I don't really mean for this to sound mean, at all, and this is honestly meant to be a sort of constructive criticism but I've been at my wits end these past few weeks when going through stories of some of my favourite characters because all I've been seeing are characters x reader stories being tagged as so only for them, in the end, to turn out to have been character x oc stories all along. I know some people probably do not care to tag correctly their posts, and some probably do so with the intention of posting them in hashtags that are intentionally misleading for the sake of readership and likes, and whatever not, but Tumblr is not ao3 where you can filter out certain characters or certain tags to clear the search of any unwanted characters or triggers and etc, etc because at its core Tumblr is a blogging platform where certain dedicated people and fandoms post fanfics of their favourite characters, which is why it does not possess such a feature like ao3 in the first place. I understand that new writers, probably, also cannot differentiate between a reader-insert and an actual original character created by them for their stories. But I fear it may be, common knowledge that when someone is specifically looking out for an x reader story they more than likely do not want most of the tag to be filled with people self-inserting themselves in the story through an oc. I know that no reader-insert will ever truly be a reader-insert because there is no way that the person in the story will ever come close to the personality or appearance that is needed of the reader to make the story work but all I ask, at the very least, is for people to be honest about what kind of story they're putting out there and to not mislead people by posting stories that have nothing to do with the tag that it's been posted under only because it involves the character it's being matched with.
Again, this is only a general criticism, and it's not supposed to target anyone. Also, my main aim is not to be either rude or mean but it's something that's been going on for a while and that has been frustrating me so I felt I had to finally speak up about it.
Also, ps for certain writers, if you don't like using Y/N maybe reader-insert-centered stories are just not for you, because by then naming the reader it automatically makes the story an oc story.
Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime (Chapter 1)
Pairing: Dark Eros Bucky Barnes x Psyche Reader
Summary: You're an artist living in New York City, just trying to live your best life. Lately though, you've been getting these weird flashes of a past life.
However, everything comes crashing to a halt when you meet the formidable CEO, James Barnes and his daughter, Kobik.
When you begin to know the single father and his only daughter, it seems that everything starts to fall into place. Along with his truly dysfunctional family members, who are probably the biggest bunch of weird family members ever— you've truly got your work cut out for you.
Gods, when had your life suddenly become so complicated?
Chapter Warnings: Past character death, mentions of war, Dark!Eros!Bucky, and abusive workplaces.
Additional Notes: A hugeeee thank you to @buckysswinter, whom without their insight and help with brainstorming, that this fic would have never been born. Ella, thank you so much for feeding into my PJO/Greek Mythology obsession. This baby would have never been born without your help.
As always, if you'd like to read this first chapter on my AO3, you can read it here.
Word Count: 6,117
As the sun began to fall down the sky, a platinum-haired young girl walked down the busy streets of Brooklyn. Headed towards the penthouse that she lived in with her father, Kobik Barnes grabbed a hair band from the front pocket of her leather jacket and quickly tied her hair. Her eyes peered all around the people who were swarmed around her in curiosity.
Mortals. They never truly changed.
Ever since Kobik had been born during the Great War, she had seen many things. She had made friends with nature spirits, naiads, dryads— even humans alike.
Except, everyone hadn’t known her as Kobik Barnes back then. That was her now.
Before the modern age, back in the old age of the gods, she had been known as Hedone, the goddess of pleasure. Daughter of Eros, and his past lover Psyche.
But she had never had met her mother. According to her father, it was a sensitive subject that he didn’t really enjoy speaking about around her.
Although, when they had started off in the first year in the modern era, her father had given her a picture of her mother.
She had retained the appearance of her mother ever since then. The only piece of her mother that she could hold onto was how she looked. She had never heard her voice, nor had ever been able to ever remember her mother holding her as a newborn.
Kobik knew that every time her father looked at her in the eyes, that he would get this solemn, look of grief in his eyes. Her father would close himself off, and he never really dated. Despite being very attractive and getting admirers everywhere he went, her father remained firm on staying true to her late mother’s memory.
“Tell me something about her, papa. Anything.”
The six-year-old who was perched on her father’s lap looked up at him. A pleading look in her eyes as her father closed his book. Moving it away from him, she saw him take a deep sigh. As if what he was about to say was going to hurt him for a long time. “You look just like her. But you have my eyes. You have her kindness. Your grandmother and she did not see eye to eye. It was more of my mother’s doing, anyway.” her father picked her up. Kobik remained latched onto him like a starfish on a rock. As they walked out of the study and into the hallway, to the stairs.
“Your mother was more beautiful than my mother herself. She was so beautiful that mortals stopped giving their sacrifices and worships to your grandmother and started worshiping your mother instead. So when she had ordered me to make your mother fall in love with the ugliest, most horrible creature alive… I had to follow her orders. I was her messenger. The one that did her dirty work. So, I obliged. Anyone who my mother deemed as a threat or dangerous needed to be terminated or dealt with. I expected this one to be like all the others.”
Kobik felt her father grip her a little tighter as he walked up the stairs to put her to sleep.
Whatever he was going to say next, was probably going to ruin his mood for the rest of the week. Possibly the rest of the month if he deemed it even that much so.
“I tracked her down. She had been in a dress. One that her servant had made for her.” Kobik’s bedroom door creaked open. Pushing the door completely open, her head burrowed into his shoulder as her father pulled the blankets away, to tuck her into bed. Kobik relaxed as she was placed into her bed, watching as her father pulled the blankets over her again.
Seeing his daughter nod in curiosity and eagerness for her father to continue, her father began to speak again.
“I had been so prepared to make her fall in love with the most ugliest, most horrible creature on the planet. But then I saw her.”
“And then I wondered, how could my mother make me ruin her life like that?” he wondered, making Kobik nod seriously in response. “So did you do it papa? Did you curse her?”
Could you blame her? She was very curious. It wasn’t every day that her father told her about her mother. It being a sensitive subject and all.
“No. No, I did not.”
Bright eyes full of eagerness shone as Kobik gasped dramatically. “What did you do papa?” her frantic tone made her father chuckle as the bed dipped. Sitting down on the bed, she melted a little when he petted her head.
“I fell in love with her instead.”
Kobik clapped her hands together in glee as her eyes sparkled in delight. “Really papa?” she was excited. “Oh yes,” her father was nodding vigorously now. “She was the kindest soul I had ever met in my life. You know how your grandmother influences people’s emotions and plays around with their love lives?”
Nods came from Kobik. “Well, I messed with my own. Kind of. In a way. Because then, your mother started to cry out how sad she was, that no one loved her. They just loved the image of her.”
“Because mama was very pretty. The prettiest!” Kobik was beaming now, a huge smile on her face. “Yes. Your mama was the prettiest. But, because she was so pretty, no one wanted to get to know her. All they wanted was a pretty thing.”
“Like a trophy wife? Or a sugar baby?” His daughter suggested.
“Sweetheart…” her father was beginning to narrow his eyes slightly. “Where did you learn those words?”
“From one of those Dateline shows I watch in my free time!” Kobik piped up, obviously happy to share this new piece of information with her father.
Her father had the opposite reaction though.
He knew he shouldn’t have bought that new TV all those months ago.
“We’ll talk about your TV habits in the morning, young lady.” her father’s scolding words made Kobik giggle. “Finish the story, papa! I wanna hear what happens at the end!” She encouraged him.
A look of pain appeared on his face before it went away. Heaving a deep sigh, her father gave her a reluctant nod. “As you wish.”
“We fell in love and got married soon afterwards. Everything was fine. Although… during our marriage, I had told her to never shine a light on me. I never wanted her to look at me. And your mama, even though she was curious— never shined a light on me. She never looked at me. She respected my wishes, and I respected her wishes of wanting to spend time with her. Your mother was very fond of drawing and reading. If she had not gotten married to me, I would have thought of her becoming an artist. Something like that, darling.”
“But then one day, the Giants attacked.”
Kobik gasped dramatically. Her father nodded grimly. He shut his eyes closed for a second.
This was always the worst part.
Gods, he fucking hated remembering it.
He remembered it as if it were merely yesterday.
“Your mother had gone out, for some fresh air. She wanted to take a walk. She assured me that she would be back soon, just in time for dinner. We always ate dinner together.”
“Oh! Just like us, right papa?” Kobik cut in. Her father nodded briskly. “Yes. Just like the two of us,” his voice was low.
“The Giants attacked your mother. I was… too late. I came too late. By the time I realized something was wrong and had gotten there… your mother was bleeding. I couldn’t do anything to save her. She was dying. She was pregnant with you, too. I couldn’t risk anything happening to you. And… I knew that she wanted nothing with godhood. I couldn’t do that to your mother. She had enough strength to give birth to you, and as she was dying… she asked to see me. In the flesh.”
“Did you show her what you looked like papa?” If possible, Kobik’s eyes were probably the size of saucers. “I held her while she died. I told her she would make it into Elysium. She would. If she didn’t end up there, then I told her I’d go into the Underworld myself and make those damn judges put her there. It was the most they could do for her.”
Kobik couldn’t help the giggles that escaped her. It lifted up the deary mood a little because then her father had begun to smile again.
“I miss mama. I wish she was here with us,” his little girl began to sniff. She fell into her father’s embrace as she sobbed into his shoulder.
“I miss her too, darling. I wish she was here with us too, Hedone.”
The sounds of the front door being opened as the locks turned caught a man’s attention. Pushing his papers to the side with a low groan, he managed to get up and walk out of his office.
Kobik Barnes, or as all the rest of the Olympians knew her as Hedone— was wearing a huge smile on her face when she caught sight of her father walking towards her from down the hall. Ready to greet her, as always.
“Hello papa.” Her friendly greeting made him smile. Just the slightest bit.
James Buchanan Barnes brought his only daughter into a huge. Burying his face into her hair as she giggled softly into his shirt.
The world and the elite class knew him as James Buchanan Barnes.
To the gods and goddesses of Olympus however, he was known as Eros, the god of love. To the Greeks, he had been known as Eros. To the Romans, he had been known as Cupid.
But to his only daughter, he was just papa.
And that was enough.
“How was your day, sweet pea?” asked James as he looked down at her. Kobik posed as an eleven-year-old, the cover story when they had arrived in this modern era that James had lost his wife, Kobik’s mother when she had been five. Six years had passed since then, and now, in the eyes of the mortals anyway, she would be eleven years old by now. Her birthday having been decided by the two to be June seventh.
“My day was okay, papa. Same old, same old.” Kobik’s reply made him chuckle a little. “Same old, same old, huh?” he couldn’t help but amuse her as he picked her up good-naturedly, walking to the kitchen. The kitchen lights turned on as James pushed the white button. Placing his daughter on top of the marble kitchen island, James went to work, walking to the fridge and opening the doors.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?” Kobik perked up at her father’s use of French. Being the god of love and all, with his unfortunate mother being the goddess of love, James was fluent in French. Amongst other languages.
Being an immortal being gave him and his daughter plenty of time to pick up other languages.
“I think we don’t have any meat left, papa. I kinda wanted pork roast tonight. But we ran out of pork.” Kobik admitted sadly.
Opening the drawer where they kept their vegetables, James eyed the sack of potatoes. He also remembered they had plenty of onions left. And then, his blue eyes zeroed on the package of thick-cut bacon he had bought this morning.
“Don’t worry little one,” the God of Love assured his daughter, “—we can figure something out.”
A few weeks later…
You didn’t know how you had fallen asleep.
It had been a long, tiring shift at the art gallery that you worked at in Chelsea.
Your fucking boss had you working overtime again. You had been practically slaving your ass away, making sure that the art gallery showing later this week was perfect. Flawless, even.
Just like all of the other ones.
Sometimes, you really wondered why you chose to become an artist. Your two older sisters were far more successful than you ever would be, anyway. Your oldest sister was a dentist, and your second-oldest sister was married to a wealthy businessman.
And you were just the oddball in the family. An artist. As a young child, you never had any friends. You often had hid in the art room by yourself, being alone. Making friends had been hard for you. Growing up, you had been a shy sort of thing. Even when puberty had hit you like a freight train and you had gotten gorgeous, you still struggled to make friends.
Becoming pretty just joined the List of Reasons Why You Couldn’t Make Friends.
Although now though, it probably wasn’t looking like a small list anymore. It probably was looking like one of those long scrolls of parchment paper they used to use back in the day when writing a shit ton of stuff.
Anyways.
You stumbled into your apartment in Manhattan. It was a small two-bedroom, and it was around nine-hundred-and-fifty square feet. Truth be told, you didn’t mind the space. The bigger bedroom was used as your studio, and you stayed in the smaller bedroom. Not that the smaller space bothered you. You didn’t have a lot of things anyway.
“One of these days,” you grumbled under your breath. “—one of these days, I’m going to snap at him. He’s going to freaking push me there, I just freakin’ know it. Damn son of a bitch.”
Kicking off your shoes at the door, you made sure you properly locked it, even checking it twice. Before moving to the kitchen and turning on the lights. Throwing your purse onto your small counter, you opened a cabinet to grab one of your bowls. Flinging another cabinet open, you grabbed your cereal of choice. Pouring some into your bowl while opening the fridge door, you pulled out the milk and uncapped it, pouring some milk into the bowl too.
You were strictly a cereal first, then milk type of person.
Milk first, then cereal was just atrocious. And you stood firmly by that notion, thank you very much.
It was gonna be a cereal for dinner type of thing tonight. Which you were totally behind. Breakfast for dinner was amazeballs. Gleefully grabbing a spoon from the drawers, you bounced to your couch, putting your bowl of cereal on your little coffee table, and grabbed the remote, to turn on the TV.
Flipping through the channels as you munched on your cereal, your phone started to vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. Grumbling to yourself, you munched on the last bit of cereal before putting your bowl down. Taking your phone out of your back pocket, you saw the caller ID across your screen as Darcy Lewis.
Your bestie.
Your sister from another mother, basically. The two of you had been friends ever since college, even though you had gone to an art school in Manhattan and Darcy had gone to college for her science degree, the two of you had become fast friends.
“Hey! I bring good news!” Darcy’s voice chirped from the other end of the line.
“Good news?” you echoed as you lowered the volume on your TV. “Oh yes!” Darcy sounded delighted. “I can make it to the art gallery opening later this week!”
At the mention of the art gallery that was happening later this week, you couldn’t help but groan in pain.
“… are you okay?” Darcy sounded worried. You let out another groan. “Darc,” you complained, “—my boss has been having me work fucking overtime! I’m so tired! I don’t even know how I’m still even talking to you!”
“Because you love me, that’s why,” Darcy stated in a matter-of-a-fact tone that had you snorting.
Your bestie had a point.
“Point taken,” you shrugged. “So, what time are you coming?”
“Five! As usual.” Darcy’s chirpy voice made a small little smile start to appear on your face.
You really didn’t know how Darcy could stay upbeat and lively, not to mention bubbly all the time, but it at least made you feel a bit better.
With that, you continued to eat your cereal and talked with Darcy over the phone.
When you had decided to go to sleep, to no one’s surprise, you had fallen asleep pretty quickly.
But when you had fallen asleep was when all the trouble started.
You were dreaming again.
You knew for a damn fact, you were fucking dreaming again.
Because you saw yourself in complete and utter darkness before you fell down… down… down… and landed on a bed.
It was the same bed that you always landed in. Soft, fluffy, cushiony.
You started to hear voices again. You managed to hear a loud “Psyche!” before the terrain around you melted, and you fell out of your bed, going down… down… until you found yourself chained against a rock while a storm raged above you. Rain fell down and had completely soaked you from head to toe. Your clothes were drenched too. Your dress clung to your body like a second skin, making you shiver.
Thunder crashed and sounded in the sky above you.
Zeus was angry.
The rumbling of the sea down below you made you nearly look down. For a moment, all you wanted to do was jump, if you weren’t chained to the damn rock.
Suddenly, the earth cracked open under you and you were falling again.
You woke up with a gasp.
Your eyes even fell open.
Your heart pounded harshly in your chest as you shoved the blankets off of your body. Getting out of bed, you scrambled to get your phone to turn the flashlight on. Your feet smacked against the cold hardwood floors of your apartment as you walked through the small hallway, shivering to yourself as the cold air nipped at you, despite still wearing clothes. Stumbling into the kitchen, you turned the lights on. Bright light filled your vision as you recoiled from the bright lights as if you were fucking Edward Cullen from Twilight or something.
Wincing, you managed to grab a glass from the cupboard to drink some water to calm down your nerves.
Once you managed to get yourself under control, you took in a breath.
The dreams were coming back again.
They were always the same. You’d imagine yourself in a bedroom, and then, you’d be transported and chained to a rock while you wore mourner’s clothing. All the while a storm appeared above you, thunder crashing in the sky. Not to mention, the sea down below you, throwing a temper tantrum of some sort.
It was all so confusing to you.
Maybe you should have made another appointment with your therapist. She would know what to do.
For now though, you would try and fall asleep again.
A few days later…
James had been in the middle of having lunch when he got the call.
His phone that had been placed on his desk had begun to ring.
Loudly. It blasted one of Apollo’s stupid elevator tunes, which just proved to James that it was the damn sun god.
For a second, he humored the sun god by not answering the first two rings. Knowing that Apollo got agitated if he didn’t pick up by the third ring, James picked up his phone and pressed the green button.
Putting his phone to his ear, “Hello?”
“You little shit,” Sam’s voice was accusing him again. “You didn’t answer on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Maybe,” James’s response had Sam scowling right into the phone as he grumbled. “You goddamn little shit,” Sam snapped at him, “—and to think I was going to give you and Hedone free tickets to the art gallery showing tonight.”
James nearly perked up at that. He had always been a sucker for art. Art anything, really.
Being the god of love, he appreciated all and any body types. Beauty was in the eyes of the beholder, after all. So it always had interested him throughout the millennia, how sculptors and artists expressed how they thought their ideas of beauty were.
It amazed him, really. Made him curious.
Although, he seemed it was his way of distancing himself from his parents. His mother Aphrodite would appreciate the little things, but Ares, his father would always appreciate blood and gore.
His father had been thoroughly entertained by the Giant War, that had been for certain.
The Giant War… any thought of his wife made the aura that surrounded James grow darker as his power slowly seeped out of him. Luckily, his door was closed and the opening under the door was sealed off, so no one was getting influenced by his romance magic stuff today.
His employees would live to see another day, it seemed.
“… Bucky? Bucky? Buck? EROS?” Sam’s voice shouted from the other line, making James snap out of his thoughts. For a moment there, he was close to crushing his phone in his hands by how hard he was gripping his phone.
Composing himself, “What?” his reply might have come out a bit snappish, but could anyone blame him?
His wife, his Psyche’s death had kicked off the Giant War. His love’s death had made him announce war on the Giants. The rest of the gods had followed suit after the Giants had harmed the mortals too.
For the first time in his life, he finally knew what it felt like, to be consumed by rage. His father was the God of War, after all. Ares was known for enjoying the bloodier side of war. Blood, gore, all of the dead bodies of soldiers that had to put down their lives to the side that they had believed in.
James had been fueled by anger. By grief. By the fact that the only person that he had allowed into his heart was gone.
His wife had died because he had been too late to change her, to transform her into an immortal, like him. Deep down, he knew that Psyche would have never asked him for godhood willingly. Even if she was on death’s door, ready to be escorted down into the Underworld.
Because Psyche had valued life. Human life. She always saw the best in others, even if they didn’t deserve it.
Any thought of his wife made his heart clench. When she had been dying, when he had been holding onto her after she had given birth to Hedone, she had smiled at him.
“Show yourself to me.”
It had been the number one thing they had agreed on, the terms that he had set forth when saving her from her fate.
Even if he was being selfish about it.
Hedone was still crying and screaming in his arms.
“Please.” his wife’s voice was broken as she weakly tried to reach her hand out to try and touch him.
Something.
She watched as invisible arms grasped her up, as if she weighed nothing, to bring her closer to them.
Right before her eyes, she watched as her husband showed himself to her. Bright, white wings that reminded her of angel wings appeared and tucked themselves back into the man. His chestnut brown hair was to his shoulders as blue eyes that reminded her of ice stared down at her.
Wings.
She knew only one god who had wings.
“Eros.” The recognition and disbelief were in her voice as she took in her husband.
The man that she had fallen in love with, the man that she had lost her virginity to, the man that she had fallen pregnant and had just given birth to, the father of her child— was no other than Eros, the son of Aphrodite and Ares. The god of love and sexual desire himself.
A god. She had fallen in love with a god.
Well. Wasn’t she just lucky?
The Fates must have wanted her to suffer greatly right at this moment.
Even if Eros was considered a minor god, she knew that Zeus himself feared him. Like his mother, Eros could easily make war by meddling with human lives. Simple meddling of emotions, and he could easily create the Trojan War 2.0 without even having to lift a finger.
“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”
Even though he wasn’t Thantanos, he could tell.
His wife was dying.
“What’re apologizing for? I never knew…” she let out a cough, blood coming out of her mouth. “I never knew gods could apologize. Especially—“ another cough, more blood spewing out of her mouth as Kobik wailed. “—especially you.”
“Well, you learn new things every day,” her husband reminded her. Managing a weak chuckle, she winced in pain. “Yes… well, that’s t-true…” she gasped in pain, nearly almost screwing her eyes shut. Being hit by a Giant hurt more than people thought.
“Don’t move.”
Even if it hurt him to see his wife dying, he didn’t want to turn her into an immortal.
Because he knew that was something she didn’t want.
“If you move less…” his voice was hushed as he took her in, drinking in her appearance with tearful eyes, “—it’ll hurt less. Please.”
A soft, steady intake of breath made her chest shift up and down. Kobik whimpered when she watched as her husband gently put the newborn in between the two of them.
“My darling girl,” she whispered as she laid eyes on her daughter. He watched as she took in one last breath before her body became completely still.
As if she had felt it, Kobik shrieked and shrilled, beginning to cry again.
Too caught up in his grief, he didn’t even notice someone appearing behind him.
“… Eros? Eros? …. EROS!”
James jerked up in surprise.
Sam just sighed on the other line. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”
He nearly gritted his teeth together in irritation. A deep rumble might have come from him too.
Sam just rolled his eyes. James could feel it, even though he was on the other side of the line.
“Geez… keep moping like this, and pretty soon I’ma confuse you for Helmut.”
“I have more class than the Big Three, thank you very much.” James’s snapped response didn’t quite fly by the big guy, because then, he could hear lighting around the sky. Signifying that Zeus didn’t quite like that comment, thank you very much.
“And you’re the only one of us who has a primordial for a mom. Congrats dude,” Sam sounded amused as he laid back onto his couch. Unlike most of his Olympian family members, Sam, or as everyone else knew him as Apollo, had the least amount of struggle of adjusting to the modern era. If anything, he had embraced it full heartily. The modern era was just so amazing! How could he have any trouble at all?
Except for Florida.
Yeah. No. he wasn’t touching that state with a ten-foot fucking pole. Too many weird people there. Even if Poseidon, or M’Baku as everyone knew him in this new era, liked being there because of the whole the-waters-are-nice there bullshit. Something like that.
What M’Baku found scarily nice about being in a state surrounded and lived in with alligators, Sam would never understand.
But Helmut? The god of the underworld? The depressed dude with way too much time on his hands?
Really, at this point, Sam was suspecting that Helmut was the criminal lord of the criminal underworld. He didn’t hang out with his uncle as much, but he knew his uncle was in some shady ass business. That was for sure.
Whatever. He’d ask at the next family gathering this Thanksgiving. Something that Hera, the queen of the god suggested they all do. Hang out at every holiday the mortals had. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Easter. All of the annual holidays. Even though they were as dysfunctional as they came. They might as well give TLC a run for their money at this point.
“… you have a Titan as a mother. I wouldn’t be talking, if I were you.” James reminded him idly. Sam shook his head, chuckling. “Nah. But Aphrodite’s been here longer than any of us. Oldest Olympian and stuff, remember? I’m surprised your mom doesn’t get mad when people mistake her for a goddess.”
“Common mistake. And I don’t talk to my parents anymore, remember?”
“Yeah,” Sam sounded a little bitter himself, “—we should have an annual club. Just us and the rest of the Olympians who have shitty parents.”
“No thank you,” James’s voice was crisp. “I don’t want to be seeing my father.”
Oh, right.
Ares was the son of Zeus and Hera.
Which meant, he also had shitty parents.
“Anyway,” Sam shrugged it off, “—are you and Kobik comin’ to the art gallery tonight? They’re going to the Greek and Roman sculptures tonight. Y’know— us.”
“I can buy some tickets tonight,” James replied, but Sam butt in. “I already bought three tickets for us. Just show up at the place.”
Which led James to now.
Kobik watched with rapt attention as she and her father walked through the halls of the art gallery, looking at all of the sculptures of every god or goddess.
“Papa!” Kobik was nudging him towards a particular sculpture. “Look!” She exclaimed in French. “It’s you!”
“Well, they do have the wings right,” James remarked, amusement in his voice. He picked up his daughter as she let out a giggle, looking at the sculpture. The Eros sculpture was made completely out of pure marble. From what James picked up, it seemed that they had carved him out during the time when he had cursed Sam to fall in love with Daphne.
A sensitive subject, that one. James knew that Sam didn’t like talking about it. The two of them had mended that part of their friendship, but he knew that Sam didn’t like to talk about it in particular.
And James would let him be like that. Love was complicated in many ways anyway. He would know. He was an expert in love.
Kobik let out a gasp as she eyed the Hecate sculpture.
She immediately frowned.
“Papa,” she said, turning her head to the side a little. “I don’t think Agatha’s gonna like that.”
James nearly laughed out loud when he looked at where Kobik was looking.
“No,” he agreed with her. “No, I don’t think she is. Would you like to go to the paintings section now, little one?”
Kobik nodded eagerly.
Meanwhile, in the painting’s section of the art gallery, with you…
You were tired.
So, so, so tired.
You had been running around the art gallery like a frigging maniac, trying to keep everything under control, to make sure everything was going as smooth as possible.
Thanks to your damn boss, you couldn’t stop for a second.
You desperately needed a second to catch your breath.
Although, Darcy had shown up. So that was a good thing. You had said hello to her before she had dashed off into the gallery, headed for the history lesson that they were doing.
Which left you alone to man the joint, even though you knew your boss was here.
Speaking of your boss…
A loud voice broke you out of your thoughts. Running a hand through your hair, you deeply exhaled.
Kobik had seen you first. She was holding onto her father’s hand as the two of them walked through the painting's wing of the art gallery, a beaming smile on her face. A loud man’s voice echoed through the hall though.
It made her turn her head to the side. Reminding her father of a familiar love primordial as her eyes narrowed.
You had heard your boss’s voice from down the hall from where you were, and you were so ready to throttle him. Right here and now. Even if there were any bystanders because you were already so damn tired.
Before today, you had worked a solid sixteen hours, making sure everything was perfect for tonight. And not only that, you weren’t allowed to at least have a look at all of your hard work. Granted, you were more of a paintings type of person, and not only that— your piece was hanging here tonight.
When you had been thinking of what to paint, at first, you didn’t really have any ideas.
After mulling over it for a few days, you had realized, or maybe it had been a subconscious decision— you had broken out your paints and paintbrushes and your canvas, and just started painting to some Lumineers. Bopping your feet to Ophelia, eight hours later, you had looked at your finished piece.
A painting of Eros, holding his dying lover Psyche. Hedone had been in the middle of the two of them as Psyche was in Eros’s arms, dying.
Something in you made you feel funny when you looked at it harder.
It just… seemed so lifelike. As if you had been here before.
But you had never even seen Eros. They were just myths to you. Because yeah, you had been a major Greek Mythology nerd back in high school. Heck, you had even taken a Latin class in college, because the obsession was still there. You were practically a Greek Mythology expert.
But seeing the painting made you feel eerie. Something pulled in your gut as if something terrible was about to happen.
Your boss’s loud voice filled your ears again, snapping you out of your thoughts.
Irritably, you turned around.
James saw you first.
Well, alright. He had seen the back of your head first, as you bickered with your boss.
When you finally turned around though, Kobik saw your face.
A little whimper left her as James walked through the crowd, walking towards you.
He heard Kobik’s thoughts.
Mama. Mama. Mama. It’s Mama.
Without thinking, Kobik yanked free from her father and ran towards you.
You nearly shouted in surprise as you were tackled down by a child. Your boss yelled though. Falling to the floor with a grunt, Kobik began blabbing. You really only caught the words of “Mama,” before Kobik broke out sobbing, clutching onto you as if you were her lifeline.
All you could do to cope with your newfound shock was to hold the child, bring her closer to you as she sobbed.
“I’m getting up now sweetheart, okay?” Kobik sniffed loudly as she gave you a weak nod, allowing you to get back up onto your feet.
Through the chaos and onlookers, James managed to make his way to you.
Huffing, James saw you.
In the flesh.
It was at this moment, he knew.
It was you.
You.
His wife.
His Psyche.
Psyche.
“Kobik! There you are, darling. I was looking for you. I’m terribly sorry if she caused you any trouble ma’am.” James quickly apologized as he took Kobik from you, as the little girl whimpered. The goddess kept saying “no, no, no,” even as James held her close to his chest, gently shushing her.
For the first time in your entire life, you were stumped.
Quite simply, the man who was holding the little girl who had crashed into you was the most gorgeous man you had ever seen.
The first thing you had caught was his eyes. They were blue. So, so, so blue. They reminded you of pure ice.
And the beard.
Oh, yes, the beard.
You were going to fantasize about that damn beard for nights to come.
The other you noticed, was that he dressed like a businessman. A wealthy one too. The child’s daughter was dressed in a navy blue suit, with a silver and red tie. A silver pocket square was nicely folded and in his breast pocket.
His shoulder-length chestnut brown hair was nicely combed back.
For a split second, you saw something else entirely. You saw a field of grass, and you saw him above you, holding you. You heard the child who this man was holding wailing. As if she was nothing but a mere babe and recently born.
And then, just like that, it was gone. People’s loud conversations and the busying of people walking past you filled your ears once again.
“Excuse me, ma’am, I don’t mean to bother you—“ a chilling look was shot towards your boss, “—my daughter’s just very jumpy tonight. Come on Kobik, say bye-bye to the nice lady.”
The little girl, no, Kobik— tearfully waved at you as her father turned around, walking away from you.
hi could i get idol!reader x idol!kun where the reader is younger and kun have always been taking care of reader, but then when kun hurt his ankle like now it's the reader turn to take care of him. thankyou! i love your writing so much it's rather hard to find idol au <3
CAUSE IT’S YOU !
summary: stop whinnying you damn baby
pairing: idol!reader x idol!kun
warning?: OH GOD MY FIRST REQUEST I HOPE YOU LIKE IT ANON🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪 thank YOU for reading🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
you smiled as you saw Kun approaching with a tea in his hands.
“to my baby” he smiled and kissed your forehead as you took the tea in your hands and then he placed himself besides you.
you’ve been a little sick, you had flu but Kun insisted for you to come over.
it’s the first time in weeks you’ve seen him, the phantom comeback was near and even tho they had plenty of time to do a relay, as soon as Ten came back he had them training day and night.
talking about Ten…he arrived along with Yangyang and Hendery, three of them waving a friendly hello.
“how’s you ankle old man?” Yangyang teased Kun as you raised an eyebrow in his direction, Hendery laughed remembering the fall of their leader.
“you had to be there, the ankle was to the other side where it should be and then he literally kissed the floor” Ten said with a smile as he walked to the kitchen with the other two.
“so…an almost broken ankle?” you inquired as you let the tea aside and quickly took his leg to place it in your’s.
you revealed his ankle, it had a supportive band, the one you took of quickly hearing him sigh.
“it’s not that serious…”
the ankle was swollen and a part of it was changing color to purple as it was untreated.
“how you can say it’s not that serious babe, it’s purple!” you attempted to touch it but Kun hissed in pain.
“it’s going to heal soon, i can’t just leave everything behind: the comeback, the members, you” Kun started to put the bandage back.
“you carried me from the door and then brought me a tea with that happening in your ankle?!” you pointed in disbelief at Kun’s feet while he smiled softly while he caressed your hair.
when you arrived you body was aching for the flu, so you asked Kun if he could carry you inside so he did.
“anything for my baby” he winked but you placed his feet in the couch in order to get up “where are you going?”
“i’m bringing you an ice pack and then i’m calling a doctor”
“but you’re sick love” he held your arm to prevent you leaving, almost standing again so you pushed him back.
“not worse than you, stay there and be babied for today” you pecked his lips, both of you smiling after the quick kiss “see you in a bit bro”.
“don’t forget i’m older than you, respect me!”
you laughed in the kitchen.
“we don’t forget you’re old!” Yangyang got into the talk from his room.
summary: lee donghae? lee jeno? the same man different font.
pairing: idol!reader x idol!jeno
well this was funny and weird.
your company got an invitation from SM to do a collab station and you felt extremely exited since you could see your beloved boyfriend around.
everything was alright until you ran across some Super Junior members and couldn’t help to say hi.
and then, Donghae gave you a cold coffee along with a biscuit, the order originally was for him but he wanted to be nice.
so Super Junior’s leader, Leeteuk, was there making a live and in that video you can clearly see the cute gesture of Donghae towards you.
‘omg i didn’t knew girlie was into older guys but go off queen!’
‘didn’t she said once her mother biased him??? omg daddy issues spotted’
‘my girl is getting the cute ahjussi, get that bag babe!’
so there was a sulky Jeno in front of you, frowning as you munched the gift from your alleged boyfriend.
“baby he’s like my dad!” Jeno said once again as you hummed happily to the biscuit richness “i can’t believe this, we are outing this relationship now!”
you placed the biscuit down as your cute mad man got up with all the intention to do as he said “let’s talk cutie”
“oh god are you dropping me for him? just like that halsey video with the teen wolf guy” Jeno plopped besides you and placed his head on your neck “plus, i’m looking exactly like that when i’m older”.
you couldn’t help to laughed “i’m not dropping anytime soon even if you wanted” you reassured making him smile.
“can i be this dramatic when people say the same things with you and Yeeun unnie?” you jokingly said as he was suddenly hugging you with all arms and legs.
“but it’s my job! and she literally treats me the same way my noona does” Jeno responded from your neck.
“and i’m sure Donghae sunbae was trying to be nice and not flirty, i’m a literal small scout girl besides him so i will stay with the younger version from now on” Jeno whined at your words while trying to hug you closer.
“now you want a bite? i have to upload a story thanking him for being cute” you teased Jeno as he got his face—now red from the friction—out of your neck.
“i want a kiss, i’m sad” he cutely said and you couldn’t help to peck his lips briefly.
“so you want the bite or not, i can’t upload the biscuit all chomped”.
“throw it away” he simply said “absolutely not cute pie” you bite it again and quietly he opened his mouth so you placed the biscuit for him to bite.
“so we’re outing this or…”
“i don’t think so, i don’t want him to know i’m dating”.
She always made sure the bad was outweighed by so much good. I… Well, I didn’t do that for her. I made it fifty-fifty. Which is about the cruelest thing you can do to someone you love, give them just enough good to make them stick through a hell of a lot of bad.
—The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid
warnings: brief mentions of domestic abuse, bruises, and sex (not on page!), but mostly fluff and a touch of angst
prompt: Billy is sleeping on Y/n. Reader is soft running he hand's through his hair while reading a book. He still a little groggy when he wakes up a little bit and sees Y/n's face and he says you're so gorgeous. I'm going to keep you and call you my wife
You don’t notice Billy has fallen asleep until a soft snore breaks you away from the paragraph you’re reading. You keep your thumb pressed to the book’s spine as you lift it up to see his face beneath, squished on your lap. Your other hand is knotted delicately in his sandy curls and his thick eyelashes are heavy on his high cheekbones.
You almost can’t believe it. He’s never been this peaceful, always a guard up even with you, especially after the night he had. It ended with him sneaking through your window after an argument with his dad.
He doesn’t usually sleep after those. Usually stares at the same spot on the wallpaper while you curl up next to him, waiting. For what, you don’t know. You know he won’t talk about it. He likes being here because you don’t pressure him to, though he knows he can if he wants. But now it’s eleven a.m., and the plate of breakfast you shared is empty beside your legs, and you’re reading on your bed because Billy isn't in the mood to go anywhere, do anything, and he’s asleep.
He looks so fucking peaceful it breaks your heart. Ever so gently, you pull your hand out of his hair and trace along his cheekbone, his ear, his jaw. It flutters, but he doesn’t. He remains asleep, nestling his face into your soft thigh, and you swear to god you’re about to cry because it’s the best feeling in the world. Like he’s chosen you. Like he trusts you to keep him safe while he drifts off for a few hours to somewhere better, warmer, than his usual life.
Carefully, you grab the old throw from the bottom of your bed and drape it across his bare shoulders, soaking him in just a moment longer before you go back to your book. His mouth is curled upwards for a change, serenity parting his pink lips as his breaths leave him in and out, in and out. Even that steady rhythm settles something restless inside you like a lullaby. He’s always angry or messing around or fucking you senseless, breaths always hot and fiery like a dragon’s, but not now. Now they’re gentle as a mild spring breeze, blowing across the cotton of your pyjama bottoms.
A smile graces your lips, unstoppable and unbridled. He’s peaceful, happy, and that makes you feel the same.
You settle back, spine resting against your headboard as you try to remember where you were in your book. Billy mumbles occasionally or adjusts his position, and you’re so desperate to keep him there that you brush your nails along his scalp the way you always beg him to do for you — he’ll usually draw a few figure eights and then get bored.
But not you. You could stay like this forever, even when your legs begin to ache and you’re desperate to stretch. You fight it all to make sure he stays like this.
Eventually you get back to your book, the midday light pouring through your curtains and the birds singing outside. Everything feels easier in this little pocket of peace. Your heart feels lighter. You’ve never been like this with another human, never coexisted beyond the need for conversation or activity.
As you turn the page, Billy shifts again, sniffing. You feel his eyes open a moment later and peer over your book at him. “Afternoon, sunshine,” you tease.
A breathy chuckle falls from him, and his hand finds yours beside your hip. He keeps his chin on your lap as he looks up at you.
“Watcha looking at?” you ask lightly, playing with his fingers and lowering your book.
“You.” His voice is still thick and throaty with sleep, the cheek that had been squished on your thigh rosy. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous.”
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You slip your bookmark between the pages of your book and set it down, no longer able to live with it separating the two of you, blocking your vision of him. You want all of him, want to just be here, and that’s a first, too — to prefer reality over fiction.
“Shut up.” You nudge him playfully.
He smirks, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Only then does he seem to acknowledge the blanket around him, and he props himself up on his elbows before shimmying closer to you. You spread your legs so he can come closer, so he can wrap himself in you, a laugh falling from you when he loops his arms around your waist and tugs you into him. “Billy.”
“That was the best nap I’ve ever had,” he admits, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. It causes the blanket to pool around his elbows.
“You probably needed the sleep. It was another long night,” you murmur, ruffling his curls again. “I hope you feel safe here, Billy. I hope you know you’re okay here. You’re home here.”
“I wouldn’t come here if I didn’t.” He takes your hand; peppers a kiss on each knuckle. “You know what’s weird?”
He flips around so he’s lying on his back again, this time between your thighs while you hunch over him, breathless and rapt with every little movement he makes. “What?”
“I love doin’ nothing with you,” he mumbles, blue eyes fixing on your lampshade hanging from the ceiling.
You rub his shoulders, down to his chest. Sometimes you catch him tensing when you touch him without warning, but not today. Not now. Something’s changed. “Me too,” you admit.
“Know what else is weird?”
You hum in question.
“Had a dream you were my wife just now.” His lips twitch with a hint of a smile, irises gleaming wistfully. “Best damn dream I ever had.”
You falter above him, breath hitching in your throat. He’s never talked like that before, and you don’t expect him to. You’re young, only just figuring this thing out, only just learning how to love and he’s Billy damn Hargrove, former king of messin’ around with whoever he can get his hands on.
But you’re certain — dead fucking certain — he wouldn’t say shit like that if there wasn’t some part of him that meant it. And you hope to god he does, because you can imagine it too. Sunday mornings spread out on the bed like this, or road trips on a Saturday, him tapping the steering wheel of the Camaro while you sing along and rest your hand out of the window to feel the breeze. To catch it, bottle it, because you’d do anything to keep every moment with him forever.
“What else happened in this dream?” you ask carefully.
He laces his fingers through yours and places your hands on his chest, where his heart pounds beneath. “Nothin’ exciting. We were just dancing in the kitchen, making breakfast, a little like this morning. Only you had this wedding ring on and I kept kissing it. Kept kissing you. And the kitchen, the house, it was ours. White picket fence and everythin’. And I said I wish I could marry you again over and over, because once wasn’t enough. And then you did your usual pretty little blush and looked at me with those fucking eyes you know I can’t look away from, and I just…” He trails off and shakes his head.
“You soppy jerk.” You slap him lightly, teasing, because you’re not sure how else to manage this colossal amount of love. Your heart is full to bursting and tears are pricking your eyes.
“There it is,” he whispers, looking at you upside down and tapping your cheek. “Pretty little blush.” He groans. “And those fuckin’ eyes.”
You roll them, half-tempted to cover your face before you melt into a pathetic puddle of goo. It’s rare he says things like this out loud, even if you know he feels them. But you never imagined they’d sound like this coming from his mouth, hoarse and honest and sincere and enough to turn you inside out. There’s no coming back from this, you know. No way to stop loving him now. You’re in too deep, and there won’t be a life, a time, where you don’t feel this way. It’ll follow you forever, through fire and thunder, because it’s real. It’s so fucking real you can feel it in your bones like an itch, an ache.
You’re in love with him.
“Could be real,” you comment bravely. “That dream of yours. Doesn’t have to stay a dream.”
He smiles, sighs. “One day, baby.” He kisses your left hand, your ring finger, where the wedding band must have been in your dream, and his lips alone feel like a branding of gold. A promise.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean,” you beg, because it’s devastating you. Even when you know he’d never say things like this without meaning them, you can’t imagine a life past him sneaking into your room every night, broken and bruised. You can’t imagine him keeping his guards down like this for another hour, let alone the rest of your lives. You can’t even really imagine him getting down on one knee or saying he loves you just because he can.
But you probably wouldn’t have imagined him sleeping in your lap or talking about marriage this morning, either. And now look at you both.
“I’m not.” A shadow crosses his features, and you regret your words immediately. He sits up and twirls around so you're face to face, finally on the same eye level. And then he cups your jaw, eyes boring into yours. “I’m gonna be good enough to be your husband one of these days, baby. I swear to god. We’ll get out of here, find somewhere new. Somewhere where it’s not always so heavy. And you and me…we’re gonna be as happy as I dreamt. Forever.”
Your eyes flutter closed, a tear trickling down your cheek. “You’re already good enough, Billy. You’re all I want. Exactly as you are.”
His fingers filter through your hair as he pulls you closer to kiss you properly, deeply, until heat stirs in your belly and you’re so dizzy you’re seeing stars.
And because you’re feeling safe, right, courageous, you whisper, “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” The words could break you, especially the way he says them. Like it’s true. Like there is nothing in the world that’s truer. Like you’re it for him.
And he’s it for you.
You smile, resting your forehead against his chin and breathing him in. “Must have been some nap.”
“Was,” he admits, and then picks up your book and hands it to you. “Will you read to me for a little bit?” He lies back down, hugging your leg again. “Just wanna hear your voice.”
Your entire body is fluttering, but somehow, you find the steadiness to read aloud. He dozes in and out of consciousness, but whenever you stop, he begs you to keep going, like he can’t bear a world where you’re not talking.
And you feel needed. Important. Special. Because the rest of the world gets Billy’s walls and barbs and armour, and you…you get so much more.
You get soft Sundays in bed, and you get to catch his tears when they fall. You get a life with him.
all y’all’s problematic faves and villains! :) also included are third person narrators but in books with morally ambiguous leads/themes
Sci-fi
Scythe by Neal Shusterman: in a future free from pain, disease, and war, people can live forever. ‘scythes’ are given the power to decide who lives and who dies to preserve the balance. sad and kinda gives of hunger games vibes, if you like that.
Neuromancer by William Gibson: basically invented the cyberpunk genre. strange and removed protagonists. (a team of computer hackers have to face off against an evil AI). you kind of dislike everyone and suddenly you’re crying over them. one of those trippy sci-fi classics.
The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut: very beautiful and very very sad (same author as slaughterhouse five). the richest man in america has to face a martian invasion. more about free will and bad people doing good things than a plot that makes any kind of sense.
The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick: set in an alternate universe where the germans and japanese won world war two. not really like the tv show at all- it’s not an action story, and there’s not really the hope to somehow fix the world that drives a lot of dystopia stories. instead its about how people survive and connect to one another in a hopeless society.
The Scorpion Rules by Erin Bow: a supercomputer convinces the leaders of the world to keep the peace for hundreds of years by taking their children hostage and obliterating any city that disobeys. what happens to the hostage protagonists when war seems inevitable? lots of morally fraught decisions and characters slowly losing their identity. (plus a fun lesbian romance)
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: a brilliant mathematician and a dedicated marine fight to keep the ultra secret in world war two. fifty years later, a tech company discovers what remains of their story. one of the most memorable sequences in the book is a japanese soldier slowly becoming disillusioned with his nation and horrified by the war even as he continues to fight.
Blade Runner by Philip K. Dick: another one of those sci-fi classics that’s not at all like the movie. there is a bounty hunter for robots, though, as well as a weird religion that probably is referencing catholicism and a decaying society with a shortage of pets. kind of a trip.
Wilder Girls by Rory Power: girls trapped in a boarding school on an isolated island must face a creeping rot that affects the animals and plants on the island as well as their own bodies. the protagonists will do anything to survive and keep each other safe. very tense (and bonus lesbian romance whoo)
The Fifth Season by N K Jemisin: three women are gifted with the ability to control the earth’s energy in a world where those who can do so are forced into hiding or slavery. some veryyyy dark choices here but lots of strong female characters.
Historical Fiction
Fingersmith by Sarah Waters: two victorian lesbians fall in love as they plot to betray each other in horrific ways. lots of plot twists, plucky thieves, gothic settings, and a great romance.
Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiwicz: a powerful roman soldier in the time of Nero plots to kidnap a young woman after he falls in love with her, only to learn more about the mysterious christian religion she follows. very melodramatic but some terrific prose.
All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: a blind girl in France and a brilliant German boy recruited by the military struggle through the chaos of the second world war. ends with a bang (iykyk.) very sad, reads like poetry.
Boxers by Gene Luen Yang: graphic novel reveals the story of a young boy fighting in the boxer rebellion in early twentieth century china. the sequel, saints, is also excellent. beautifully and sympathetically shows the protagonist’s descent into evil- the reader really understands each step along the way.
Fantasy
Three Dark Crowns by Kendare Blake: three triplets separated at birth, each with their own magical powers, have to fight to the death to gain the throne. lots of fun honestly
Six of Crows and Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo: everyone in these books is highly problematic but you love them all anyway. a ragtag game of criminals plan a heist on a magical fortress. some terrific tragic back stories, repressed feelings, and revenge schemes.
The Dark Tower series by Stephen King: idk how to describe these frankly but if you can put up with King’s appalling writing of female characters they’re pretty interesting. fantasy epic about saving the world/universe, sort of. cowboys and prophecies and overlapping dimensions and drug addicts galore.
The Amulet of Samarkand by Jonathan Stroud: lots of fun! a twelve year old decides to summon a demon for his cute lil revenge scheme. sarcastic demon narrator. lighthearted until s*** gets real suddenly.
Elegy and Swansong by Vale Aida: fantasy epic with machiavellian lesbians and enemies to lovers to enemies to ??? to lovers. charming and exciting and lovely characters.
The False Prince by Jennifer Nielsen: an orphan boy must compete with a few others for the chance to impersonate a dead prince. really dark but very tense and exciting and good twists.
The Grace of Kings by Ken Liu: fantasy epic. heroes overthrow an evil empire and then struggle as the revolution dissolves into warring factions. interesting world building and three dimensional characters, even if they only have a small part.
Circe by Madeline Miller: the story behind the witch who turns men into pigs in the odyssey. madeline miller really said, i just used my classics degree to write a beautiful gay love story and now im going to write a powerful feminist retelling because i can. queen. an amazing and satisfying book that kills me a lil bit because of the two lines referencing the song of achilles.
Heartless by Marissa Meyer: the tragic backstory for the queen of hearts in alice in wonderland. a little predictable but very fun with a compelling protagonist
A Song of Ice and Fire (Game of Thrones) by George RR Martin: ok I know we all hate GRRM and rightfully so but admittedly these books do have some great characters and great scenes. they deserve better than GRRM though. also he will probably never finish the books anyway….
A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket: not really fantasy but not really anything else either. plucky, intelligent, and kind children fight off evil plots for thirteen books until suddenly you realize the world is not nearly as black and white as you thought.
Classics
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier: gothic romance!! a new wife is curious about the mysterious death of her predecessor in a creepy old house in the British countryside…good twists and lovely prose.
A Separate Peace by John Knowles: not really morally ambiguous but one awful decision suddenly has awful consequences and certain people are haunted by guilt forever…. really really really beautiful and really really really sad. boys in a boarding school grow up together under the shadow of world war two.
Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy: while imperial russia slowly decays a beautiful young woman begins a destructive affair. a long book. very russian. the ending is incredibly tense and well written.
Lord of the Flies by William Golding: I think you know the plot to this one. the prose is better than you remember and the last scene is always exciting.
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie: one by one, the guests on an island are slowly picked off. one of Christie’s darkest mysteries- no happy ending here! very tense and great twists.
Contemporary
The Secret History by Donna Tartt: inspired the whole dark academia aesthetic. college students get a little too into ancient greece and it does not end very well. lovely prose but I found the characters unlikable.
Honorable Mentions
The Dublin Saga by Edward Rutherford: has literally a billion protagonists, but some of them are morally ambiguous ig? follows a few families stories’ from the 400s ad to irish independence in the 20s. beautifully captures the weight and movement of irish history.
Artemis Fowl by Eoin Colfer: how morally ambiguous can you be if you’re, like, eleven? a lot if you’re a criminal genius who wants to kidnap a fairy for your evil-ish plan apparently!
Redemption by Leon Uris: literally my favorite novel ever. the sequel to Trinity but can stand alone. various irish families struggle through the horrors of world war one. the hero isn’t really morally ambiguous, but the main theme of the novel is extremely bad people suddenly questioning their choices and eventually redeeming themselves. sweeping themes of love, screwed up families, redemption, and patriotism.
The Lymond Chronicles and House of Niccolo by Dorothy Dunnett: heroes redeem themselves/try to get rich/try to save their country in early renaissance Europe. if I actually knew what happened in these books I’m sure it would be morally ambiguous but its too confusing for me. in each book you spend at least a third convinced the protagonist is evil, though. lots of exciting sword fights, tragic romances, plot twists, and kicking english butt.
Bonus: Protagonist is less morally ambiguous and more very screwed up and sad all the time
The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: you know this one bc its quoted in all those quote compilations. basically the story of how one horrible event traumatizes a young man and how he develops a connection to a painting. really really really good.
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro: hard to describe but strange… not an action novel or a dystopia really but sort of along those lines. very hopeless.
— Maybe if my suit colors were... I don't know, it steals a lot of attention. I can't camouflage myself in the dark.
— I like the way the moonlight illuminates your suit, making the blue and red glow, announcing your entrance...
— And making me a perfect target. You forgot that part by the way.
— I was like you, wanting to be invisible, but one night my dad said something to me and I realized he was right.
— What did he say?
— I don’t wear white to hide myself, I wear it so they’ll see me coming. So they know who it is, ’cause when they see white it doesn’t matter how good a target I am. Their hands shake so bad, they couldn’t hit the moon.
Here's a preview of my next story. I'm still not over NWH and I'm the happiest person in the world to see how much recognition my tasm!peter has gained. (andrew deserves the world) Well, in this fic the reader is Moon Knight's daughter and is slightly inspired by the Goddess Hekate. I have planned three parts for this and the story will take place in TASM, TASM 2 & NWH. In the first chapter we will see a Goddess with a more "human" personality, facing her own dilemmas and eventually falling in love with Peter (who can resist a sk8er boi?) but he has Gwen... it won't be easy...
Hi can I get mcu, narnia, and marauders mashup please?
I'm a straight woman. I'm 5'3" I've wavy black hair with ash grey peek a boo. I've dark brown eyes and light medium skin.
I'm an ENTP-T, Leo and Ravenclaw! My D&D alignment is chaotic good. I love baking, dancing, reading books, and writing. People says that I look intimidating when they first saw me, but I'm actually pretty fun! I've a good leadership but I'm short tempered. I always trying to look confident in the outside but I'm actually freaking out in the inside 😅 My aesthetics are preppy, dark academia, to grunge.
Thankyou so much 💗💗
For the MCU, I ship you with: Bucky Barnes!
•You both look pretty intimidating at first sight, so I don’t imagine many people on the street would ask you guys for directions. However you both actually have a heart of gold, and if people take the time to get to know you, they’ll see that
•Since he’s from the age in time where dancing was the most common date, he loves dancing with you. He loves playing 40s music while you two slow dance, and he gets the chance to hold you close
•Sometimes he’ll peer over your shoulder while you write, interested in what’s written on the page
For Narnia, I ship you with: Edmund Pevensie!
•Some of the best times you two have involve baking late at night, with some soft music playing. You both with just mess around, throwing flour, eating cookies, and dancing like idiots
•Edmund is very patient, so when your short temper causes you to snap at him, he tries his best to understand and gives you space to calm down
•Lucy loves you like a best friend, and is so happy you’re dating her brother. Sometimes she’ll ask you to read her stories. A smile will cross Edmunds face when he sees how kind you are to his sister <3
For the Marauders, I ship you with: Remus Lupin!
•He understands putting up a brave face and acting tough, and he admires your strength daily. However he is always there for you and will never shame you for letting your guard down around him
•Your leadership is impressive to him. He’s a quiet person, so it inspires him
•He loves each of your aesthetics, you are beautiful to him at all times
•He was slightly intimidated when he first saw you. As the fall turned to winter at hogwarts, he realized how he felt about you. However, he worried that you would laugh at him if he asked you on a date. He got over that fear, (MUCH later on) and he couldn’t be happier to be with you <3
I hope you liked this, I’m so sorry it took so long. ❤️
summary:
> after a letter crushes her world, y/n cant take it anymore. she cant bring herself back to being rational, but her luck is represented by her savior.
pair:
> regulus black x pureblood (thought as a slytherin) reader
word count:
> +1k
warnings:
> arranged marriage; character wanting to commit suicide; angst; fighting; swearing; kinda no plot, rushed action; somehow happy ending
a/n:
> ok i’ve been reading the salt and the sea on wattpad. loved it. fell in love with regulus. felt like writing this. goodbye, love you.
The letter in your hand was the last punch you could take. At that point, you were no longer able to pretend to be fine. Things at home just got too hard for you to handle – all the pressure, all the expectations, everything was just too much. Your fingers formed a fist while holding the letter your parents wrote to you as you couldn’t decide if it was ok for you to scream your anger out.
It was night, during dinner time, and you felt like going insane staying in the Great Hall with all the students and professors. You needed air, but you found yourself in the cold waters of the Black Lake. Your robes got slightly wet and your feet started to feel numb – you couldn’t go back to the shore, you couldn’t step back on earth, because if you would, you’d feel the tension again.
All your mind was able to play was the words in the letter: “You will get married soon.” They left you no option, no opinion, no nothing. They were expecting you to marry another pureblood in order to keep the family name high in the hierarchy, but you didn’t even finish your education properly. Still holding the paper, your fingers went to your scalp, pulling as hard as you could on your hair – it was driving you insane. A broken scream left your lungs as you didn’t care if anyone or anything could hear you – you sounded like a hurt, maltreated animal, because you sounded anything but human. That’s how you felt, actually – anything but human.
Warnings: dubious consent because of this pheromone business, intercourse, fingering
Words: 1370
Author’s Note: I’m very rusty in writing smut but I just couldn’t resist. TBH, you don’t have to know anything about Silk to read this. I wrote this with an Asian reader in mind but didn’t use any specific terms. I was picturing TASM!Peter Parker but it could work with any of them. I’m ending the New Year better than it started.
Masterlist for Peter Parker
You were in your bunker chilling when all of the sudden you were transported to the middle of a huge field. You could see Manhattan in the background and you could tell immediately something was off. The skyline was different, buildings that should be there weren’t. As you swung into the city, you saw advertising for products and companies you had never heard of before. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to be guided by your senses. You had always considered yourself a pretty intuitive person and being bitten by that spider in the Oscorp labs, that only heightened it. Even in the hustle and bustle of the city, your sense directed you to where you needed to go and who you needed to talk to. You landed on the roof of a brownstone and climbed down until your sense led you through an unsecured window.
It was a bedroom and inside was a man. From the neck up, he was clearly your old high school classmate but he had his Spider-Man suit on from his neck down to his toes. He was also very confused.
You spoke first. “Peter Parker, you’re the one I’ve been looking for.”
“Are you sure it’s me because there’s like two other dudes you might be referring to-”
“No, it’s you” It was definitely him, your senses were basically screaming at you to get as close to him as humanly possible. You moved so your chest was against his. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lift up his hand but you were quicker and swatted it down. You also webbed the bedroom door shut just in case.
Peter grabbed your wrist, lifting the sleeve of your suit and running his fingers over the smooth skin. “How did you-”
“Training” You replied, moving his hand up from your wrist to intertwine with yours.
A/N: This is something that makes a bit of reference to the history of Spidergwen in the comics (it is basically that, actually) and although I know that there are some with this theme, I don't intend to copy anything.
Any resemblance to other works is a mere coincidence.
And sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language (If you notice any that I didn't correct and that the translator put it wrong, please let me know)
"Thanks for the food, by the way"
"Sure" exclaimed the man next to you, shrugging "After all between spiders we help each other, right?" he tried to joke to lighten the mood. A day had already passed since you had fallen into that strange world, not knowing what to do or where to go, until finally, your spider-sense had guided you to the man with whom you were talking.
The man had repeated a thousand times that his name was Peter Parker and you had doubted it until he saw him throw cobwebs and fight like only Spiderman could, then you had no choice but to believe him. He had been very nice to you and had helped you a lot, from getting you some food to explaining a little about what was going on (or at least what he believed was going on).
"You know, I saw on the news something about a place to help the needy or something," you started to say, rubbing your hands together to try and get a little warm. The suit was icy “I think I should go check, it's a few blocks from here. At least we would have a place to sleep,” you murmured and the man nodded softly. Despite what was happening you tried to stay optimistic.
"Are you going to swing over there?"
"Yeah, I don't think New Yorkers like to see a girl dressed like the man they hate," you laughed bitterly. Although your suit did not have the characteristic red and blue colors if it had some details that alluded to your arachnid powers "I'll be back soon, I promise" you said with a sealed-lip smile.
"I will be here. Be careful"
After putting on the mask, you threw a spider web towards a building and began to walk on the roofs of the buildings, immersed in your thoughts. It did not take you more than a few minutes to travel to the place (apparently called F.E.A.S.T.) and before entering to say something you decided that the best thing would be to go back with him to inform him and thus enter the two at the same time.
You were happy to finally have found something good for you because you felt that somehow you could repay the support that Peter had given you. He was an older man, but that was not why he stopped being funny, kind, and above all brave.
"I found it!" you said with a smile, as you took off your hood and mask. But there was no longer a trace of him "Peter?"
Suddenly he saw a coppery glow on the other side of the ceiling where you were standing and instinctively you got into the attack position. As you got closer, your arachnid sense stabbed like crazy and that made you feel even more nervous and scared. You realized that it was a kind of portal and apparently your partner was crossing it, so you did not want to be left behind.
With your heart beating like crazy you crossed the circular area with a little jump and once there all eyes were focused on you. They were two teenagers, those you had seen on television, an old woman, your partner and...
"Peter?"
You had frozen in place, being able to pronounce only the name of the boy in front of you. You knew him, but it had been so many years since you had seen his face that you were afraid you were hallucinating. And apparently, you weren't the only one who had turned completely pale.
"Do you know each other?" you listened, but honestly your mind could not formulate an answer. Everything had been so strange since your appearance in that world, but this was just the icing on the cake. You silently walked up to him and he did the same, both of you fearing that the other was just a figment of your imagination. You carefully reached out your hand in his direction and when you finally reached his cheek, you felt like you stopped breathing for a second. It was him; he was real and he was in front of you.
"You... is it really you?" he asked in a small voice. His chest rose and fell unevenly.
You looked into his eyes, his beautiful chocolate eyes… and they hadn't changed one bit.
"What the hell is happening here?" said an angry voice behind you. It was the brunette girl you had seen on television “Who are you? What were you doing with him?” she asked seriously, pointing to the first Peter you had encountered.
You looked at all the people in the room, you looked at yourself, and finally, you looked at the man in front of you.
That was going to be a pretty long night.
"This is sooo weird," you whispered, feeling your heart rate completely accelerate.
You and Peter had both talked to the girl named MJ and her friend Ned, telling their respective stories and listening to them explain the situation you were in, as well as why the three of you had been thrown from their universe into that chaotic world.
"You... Do you have wizards and stuff in your world?" she asked her and you laughed softly, while you shook your head. The situation wasn't the best, both of you knew it, but you couldn't help but feel like a schoolgirl in love. m
After listening to the boy's story, you realized that he was definitely not your Peter Parker (at least not the version you knew) and you were not his Y/N either. And that wasn't even remotely possible because both versions of you were dead.
You had lost Peter in a fight after one of his experiments failed and he turned into a giant lizard. He, on his part, hadn't been able to save you from a horrible fall caused by one of the villains in his world. For years you had tried to take the blame for what you had done, feeling miserable every day for murdering your best friend, and when you thought you were finally over it… well, you were done there.
"So... it turns out that we don't know each other, but actually we do" she started to say, looking at you with some nervousness.
"Well, I suppose there shouldn't be many differences between you and my Peter, right?" you smiled My Peter, you said, and it sounded so special coming out of your mouth "Although well, he wasn’t a superhero"
"Y/N either" he smiled as he got a little closer to you "She was very... special and loving, but she wasn’t bitten by a spider"
"She was lucky" you joked and he smiled again. The tension between you could almost touch and try as you might, you couldn't take your eyes off him, nor he from you.
A short silence invaded you and with fear of being rejected you tried to take his hand, to which he responded almost instantly.
"Is there a villain in your world?" he asked softly, returning your thought to the threat you were about to face. You were so excited to have a subject physically identical to your late best friend that you had forgotten the real reason for your stay there.
“Apparently not” you replied “The only villain who knows my identity is a huge bald guy named the Kingpin and he honestly doesn't have a great superpower. Not really any superpower” you exclaimed, remembering the mobster who continually made your life miserable “And yours?”
"It's Max, the electricity boy, and the giant lizard," he murmured. Hearing the mention of the lizard you felt guilt invading you again.
"We will have to try," you said into the air, lost in the memories of the night Peter had appeared in reptile form, the same night he had died in your arms until the boy gave your hand a slight squeeze and began to run your thumb across the back of it.
It was strange to feel so much familiarity with a type completely unknown to you. Well, maybe emotionally unfamiliar, because from the little scar on his cheek to his thin lips he was the same man you had loved for years.
"I like your suit" he complimented you, trying to create a conversation, and you replied with a smile "It is different from the one I know, but it fits you very well"
"Yours is pretty too" you replied and now it was his turn to smile.
Both of you fell silent, gazing at your joined hands, while you mentally searched for the right words. You wanted to say so many things and there was so little time.
"Y/N"
"Yes?"
"Maybe I'll sound very strange and I don't want to sound like an idiot" he began to tell you "I don't want to make you uncomfortable either, because you don't really know me or at least this version of me, but... I'm getting off-topic" he admitted and you smiled with a little nostalgia. He was identical to your boy. "There is something I always wanted to tell you, well, tell her and... I don't know, I wanted to know if I can tell you" she exclaimed shyly "I don't know if we're going to die by facing all these villains together and alone. I wanted... well, you know, to feel that somehow, she knows it”
"Sure, whatever" you answered immediately. Your body leaned a little more in his direction, turning the distance between you into an intimate moment.
It took him a moment to gather the courage to speak to you, but you didn't push him and just kept you watching him. More than watching him, you were admiring him. You admired him with a curiosity of what he was about to tell you.
"That just... I'm so sorry for what happened" he started to say, not daring to look at you. Her gaze was on the floor. “Every day I asked myself how things would be if I had saved you. If I could have done more for you. Because... you can't imagine how difficult and hard life is without you here. It hurts to wake up and no longer see your face and have to pretend that everything is fine. So… I don't know, I wanted you to know that I always miss you and that I…” his voice cracked a bit and he finally looked up at you. His eyes were crystallized and it was inevitable for you to feel the urge to cry too “that I loved you as you can't imagine. And that I will continue to love you. Forever” he finished. You didn't give him time to say anything else, because you wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped him in a strong hug. If there was one thing to admit, it was that his arms still felt just as safe and familiar.
You didn't answer anything because you felt like you would ruin the moment if you said something, so you just kept holding it firmly while you felt a couple of tears soak through your suit. Maybe that wasn't the way both of you had expected to meet, but telling you that was an unimaginable break for his heart. And hugging him like you did bring comfort to yours.
"Peter and Y/N, we..." you heard someone say. They were the boy who had opened the portals "Huh, sorry to interrupt"
"No, you're not interrupting," he rushed to say, wiping the trail of tears from his cheeks. "What's wrong?"
“We have to go, I think we know where Peter is. Our Peter” he clarified and you smiled.
"Then let's go there," you said with determination. The boy nodded and decided to go ahead to leave you alone, so you could finish whatever it was you were doing. You looked at Peter and smiled at him “I promise we'll end this conversation later. I… also have many things to say to you”
"Yes, of course" he was quick to say. Now it was he who placed his hand on your cheek "Thank you for listening to me"
"Don't even thank me,” you replied kindly, placing your hand over his. For a split second, you felt like he would close the distance between you with a kiss, but sadly he didn't. He just kept looking at you, like he still didn't quite believe you were there.
"We have to go"
"I know" you replied a little disappointed, as both of you stood up. You dared to give him a second hug that he replied with pleasure "Promise that you will be careful"
"Same here" he murmured with a smile that then turned into a kiss on the top of your head. You watched him again and finally decided to walk through the door, hoping you could be of help to the catastrophe you were about to face.
But after all, it was about not just one, but three spidermen who would fight alongside you. And you were totally sure that you would make the best team.
content: nwh spoiler free, reader doesn't know peter is spiderman, jealous peter on the low, swearing, reader has panic attack, reader falls, bitches are so ATTRACTED to each other damn, no angst (kinda), im rusty at writing im sorry
summary: spiderman visits you everyday and listens to you talk about your massive crush on an unnamed boy, completely oblivious to the fact he and the boy are one in the same.
a/n: yes I'm jumping on this bandwagon I did what needed to be done. jk im just happy I have an andrew character besides remus to write for now since you couldn't pay me to write eduardo ff ok bye AND THANKS TO USER @aksuallyours FOR HELPING SM WITH THIs
Peter's gloved finger hovered for a moment over your window. It happened every night, his finger would grow tense, his heart would begin to pound in his throat. The time between him raising his finger and finally bringing it down to tap on the glass stretched eternities until eventually, the bubbling in his chest would overflow, and in a burst of energy… it would land swift and sharp on your window.
Once. Twice. Three times.
The window was opening and the warm air was hitting his face faster than it took him to build up the courage to wake you.
Grinning and obviously tired, there you were. Hair slightly messy, light haloing your body, you whispered, “Hi.”
He was thankful for the mask.
“Hi,” he replied breathily, “what's up with you?”
And thus started your usual routine. You, of course, would respond with, “Do you actually want to know or are you just asking to ask?”
And then would come his response, usually some form of “I actually want to know” or “What do you think?” Sometimes, he would even just sit there in silence, waiting for you to start your rambling.
You’re the only person he could really do this with. It was never dull, never once did he wish he was somewhere else, even the repeated topics felt new each time.
He hung on every word you said, every syllable you uttered. Every thought was woven together like an intricate dance and the more time he spent up here with you, the more he memorized.
The way your hands would begin to fidget when you talked about school, or how you would begin pacing as you talked about your newest obsession, or how your eyes would glow whenever you talked about the boy.
The boy. The boy that your life honestly revolved around. You never mentioned him by name, you of course knew that the “Spider-man” was in high school, so he was just referred to as The Boy. The Boy that goes to your school. The Boy in your chem class. The Boy that your eyes are locked on from the first bell to the last. You rarely even talked about the things he did. You were very careful about that. But despite all of your precautions, you never shut up about him.
Today, after about a 15 minute debrief of the last movie you watched, the topic turned to The Boy.
“This last week… Spidey I don't think I can begin to describe it to you. Somebody put something in his water, he was so attractive. There is something in this boy's veins. He is like,,, unreal,” you put your head in your hands, “I just like… don't even know how to go about my feelings for him. Every time I talk to him it feels like I’ve literally gone into a dream. As fucking corny as it sounds it’s literally surreal.”
A silence hung in the room.
“I think I’m in love with him.”
This is the first time you’ve ever said anything this bold, that huge. You had spent hours gushing to him about this boy but he had managed to let it wash off of him. Let himself imagine that you were talking about him, that you wanted him. The knot in Peter's chest grew so tight, he thought it would snap.
You were his best friend. He was sure he was in love with you. But here you were, in front of him, fully confessing your love for somebody else.
“I just get this almost static feeling through my whole body when I look at him or when I talk to him. I think if I don’t do something, I’ll implode or some shit. Plus, to put it bluntly, hes is so hot there is no way he’s not gonna get swept up by some other person.”
You mirrored all of his feelings for you.
Quietly, he said, “You should do something then.”
“WOW!” your tone changed fast. “I never thought of that. That is such great advice. Wow, I’m so happy that we have a genius like you running the city. We are so lucky.”
Peter was thankful for the change of mood as he gently swatted at you from his place on the window sill.
Through giggles, while desperately still trying to change his voice enough, he replied, “Literally what else was I supposed to say?”
You flopped, back first, onto your bed and sighed, “I don’t know. I just know I want him”
He wished his suit had some sort of image capturing software.
Light cascaded gently down your face, illuminating each dip and curve. It framed the bridge of your nose, wound its way around the curve of your lips, reflected off of your open eyes. Your chest softly rose and fell, bare skin brushed by the faint glow, body finally relaxing. An expression had fallen onto your face, almost… longing. You laid before him, blanketed in light, almost heavenly. Every curve and edge and line he wanted, he needed. It was unbearable.
He longed for his camera. A chance to capture this image. Anything at all. He would’ve literally taken fucking crayons and drawn it if he could.
But he just sat there, until he couldn’t do it anymore.
“Y/n?” he said, waking you from your thoughts. “I’ve gotta go.” Every inch of his body rejected the thought of leaving, but he knew his self-control wasn’t strong enough. The beating in his heart had begun to grow stronger.
“When will you be back?” you asked, raising yourself up to your elbows.
“Soon I hope.”
Humming in response, you flashed him a grin, and then he was gone.
“Peter! Hi, hi, hi, hi!” Your voice snapped him from his homework as you sat down on the ground next to him, slinging your backpack off.
“Hi,” he smiled at you, “I got food by the way.” Unzipping his backpack, he pulled out two boxes of takeout. He skipped 4th period so he thought he would swing by and grab you food, his treat.
“You are a God-send. I owe you my… left arm or something,” you said gratefully, snatching the box.
Digging into his own food, he replied, “Thought it would make up for the movie tickets you bought.”
You scoffed, “Nothing could make up for those movie tickets. I spent $10 dollars so you could have the best movie experience of your life and you think buying me take-out can equal that?”
“Ut wus not tat g-od”
“I don’t listen to the opinion of people that talk with their mouth full,” you deadpanned, dramatically putting your hand up and turning away. Peter finished his bite and smiled to himself a bit.
Sun was perfectly filtering through the trees and a slight breeze shifted through the air, rippling your shirt gently. Lunches were more bearable with you. Sitting on the courtyard ground, sharing food, listening to music. A lot of the time it would just end up like this, quiet but comfortable, shoulders inches apart, breathing practically synced.
After a bit of silence, you spoke up, “Ok so. I got invited to some birthday party thing on Friday and I literally know like… nobody. But I wanna go. But fuck that. So you know, do you uh wanna go with me? I cannot go alone. I just can’t.”
A bubbling rose in Peter’s heart. “Of course, I’ll go. Nobody invites me to that kinda shit anyways.”
You and Peter found yourselves in some random corner on the top floor of the house, music streaming through the floor. Your body was faintly dancing and you were intently listening to Peter ramble on about this idea he had for a set of pictures.
The party had been generally boring. It was clear that neither of you were really feeling it in the slightest and so the two of you made your way away from the crowd of people downstairs to the second floor. It was nice, peaceful.
Dim light had settled over the two of you. Your face was lit by the faint glow and Peter was painfully reminded of you lying on your bed the other night.
The light bounced and framed your features in the same way. The light made Peter feel the same way he did that night. Uncontrollable.
“Peter?” you questioned, snapping him out of his revorie, “You were saying?”
“Oh, yeah I um think that-” but before he could finish his sentence, the entire house began to shake.
Shock traveled up Peter's spine, electrifying his bones in a sort of panic. His eyes darted to the shaking chandelier and adrenaline began to course to his head.
You grabbed his arm.
The shake was deep. Too strong to be a natural occurrence. Peter could tell.
Picture frames began shaking off the wall and he could hear glass breaking below him. Screaming. Peter could hear a lot of screaming, too.
“Y/n, go downstairs. I need you to go downstairs.” The underlying desperation he had seeped through into his tone. “Go.”
Hesitantly, you removed your hand from his bicep and looked at him with the strangest expression.
“And you?”
“Just go.”
Debri began to fall from the ceiling as you rushed down the hall, trying desperately to keep balanced. He kept his eyes fixed on you for as long as he could before the lights went out, washing Peter in darkness. He just had to trust that you would make it down.
Slipping into a random room, using shaking hands he pulled off his jacket and his pants off to reveal the blue and red pattern of his suit. He discarded his clothes and slipped on his mask.
More and more of the house was becoming destroyed. When he stepped out from his cover the walls that had once been protecting you and Peter had been half disintegrated. His head spun, dizziness and vertigo blinding him briefly as he looked down.
Standing below him, washed in the twilight, was The Lizard.
Rubble surrounded it’s scaled feet. It’s usual smirk was plastered on its face.
The front half of the house had been practically reduced to dust. Clumps of people cowered in corners and he could see many of them had managed to run off, sprinting down the unlit streets. Neighbors had stepped outside to see what was going on. Kids were on the phone with their parents. People were crying, people were frozen in fear.
Latching onto a surviving pillar, Peter swung himself over the crowd.
“Spiderman,” the low and droning voice of the Lizard boomed throughout the street, “Happy to see you here.”
“You won't be too happy for long.”
The crowd shrieked in unison as The Lizard’s clawed hand shot out to swipe at Peter. Peter’s quick reflexes saved him, just narrowly avoiding the cut by swinging away.
At this point, these fights were formulaic to Peter. Adrenaline would course through his veins and his vision barely had time to keep up with his actions, but most of the time it consisted of the same thing. He had gotten good at this. He flew over the crowd, dodged and weaved away from The Lizard, landed a few hits, same as usual. The claws caught him a couple times, but he was moving too fast for the pain to catch him.
That wasn’t to say it wasn’t tiring though. His powers gave him more endurance but it wasn’t endless.
He fought for a long time.
He could feel the fatigue creeping up his body as he swung around what was left of the house. His reflexes were taking longer, his punches less accurate. If it didn’t stop soon, he was afraid his body would completely give out.
The Lizard had been fighting well, better than last time. Peter eyed its hands as they reached down and locked around a large piece of debri. He knew what was coming next. As the lizard picked it up, Peter readied his web shooters, praying he would have enough strength to stop the debri from causing more destruction.
But just as the Lizard raised his arm and readied to throw the piece, it paused. Its eyes widened slightly, darting around rapidly.
Peter soon understood the reason behind the pause and it came in the form of sirens.
About fucking time.
His eyes left The Lizard to search for the blue and red lights that were bound to be in the distance, and there they were, winding down the road.
When Peter returned his eyes to the Lizard, it was gone.
He finally let himself survey the scene around him. Part of the house was still standing. It looked sort of like a dollhouse. All rooms exposed, one wall missing from each, the moon the only light source. Many of the people that had been there before the fight had run off, understandably so, and the people that remained stayed in little huddles consoling each other.
Police cars had pulled up to the house, sirens still blasting. The red and blue light that shone from the cars washed everybody in an almost unreal filter, illuminating the damage done. The scene before him was grim but a sigh of relief pushed from his lips at the general safety of everybody.
Peter quickly moved into a shadow and prayed that the dirt and dust that covered his suit from the fight would give him enough camouflage so he could finally let his mind turn to what he had been dying to focus on. You.
His eyes scanned the crowd desperately, searching for a glimpse of you. Just a sign that you were ok, that you made it down safely, that you hadn’t been hurt. The longer he looked, the more panicked he became.
It wasn’t until he let his eyes roam up, that he saw you.
You were on the second floor, the only one there. Frantically, you were walking around, being careful as to where you were stepping. He could see your chest rising and falling at a dangerous speed. But you weren’t walking to try and find a spot to get down, he realized after watching you long enough.
You were looking for something.
Your head was darting around, eyes scanning each room and the crowd below you. You were saying something, shouting a name, but the sirens were far too loud for him to hear.
He needed to get you down. Cursing the police for making him stay hidden, he began to search for some sort of ladder, anything he could use. Peter considered going to find clothes to put over the suit and then get you down in a normal, human way. Maybe there was enough going on that he could still do it as spiderman. Maybe, he doesnt care and will decide to just run from the police once you’re safe, he's done it before.
A crash drew Peter from his thoughts.
He knew you were falling before he saw it.
He knew it was the floor you were on. He knew you were the only person on the higher level.
Peter’s vision tunneled, he didn’t see the people he was shoving to the side, he didn’t hear the yelps and crashes as they fell into the rubble, and he probably wouldn’t have cared if he did. All of his thoughts were focused on the fall. He had never moved so fast in his life.
He had no clue how long it would take you to hit the ground. He didn’t want to know.
Webs shot out of his wrists and lodged themselves to the door. You had to be falling into this room. You had to. Pulling on the web, the door ripped off its hinges and Peter instantly shot another web to the furthest part of the ceiling of the room.
Clinging to this, he swung himself into the room, and before he could even visually register it, you were in his arms.
Pulsing adrenalin and the most extreme relief Peter had felt in ages rushed through his body, still blocking out any sound.
You were in his arms. You were safe. You were alive.
But as he looked longer he realized you were yelling. Still frantic. Tears left lines in the ash that had fallen on your face.
Finally, his hearing allowed him to understand what you were saying.
“He’s here. And. I can’t, I can’t find him. I can’t find him.” Your breathing was frenzied. You could barely get cohesive sentences out.
“Who's here?” Peter asked, carefully resting his hands on your shaking shoulders.
“The Boy. He’s here. But he’s gone. He’s gone. I don’t know what to do. I need you – To help.”
The boy was here. That’s who you had been looking for. But now he was nowhere to be found.
It took everything in him to put aside his own biases. It wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about the boy. It was about you.
“Y/n, what’s his name?”
You were too panicked, your breaths were getting shallower, your body getting shakier. “I need to find him. I can’t go on without him –He’s gone– He’s gone and I need him.” You couldn’t register what he was asking.
“Y/n. I need to know his name.” He was louder this time, more forceful. He gripped your arms stronger.
You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were darting rapidly around the room. Tears coated your face and hysterical sobs were falling from your lips.
“Y/n,” he was begging now, shaking you, “What’s his fucking name??”
You took a huge gulp of air.
“PETER PARKER. His name is Peter Parker and I can’t fucking find him anywhere.”
Peter’s arms went slack.
His eyes left your face for the first time since he caught you and he stared at the destroyed room the two of you were standing in the middle of. Rubble lined both your and Peter’s feet. The dust had fallen onto your hair. It was just the two of you.
Peter Parker was the boy. He was Peter Parker. He was the boy. The boy you had gushed over for months to him almost every night.
His shaking hand found the neck of his suit, and as carefully as he could, he pulled off his mask.
Your confused expression got even deeper as your eyes darted across his face, taking him in.
“No.” you shook your head. “No. Fuck this. No you’re fucking with me.” You pushed against his chest, “I don’t— you can’t be.”
Cheeks flushing and skin still burning from your touch, Peter blurted the first thing that came into his mind as he looked at you.
“I love you.”
Your jaw slacked.
“I need you to know. I can’t hide how much I want you any longer. And I know that after all of this you probably don’t feel the same way but-”
“Shut up.” And your lips were on his.
Without a thought, Peter kissed you back. Slowly, you drank each other up, molding to one another, hands roaming, bodies crushed together. It was a release.
Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair, his lips grazed your jaw. Peter’s hands pulled you closer to him, unable to bear the thought of not being able to hold you.
His body ached for you.
His heart pounded in his chest. It pushed against his ribcage rhythmically, so powerful a bone might snap. He was sure you could feel it; he hoped you did. You needed to feel how his heart beat for you. How his body reacted to you.
He needed to prove it to you. He needed you to understand the effect you had on him.
You needed to believe that he loved you. Because he did.
Peter teaching you how to skate board <333, first learning to balance with your hands in his for support. Him chuckling sweetly when you almost lose balance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you”
just thought i’d make a note to anyone writing for peter parker with a silk!reader, that silk, in the comics, is asian-american. and therefore, if you are writing a silk!reader, you are writing an asian-american character. you morally, should not write your reader as white if you are writing a silk!reader. if you do this, you are erasing a major part of her character and silk as a person.
this is not aimed, and is just something i have noticed.
