in pockets thing first,, they could do anything with their hands in their pockets and i’d get turned on (ahem?? sukuna vs megumi was the very moment i fell for that evil man)

love the type of character who’d sit lazily on a chair with their legs perched up on a desk/table - cock rn pls 🤲

gotta love a confident and cocky man - also when they stick their tongue out,, like what that tongue do, mister 👀

cocking their head to the side, or tilting it slightly with a smirk on their face as a means of teasing you 😩😩😩

MANSPREADING… hear me out pls lmao idk when a fictional character does it, it hits different (yall seen the jjk merch with them sitting on the chairs? sukunas one got me flying) makes me wanna straddle them,, but idk its also sexy when a character crosses their legs, too

when they have a consistent lazy/relaxed demeanour, it exudes big dick energy

i literally do not know how to describe this but the way they support their head with their hand is also very important (the iconic scene where sukunas leaning onto his hand in his domain) theres a different one as well, the one where the fingers kind of form an ‘L’ shape against the side of their head…i apologise if this makes no sense i have no clue how to explain properly lol

also the asian squat lmao with their arms being against their knees

i realised most of this is just kinda typical delinquent/bad boy body lang but yes they are basically just my type

yall should reply to this with other characters that u have in mind who does most, if not all of the above (might reply if ive simped for that character too lmfao)

It kills me how Tumblr will see the most broken, traumatized, impossible to talk to, emotionally unavailable dark haired person and be like: "yes this is the person I'll fall in love with"

And then proceed to write fanfics, fanart, headcannons to the point where it trends every two weeks or so

It’s also the fact that I would let a fictional man with dark hair, piercing eyes, a dark past, and morally grey morals ruin my life and I would say thank you

when anthony bridgerton said, “you are the bane of my existence. and the object of all my desires.” he was actually quoting me when i talk to my fictional boyfriends.

“He is smoke and skin, air and bone, and when his mouth presses against hers, the first thing she tastes in the turning of the seasons, the moment when dusk gives way to night.”

— V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

@itsicarlie on tiktok

The thing is,,, I don't even want ppl to be like my favourite fictional character(s) I just want my favourite characters to be real

so mark zuckerberg is allowed to recreate a reality he read in a book, but when I try to make enemies to recreate an enemies to lovers, I'm toxic and mentally ill ???

Does anybody know where I can find a 6'1 ft tall, brown haired, smart, respectable, witty, sarcastic, romance book reader, cat lover boy who is very good in making deductions?