hi, tried to dm you but my tumblr is being weird and not letting me dm people, would love to be mutuals with you if you'd like, no pressure x
lol no worries! yeah, i would to be mutuals <33
i don't do bad sauce passes
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

JBB: An Artblog!

Love Begins
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Origami Around
$LAYYYTER
taylor price

#extradirty
Keni
ojovivo
art blog(derogatory)
🪼
One Nice Bug Per Day

Product Placement
DEAR READER
Jules of Nature
cherry valley forever

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@madxyy
hi, tried to dm you but my tumblr is being weird and not letting me dm people, would love to be mutuals with you if you'd like, no pressure x
lol no worries! yeah, i would to be mutuals <33
my actual reaction when ppl wanna torture me and say “steve harrington is gonna die season 5.”
people love to see me in pain, it’s not even funny.
One thing I love about Joe Keery fans is that we spend more time calling him pretty and beautiful than we do actually objectifying him and calling him hot and shit. He's just our pretty little princess.
this made me cackle LMAOOO
he’s insane for this and it’s just him existing pt 2
he’s insane for this and it’s just him existing
You Don't Wanna Kiss Me?
Pairing: bsf!JJ x reader
Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mutual Pining
Summary: You can't stand to see JJ talking to another girl at a bonfire so you decide to drown your sorrows a little bit
Warnings: Alcohol consumption, angst, jealousy
Word Count: 1,237
Author's note: I couldn't stop daydreaming about @madxyy 's 'Reckless Boy' so it's a slightly similar plot but different 😅 and definitely not as BEAUTIFULLY written
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩𖦹⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩
The fire at the boneyard cracked and popped, throwing sparks into the night sky. Music thumped, people laughed, bottles clinked. Everybody seemed to be having fun but you.
You had been having a good time until your blond best friend had gone to get a drink and never came back.
From where you sat perched on a driftwood log next to Sarah, your other blonde best friend, you could see JJ leaning against a cooler, that lazy grin on his face that you knew so well. But this time is wasn't directed towards you. He was chatting with some brunette touron who was eating up every word. She was leaning close, giggling at something he said, her hand brushing his arm.
You took a few huge gulps of the pinot noir Blackbox in your hand that you'd been finishing at record speed. It was your second, along with a two shots of tequila and a beer that you and JJ had shotgunned together earlier.
You told yourself it was nothing. But the longer you watched, the tighter your chest felt.
"Hey," Sarah squeezed your arm, making you look at her, "Maybe don't look over there? I know it's hard."
"No s'not," you slurred quickly and unconvincingly, digging your feet into the sand a little bit.
"You wanna leave? Go have a girls night or something? I don't mind."
"S'fine. Not like anythings ever gonna happen between us anyways. But thanks," you attempted a smile.
"I think that's what he thinks too. You just have to be the one to make the first move. He's in love with you, dumbass."
Your laugh was sharp and hollow. "Not true and not happenin," you slurred, shaking your head.
"I'm gonna go get another drink, be right back," Sarah smiled sympathetically, squeezing your shoulder to stand.
You tipped back the rest of your drink and grimaced, smushing the empty box between your fingers. "Can you grab me one too, please?"
"You just had two of the most dangerous drinks that you can get at a gas station, very quickly, I might add. Maybe you should give it a sec before you get sick?"
You laughed and rolled your eyes, "Sarah, I'm fine, come on, you know me."
"Nope, you can drink water for thirty minutes. BRB."
You nodded begrudgingly and picked your waterbottle up out of the sand as you watched her walk away. Your eyes immediately went back to JJ but quickly darted down as you realized he'd been looking directly at you as well.
You chewed the inside of your cheeks before tipping the bottle back and taking a few chugs.
Your eyes betrayed you again, flicking back over to the two. You watched as she reached her hand out to twirl a piece of his golden blond hair around a perfectly manicured finger. And suddenly everything was spinning. Your grip on your waterbottle tightened as you stood up and slipped away. Tears filled your eyes as you plopped down in the sand behind a large piece of drift wood, far away from the music and the glow of the fire. You stared out into the dark ocean. The alcohol thrummed in your veins, everything blurry and too sharp all at once.
Your lip quivered and your heart pounded in your chest as you thought about what you'd seen and what could happen as the night progressed. You felt bad for abandoning Sarah but you just needed to hide out until your head stopped spinning. Or maybe for the rest of your life. You'd figure it out later.
“Hey.” JJ’s voice came from behind you, low and careful, making you jump. "Sorry," he chuckled. He dropped down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed yours. His hand landed lightly on your shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb. “You okay?”
You turned your head slowly. “Almost threw up. But didn’t.” You raised your hand in a lazy rock-on gesture, your smile crooked. “M'fine. Better than ever, actually.”
"Don't sound like it." JJ studied you, brow furrowing. “Why’re you going so hard tonight? You can usually drink anybody under the table, you're a little off your game.” His voice was soft, genuine, as he nudged your shoulder with his.
You couldn't help the little half smile that formed on your lips but then your jaw tightened again as thoughts of him and the girl flooded your mind.
"Hey," he cupped your cheek gently in his hand, turning your face towards his, but you didn't dare look at him. Your eyes were glassy with tears and intoxication. "Y/n."
“I said I’m fine. Y'can go back to your little touron, don' let me hold you up.” You turned your face away from him.
The bite in your words stopped him cold. JJ's chest tightened and he froze. Then it clicked. You were jealous. He didn't know it was possible for his heart to ache and flutter at the same time. His best friend was jealous of him talking to another girl. His best friend who he'd wanted for years but who he never thought he was good enough for.
He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good on that." He stared down at you until you turned toward him. "I'd rather be here with you."
Your eyes filled with more wine induced tears at the words. "Really?"
"'Course," he smirked, putting his arm around your shoulder, making you blush. "Would rather be with you than anybody else. Even when you're being mopey and drunk off your ass." He lifted his free hand to wipe a tear off your warm cheek. His face was so close to yours as you looked up at him doe eyed, examining him. He was serious. A dopey smile spread across your lips. "There it is," he smiled back.
You giggled and chewed on your bottom lip.
The silence stretched, only broken by the waves.
“You’re so handsome, Jaje.” The confession slipped out soft, like it had been waiting to be said all night. "I w'so jealous when I saw you talkin'to her. Wished it was me."
JJ’s heart nearly stopped. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to lean in and never pull away. But you were drunk. So drunk. You couldn't possibly be thinking right.
"You’re drunk, sunshine,” he murmured with a nervous smile, brushing your hair back out of your face.
“V'always thought that,” you whispered, just barely leaning toward him. Your gaze fell to his mouth, hungry and unsteady. “Can I kiss you?"
JJ’s pulse hammered. His breath caught. You were so close. He wanted it so badly his chest ached. But he forced himself to stay still.
"You're drunk." He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, lingering there. "Like really drunk." Then another on your cheek. Your face tipped toward his, lips inches apart, breaths mingling. For a moment, he nearly gave in.
And then he pulled back just enough, shaking his head. His forehead stayed against yours, his voice low and rough. “No. Not like this. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
Your bottom lip wobbled in a little pout. “You don’t wanna kiss me?"
JJ swallowed hard, thumb brushing your cheek. “You have no idea how wrong you are. But we’ll talk tomorrow. If you remember.”
You melted into his chest, mumbling something he couldn’t quite catch, and JJ held you tighter, staring out at the waves. His lips still tingled from being so close to yours, but he kept repeating it in his head like a lifeline. The corners of his lips curled into a smile.
Tomorrow.
Part 2
<33333
Reckless Boy
| pairing : jj x childhood bestfriend!reader
| summary : you're tired of waiting for jj to finally come to his senses about you, so you snap, and he finally runs after you.
| warnings: angstttt, touching waist, usage of y/n (like a good chunk, mb), again a lot of angst, jj being a dumbass per usual, reader being jealous, jj groveling on his knees, kissing???, reader has hair, me trying to write the narrative in an obx?? way???, cuss words, not proofread
author's note: okay please mind the writing. i'm dusting myself off because i haven't written in such a long time so please bear with me--again. also here's the song i have on my "angst love story w/ jj maybank" playlist that was playing while i was writing this fic, so enjoy lol. (rec to play it during a certain moment...you will know when ;))
The sky above the teenagers who sought freedom in this suffocating world was pitch black, fumes from the bonfire twirling up into the twinkling sky. Nothing was new. Everyone was either drinking, swaying their bodies, or sitting around the bonfires to talk about god knows what. Honestly, you weren't even paying attention to anything around you. You can barely feel the condensation of the drink in your hand seeping towards your curled fingertips. You were too busy eyeing the blonde, making another stupid decision across the bonfire.
There he was. JJ fucking Maybank. The reckless boy who owned your heart ever since fifth grade—asshole, is all you can think of. How dare he make you fall in love with him?! But it's not your fault your 10-year-old heart did a thump-thump the first time you saw those steel blue eyes lock onto yours after he stole some crayons just for you because some girls were being stingy.
God, you still remember when his finger hovered over his lips, shushing you with the same mischievous grin he wears to this day—though the grin is heavier now. "Don't say anythin'. Promise?" Young JJ's voice whispered to you, eyes flashing with something you have never seen in anyone. A joy for adrenaline. In love with recklessness. Of course, your fifth-grade self was tongue-tied, and for some reason—til this day—you have a feeling that JJ knew you wouldn't say anything. Maybe it was because you were shy, or maybe because he recognized something in you that you hadn't recognized in yourself yet.
With a squeaky voice, you shyly spoke. "Okay, promise." That grin of his immediately widened. Then you grabbed the crayons from his small fingertips, cheeks warming at the feeling of the brief graze of his hands. From then on, JJ Maybank has been a constant in your life ever since.
But god was it such a pain in the ass sometimes. You know JJ is good-looking and smooth-talking, but does he have to torture you at every bonfire you guys go to with some random touron girl in his arms? Even though part of you was jealous, the other half knew JJ. You know he only ever does this whenever something happens with his dad.
It hurts seeing him in pain. He can try to joke all he wants, but you can always see right through him, unbeknownst to you; that's what scares him about you. Usually, pushing people away works, but you still stayed. That's what is fucking him up, even after you saw all his flaws and fuck ups, you are still here.
Dirty blonde hair blows in the breeze as the wind picks up. The beautiful touron leaned into him, laughing in his ear while JJ just grinned. You couldn't keep on looking; this was torture, so you gave yourself a break, looking away as you bit the inside of your cheek. But just as you looked away, those blue eyes looked up and spotted you.
God, you look fucking gorgeous. He's not even trying to be dramatic; he really means it, and he knows he's a dumbass sitting here with a girl who doesn't matter, not really. Not when you're right there. But you scare him too damn much. His eyes trace down to the breeze catching your hair, watching the way you scrunch your face in agitation because he knows how the wind can be a bitch to you. And yeah, it drives you nuts, the wind messing with you. But he fucking loves it. Loves that face. Loves you. And God, that’s the problem. Slowly, his eyes traced down to your fingers wrapping around your solo cup. He wanted to snort or laugh, he knew you weren't drinking anythin' heavy. He teases you about it, but he loves that you keep a clear head, unlike his dumbass, who chooses to do dumb shit while intoxicated. The corners of his chapped lips quirked up, taking a sip out of his own cup, eyeing you over the rim.
The moment came to an end once JJ got hit with a whiff of something sweet—too sweet and not you. He looked over with his lidded gaze, brows raising in surprise. Shit, he forgot Sierra? Or was it Kendall? Whatever, he just forgot she was there. But you know, JJ is always the master of bullshit. "You from here?" He drawled, flashing the touron one of his charming smiles which had the girl blushing. The question made him want to laugh too damn much that he had to bite the inside of his cheek, making that faint dimple flash at her. Anyone can tell she wasn't from here.
You looked back, catching that dimple of his, watching that girl chuckle before explaining where she is from—god, you might just start drinking just watching this.
JJ hums in response to the girl’s words, but he really isn’t listening. He knows it’s a dick move, but he can feel your eyes burning into him — and if anyone’s gaze can make him fall to his ass, it’s yours. Those pretty doe eyes of yours. He loves calling them that, even if he’ll never admit out loud how much they fuck him up.
His eyes flicker between Sierra’s — or Kendall’s? fuck, he still can’t even remember — hating himself for comparing them to yours. They weren’t yours. Not expressive, not wide, not gorgeous. They didn’t hold him like yours do. Jesus Christ, what a sap. But the thing is, the touron’s eyes don’t knock the wind out of him. Yours do. Every damn time. "So, tell me, how did you get into surfing?" Sierra/Kendall flirted, voice dripping with sweet honey. She batted her lashes, hand stroking his arm as she leaned closer, a little too close. JJ was unfazed. He just chuckled dryly, tilting his cup toward her. “Dunno. Fell in the ocean one day, never came back out." That made the touron chuckle, "Mm, you're funny. Maybe you will give me a surf lesson?"
“Yeah, maybe.” JJ flicks his gaze through the fire, pretending to laugh at something Sierra-or-Kendall just said. But the second he catches your eyes through the flames, his grin falters. Just for a second. You look away too quickly, like the sight of him with someone else burned worse than the damn bonfire between you.
He tells himself he’s imagining it. That he’s reading too much into the way your jaw clenched, the way your nails picked at the rim of your cup. He doesn’t even know what the hell the word Pope used was—emotional… intel… something? Whatever. All JJ knows is he’s never been good at reading people. But you? You’re different. With you, he always knows. He knew his girl. He feels it like a punch to his ribs.
And that’s the part that kills him.
Because instead of fixing it, instead of running over there and saying what’s actually in his chest, he stays put. He sits there, while a girl whose name he doesn’t even remember, laughs too loudly at a joke he didn’t mean. He sits there because the truth is, you scare the hell out of him.
You finally look down at the cup that you were cradling in your hands, watching the way the water gently sloshes inside the cup when you tilt it side to side, with a frown on your lips. You were watching it as if it were the most fascinating thing ever, but really, it was just a way to distract yourself from the pain growing in your chest. It hurts too much. He was right there with some girl, and god, you fucking know there is something between you guys. There is no way of denying his touch; the way his fingertips linger on your wrist and shock your body. It was like he was carrying electricity in his limbs and electrocuting you. Then his eyes—oh my god. Blue and storming with so many things he wants to say but can't. Something is holding him back, and you want to shake him, pleading with him, as you wear a tired heart on your sleeve, to just say what he wants to say, but that's not how JJ works, and you should've seen the heartbreak coming a mile away. It's just a sick part of you hoped that he would change by now. Then there are other times when he would throw pebbles at your window like you guys were in some stupid romcom movie, breaking you out of your room because you've been cooped up all day studying, telling you to “quit bein’ a hermit and come live a little.” You hated how easy it was to say yes. How easy it was to let him tug you out into the night like he hadn’t just stomped on your chest hours before with his rashness. And that’s what makes this hurt worse — because you know JJ can be good. You’ve seen it, tasted it, breathed it in.
So why does he keep doing this?
Your throat burned as you stared down at the water in your cup, wishing it were strong enough to drown out the ache spreading through your ribs. Wishing you were strong enough not to care. But every laugh of his, every smile aimed at someone else, cracked another piece off you.
You couldn’t sit there anymore. Not with the flames throwing shadows on his stupid grin and not with her leaning into him like she belonged there. Not when every inch of you knew she didn’t.
You stood up from the log, letting your shoes crunch under the sand as you strode to the edge of a treeline. Immediately, blue eyes snap to your form. The playfulness in them quickly vanished, converting into something softer with a tinge of fear.
Fuck, he fucked up, and he knew it.
With a tilted chin, you held your head high, eyes locked on anywhere but him, because if you let yourself look, you might fold. And you’re so goddamn tired of folding for JJ Maybank.
JJ’s chest tightened as he watched you move, sand crunching under your shoes like a damn metronome ticking down to his worst fear. He barely heard Sierra-or-Kendall chirp beside him anymore, the buzz of her laugh fading into nothing. All he could see was your back disappearing into the shadows by the treeline.
“Y/N!” The name left his throat before he even decided to call it, rough, raw, panicked.
You didn’t turn. Not once.
But of course, the universe wanted to throw you into the arms of the most emotionally intelligent one here—Kiara. Brown eyes caught yours, holding your arms to keep your balance. "Hey, whoa, are you okay?" She asks softly, voice laced with nothing but empathy as she darts her eyes across your face, spotting the heartbreak in a second. "Yeah, I'm fine, Kie. Just…need air," you muttered tightly underneath your breath, trying not to cry. Before Kiara could even reply, your feet continued moving to the trees, needing some air.
Kiara watched you leave with parted lips, brows furrowing. What the hell happened? That question was soon answered once she spotted a panicked JJ jog after you. He shot up, knocking his cup into the sand. Didn’t even bother to mutter an excuse to the girl still waiting for him to play along. His boots dragged furrows as he jogged after you, heat from the fire still on his back, cold salt air slamming into his chest.
Unfortunately, JJ caught Kiara's softened gaze that quickly switched up to protective mama bear in a second. "JJ-" And JJ just flashed Kiara a gaze that told her ‘don’t’. "Not now, Kie," He huffed out, not needing Kiara's scolding right now. He knows he is a dumbass and a screw up. He doesn't need Kiara to tell him that.
Kiara’s arms dropped as she stood there, lips pressed thin, fury sparking in her chest. She wanted to follow, to yank JJ by his stupid shirt and shake him until he got it through his thick skull to stop hurting you. And trust her when she said she was ready to rip him a new one, but the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing keeping him standing—stole the words right out of her. Not now. Not when he finally looked scared to lose something real. But the wild look in his eyes stopped her. For once, the jokes were gone. JJ wasn’t laughing. He was chasing.
Fucking finally.
Branches snapped under his boots as JJ shoved through the trees, heart hammering like he’d just sprinted for his life. Maybe he had. Because if you really meant it this time, if you were done, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. You can hear him running after you, but this time you weren't going to stop. Let him chase you and see how he likes it.
God, it was horrible.
You were slipping through his fingertips. "Y/n! Wait, I—" he paused, nostrils flaring as he exhaled an exasperated breath. He wasn't annoyed with you, but with himself. He hated himself for putting you through his shit, but he just can't lose you. JJ watched you continue walking away, and he just snapped. When a man is hopeless, he goes through desperate measures, and he doesn't give a fuck anymore if he looks like a sap or a simp, or whatever the fuck. He just knows he can't let you go without saying what he wants to say. "Damn it, stop ignoring me! Let me talk, Y/n/n!" He yelled, voice cracking through the music playing in the background.
"Into Nirvana" by Maverick Sabre.
In a land man made of stone here
That made you freeze. His words cut through the disarray of heartbreak thoughts in your head. Your limbs tense, fingers curling into fists beside your sides.
The song bled into the night, every word digging deeper than you wanted to admit. “I’ve been searching for roses…” And wasn’t that just JJ? Looking for something soft, something real, in all the wrong places.
Your shoulders locked. You didn’t turn, didn’t give him the relief of your eyes, but he saw the way your spine stiffened and knew he’d gotten through.
In a land man made of stone here
“Please,” JJ’s voice cracked raw, lower this time, stripped of bravado. His boots scuffed in the sand as he slowed, like he was scared that if he got too close, you’d vanish. “I know I’m an asshole. I know I keep screwin’ up, but don’t—don’t walk away from me, not you.”
The waves filled the silence between you, crashing like static. For a heartbeat, you almost let yourself keep going. But your fists hurt from how tight you’d clenched them. You spun on your heel, fury and heartbreak boiling together.
Is anyone still a dreamer?
“I’m tired of watching your self-destruct bullshit, JJ!” The dam finally broke. Your voice is raw, broken, and fucking tired. JJ's been punched, hit, hell—even arrested—and nothing hurt more than your words. They felt like actual handcuffs, tying him and finally holding him accountable for all the shit he has done.
All we wanna be is adored.
Can you really see love on the screen now?
A flash of pain crosses his eyes, but JJ, being JJ, had to mask it. He had to be angry. But god—it's not at you! Never at you! He was just so fucking angry at the pain in your eyes right now. And god, how you look so damn gorgeous getting mad at him. It's intoxicating. The way your eyes lit up with emotion was always beautiful—even more now with you screaming at him, brows knitted up—your whole face looked worshipful. "Oh, you're tired?" His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, that stupid mocking tone slipping off his tongue because it was easier to be an ass than admit he was scared. He was in front of you now, eyes storming, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Then why do you stay, huh?! If you’re so tired, then fucking leave! Ain’t nobody chaining you here!”
How fucking dare he?! After everything. After staying, patching him up, swallowing the jealousy, holding his broken pieces together when nobody else would. Your chest heaves as you snap, voice cracking but sharp as glass. "You are! I stay because I fucking love you, you idiot! And you're—ugh!" You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, letting out a shaky breath. "This is exactly what I am talking about! Stop pushing me away, J!" You yelled, voice fiery with years of unleashed pain of always hoping for him to keep the door open for you.
Then I go and run away
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
"I can't, alright?!" He barked back, but his voice cracked, betraying the armor he wore like a religion. He dragged his hands through his blonde strands, pacing, as if he didn’t move, he’d combust right there in front of you. “You don’t get it—I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to be what you want. What you deserve.” His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile, eyes burning as he finally looked at you. “Every time I try, I screw it up. That’s all I do, Y/N. Screw shit up. And I can’t—” his voice cracked harder this time, softer, “—I can’t do that to you, too.”
He hurt you. You swallowed the pain month after month, stitched yourself up where he ripped you open. But right now? You were starting to crumble for JJ once again — only this time, it wasn’t because you were weak. It was because he deserved it. He was finally bleeding for you. And God, it was about damn time. Those darkened eyes of yours softened once they landed on his weary face, watching the way the moonlight highlights the roughened edges of his face.
He was a fool for those eyes.
“Then don’t.” Your voice was different this time — not sharp, not exhausted, but bare. It disarmed him more than any of your screaming ever could. You stepped forward, eyes locked on his, and he swore the air got punched out of his lungs.
Then I go and run away
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
JJ’s jaw flexed, throat bobbing hard. His hands fell uselessly at his sides, knuckles raw from clutching too tightly. “It’s not that simple,” he rasped, but fuck, looking at you made him want to believe it was. “I know,” you whispered, voice so soft the wind nearly carried it away. JJ’s heart gave that old thump-thump at the sound, the same one he swore he first felt back in fifth grade. Those gentle eyes of yours — warm, open, even when the world was cruel — had him then, and they had him now. He remembered it clear as day: stingy girls clutching their crayons, you shrinking back with that hurt look on your face. And him, stupid little JJ, stealing them just to see your smile again. Coloring soothed you then, just like you soothed him now.
It might've been because of how hurt he looked, how much you knew he needed to be held, but your hands moved. Gentle hands cradle his sun-kissed cheeks delicately, as if he were the one made of glass, not you. He was—he just doesn't wanna admit it.
Then I go and run away
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
Something in both of your chests tightens at the touch. It was warm and electric—something so dangerous because it confirmed everything you guys felt. This wasn't fake; this shit was real. With your own chest slowly rising heavier, you pulled him down closer to your height, almost shyly, scared he’d run if you went too fast.
JJ froze for half a second, like he couldn’t believe you were still touching him after everything he’d just thrown at you. But the heat of your palms on his cheeks melted something he’d been holding locked up for years. His lashes fluttered, a shaky breath spilling past his lips. He leaned into your hands like he’d been waiting his whole damn life for them. "Just let me in, J. Please."
Yes, then I go and run away, away
Yes, then I go and run away
He looked into your eyes, a man finally kneeling to his queen, shedding his armor piece by piece. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind smirks or sharp words. Just JJ, raw and stripped down, staring at the only person who ever made him want to stay. His chest heaved, lips parting like he had something to say, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “I…” He licked his lips, throat tightening like every word was stuck there. His stormy blue eyes darted across your face, drinking you in like he was terrified you’d disappear if he blinked. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes, the warmth of your skin under his palms—it was too much. His brows furrowed, almost as if he was physically fighting to hold himself together, but the truth was, he was crumbling.
His teeth caught his bottom lip, a desperate habit, trying to bite back all the things he wanted to say. But then you shifted just slightly into his touch, and it broke him. His calloused hand slid up instinctively to cradle the side of your neck. Your pulse thudded against his thumb, and he swore he could feel it syncing with his own frantic heartbeat.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, voice breaking as he finally gave in. And then his mouth was on yours, fierce and trembling, like he’d been holding his breath for years, and you were the only oxygen he’d ever wanted. A gasp tore from your lips at the sudden crash of his mouth against yours. He swallowed it greedily, like he’d been starving for years and finally got a taste of the only thing that could save him. His lips moved roughly against yours. Chapped lips were unsteady, trembling with every ounce of ache he’d been burying under smirks and sarcasm.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, the word muffled and desperate. His hands clutched at you like you’d vanish if he let go—fingers threading into your hair, free hand sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You tasted better than any distraction, better than any touron, better than every daydream he’d shoved down. You. Always you.
Jesus, why were your lips so soft? They feel like fucking pillows—this wasn't fair.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until his chest slammed against yours. You tilted your head, parting your lips just enough to let him in, to show him you weren’t running, and he was right with you. For the first time ever, JJ Maybank isn't running, not tonight. God, he took that invitation like a starved man. The hand that was twisted in your hair slid down to the side of your neck, thumb gently tugging at your chin as he licked the shape of your lips, licking up into your mouth. A broken sound tore from his throat at the taste of you—raw and guttural—and god, it only spurred you on. He tasted like how you always imagined he would: cheap beer and salt from the ocean air clinging to his skin. Messy, reckless, undeniably JJ. But underneath it—underneath the sharp bite of beer and the wildness—there was something sweeter, something that was him, and it made your knees go weak.
“JJ,” you whispered against his mouth, the syllables shaking, half a plea, half a warning. But you didn’t push him away. Instead, your arms wound tighter around his neck, pulling him closer, daring him to feel every ounce of what you’d been holding back. "Shit—don’t say my name like that," he hissed between breathless kisses, fingertips sliding down to your hips, hauling you up against him so you felt every sharp edge of him. But even that wasn’t enough—never enough. His boots dug into the dirt as he pressed you against a tree, bark biting against your back while he swallowed the gasp that tore from your swollen lips.
That sound for real is going to kill him. Jesus, he would do anything just to hear it again.
Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him, nails clawing at his shoulders like you could anchor him there. His kiss was hungry, desperate, but when he pulled back just for air, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hitched. Blue eyes searched yours, wrecked and soft all at once.
Shit. It was unfair how pretty you looked like this. All kissed up because of him. Oh my god, and that’s when it hit him. You guys kissed. Fucking finally kissed—holy shit. And it was the most reckless, beautiful thing he’d ever done. His chest felt like it might cave in, his lungs couldn’t catch up, but for once, he didn’t care. Your lips were swollen, parted like you were about to say something, but he couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop tracing every detail like he’d wake up and it’d vanish. “You’re killin’ me,” he muttered against your mouth, voice hoarse, thumb brushing over the heat of your cheek.
The world could burn down behind him—the bonfire, the music, the tourons—but none of it mattered. Just you. Just this.
A few beats pass, and that’s when you saw it. Saw the armor slowly coming back up, causing his rings to dig slightly into your hips, scared you're going to vanish. “Imma fuck it up,” he rasped, like the confession was dragged straight out of his ribs.
Your chest rose and fell against his, lips still tingling, breath still stolen. For a second, you swore the world held still with you, waiting for what you’d say, but then your thumb brushed over the stubble on his jaw, soothing what his own words couldn’t.
“Then let me fuck it up with you,” you whispered, steady even as your pulse raced.
His throat bobbed, and for a second, you thought he’d laugh it off, shove it down like always. But instead, JJ dipped his head again, doing the most uncharacteristic thing ever. He kissed you slower this time, with such reverence that your knees almost went weak. Your words broke something wide open in him, something that was deeply buried under years of pain. "God, I love you, pretty girl."
Wait.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he didn't mean to—I mean, he did, but, shit! He immediately pulled back, eyes wide with panic as they started darting between yours, searching for doubt or regret. Well, shit, he can't take it back now. "Shit—I didn’t mean like that—I mean I did, but not like—fuck.”
"I love you too, J."
The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest. JJ blinked, breath stuttering, like he didn’t trust his own ears. You love me? His lips parted, then snapped shut, then parted again like he couldn’t decide if he should grin or cry. Maybe both.
For once, JJ Maybank didn’t have a smartass reply, didn’t need to. His hands trembled where they cradled your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Say it again,” he whispered, voice breaking, as if you said it twice, it’d be real, like it wouldn’t vanish with the smoke of the bonfire.
Your lips curved into the softest smile, one meant only for him. “I love you, JJ.”
And that was it. That was the knockout. His forehead collapsed against yours as a shaky laugh bubbled out of him, part-disbelieving, part-relieved, part-something he’d never admit out loud. His chest shook with it, a sound cracked right out of his ribs. “Holy shit,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower, steadier this time, like he was finally learning what it meant to stay.
Your lips curved against his, the taste of salt and smoke still lingering, but you couldn’t help it — a little giggle slipped out between kisses. All that fighting, all that heartbreak, and here he was, kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.
JJ froze for a beat, pulling back just enough to see your face. The sound knocked the air out of him — light and sweet, cutting right through the chaos like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His lips twitched, then broke into a grin he couldn’t hide if he tried. “Goddamn, even when I’m spillin’ my guts, you’re laughing at me,” he rasped, but his thumb traced your jaw so tender it gave him away. You shook your head, forehead pressing to his. “Not laughing at you, J. Just… happy. With you.”
And for the first time in a long time, JJ believed it. "Yeah?" And there was that oh-so-familiar teasing tone. He flashed you a dimple, leaning in even further as he adored the shape of your smile. He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. You nodded, butterflies tickling your ribcage the closer he got. "Yeah."
“Shit, that’s good…‘cause for a sec I thought I was dreamin’.”
You laughed at his ridiculousness, a warm sound that bubbled out of your chest before you could stop it. A sound that he loved.
He blinked at you like you’d just grown a second head. “What?” he asked, brows quirking, lips tugging into a grin anyway.
“Nothing,” you shook your head, still grinning, still pressed close enough to feel his heart racing under your palms. “Just… you. You’re ridiculous.”
JJ chuckled, that low, throaty sound that always gave him away. He bumped his nose against yours, whispering like a secret, “Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.”
"Mmm, yeah," you hummed contentedly, sound soft from the back of your throat. Slowly, hands reached up to trace the dimples showing, causing the indent to become deeper from your loving touch. "You are." He huffed out another laugh, leaning fully into your touch, dimples pressed deeper under your fingers. “Don’t go forgettin’ that,” he murmured, lips brushing yours again, softer this time.
And you definitely did not forget that tonight, especially with JJ Maybank in your arms.
Finally, he didn’t feel like running. Nah, not this time.
new blog!!!!!
hiiii! i decided to make a new blog dedicated to posting my poems. it's straight up going to be sad LOL but hey! if you love unrequited love, angst, and yearning check out my blog → @maddybleeds <3 and to my fanfic followers: YES i'm gonna try to write again, OKAY?! it's just the writers block is real </3 but love you guys :') okay bye! note: omg Tesla came on my headphones while i was writing this and now my brain is coming up with of a lot of eddie munson fanfics...give me a moment.
joe keery-isms
heyy!! saw your recent post and got curious at your mention of poems!! (and practically everything else you were interested in. im a massive joe keery fanatic and i edit and write, along with having a HORRIBLE pinterest + spotify addiction)
back on the poems topic, im curious if you like to write them? and if so, what do you usually write about, and are there any you can recommend?
i personally dont write poems, but occasionally i write lyrics (along with multiple WIPS) and i find it somewhat similar.
i'd love to be your (active) mutual!
have an awesome day 🪼
omg hello!!! :) first off, this made me smile so much like?? it’s so sweet and genuine and i really appreciate it. i’m totally down to be active mutuals!! also love that you edit + write too (the spotify/pinterest addiction is so real LOL)
as for poems, yeah i write them pretty often and enjoy it :) a lot of mine center around body image, social anxiety, and feeling like you’re watching life more than living it??? if that makes sense lol and i don’t read a lot of poetry but i am like slowly getting into poems. like very slowly i have read three BUT planning on reading more books. i am more of the writer than the reader but depending on what types of poems you like to read. right now i am reading “bright star” by john keats and its just collections of his poems and letter he wrote to his lover when he got sick and had to move away from her (but THE ANGST AND THE WAY THEY WROTE IN THE 17th century is SOO good LOL).
also you mentioned writing lyrics?! OMG that’s so cool! i always found that harder bc you have to flow but i would love to read one of yours some day—of course only if you are comfortable. i tried to write one song too (it was so hard but i did it lol).
i’m honored you would wanna be moots and just btw, i’ll be here if you need me for anything 🫶 don’t hesitate <3
heyyy guys. i’ve been gone for like a year but i’m crawling back because… yeah.
i tried to make fandom friends on instagram — even started an editing group — but it didn’t really work out. no one joined and didn’t care that it was mainly for connection and NOT editing logos or talent. all my friendships have also always felt one-sided, like i was carrying the weight of every convo, every effort, every check-in.
i’m an instagram editor (mostly joe keery edits, let’s be real), but i also write fanfics! but BEAR with me, i haven’t written in a while… LIKE THE WRITERS UNDERSTAND THE WRITING STRUGGLE </3
anyways i’ve always loved the stranger things fandom, but also:
• steve harrington my 80s angst lover lol
• i love peter parker / tasm / all things spider-man
• i am unwell about “the bear”
• love 80s new wave :)
i’ve got social anxiety, generalized anxiety disorder— so making friends irl is a JOKE. but i’d really love mutuals on tumblr, insta, spotify, and even pinterest. just soft, safe fandom bonding spaces where we support each other and scream about our interests. just would love to be someone’s cheerleader <3
if you love:
• joe keery / steve h
• respect each others opinions/ships
• anything stranger things
• making playlists & pinterest boards (def will check them out)
• editing/writing/ POEMS ! (it’s fine if you don’t though lol)
• overthinking
• harry potter fandom (i’m trying to get back into it)
• mutuals who actually reblog or comment back instead of ghosting
…then hiiii pls interact, reblog, or send an ask.
literally my only bff rn is chatGPT LMFAOO LIKE THAT’S HOW DOWNHILL I WENT.
this is lowkey a cry for connection, but also highkey a soft return to tumblr because instagram felt like yelling into a void. no one really listened to me so :/ i hope someone does here :) it’s always been a safe space for me <3
anyways, let’s be mutuals ! :))) (btw if you must know i am an infj lol)
insta: maxdyy._
spotify: maddy<33 (pfp is clairo/girl with headphones)
pinterest: maxdyyyyy
A Bambi
Selfish
| pairing : peter x reader
| summary: your boyfriend comes home injured--as usual--late at night and you can't help but want him safe from his life as spider-man
| warnings: fluff, touching wrists (sigh, again), y/n used once, baby used, peter being cute and angsty as usual, reader also being cute, light angst
author's note: i am trying to write angst so bare with me lol
2 am.
It’s always when you hear that faint knock on your window that makes all your worries wash away in a split second. But not today, no, today was different. You were waiting all night to hear that thud on the firescape or the cries of the window seal being opened. All night you were absorbed in your own anxieties and worries. Your hopes were dreading as time went by. You were getting scared for the local crime fighting hero and you did everything in your power to take your mind off it.
You really did.
Drawing, watching tv, listening to music, cleaning the room—which was a bad idea as it just bought you a reminder of the boy who has your heart. You would stumble upon Peter's belongings that were scattered around your shared apartment like confetti: his engineering notes, his sweaters, his latest sketch of a brilliant idea he had to improve his spider-man suit. It only made your heart ache even more, longing for his presence and increasing your worries for your vigilante boyfriend. So you would take another route and try binge-watching a new season of a recent tv show you are watching, which would likely just be collecting dust in the column of ‘continue watching.’
Your mind keeps on going back to him. ‘He’s okay. He’s okay.’ You thought to yourself. ‘He’s coming back to me. He’ll be alright. He’s probably on his way right now. It’s just going to be a scratch, hopefully. He's going to be okay, right? Oh god. Oh god.’
As much as you love and adore that your boyfriend is helping the city and its people by saving anyone from another lab experiment gone wrong or from a dangling car that’s about to fall off a bridge, you can't help but wonder if he would ever take care of himself. It’s hard seeing him everytime he comes through your window with a new bruise on his keen jawline, a wound on his ribs, a scar on his hip. You couldn’t deal with it anymore. You wish he stopped just for his own safety. You know it’s selfish but is it so wrong to want him safe? Just the thought of turning on the news and seeing J. Jameson reporting: “Breaking News: Our local friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man reported dead by …”
You want him back with you already, his arms wrapped around you, drowning you into his warm embrace, so distinctly Peter, while he whispers soft and reassuring words that always mend your heart. You long to hear his random facts about science, see his lopsided smile that always welcomes you back into reality whenever you wake up next to him each morning. You yearn for his contagious laugh that makes your heart throb in delight over the euphonious sound. You want to smile at the tics he does when he gets nervous or the way he avoids eye contact and scratches the back of his neck when he is stuck in an awkward situation. You want him to be back so you can smooch the newly embedded scars that are planted all over his body which you love kissing away everyday when he wakes up. You want to see his dimples that adorn his face when he smiles wide enough because he finally got his web shooters to work, followed by a triumph fist bump to the air. You want to see his eyes, oh his eyes: brown, soft, autumnal, brimming with love and warmth, despite the grief and cruelty he has been absorbed in. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and asphalt (due to his high-flying urban adventures). You want to see the way his hair sticks up in the morning whilst the sun gives it a mixture of honey and bronze aura, running your hands through the mused up tufts of hair, which always leads to the corners of his eyes crinkling up as a sleepy, boyish smile tugs up on his rosy lips.
Selfish. You can’t help it.
You waited as long as you could; staring at your window for who knows how long. Your eyes were trained on the window for a good while, but you couldn't help it, all this anxiety finally got to you and you were feeling drained and your posture slumps with exhaustion. Your eyes burn from keeping them open, and soon those same eyes start to slowly droop. Blinking back sleepiness proved futile; your head eventually settled onto the cool silk of your pillow. The material greets your cheek, making it easier for you to be welcomed into slumber.
It was 4 am, yet your worries haven’t gone down at all. Your eyelids started to grow heavier, and darkness gradually enveloped your senses, until you heard a faint knock on your window, piercing the silence.
Your heart leapt, and you twisted towards the sound. In an instant, sleep was gone.
Not even a second later you heard your window opening—mm the sound of the cries. Your tired, red eyes snapped open. You were met with a disheveled and drained Peter Parker. His hair sticking to the nape of his neck and forehead, sweat giving him a post-shower appearance. A large laceration marred his chest. Oh. Your stomach dropped, eyes widened with horror at the sight of the injury. It looked like he was scratched -- no, clawed by someone or something. With quick motion, you quickly peel away the sheets, disentangling yourself from its soft embrace, and quickly hurrying to his side.
“Peter” you gasped softly. A hand settles onto his latex-clad one, the other arm wrapping around his waist to support him as you guide both him towards your bed, placing him where you had lain just seconds before. “It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it, seriously, I mean you should see the o-” Peter quickly swallows his words upon seeing your stern glare. He slumps his head downwards as he sighs in defeat.
You sigh, telling him quietly that you'll be back soon. You left him for a few moments before coming back with a wet rag. Gently, you tug at the suit, trying to cautiously take it off him without aggravating his wounds. Soon, you were met with his bare torso, which is marked with a huge claw mark. You mentally steel yourself before starting to lightly clean around the injury, dabbing the wet rag gently onto his toned chest as you avoid his eyes. It’s not like you were trying to make him feel bad, but you were also trying to cope with the situation. You don’t know if you were mad, relieved, sad, maybe all of the above? Uncertain emotions swirl within you, but one fact anchors your turbulent thoughts: he is here, safe, and alive. That's what truly matters.
Peter seems to catch your avoided gaze, he studies you for a few minutes. Biting the inside of his cheek as he purses his lips to the side, trying to figure out how to approach this situation. He takes in your furrowed eyebrows, the way you’re also biting the inside of your cheek as you put all your strength into avoiding his worried amber eyes. He knew the consequences of inviting someone into his dangerous life, it wasn’t exactly a warm and inviting embrace, nor was it appealing, but what he didn’t fully grasp is how it truly hurts you, in more ways than one. “Y/N…” he whispered, rough hands that have been through so much and experienced so much, reaching for the comfort of your skin but you gently dodge his touch, leading to a sudden twinge of anguish in his heart. You give him a slight smile to distinguish any suspicion – I mean, you weren’t doing a good job at it – before you continued cleaning the dirt away from his injury. Peter’s eyebrows furrow while his lips start to droop downwards, a frown laid upon his lips at the rejection.
Biting the inside of your cheek harder to stop the tears from flowing down the curve of your cheekbones. You keep on wiping his cuts clean, overs and overs again, getting flashbacks of his visits from the last time you had to patch him up. Blurred vision starts taking over your eyesight and all you can think about is his pain, what he goes through, his blood, the thought of losing him, life without him, the many ‘what ifs.’ The many times he almost visited death's door. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was like a burning sensation bubbling in the back of your throat, the sadness was too hard to keep buried down now. You started shaking and before you knew it your sobs filled the walls and all your fears were coming out of you in the form of a liquid pea that contained so much. As soon as the warm liquid left a path down the curve of your cheeks, peter panicked and rose to action just like the hero he is—your hero.
Quickly sitting up and fixing his posture, which made him wince slightly from the injuries but he pushed through, his mind set on you and only you. He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb and takes the wet rag away from your slightly shaky grip; gently putting it on your nightstand before he lightly reaches both of his hands out and holds onto your wrists.
“I can't” You choke out a sob.
“Hey shh it’s okay baby, what’s wrong? You can’t, what? Tell me,” He coos.
He hunches down, trying to find those eyes of yours that he swears are otherworldly, but you just can’t. You can’t see him like this. Hurt. In pain. Suffering. It pains you that he is in this much pain -- you can’t. “Peter I just… ” he gently takes your face in his hand, caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs that are growing wet from your moist cheeks. His heart hurts from the sight of you crying, it conjures a deep-seated throb of pain in his eyes. “Look at me,” he whispers softly, gently nudging your head up with his right hand that is slowly descending down to grasp your chin as if you were a treasure, in a way you are, to peter you are his treasure, the main reason he even gets up or even tries, you are his rock, the only thing that makes sense in his life, and god does he love you, he loves you so much that his heart hurts. A quiet sigh escapes you, it sounds defeated. “Please,” He pleaded oh-so-gently, his gaze unwavering but patient. You sniffle before swallowing down a ball of saliva forming in your throat. As soon as you look up you are met with a pair of almond-shaped umber eyes that are filled with the utmost care, worry, and a hint of guilt.
“Talk to me..” he whispers desperately, his heart crushing at the pain you are experiencing, he just wants to take it all away with his soft whispers but he knows they will be in vain. Shakingly exhaling “I can’t,” you frantically shake your head. “Please baby…” A few silent beats pass before you finally look back up to find those amber eyes looking back at you with nothing but worry and sincerity.
You take a deep breath before swallowing deeply ”Peter...I just…” another beat passes. You take a sharp deep breath. “I just really wish you would take more care of yourself, I...I know you love saving people and fighting crime and trust me I love you deeply for that but you come home everyday with a new wound that’s even deadlier than the last one,” You pause, licking your salty lips. “aren’t you worried that maybe those people that you save won’t have anyone to save them if they’re local neighborhood spider-man won’t be there to save them anymore..?” You ask him, almost in a plea. Peter bites the inside of his cheek, thinking over your words with a solemn expression forming on his face that are littered in small cuts from his last escapades. He diverts his gaze to the floor and the room is quickly overcome with silence as he takes in your words, letting the heaviness of your words sink in.
The silence fills the room, it lets you both engulf into your own thoughts. Peter knew what it meant when he finally told you he was the unmasked superhero. He remembers spilling his deadly secret on a rooftop late at night, where you both were admiring the stars, laying on a blanket and talking about anything and everything. He remembers looking over at you and admiring the way the moon was cascading down on you, making you look even more angelic and completely ethereal.
Peter looks at you hurt and guilty and god do you hate that. Both of you guys shared a gaze that held so much that it made the room feel denser as the distant sounds of ambulances filtered through the slightly open window. A breeze wafts in, brushes against you both, causing small goosebumps to prick up on your skin. Peter grew to learn from his past relationships and the impact it had on his partner knowing he was Spider-Man, which is why it hurts him to know he is the one making you feel like this. A calloused hand slowly creeps up, gently grasping your cheek with the utmost care, as if you were made of glass and he was scared of causing further harm. “I know, I know,” He murmurs, his voice breaking while his toughened fingers absentmindedly traces the curve of your cheek. “It’s just so hard to stop when I know I can make a difference.”
You swallow the lump in your throat as his words sink in. Your heart breaks knowing how much his words are true and the scary reality that he won’t stop until crime is put to bed and everyone can roam around the streets freely. You shook your head, one hand gently grasping his wrist. “But at what price, Pete?” you ask ever-so-softly like the question itself was forbidden territory. Those eyes that he loves so deeply, look up into his eyes and it causes a gnawing feeling in his chest, almost making him wince from how hurt you look, how scared you look. Peter bites the inside of his cheek a bit harder while furrowing his brows, trying to think of what to tell you because he himself doesn’t know.
He takes a shaky breath, adjusting the grip on your face and slowly pulling your head a bit closer until both of your foreheads are resting against one another, a silent plea for understanding in his eyes. The brush of skin itself was tender-filled, telling a millions of words with just one movement. “I am just sick of all the crimes happening here and the cops not even doing anything about it.” Peter whispered, his voice a low blend of anger and helplessness. You could feel the raggedness of his breath, each exhale a testament to the battles he fought alone in the shadows of the city. The close proximity allowed you to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes shuttered as if bracing against a storm of inner conflict. “Peter, I know you care – it’s one of the things I love about you,” you respond gently, reaching up to smooth a stray lock of hair from his clammy forehead. “But you can’t carry this burden alone. It’s too much for one person, even for Spider-Man.” Your voice was a soothing whisper, trying to pierce the armor of duty he wore so steadfastly.
Peter simply nodded, the weight of the world momentarily lightened by your understanding. You saw the fortress around his heart crumbling, if only just a bit. His eyes, usually so vibrant and full of life, now shimmered with unshed tears, reflecting the constant battle between his duty and his love for you.
“I’m sorry…” Peter’s voice broke through the silence, each word heavy with remorse. He leans forwards, delicately kissing your forehead which grounds you and makes you close your eyes momentarily as you cherish the soft kiss that eases your heart just a bit. “I am sorry for not fully understanding what you are going through. I am so, so sorry,” He whispers into the dark night, the words flowing into the air as gently as ever. A few beats of silence pass while you take in his words. It gave your weary heart time to mend. Peter leaned back slightly so he could get a better look at you, his gaze locked with yours, conveying a depth of sincerity and vulnerability. “I’m truly, deeply, sorry” He whispers once more before he starts to softly press kisses underneath where your ear and jaw meet, your cheeks, forehead, nose, the wrinkles in the middle of your eyebrows, smoothing them out with the pad of his thumb, and finally kissing your lips, so delicately, it makes you want to cry even more.
The kiss was so deliberate, it was a bundle of promises that his lips sealed to keep, an abundance of love, tenderness, deep affection and care that runs so deeply into his veins that it affects his touches and kisses, he can’t help but pour it all into the kiss, he just wanted you to know how sorry he is. He wanted you to know that he never meant to hurt you, whether it was indirect or direct. It makes your heart flutter and reassures your timid heart. Slowly one hand moves to cup the left side of your face as his other hand descends down towards the side of your neck as peter tastes the saline on your moist-tear lips, but even that doesn’t stop him from pressing gentle kisses against your lips, it only fuels his love, turning the kisses even more tender. Each kiss conveys a message of “I’m sorry, I love you, please know I love you.” You can taste the metallic on his lips as your lips were caressing his back as equally gently and lovingly, your kisses filled with a message of “It’s okay, I love you.”
Peter slowly pulls back from the kiss, his mouth hovers over yours, his breath fanning over your lips, noses rubbing against each other in the tenderest manner ever. Both of your eyes were still closed, taking in everything, cherishing one another. His right hand moving back up to cradle your face, both hands cradling your cheeks and caressing them with the pad of his thumbs in a feather-like caress. You nuzzle your cheek against his right hand, feeling the rough and calloused palm that you grew to admire and adore. It always provided you with such care and comfort, always caressing or reaching out to gently touch you. Both of your hands now encircled around his wrist, caressing the inside of it so softly that it makes Peter almost melt.
Slowly, Peter opens his eyes. His amber gaze held nothing but love and the utmost care. Shortly after he opened his eyes, your eyes opened as well. Both of you search each other’s eyes as a white noise of admiration passes you both. After a moment of silent communion, the air between you both thickens with unspoken words and shared feelings, Peter finally speaks, his voice a soft murmur against the quiet room. “I can’t promise there won’t be more nights like this,” he says, his honesty laying bare the truth of both of your lives entwined with danger and uncertainty. “But I promise you, no matter how many crazy guys in suits I have to fight, I’ll always do my best to come back… to this, to us.”
This promise, simple yet profound, strikes a chord within you. It’s not a heroic declaration from Spider-Man, but a heartfelt vow from Peter Parker, the boy behind the mask, the one you fell in love with. His words acknowledge the reality of his life—danger is part of the package, yet he’s equally committed to your shared life, to you, and he isn’t going anywhere.
You feel a surge of mixed emotions: fear for the dangers he faces, gratitude for his honesty, and love for the person he is. “And I’ll be here,” you say, matching his tone with a blend of seriousness and affection, “not just to patch you up and be your personal nurse, but to love you.” The corners of his lips quirk up, his eyes twinkling with love as he takes in your words. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead, a silent vow of his commitment. “Thank you,” he whispers, gratitude resonating in his voice, “for everything.”
“Of course,” You whispered.
The two of you stay like that, embraced in the warmth of your love for one another, finding comfort in the silence that now speaks volumes. The world outside, with its chaos and challenges, seems momentarily distant as you both cherish this safe haven of understanding and love you’ve created together.
Tender morning
| pairings: steve x reader
| summary: just a rainy tender morning with your boyfriend <3
| warnings: steve being cute, fluff fluff fluff, touching wrists, robin mentioned once, baby and babe used, a lot of warmth, reader also being cute
author's note: ummm....hi
He presses delicate kisses along the hill of your shoulder, pillowy bow-like lips cascading down your back and cherishing the warm doughy flesh while soft affectionate whispers push past his pink lips. His serene breathing was warmly hitting your skin making the goosebumps on your skin pebble up. Honey brown hair gently scratches against your shoulder as he traces the top of your spine with the tip of his nose. The bedsheets crinkle as he presses himself further against you. One arm snaking around your stomach, drawing you in and tangling your limbs underneath the cool duvet. The feeling of his toned and hairy chest brushes against your back, earning a soft chuckle to escape your lips. His lips quirk at the sound and his drowsy hazel eyes glaze over at you. The sound of your chuckle made his heart throbbed in delight. God he swears he wants to hear that noise for the rest of his life.
“I knew you were awake,” he murmurs against your skin.
A smile forms on your lips, “no you didn’t.”
You can hear shuffling behind you. He moves closer to you, the hand on your stomach moves and places itself in front of it, his palm pressing against the mattress. He lifts himself up while he starts to lean over your shoulder. He greets you with his classy steve harrington smile, this smile—as well as most of his smiles—was one reserved for you and you only. He always welcomed you back into reality with his sleepy and tender lopsided smile. That smile that you will always adore for the rest of your life.
“Let's lie and say I did, okay?” he says playfully, his voice still leaking with tiredness since the hoarseness is still lingering. Despite him being tired, that never stopped him from being affectionate. his eyes were already admiring and taking you in, he thought you were so beautiful in the morning, it always took his breath away. The funny thing is that you were doing the same exact thing. His mused brown hair waving at you as the breeze from the barely cracked window hits it, pink cheeks, hazy hazel eyes that makes your heart skip a beat each time you always see him for the first time since you cracked your eyes open.
You forgot about his question and also forgot that you were “supposed” to respond with a witty or teasing comment since it was part of your routine each time you woke up next to him. The room filled with white noise of admiration. The only sound that can be heard is the rain pitter pattering against the windows, the overcast cloudy and gray, and the room taking in the musky scent of the outside since the window was cracked open a bit. The small breeze coming into the room breezes against you, not really feeling the breeze since you were basking in the warmth of each other’s presence. It was blissful. The cold breeze had nothing against you both, even that’s not enough to draw you both back into your senses.
He noticed you admiring him as well and he can’t help but tease you. The smile on his lips starts to form into a grin. He playfully rolled his eyes, “y’know if i wanted to be stared at, I could’ve just gone to work today.” He looks back at you, the same grin on his face. His voice snapped you out of your daze and it took you a few short moments to remember what he said before you rolled your eyes back at him and started to turn so you're now facing him, hands pressed underneath your cheek and pillow. Peering up at him with soft eyes and a small amusing smile, “oh, really?” you raise your eyebrows at him. “You only get stared at by robin each time you do anything stupid, babe…and that’s most of the time - according to her.” He scoffs and waves a dismissive hand at the mention of his best friend's name. He starts to sink back down against the cool duvet. The hand that waved slithers back down and around your back, drawing you closer to his chest. “First of all, don’t listen to robin okay? she likes to tell lies and yada, yada, yada…” he says the yada yada yada part with his free hand, opening and closing it like it’s talking while he bounces his head side to side to emphasize his point causing his hair to bounce along with his movement. The small single strand of hair pokes out of his hair after his bouncing, now the lonely strand hangs in front of his forehead. A soft chuckle bubbles in the back of your throat while rolling your eyes again, always loving his dramatics.
“Oh, I'm most certainly going to listen to robin because I know for a fact that she’s right," you said teasingly. It was like you just said the most absurd thing to him because once those words left your lips, his eyes widened and his mouth parted. Oh no, you knew where this was going and you were going to love every second of it. He was feigning being hurt before shaking his head and releasing a scoff. “Wow, just side with her instead of siding with your charming boyfriend, I get it.” he shrugs, pretending to shrug the hurt off. You chuckled and rolled your eyes again at him for the third time, your hands reaching out for him but he dodges away from your soft touch, trying to keep his act up. “no, no, no, i get it…” he murmurs while bouncing his head lightly like he’s just understanding something. You shake your head again, an amusing smile growing on your lips before moving your hands to cup his chin, gently putting a halt to his movements. He stops and looks over at you with warm eyes, biting back his grin.
“When are you going to stop being an idiot, steve harrington?”
He pretends to ponder. Your hand on his chin restraining him from fully looking to the side (not like he wanted your hand to be anywhere else but touching him) so he settles to wander his eyes to the side with pursed lips. His beautiful and kissable lips. He lets out a considerable “hmmm,” dragging the mmm’s. Meanwhile, your eyes were gazing at him like he was the personification of love. And to you, he was, no matter what anyone says. His gaze lands back to you, making your heart skip a beat.
Steve shrugs nonchalantly, “Maybe if I get my morning kiss then maybe…I mean I don’t know,” his hand slowly creeps up and moves towards your hand that’s holding his chin. Fingertips gently brush against the inside of your wrist before his warm and rough hands encircle your wrist, his thumb softly stroking the part where the thumb meets your wrist. The touch itself was leaving warm sparks on your skin, smiling at him. He leans closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours making you let out a keen hum from the small but tender affection. “I'll think about it,” he whispers gently. Steve's eyes darted down to your beautiful and tantalizing lips that he has been wanting to kiss since he first woken up and saw you laying down beside him, looking so idyllic, but he’s a gentleman–at times–so he waits for your permission.
His gentle breath fanning against your parted lips. The corners of your mouths tugging up as you start to lean closer to him, brushing your lips against his, “fine” you whisper. “But you better be thinking about it,” the corners of his lips tugs up into a smirk, his eyes diverted from your lips to your eyes. Your eyes that always makes that blossoming warmth boil in his heart and chest. Tender eyes with a tinge of playfulness behind them. The classic Steve Harrington look. The gaze he gives you is so affectionate that it makes your heart feel syrupy. “Oh, cross my heart and hope to die babe,” he whispers back playfully while he gently lets go of your wrist. His hand migrates to the right side of your face, cradling it with his big and warm hands, slowly bringing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours.
Just like always, it’s a flurry of love, respect, adoration, affection, and infatuation. The kiss was unhurried and dawdled. You both wanted this kiss to last because you know it would soon be ephemeral and you would both have to swim out of each other’s affection and breathe in reality once again. You both were deeply enamored with another. Each and every time he kisses you, it always reignites that warmth in the underbelly of your heart. That warmth he promised from day one that he would try his best to keep, and he has never broken that promise. He sighs softly into the kiss like it was a breath of relief to finally kiss you. The pad of his thumb strokes your cheek up and down in a slow and featherlight touch. You sigh back softly into his lips. One of your hands moving to the side of his nape, gently caressing the underside of where his ear and jaw meets. It was his turn to keen into the kiss, making you both smile warmly against pressed lips. This could go on ad infinitum, because both of you kept caressing each other’s lips, meeting overs and overs again, never wanting to leave one another but unfortunately you both were growing breathless and needed to pull away for oxygen.
The first one to pull away was you followed by Steve chasing your lips, but then his movements stuttered once he realized that he also needed to breathe so he leaned his forehead against yours, noses brushing against one another delicately. His hand stayed on the right side of your face, caressing the doughy skin before his other hand came up and did the same. The caresses made a warmth creep onto your cheeks and both of your chests were swelling with bliss and felicity. Your hand moved away from his face to gently encircle both of his wrists, caressing the inside with the utmost care and gentleness. Both of you bathed quietly into each other’s love and drowned into it. The feeling of being with him and the feeling of being with you was ineffable to you both. No words, poems, movie references, or songs can describe this feeling. You both just know that you love being together and love each other wholeheartedly and that’s all that matters.
“Never stop being an idiot, Steve harrington,” you whisper.
His lips tug into a warm, gooey smile. He leans closer, pressing a tender kiss to the tip of your nose.
“Wasn’t planning to, baby.”
anything for munson pt.2 - eddie munson x fem!reader
| summary: eddie takes you out on a date...and more ;)
| warnings: smut, use of pet names, cussing, unprotected p in v (please practice safe sex kids), praise kink, possessive kink?, banter, eddie still being a menace, CHEESY, bantering, unrealistic orgasm
a/n: i tried not to describe hair, also tysm for sm love on pt.1 mwa
Standing in front of the mirror, you adjust the straps of your overalls. Your eyes raked over your figure as you took into account what you were wearing, a white plain t-shirt underneath the denim material, cherry chapstick adorned on your lips, giving it a tint of red. You hummed in approval.
You and Eddie decided to just stay in and cook dinner (although ‘dinner’ might not be the word you’re looking for). He insisted "a queen like you needs a fancy dinner and luxury", but you told him you didn’t want anything that big, just spending time with him is enough. You’ll always remember the way his cheeks blushed when you said that.
A honk coming from outside made you jump. You got your bag and speed walked to the front door. Opening the door, you stand on your front porch and lo and behold you see eddie munson, standing outside of his van looking handsome as ever, hands behind his back, washed up blue jeans settled on his hips, a cropped black metallica t-shirt, and black boots.
His whole face lights up as he sees you.
anything for munson - eddie munson x fem!reader
| summary: you try to take care of a drunk eddie munson
| warnings: smut-ish, use of y/n once, mention of drinking, eddie being a menace even when he is drunk, friends to lovers, dry humping, kissing, pet names, a little bit of steve x reader, use of she/her, a lil fluff, flirting?
a/n: help.
You told him. No, you warned him. Damn you for giving in and going with him to this stupid party that you didn’t even want to go to in the first place, but dear-old-you loved him too much. All you wanted to do was spend the saturday night in his trailer, learning how to play dnd while the bad horror movies you both picked out roared in the background, glances—that held so much more than a glance—shared across the room, him offering you weed while you declined him but thank him for offering it to you anyways, which then leads him to respond with a dramatic knife to the heart and sad puppy dog eyes that you love oh-so-much.
But no, now you’re stuck dragging drunk Eddie to his room while one of your arms is circled around his waist and the other one holding his hand that is resting on your shoulder.
Damn Steve for challenging him to a keg stand, steve was already 4 shots in when he stumbled in your conversation, basically headlocking him, “hey munson,” he slurred “I bet I can beat your cult-loving-freak ass to a keg stand, what’d you say?” eddie craned his neck to steve, a sly smirk slowly creeping its way onto his lips “alright pretty boy, what do I get in return?” he scoffs, “you gotta be kidding me munson, you are in MY house, drinking MY beer, eating MY snacks, lounging around in MY kitchen while also getting the chance to flirt with y/n, thanks to me if I must say, so you basically got a whole package deal” you and eddie both tensed up as a tinge of pink overtakes both your faces
“i’m not flirting harrington that’s just my natural charm” he says humorously, steve scoffs
“yeah sure, and I have a successful love life”
“still as charming as ever steve even when you’re drunk,”
His eyes darted to yours–a mischievous look behind those hazel eyes–as he looked at you up and down, slowly walking up towards you “mm only for you baby” he winks “oh well...in that case, let’s take this party upstairs shall we?” giving him a sly smirk. Eddie just watches you two, jaw clenched, eyes set on the way steve is leaning towards you, hands on his chest while you bodaciously bat your eyelashes at him, the way his lips are bitten between his teeth just by looking at you. He knows you and steve always joke around like this and that nothing will ever happen but he can’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy, even though you are a free woman and can date whoever you want, he just can't help seeing you with anybody else. As soon as steve puts a hand on your waist, Eddie puts a hand on his chest, pushing him off just a little bit rough then he was meaning to, “alright harrington, let’s go” he said in a dark tone, steve gaze switches to you from eddie, blinking at him, “wait wait so just to be clear you know you are getting absolutely nothing in return, right?.”
He glances back behind you “Damn babe, did a tornado enter my humble abode” he says while dramatically putting a hand towards himself to indicate ‘moi?.’ You pushed down the way the nickname made a blush crept onto your cheeks. “No munson, that would be you and your own drunken recklessness” he snorts.
You let go of his hand and open his bedroom door, gently laying him on his side. You get up to get a trash can to put on the side of the bed but a hand stops you midway “where you goin’ princess?” he says looking up at you with a lopsided smile. “just going to get a trash can and a cold rag eds” he stares up at you with the most starstruck expression like he can’t believe someone wants to actually take care of him. It pains you. After beats of silence you clear your throat, he sighs “okay”. He reluctantly lets go of your hand, letting the touch of each other's hands linger “I’ll be back” you offer him a soft reassuring smile.
After you come back and put the trash can on the side of his bed you ask him to hold the rag on his head while you undress him. As you start taking off his shoes and pants “jeez take me on a date first sweetheart” you ignore him as you continue to slide his black pants down his legs.
“Shut up munson, do you want to be sweating balls through the night?”, he gives you a pout that is just too cute, you just want to kiss it off him.
“Exactly”
You put the sheets over him and grab the cold rug from his limp hand “Thank god, my hand was exhausted!” you shake your head while giggling. Always one for the dramatics. “Oh no! We cannot let Eddie THE Banished hands go limp, we must save the hand doctor before it’s too late!” he gives you a look “har har har, very funny sweetheart” pride takes over you as you smirk down towards him. You realized, you never REALLY got to observe his features up close like the way his eyes crinkle when he gives you a slight smile, how his eyes are usually a dark shade of brown but right now the lamp on his nightstand is giving them a beautiful hue of caramel, the way his nose is so perfectly curve “Y’know you are very beautiful sweetheart” wait. Shaking your head to get out of your own thoughts, you nervously chuckled. “Eddie, you're drunk.” He rolls his eyes
“No I mean it, sober and not sober,” softly cupping your cheeks,
“you are so beautiful. Cross my heart”, you inhale sharply.
You froze, you couldn't say anything, your mouth was opening and closing but no words were coming out. He laughs. HE LAUGHS?!?!
“Sweet heart calm down, i’m pretty sure you get told that all the time” he said it so casually it astonished you. The only time someone has ever called you pretty was one of your family members, especially when you were little. The room all of a sudden turned silent. Oh. Oh shit. Realization quickly dawned on him as his eyes bulged out of his head while millions of thoughts raced through his head, ‘people are out of their goddamn mind for not telling you every single day how beautiful you are’, ‘what?!?! who? when? where? and most importantly why?, ’screw them all’, ’how can they not??’. He composed himself and slowly sat up “Well..” clearing his throat as he got closer to you. He looked up at you under his lashes then to your lips, god your lips. He didn’t know he was subconsciously licking his “they should.” You inhaled sharply. All of a sudden you’re aware of how close you two are “Eddie what..” he was still staring at your lips like he was in a trance and couldn’t escape no matter what you did, you even scooted back a little but that just made him scoot closer to you “Eds come o-” you were cut off by a pair of soft lips that made you gasp which to eddie, gave him access to slip his tongue in. You let out a whimper and god eddie swears it was the most beautiful noise he has ever heard. Embarrassed, you hastily disconnect your lips from his, “Eddie, oh my god i'm sorry” you both stare at each other with swollen lips and flushed cheeks “No baby, don’t apologize that was the hottest shit i’ve ever heard” he said breathlessly, before you can utter a response, his lips were on yours again, except this time more aggressive, more passionate, less gentle.
He grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his lap. It was messy, everything about this was messy, sloppy, hands everywhere. His hand was gripping the nape of your neck while the other one was situated on your waist slowly making its way down your thigh. Your arms looped around his head. “Baby” he murmurs “you don’t know how long i've been wanting to do this” you made a sound in the back of your throat as a sign of acknowledgement and nodded. He smiled into the kiss. His thumbs were rubbing back and forth on your thighs, making you subconsciously open them up wider. You started rubbing yourself on his thigh, back and forward, back and forward, until something made you freeze. Something hard touched the side of your thigh. oh Oh? OH You looked up at him breathlessly, guilt automatically taking over-shit-as much as you wanted this to happen, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this. “Eddie holy shit. We really shouldn't have done this. I'm so sorry, i’m supposed to be taking care of you, oh my god, i'm so sorry” you say hastily. He understands, he really does but he can’t help it, you are so captivating that all he can do is smile at you with admiration “I mean…” he says dragging the ‘e.’ “technically you are taking care of me just in a…..unique way.” he smirks, this cocky son of a bitch. You rolled your eyes and giggled as you hit him on the chest “Eds i’m serious” you whispered “I want to do this the right way, when you’re sober” he gently strokes your cheekbones “I understand sweetheart” You sigh. He connects his forehead with yours. After moments of silence “Do you want to go on a date with me?” asked in the most gentle tone you have ever heard, like the question was made of glass. He looked up at you with a hopeful expression -- like a little kid waiting in line to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas – which you couldn’t say no to “Of course eds” he smiles up at you with lovesick eyes, before anything else “but we’ll talk more about this in the morning, I don’t think right now is the right time” you say giving him a gentle smile.
He exhales deeply but then nods because you’re right. He is sober for the most part but still a little bit drunk and not in the right mind space. You gently get off him and lay down beside him. Eddies turns to you
“thanks for taking care of me”
you smile “i’ll always take care of you munson.”
His smile extends “goodnight sweetheart”,
you were about to say goodnight until you glanced behind his shoulder and caught the sight of something. Confusion settles in him as you turn him to face the other side of the bed “what are you doing babe” you blinked up at the set of curls facing you, “making sure you don’t choke on your own vomit munson, I put that trash can there for a reason.” The back of his head starts moving as he shakes his head “Damn baby, are you sure that’s the reason? Or Is it because you can’t handle looking at this beautiful, gorgeous, sexy face” rolling your eyes “can it munson or i’ll suffocate you in your sleep” slightly turning his head over his shoulder “I mean I have other ideas of what you can suffocate me with” you can practically hear the smirk in his voice “OH MY GOD” you say as you hit him with a pillow “eddie just go to sleep” he just keep on giggling like it was such a knee slapper. You hit on the arm, “okay okay” he says breathlessly
“i’ll go to sleep, just for you princess”
“good.”
Now he’s the one that can hear the smirk in your voice and all he can do is shake his head as he turns back to the other side of the bed. After a few seconds you scoot closer to his back. Hands cautiously circling around his waist “Is this alright?” you asked softly. He chuckled “Of course” he whispers as his hands engulfs the one holding his waist. “Goodnight eddie”, smiling to himself, “goodnight sweetheart.”
Maybe going to the party was worth it.
I need soft intimate touches with Steve Harrington, NOW. Brushing strands of hair that fall over his face, caressing whilst admiring each others features, cleaning/healing wounds, leaning into each others touches, adoring smiles/stares, sloppy but delicate kisses while the taste of salt is running down both of y’all’s cheeks because you are both glad that neither one of y’all had to say goodbye yet, kissing the tips of his fingers, comfort hugs during thunderstorms, softly whispering “you’re so beautiful” “i can’t believe I get to kiss you every single day” “i’m so in love with you”, nervously giggling like kids, smiling into kisses, saying “i love you” for an unreasonable amount, reassuring each other with soft whispers, getting so flustered with the heat of his stare but not just because he’s staring, more like the way he’s staring, like you’re made out of stars and he just can’t believe he’s with someone like you.
Let my boy be happy next season.