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joelswritingmistress · 23 days

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Camp Crystal Lake: Chapter 1

Requested by @yellowjacketsbuzzbuzz

Joel Miller x f!reader (romance/horror)

Setting: Camp Crystal Lake

The reader is taking on the position of a camp counselor at the infamous Camp Crystal Lake. While she begins to enjoy her summer, even crushing on the camp director Joel, a killer lurks in the woods unbeknownst to anyone.

Every town in North America has a ghost story. Some are well kept secrets, and others are so notorious that the sins of those tales have spread far and wide, to every dark corner of the earth. Crystal Lake was a sterling example of such a place. It had a typical sounding name, really, for a fresh body of water in the middle of the New England woods. But the stories surrounding the area were anything but typical.

As a young child, I remember hearing his name being said on the playgrounds at school. Jason. It didn’t take me long to insert myself into conversations in an attempt to hear the details of whatever version of the story the older kids were spreading. Back then it didn’t matter if they were fact or fiction. I stayed up late, wide eyed staring at every dark corner of my bedroom after hearing tales of Jason Voorhees. Now, at 22 years old and about to enter the summer as a counselor at Camp Crystal Lake, those distant, childish memories made me grin; though when my rusty, Jeep Wrangler bounced down the uneven road past the wooden Camp Crystal Lake sign, the hairs rose just a bit on the back of my neck.

“I thought you outgrew superstition,” I said quietly to myself as a song ended on my playlist, leaving me in a few extra seconds of silence to take in the wooded surroundings.

Jason Voorhees. The name still creeped everyone out. Yes, there had been a tragedy that happened decades earlier. Jason Voorhees was real; but after several attacks on counselors and residents alike, a boy named Tommy Jarvis managed to put Jason to rest permanently.

I shuddered and reminded myself that that was decades ago. I wasn’t even alive when it all happened. And this new camp wasn’t anywhere near the original location of the attacks on that Friday the 13th back in the 80’s.

I saw a pale yellow VW Bug parked up ahead next to a blue Ford pickup truck. On the opposite side of the truck was a Bronco with about as much rust as my Jeep. I began to wonder what my coworkers would be like. Would they be my age? Younger? Older? Local? I was about to find out.

I parked in the clearing beside the VW and stared out at the lake a few hundred yards away. There was a small beach with a towering, white lifeguard stand in the center and a wooden raft floating too not far from the patch of sand. If nothing else, it would be a great summer gig with a view. The campers wouldn’t be here for several weeks and I knew getting the place ready would call for some physical labor. I never minded hands-on work, and I was sure it would give us all time to bond.

When I exited the vehicle, a breeze hit me from the water and I shuddered, despite the temperatures nearing eighty degrees on the late June afternoon. My eyes scanned the trees on all sides and I suddenly wondered where everyone was. I let farfetched ‘what-ifs’ filter through my mind for a second before smirking to myself.

Grow up, I scolded myself lightheartedly. The imaginative part of me still enjoyed the folklore, no matter how juvenile it felt.

I popped open the back of the Jeep and reached in to grab my suitcase, an oversized gym bag and a backpack that housed the majority of my clothes. I had a few stray boxes with makeup and hair products, among other toiletries, though I decided I’d come back for them later.

Again, I took in my surroundings. For some reason I half-expected to see a group of young people out-and-about in the immediate area upon arrival. The silence was beginning to hit my psyche harder than I’d like to admit, and so I stared up at an oversized cabin with wooden paneling and headed in that direction.

A hammock swung empty on a giant front porch that was littered with chairs and small tables in between. Above them hung metal lighting fixtures, some of which were swinging in the summer breeze.

And then I heard a sound I could only compare to clicking. It was like a clock, almost. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

I set my suitcase down near the bottom step and shrugged the gym bag off my shoulder so it rested beside it, leaving my backpack on. And then I followed the sound.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

What is that?

I swallowed hard as the noise grew louder. It stopped for a second and then there was a louder noise. A faint bang. And then a pause. Another bang.

What the hell is that?

I rounded the side of the two-story cabin and peeked my head around to see if I could get a glimpse of whatever, or whoever, was responsible for the sound. Visions of Jason Voorhees and his menacing hockey mask left my mind immediately when the truth revealed itself.

A muscular man in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows swung an ax, connecting with a giant log of wood. It split into two, sending little shards flying into the air. He wiped his forehead with his arm and then reached for another.

I wasn’t sure if I should tiptoe back to the front porch or interrupt him, but my mind was made up by default when he slowly turned in my direction. When he smiled beneath a mustache, I blushed and glanced at the open area of his chest where a few buttons were undone.

“Hello.” He gave a wave and wiped sweat off his forehead again before removing a pair of work gloves.

I raised my hand and swallowed hard. “Hi.”

The man approached and extended an arm in my direction. I stared down at his hand for a second before joining mine to his in a handshake. Our eyes met and I felt my eyebrows raise unwillingly.

“I’m Joel Miller,” he introduced himself, slightly out of breath. “I did the phone interview with you back in March and a second one in April. (Y/N), right?”

“Yeah.” I nodded and cleared my throat with a smile.

“I’m the camp director,” he informed me with a nod.

“Nice to meet you.” My hand was still in his and finally they parted.

Joel nodded in agreement. “I’m just finishing up here. I think we have one more person to arrive today before the rest come in the middle of the week. You can get yourself settled in whatever room is still available and I’ll be in in a few minutes.”

“Okay.” I nodded, “Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

When he smiled again I might as well have turned to stone. Who knew my boss for the summer would be such a.. hunk.

Well shit. It’s thirty seconds into the summer and I’m already crushing on my boss. I added, what a lovely predicament.

CLICK HERE FOR CHAPTER

@cattt777 @gissellec1

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the-travelling-witch · 2 months

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𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐈𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌‘𝐒 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

summary: what kind of music the piercers/tattoo artists of my modern au would listen to

characters: piercer!/tattoo artist! xiao :: scara :: kazuha :: venti :: aether :: heizou

my modern au || genshin masterlist || the playlist

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

melancholic and wistful/dreamy

black over-ears

When he felt like nobody around him understood him, Xiao fell into the comforting embrace of music, listening to artists who sang about the sentiments he kept to himself. It has always helped him express himself with pencil and pen though, letting the graphite tip dance over the paper more smoothly and less hesitantly. To this day, Xiao uses music to block out the world when it all gets too much and familiar tunes help him calm down.

死ぬのがいいわ- fuji kaze, exile- taylor swift/ bon iver, young and beautiful- lana del rey, gales of song- belle, the moon will sing- the crane wives

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀

indie rock

grey over-ears

Scara has been heavily influenced by Venti whose music could always be heard throughout their shared flat. While it vexed him at first, soon he found himself nodding along to the melodies, something his roommate noticed and then offered to share a Spotify account until Scara decided to make his own. And, although he’d rather die than admit it, despite how much he loathes his upbringing, he can’t deny that some classic pieces sneaked in between his usual rotation.

shake it out- florence + the machine, allies or enemies- the crane wives, too close- sir chloe , bohemian rhapsody- queen, winter- vivaldi

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

indie, folklore

old school white wired earphones

Kazuha loves to let his spirit rest as he absorbs the feelings artists pour into their music. For him, it’s important that he can connect to the story that’s being told, either through the lyrics or the sentiment the music conveys. He opts for rather calm songs that invite you to relax even if there’s a deeper meaning to the lyrics. Music is a way for him to create his peace of mind when he can’t be out and surrounded by the sound of nature.

feather- sabrina carpenter, cardigan- taylor swift, saw you in a dream- the japanese house, to the mountains- lizzy mcalpine, let’s fall in love for the night- finneas

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

the definition of “listens to every genre” but has a soft spot for deep and tragic lyrics paired with a funky and upbeat sound

both over-ears and earbuds; also has a collection of old wired earphones tangled together (half of them are broken too)

Venti’s Spotify account is working overtime, that app is never closed. As a former band member, he knows how to play a variety of instruments and has tried a lot of styles himself, so he’s very open minded when it comes to new genres. He also absolutely kills it at karaoke nights, even if he’s already a few drinks in. Something might actually be wrong when he’s not nodding or singing along to the music playing in his head or tapping out the beat on whatever surface is closest. In general, handing Venti the aux is a fantastic idea because he can somehow always accurately gauge what music is the right mood for the given situation. He also judges films based on the soundtrack.

夜に駆ける- yoasobi, people watching- conan gray, kingdom dance- alan menken, u- belle/millennium parade, icarus- bastille

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

(80s) rock and metal or pop

rose-gold or white earbuds

For Aether, listening to music is the time he can let his (gorgeous) hair down. While he’s normally busy making sure everyone else is okay and is doing fine, he seldom takes the time to take care of himself. So when he can lean back and turn up the volume, it’s a very welcome breath of fresh air. The deep base and powerful voices help catalyse any feelings that might have built up over time, and, just maybe, the songs and lyrics are familiar from the time he was lost and confused about what his place in the world was. Yet, he can also appreciate the catchy tunes of popular pop songs that get stuck in his head.

killer queen- queen, master of puppets- metallica, one step closer- linkin park, valentine- måneskin, paradise- sophie and the giants/ purple disco machine

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

your local girl group stan

branded earbuds (ahem ahem airpods)

Heizou is a very energetic person and it shows in his music taste. Not only are his playlists full of upbeat kpop girl group bangers, he also knows just about all of the corresponding dances. More often than not, you can hear him humming and whistling along even when he doesn’t have his earbuds in. It’s also a great gateway to interacting with customers; you better believe Heizou is already halfway into a conversation when he catches a glimpse of a photocard.

fancy- twice, eta- newjeans, unforgiven- le sserrafim, queencard- (g)-idle, zimzalabim- red velvet

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

Genshin Impact: @mccnstruck @teyvattales @silentmoths @ainescribe @meimeimeirin @dustofthedailylife @nsojbbkkm @kazuuhhaaaa @inufinuf @ynverse @nico707 @boba-is-a-soup @hellithides @ryuryuryuyurboat @the-guardian-kitsune

Modern Au: @r0ttenhearts @bananasquash @hoshiwitch @franaby

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kaufmann-6 · 26 days

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What are the batfamily's thoughts on Taylor Swift?

I think Bruce would dislike her the most but not because he thinks she's bad, but because his kids listen to her so much and people *cough* Dick *cough* talk about her incessantly that it's become annoying and if he hears Dick scream "Hey, I don't know about you, but I'm feeling 22!" at the top of his lungs one more time he's going to lash out.

Damian probably pretends he doesn't like her. I don't think he listens to Taylor, but after Dick forced him to listen to every single song on the Folklore album he's gained some respect for her writing, that album is really relatable, many songs talk about mental health and some other stuff I think Damian would relate to.

Jason, on the other hand, is the secret swiftie. He tells eveyone his favorite band is some rock or heavy metal one like ACDC (which he does like) but meanwhile he's listening to the Speak Now and Reputation albums on repeat.

Cass probably doesn't care about Taylor that much, but she laughs at Bruce's misery and listens to her songs if it means she can spend more time with her siblings and has something to talk about with them.

I think Tim has some very crazy musical taste. I can imagine him having zero playlists, he just hits shuffle on his library and goes for it. So he likes Taylor's songs, but probably wouldn't be able to name her. He's like "oh yeah I like that song, I have it saved on by library but I have no idea of who the singer/band of this one is".

Babs likes Taylor and she has no shame on admitting that. Dick is the one who turned her, obviously. I think she would sit on an armchair, curled up with a book and listen to Evermore as she reads.

Stephanie doesn't think Taylor is bad, but she probably doesn't like her as much as some of the other members of family do. Maybe she has like, five Taylor songs in her library that she (secretly, she didn't want him to know and freak out) saw Jason listen to that she couldn't deny were good, but she doesn't activelly listens to Taylor.

Alfred, well, he isn't a pop guy, but he obviously knows eveything that there is to know about Taylor because Dick is a millenial and he would spend hours talking about Taylor to Aflie when Bruce got tired of him.

He got curious one day and listened to some of her songs. They weren't his taste but he gets why Dick likes her.

I don't know much about Duke's personality to know for sure but I think he likes her, he probably has a pop playlist on his phone and Taylor is there along with other artists he likes. He a casual fan, doesn't know anything about her life but enjoys some of her music.

And finally the ultimate #1 Swiftie, Dick Grayson. He's obsessed with Taylor and has been listening her music since the vey beggining. Knows every song and the meaning behind them, knows everything about Taylor life and the drama stories and calls Taylor and Travis his parents, which makes Bruce extremelly ofended.

He bugs his entire family about the latest Taylor nation news, tells jokes like "I'm in my junk food era" and "you never get out of style, baby", tries to insert Taylor references in every conversations, would absolutely be that friend who would tell you to name your baby Rebekah or Marjorie and broke a coffee mug when he found out Jason liked Taylor, hugging him excitedly.

#taylor swift #batfamily #bruce wayne #damian wayne #jason todd #cassandra cain #tim drake #alfred pennyworth #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #duke thomas #dick grayson #swiftie #swities #taylornation

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the-au-thor · 3 months

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Mirrorball reader x Spencer?

(I mean this in the way like she is what the song lyrics say but also taylor lover? BAU member?)

DEAAAAR I'm so so sorry. I've been busy and trying to write something that felt right to me. I didn't know if you wanted angst or fluff but I'm delusional and I love love soooo here we go! If you wanted something different just let me know.

All I do is Try | Spencer Reid x MirrorballBAU!Reader

Words: 1.2 k

The atmosphere inside the jet on the way back home was tense. The recent case had been exhausting, to say the least. Despite successfully closing the case after a week away, there was no real joy; people had died, individuals who would never return home to their families like you and your team. Your foot, suspended in the air over your other leg, moved to the rhythm of the music from your headphones. Trying to entertain yourself, you read a book on your Kindle. In the middle of a catchy paragraph, you looked up to find Spencer's gaze. He lightly covered his mouth with his hand while holding one of his books with the other. His face was somewhat tense, eyebrows furrowed. You knew it was due to concentration and fatigue.

You mimicked his furrowed brow, covering your mouth like he was. Then, you hid your half-smile and playfully raised and lowered your eyebrows. Spencer saw this and lowered his gaze, this time more relaxed, releasing a silent laugh that translated into a smile. He removed his hand from his face, revealing a teasing expression, sticking out his tongue. You laughed from your seat, changing your posture, both feet now on the ground. You placed the Kindle on your lap and made a silly face to make him laugh. He returned the gesture and then laughed loud enough for others to turn their heads, though their expressions didn't seem curious. It was as if they had expected to witness both of you sharing a laugh. Quickly, they turned back to their affairs, exchanging knowing glances. Oblivious to your teammates' silent conspiracy, you and Spencer silently observed each other, the echoes of laughter in your eyes.

You took off one of your headphones and tapped the seat beside you, inviting him to sit. He didn't need much persuasion to get up and join you. You offered him your headphone, and he took it silently, putting it in his ear. He glanced at you with a know-it-all expression.

"Folklore again?" You rolled your eyes.

"Ugh, just listen and be quiet."

Spencer continued to watch you with a half-smile as song after song played. He saw you chatting with J.J via text while moving your head to the rhythm. Spencer then realized that every time Jennifer claimed to be reading on the jet, she was actually lying and chatting with you, sending funny baby memes and travel destination posts. You also shared TikToks with Penelope, exchanging the weirdest and stupidest videos, prompting her to respond with laughter. The rest of the flight was in complete silence, only accompanied by your music. He wasn't a fan of pop music before meeting you, but after that, he discovered that you would go everywhere with your headphones and Kindle, reading romance novels and sighing over fictional love stories. You played songs from your playlist loudly on every occasion, and far from annoying him, he found it adorable.

When the jet landed, Spencer barely felt like moving. He was tempted to ask if he could camp there that night; the mere thought of traveling home meant too much energy expenditure for him at that moment. Spencer watched you entwine your arm with Morgan's as you descended from the jet, trying to lift his spirits. He chuckled when you jumped and kissed Derek's shaved head, despite his grimace. Eventually, he gave in, laughing along with you, relieving the tension from his shoulders. Spencer bid farewell to the rest of his team alongside you. He saw you kiss your colleagues' cheeks with a smile and lighten the mood with something funny. Spencer drove the car back home feeling a bit less tired. He thought he was being discreet, glancing at you during every red light, and you half-smiled without taking your eyes off the window, captivated by the city lights and people walking their dogs on the sidewalks.

When they arrived home, Spencer suggested ordering Chinese food since they were hungry but too tired to cook.

"Don't be silly; I'm making tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches," you replied with a smile.

As soon as you arrived, you kicked off your shoes, letting them fly across the room. Then you took off your jacket and performed that magic trick that even Spencer, an expert in the field, couldn't comprehend yet. You moved your arms, slipped your hands inside your blouse, and voilà, your bra was somewhere over the sofa. Spencer laughed after your victory dance; he knew you hated wearing a bra more than anyone, and that ritual upon returning home was something that, far from causing him any horror, made him happy. With him, you were yourself, free.

After dinner, Spencer relaxed on the sofa, watching a rerun of an old soap opera on the retro channel. The dim lights in the room suddenly brightened, and "Paper Rings" started playing on the speakers. Spencer rolled his eyes but smiled, knowing exactly what would happen when you slid across the living room floor in your pajamas and sunglasses. Spencer turned off the TV and gave you his full attention as you began lifting your legs and arms, your hair swaying around you while performing your living room choreography.

You approached him without missing a beat, a skill Spencer admired because, while he didn't have two left feet, he also didn't possess the abilities of a natural dancer. His expertise in the area was due to the countless parties at Rossi's house and all the times Penelope, J.J, Emily, and you dragged him onto the dance floor. The truth was, he could never refuse a dance, even when you invited him to join in wearing pajamas in the middle of his living room. You let out an excited squeal when he stood up to dance with you. You hugged him around the neck, getting closer as you both moved to the music.

"That's it, babe! Move those hips!" you cheered with a smile, making exaggerated facial expressions with the sole purpose of making him laugh. "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with a paper ring, uh huh, that's right, darling; you're the one I want," you sang, releasing him to twirl around the room.

Spencer played along, watching you dance, seeing your feet move with agility, spinning in the middle of the room like a brilliant disco ball; a diamond, a necklace of emeralds. The most beautiful thing in the room. Like a light that captured his attention. "You're the one I want, in paper rings," you balanced your hand in the air, pointing to your ring finger, and ran to the center table to embrace the photograph you both had taken at the Universal Studios. "In picture frames, in all my dreams" you let go of the frame and hung onto Spencer's neck, throwing bothh of you onto the sofa with a final performative flourish that made him laugh. Spencer and you stayed in that position, lying on the sofa, breathing heavily and still hugging each other. Spencer looked at you; tiny, almost microscopic droplets of sweat slowly sliding down your forehead, your wild hair around your face, and your crystalline eyes. He released your grip from his neck and brought one of your hands to his lips for a kiss. As he pulled it away from his mouth, he looked at your fingers and smiled.

"Well, it wasn't a paper ring, but I did my best," he said, referring to the delicate and meaningful ring he couldn't resist putting on your finger after two years of officially dating.

You returned the gesture, kissing his hand this time, and smiled once you had caught your breath.

"The best decision I've ever made," you murmured, feeling Spencer's fingers caress your face as he studied you with his detective's furrowed brow. "What?"

"My love, I know this case was tough for you too."

"W-what are you talking about?"

He sighed, gently caressing your forehead, this time with both hands and moving the massage carefully to the back of your neck.

"I know what you were doing there for us: being this cheerleader who always brings a smile to our faces. And hey, I get it," he clarified, "but if there's anyone you don't have to pretend to be okay all the time with, it's me."

You opened and closed your mouth, somewhat stunned.

"I...what?"

Spencer let out a tender laugh and kissed the tip of your nose briefly.

"Yes, like the song; 'When no one is around, my dear, you'll find me on my tallest tiptoes, spinning in my highest heels, love. Shining just for you,'" he responded. "You don't have to do that for me all the time or be stoic for me. I can handle your fatigue, your sadness, or your anger just like you do with me," he offered with kindness and willingness.

That, and seeing him recite that song somehow made him even more attractive. He identified the new smile emerging on your lips and smiled back.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," you replied too quickly. Spencer knew you were lying. His sly smile widened, and he moved a bit closer to you.

"Heeeey," he sang, "Even in your worst lies I saw the truth in you."

You furrowed your brow. "Are you quoting Taylor Swift against me? Because I'm pretty sure the lyrics weren't like that."

Spencer lowered his hands down your sides, hugging your waist with a mischievous smile.

"Let's put a mark our friends will see on your collarbone, shall we?" He offered, lowering his lips to your neck to start kissing it. You squirmed, feeling a tickling sensation. "Oh my God, look! Hand under your sweatshirt..." he moved his hand over your skin, and you stopped him with a smile, not entirely convinced.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

He shook his head while continuing to kiss your neck.

"I thought that with all the times we've listened to the album on every car ride, you'd know the lyrics by now. It's 'baby kiss it better,'" he replied, feigning impatience, making you laugh.

You took his face between your hands to look into his eyes.

"I've created a monster."

He looked at you, closed his eyes, and started singing, "And I can see us twisted in bedsheets, August sipped away like a bottle of wine."

"It's not August."

"Come on, your husband here is trying to seduce you with Taylor Swift songs. How many times have you heard that happen?" he complained.

You laughed, your entire body aching from your laughter. You hugged him and let him love you. Apparently, this time, it was his turn to shine for you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid au #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid x mirrorball!reader #spencer reid x bau!reader

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taylorslastkiss · 5 months

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A Playlist For Every Taylor Swift Song

illicit affairs -> Link here.

My top tracks:

What A Time - Julia Michaels, Niall Horan

The Other Woman - Lana Del Rey

Savior Complex - Phoebe Bridgers

Lie - Halsey, Quavo

Every Breath You Take - Denmark + Winter

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cutesyscreenname · 1 year

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A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 2

What Must It Be Like

Chapter 1

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary: Javier thinks over everything that happened at the bar as he and Steve get you home. He shouldn't be feeling like this...

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: drinking, hangover, language, angst 😉

Notes: So this is turning into a much longer endeavor than originally intended 😂 I thought it would only be a few parts but I capped this bad boy at 3k and we only made it halfway to where I thought we would. The next one will likely be even longer so hopefully y'all are down for it.

Here is the song mentioned at the end (there's no canon for it but I feel like Javi would have a few records from the 70's he brought from home and Santana would be one of them):

And the full playlist:

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

From the moment your eyes closed until you reached the parking lot of your shared apartment building there was no sound but the dull rumble of the engine and a gentle crooning over the radio.

Javier leaned his dark curls against the headrest, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing in front of him.

Steve’s eyes flickered over to his friend with concern but he held his tongue. The man was a million miles away, gears turning so quickly behind his eyes Steve swore he could hear the faint sound of metal scraping over itself in a desperate grind.

A cowboy. Like him.

I do what Javi does.

I'll prove it to you.

I hear it every time I try to sleep.

You're declarations float around Javier's mind in a jumble, a record that someone keeps lifting and dropping the needle onto at random.

You were a tricky one, no doubt about it. It’s why he liked you, why he wanted your friendship. Smart but not pretentious, guarded yet forgiving, sure footed but still a little reckless, and the biggest heart that you thought no one could see. Maybe they couldn’t, but he could.

He had imagined your romances before; tentative coffee dates, sweet kisses shared in taxis, most of your suitors left disappointed aside the select few who manage to be invited up for a night cap.

He had supposed not even these lucky finalists would prove to meet the standard for dating you longer than a week, a month tops, nor should they. The man you would keep long enough to mention, to bring to drinks, to invite for dinner at Steve and Connie’s, he couldn’t build such a human in his mind’s eye.

Javier had posited all of this and a million other things but none of his thoughts matched what you had just divulged.

Entertaining my companions.

Like Javi does.

The evening in review plays on the projector screen of his hippocampus.

Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won't tip ya.

Even though it was for the sake of a deprecating joke, you’d never called him sweetheart before that night. It made his ears burn and he’d practically bolted to the bar to hide the involuntary flush sure to be staining his cheeks.

Pinche mocosa, he’d thought to himself, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. The smart little mouth on her.

Later in the evening you’d groaned when Javi appeared with three tequila shots in hand.

‘Come on, we don’t have to be at the office tomorrow. Plus, Steve is a better conversationalist when I’m drunk.’

With a ‘good point' from you and ‘fuck you both’ from Steve the three of you licked salt from your hands, kicked back the poison, and pressed your teeth into limes like sucking venom from a snake bite.

His gaze couldn’t help but linger on the way your flat tongue slid across the skin between your thumb and forefinger to collect the salt crystals, his breath hitching when your lips rolled over the edge of the citrus rind as you sucked the juice from it’s flesh.

A deer in the headlights, he’d been snapped from his reverie by the man across from him.

‘Ooooo-wee. I’m switchin’ to beer after this. Someone’s gotta get you two geniuses back home later.’

‘Awww, thanks dad.’ You’d said ruffling Steve’s hair.

After your glass had emptied and refilled once and then twice more, Steve started poking the bear to amuse himself, going after the way the drink colored your words with a heavy Texas twang.

Javier relished in it, your lilting voice drawing him in like a moth to a porch light. It felt nostalgic, like the polaroid of his mamá that rested between the pages of the book on his nightstand; intimate, like a secret piece of you, buried beneath the Gulf Coast clay, awaiting your return home.

Ever the co-conspirator, you followed his lead to help him land a crude joke. Not his finest, but enough to make you laugh which was plenty for him. Then something shifted.

‘Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.’

You’d tormented the man about his noise level before. Hell, just that morning you'd been playfully ribbing him for it. It’s not like Javier tried to keep it down. He could hear the creak of your wicker ceiling fan when he lay in his own bed chasing sleep.

The paper thin walls between you concealed nothing. Sometimes Javier swore he could hear you thinking too hard on the other side of the studs and drywall. So it stood to reason that no matter what he did to dampen the lewd soundtrack you’d hear it, and if he couldn’t shield you from it he figured it was moot to even try.

The tone in your voice tonight, though, it was different. Still playful, still antagonistic, but there was a rough undercurrent slipping through. If it weren’t for Steve’s uncanny knack for levity, Javi might have gotten caught in the undertow.

‘Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.’

A solid deflection but you spurred on.

I do like Javi does.

A cowboy.

Like me.

I’ll prove it.

His mind was reeling, trying to amend the portrait of you in his mind. It felt impossible. You must have been fucking with them. He was really feeling the alcohol, more intoxicated than he’d been in a long while. He was reading it wrong. Back to the script. Back to the game.

‘I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.’

If you thought he wouldn’t call your bluff you had another thing coming. With all the cool and confidence he could muster, Javier dug his heels in even more.

‘In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.’

Yup. That would do the trick. The point goes to Agent Peña. But no-

A wave of anger flashed across your eyes, making Javier’s throat run dry.

I’ll prove it to you.

If his mind had been racing before, it short circuited when you took two of your delicate fingers and pressed them to the exposed skin of his chest. He couldn’t fight the shiver that ran through his body so he just hoped you hadn’t noticed it.

And then you- God. Fuck.

You reached up and tapped his cheek gently with your hand, your determined gaze softening just so as you peered up at him. He almost leaned into the touch. Get yourself together, Peña. She doesn’t see you like that. Goddamn tequila - una idea estúpida. He turned away from you, trying to collect his thoughts, but in his periphery he could see you were on the move.

Too sloshed to walk without stumbling, you’d swayed dangerously when you stood in pursuit of another drink. Acting on instinct, Javier had placed his steady, calloused hands around your waist. The warmth of your skin through your t-shirt seemed to creep up his fingers and send a searing current down his spine.

His hands stay curled around you for what feels like an eternity and he wonders when you’ll slap them away. To anyone that asked he’d say he had kept hold on you because he couldn't let you fall over. Really, though, he couldn’t let go if he’d tried, a man electrified, hands locked in place on the raw, exposed wire of your form.

He'd flashed a pleading look to Steve and nearly collapsed when the man took you by the hand, breaking the circuit.

He trailed behind as Murphy helped you to the car with a strong arm around your shoulders, taking the opportunity to run his hands over his face, trying to calibrate his thoughts. He sealed himself in the front passenger seat and slipped into silent thought as you slid your eyes closed.

The next sound Javi took note of was his friend’s voice.

“Jav- we’re here, man.” His tone was gentle and Javi couldn’t tell if he appreciated the care or resented what bordered on sounding like pity.

“Let’s get you both upstairs, be good to sleep it off a little.”

Javier nods, not moving at first as Steve glances at the back seat where you lay, still lost in slumber.

The man in the driver’s seat reaches back and gives you a firm shake, calling your name a handful of times before sighing.

“I’m gonna need your help getting her upstairs, bud.” Yup that was definitely pity, Javier decided.

Not wanting to prove the man right, whatever he was thinking, Javi exited the car briskly and opened the back door on the side opposite your head. Lifting your calves from the where they hung over the edge of the seat, he hooked his hands beneath the crooks of your knees and pulled you to the threshold.

When he chanced a quick look at your face he took note of how soft, how peaceful you looked. Would you even remember the night's events in the morning?

Steve moved to help but didn’t get the chance as Javier steeled himself and swiftly maneuvered you, first sitting you upright in the seat before lifting to carry you in front of him. One arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and your head slumped drowsily into his shoulder, he steeled his expression and started toward the apartment wordlessly, Steve hustling to catch up and help with the door.

“Can you tell where her keys are at?”

Javi sighed as they reached the landing. Your warmth pressed into his torso and he found himself torn between wanting to hold you tighter, to soak it in, and needing to get as far from you as possible.

“Well her pockets are clearly empty, so I’m guessing she keeps ‘em next to her cash. Not sure about you, Murphy, but I’m not lookin’ to cop a feel of an unconscious woman.”

It was the smart move, keeping your pockets empty and stashing the necessities in your bra, but it was a hindrance at this moment.

“Yeah that’s a game of go fish no one would be pleased with. Alright. She can crash with me and Connie.” Javi gave a quick nod to acknowledge his friend and turned you both toward the Murphys' door.

The lock turned almost silently under Steve’s careful movements but the hushed entry proved unnecessary when they walked in to see his beautiful wife, Connie, standing at the kitchen counter.

“Hey gang.” Her voice was soft and warm, gently welcoming the three of you in as though it was home to you and Javier as well. “She okay?”

“Yeah, honey. Just can’t find her keys and-“

“Say no more.” She waves off the explanation.

As Javier settles you onto the couch, Steve steps into the kitchen to speak with her quietly.

“What are you doin’ up, baby?”

She matched his hushed tone, just low enough to evade Javi’s range of hearing.

“Well when I woke up a bit ago and you weren’t here I figured drinks ran late. I’m about to put the kettle on, I thought at least one of you could use some tea and aspirin.”

“Let’s skip the tea and leave her some aspirin. Javi’s in no shape for company. I’ll tell you later.”

She nodded while Steve went to fill a glass with water for you.

As if on cue, “Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, Connie, but I’m gonna head out.”

He finished pulling a blanket over your limp frame, slowly turning toward them with apologetic eyes.

“ No worries, Javi. I’m on my way back to bed anyway. Thanks for helping Steve get her inside.” Her knowing smile had him feeling uneasy.

“Anytime.” He replied softly. He and Steve exchanged quick nods and Javier slipped from their dwelling to his own. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it with an exhausted sigh.

What was he even thinking? Why should he be bothered? There was no good reason.

You were his friend, perhaps his best friend, and he had learned a surprising fact about you. That was all. He had no right to be anything but slightly surprised, maybe amused.

He didn’t worry for your safety, he’d seen you take down grown men twice your size on the job. You could handle yourself, no problem.

And so what if you were chasing away your demons? Lord knows he does the same. Columbia was vast and humid. The underbelly of the drug trade held the country in its bloody grip, pressing in on you from all directions. The assignment was full of uncertainty and it left Javier so lonely in the silence of his government issued abode.

He would do anything to fill the empty spaces, to stave off the cold tendrils that would pull at the walls of his chest when he lied awake, freefalling through the dark skies of his mind until morning. He could never fault you for doing the same.

Slumping into the worn sofa, his eyes shut slowly. Nothing is wrong. I drank too much and I'm being dramatic. She doesn't even think of me that way. It's not a big deal.

Still, as the weight of the day sank into his bones, sleep beckoning softly, his mind drifted to your faint sigh as you had nuzzled into his neck in your sleep while Steve unlocked his front door. When he opened his eyes again it was morning.

You awoke with a low groan, a sharp pain throbbing a wild cumbia rhythm behind your eyes. What happened last night?

You cracked open one eye cautiously, then the other, thankful to find the room somewhat dim around you. Only the small lamp across the room from you was on, blinds and curtains muffling the sunlight that tried to peek through the window behind you.

Eyes adjusting quickly, you recognized the comfortable sight of the Murphys’ living room. It was the same exact layout as yours, but Connie’s warm touch made all the difference. The soft decorative pillows, kitschy knick knacks, and framed candid photos transformed the small unit into something that felt like a home.

Okay I'm on Murphy’s sofa. So- Your gaze finds the full glass of water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table. The puzzle pieces begin to fit together quickly. Just as you start to recall what happened the night before, what you had said, Steve slipped out of his bedroom and noticed you stirring.

“Heyyy good morning. How ya feel?” Thankfully he kept his tone low, guessing the answer to his own question.

“I’ve been better.” You croak, sitting up gingerly.

“I thought that might be the case. You see the Aspirin? Connie made sure to close the curtains for ya.”

“Yes thank you.” You tap two pills into your palm and kick them back with a healthy glug of water. “Is there a chance I could have some-“

“Already on it.” Steve was moving to fill the coffee maker with water before you asked.

“Where is that angel you tricked into marrying you?”

“At the clinic, unfortunately. Somebody called in sick and they’re so shorthanded as it is. She said to give you her best and inform you that you’d better come for dinner soon.”

You raised your eyebrows as Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, kid. I’m just quotin’. You know she won’t take no for an answer.”

You chuckled in reply.

Once your mugs were filled with rich black liquid, Steve placed them on the table in front of you, taking a seat on the sofa. You both sipped in silence for a few moments before you decided to break the ice.

“So…last night. Um. Did I-“ You did not want to ask but you needed confirmation. “Did I basically tell y’all all about my sex life in no uncertain terms?” You wince when you hear the words out loud.

“Well, my friend, in no uncertain terms… you said that Javi’s lady friends are so loud you can’t sleep so you conduct your own ah – activities – in other venues, namely the homes of your own dates.”

You groaned loudly and covered your face with your hands. It wasn’t a dream. You’d definitely made a tequila shaped mistake and said the in-your-head thing out loud.

“Do ya wanna hear the rest or should I just leave it be?”

“There’s MORE?” You didn’t want to ruminate, better to rip the band-aid off. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. So that, and then I guess Javi thought you were kiddin’ so he tried to push your buttons and you said somethin’ about provin’ it to him.”

The confirmation was all you needed, the words flooding back to you all at once.

Ear pressed to my fuckin’ wall apparently.

Ah yes, the anger. You were remembering quickly. Pendejo. Why wouldn’t he believe that about you? You weren't a delicate flower, some witless debutante in need of safekeeping. You were his friend and his fucking equal. Of course rubbing his nose in it seemed appealing, especially after so many drinks.

Polishing off the contents of your mug, you placed it on the table and stood, crossing to the door.

“I think I should go back to mine. I just-“

“Yeah. No. I get it.”

“Thanks for not diving for my keys, by the way. And ya know…everything else.” You smiled weakly at the man on the sofa.

“Yeah we, uh, figured that wouldn’t work out well. For all involved.” He chuckled. “As for the rest, anytime, kid. You know that.”

You nod and open the door. “I’ll call Connie soon.”

“Oh believe me, if you don’t she’ll be at your doorstep. She knows where ya live.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Bye Murphy.”

Once alone in your apartment, you stripped off your jeans and t-shirt, collapsing on your bed as you vowed to shower after another round of sleep.

You could hear the faint sound of Javier’s record player, the muffled melody lulling you into relaxation.

I am just a mirage

Oh, I am just a mirage

When you look at me

Through your crystal glass you will see

That I am now your past

But you give your love to me

In your life I wasn’t meant to be.

Oh I am just a mirage

Just a mirage fading away like water

The faint guitar licks pull you towards sleep like a receding tide carrying you out to sea. Even as you sink into slumber, you almost swear you can hear Javi thinking too hard on the other side of the paper thin wall.

Let me know if y'all wanna be on the tag list! I'll have one going as long as Tumblr cooperates 😂

@heythere-mel

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lovestory · 5 months

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a few weeks ago i made a big playlist of 2017-2023 taylor music and i was just struck and so incredibly moved by the picture that had been painted of the relationship from that time period. this was the first relationship that taylor was in for so many albums that continued to be released throughout, therefore she felt the need to protect the person from anything that wasn't glowingly positive being said in the music. folklore and evermore allowed her to maintain her honesty and self expression without compromising people's opinions on the person she was with. it's like when people hold back from telling friends and family about low points in their long term relationship, because even if there are issues, they can be worked through and you don't want to permanently alter the way they see your partner. even i once made a post saying that taylor keeps writing about the beginning of her relationship because she's obsessed with it and that i hope she never stops. i thought she wasn't writing about her current mindset because she was so contented that it was almost uneventful and boring. in hindsight, i can see that between 2020 and 2022 on each album there would be a back and forth of songs like tolerate it, coney island, renegade (that i would have attributed to being about characters, made up situations or past relationships in the past) and willow, gold rush, that bounce between mourning someone who is quite apathetic and distanced from her, and the beginning of a relationship that was exciting and full of passion. she was always looking back at the beginning. knowing what it was like back then, how happy she was, how she felt indebted to someone who brought her back to life, that it was worth fighting for. and taylor was so introspective that she looked through every facet of her life, of her past relationships, to try and fix it. “Should I throw out everything we built or keep it” - the crossroads, working through it so intricately on midnights. i love her music so much. i can't imagine loving anyone else's music so much, it is so rich and vibrant. the fact that we can be given a single date in an Instagram post and begin drawing so many lyrical parallels and conclusions just from that is so unique and special.

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heartandflowerball · 1 year

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Modern HOTD headcanons

This is inspired by @sansaorgana work, go check her blog!

Helaena:

She is a cat person.

When she was a kid, she brought all the injured cats she found at her home to take care of them.

She is a vegetarian.

She is in an association for animal protection.

She has a tik tok account where she posts little vlogs about her week, and videos of bugs.

She also has a tumblr account.

Alicent's contact name on her phone is: Mother, Aemond's is: 🐞, and Aegon: 🐍

She has an obsession for bugs.

She has a spider called Dragon, Alicent hates it.

Her favorite subject in high school is science.

She is in the drawing club and the theater club at her high school.

In class, she's the girl who sits in the back of the room and draws in her notebooks.

She loves to read fantasy books . Her favorite saga is "The Lord of the Rings".

She loves to paint.

She plays the transverse flute.

She tooks inspiration on Pinterest for her outfits.

Her favorite outfit is a pink overalls with a yellow t-shirt.

She loves cardigans.

She dyes the ends of her hair with pale colors. The colors she has kept the longest are pink and blue.

She has lots of plants in her room and gives a names to each one of them.

She is definitely a swiftie and makes everyone listen Taylor's music with her. Alicent listens with her but leaves after the 5th song. Aegon ignores her. Aemond listens to her talk about the love triangle in folklore even though he doesn't understand anything at all.

She makes spotify playlists for all the most important moments in her life.

On the family WhatsApp group, she only sends a message when it comes to answering a question.

Aemond:

He is a dog person.

Vaghar is definitely a big dog.

His favorite subject in high school is history and philosophy.

He just want his mother attention.

He has an instagram account just to like his mother's posts and a tik tok account to like what Helaena posts but he blocks Aegon on every social media.

Alicent's contact name on his phone is : Mom, Helaena is: Hela🌺, and Aegon is: Idiot n°1.

He has an eye patch but no one apart from his family know why.

He was bullied when he was kid but that stopped the day he bullied his bullies back.

He doesn't talk to anyone at school except his sister and refuses to be seen in public with Aegon.

He goes to all the Helaena shows.

He loves horror movies.

He has been playing the piano since childhood.

He loves Shakespeare but hates Romeo and Juliet. He says Romeo is weird and Juliet was just a 14 year old.

His comfort food are cookies.

He does fencing.

He is touch starved.

He dresses in the dark academia style.

He definitely listen to rock bands.

He lets Helaena practice her eye-liner on him.

He listen to Alicent talks about her life and work.

Aegon:

He doesn't like animals exept his snake called Snake.

He likes to scare Alicent with Helaena's spider.

He doesn't do his homeworks.

He is addict to video games.

He passes all his life in his room.

He has an instagram account where he posts weird pics of his abs.

He has a "Carpe Diem" tatoo and when he is in a good mood, he lets Helaena draw flower around it.

He secretly wants to hang with his brother but never admit it.

He likes these cringe Christmas movies.

He dresses with t-shirts and joggings, nothing else.

He goes to the cinema every weeks.

He is definitely a fuck boy.

Aemond and Helaena contact names on his phone is: me n°2 and me n°3, while Alicent is : the og me.

#helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen #aegon targaryen #justice for helaena #helaena the dreamer #princess helaena #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #helaena x reader #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd season 1 #modern au #hotd modern au #house of the dragon modern au

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miela · 7 months

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Shattered Memories • Chapter IX: The Thread of Silk and Gold • {Peter Parker x Stark!Reader}

Chapter Genre: FLUFFITY FLUFF Chapter Warnings: it's another long boi (cries in overachieving and overly self-critical writer) Extra: FELLOW SWIFTIES THIS ONE IS FOR YOU, Had to pull out my songwriting skills for this one-, another chapter I was so excited for EEEEEEEE- Word Count: 6.2k

Masterlist | Playlist | Pin Board

↪ divider by firefly-graphics

DIARY / Dream Log #67 / 05 JUN 2025

I think the hardest drug I ever took was all of Taylor Swift's discography. Because there is no way this boy in my dreams is real. He sounds like fragments of her songs and I swear being a swiftie is finally turning my brain cells delulu.

He's my midnight folklore lover (pun completely intended)

See he's not the breakup songs, no he's the love songs. He's fearless, state of grace, hey stephen, and many others all wrapped in a box of mystery with a bow on too that I can't untie or cut loose.

Of course, I made him up, why else can't I see his face? He's not real, right? He can't be. Something that good in my life doesn't exist. What do I deserve from this kind of love? All I do is hurt the ones I love, so of course he's not real. I'm just delusional. Delusional and lonely as hell.

But at the same time…then why does everything feel like a memory?

[END NOTE]

You decided that you would spend your day at the Avengers Tower penthouse. You don't think you could handle Sam, Bucky, and Dr. Cho teasing you for beaming like an idiot and trying to squeeze it out of you. And you couldn't explain to them how you didn't stay put like you were supposed to. You wondered what they would say if they knew that you kissed him…twice. God forbid Morgan knew too? You would never hear the end of it for at least three months. It was your day off so you didn’t have to worry about random calls since Nika agreed to leave you alone for a while as a way to make up for almost ruining your kiss with Peter.

You could still feel his lips on yours like the ghost of him was left with you when your lips met.

You felt different after the kiss. Good different. You felt lighter like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders and you weren’t sure if it was from the kiss itself or something else. You just knew you were really happy.

You were looking at the timeline FRIDAY had made (and graciously made into the form of a spider web just to fuck with you) and sighed. You wish you could remember everything you were with Peter. It looked like it was lovely…what you guys had before. You wish you could make yourself remember but you couldn’t.

But things started to feel more familiar than before and you couldn't really explain it. After the first kiss, it was like your body remembered him. Kissing him felt familiar but foreign in a good way.

You knew Peter was the faceless boy in your dreams, with no doubt. Especially because he never denied it. You both would beat around the bush about confirming it with the fear of it hurting you even though you were the one to push for answers more than he was. Hell, you're the one who had to find him.

You eyed the timeline and took a deep breath. "FRIDAY, archive the timeline."

After that, you went to the music room where you kept all of your guitars. You were in the mood to play and sing your little happy heart out. You didn't have a lot of guitars but you did have a collection of them that you loved and cherished. You had the first one you ever got which was a regular wooden brown acoustic one that you practiced on all the time. It was filled with stickers on the back of it to give it personality. You still remember how painful your fingers would feel after four hours of practice every day. There was a black one that your dad got you after you mastered playing the first song that you were learning. It was your favorite one for a while until you got your red one. You remember being afraid of using it because you were worried that it would break in your hands. It was precious to you and you didn’t want to mess it up.

It was one of the ones Taylor Swift used on her Red tour.

It was a gift from your beloved Spidey for your birthday. He used his Spidey status and sent Taylor a letter asking if she could wish you a happy birthday. He didn’t expect a response from her, but a week later she did. After a conversation between your favorite hero and your favorite singer, you were met with a beautifully written birthday letter with tickets to her concert and a Polaroid picture of her and her three cats, a video of her singing Happy Birthday, and two signed red guitars, one electric and the other acoustic. The red electric guitar was hung on the wall in your bedroom with the Polaroid framed next to it. The acoustic one took you a week to even use. You remember crying with happiness on and off for three hours when you got it.

Apparently, without knowing, he had saved her once and she wanted to thank him in some way and he chose that to cash in.

You smiled as you picked it up and looked at it for a long, loving moment before turning to grab your notebook. You walked down the stairs and into the living room, plopped down on the couch, and set the guitar next to you as you opened your notebook. You flipped through the pages and looked at the notes, lyrics, doodles, scratched-out, aggressively circled, and underlined words, and tear stains that filled the pages.

The entire notebook was dedicated to him. The Faceless Boy. Peter Parker.

You don’t know why you bound so much of your emotions about him along the white pages and you couldn’t tell if it was a way to clear your mind or if it was a way to heal. Maybe both.

You decided that you were going to stop forcing yourself to remember him and just enjoy the time you’re spending with him and appreciate the new memories you’ll be making with him. One’s that hopefully won’t be erased from your mind this time. Will he ever tell you what even happened? Maybe not and you still hadn’t decided if you were okay with that, but in due time, hopefully, he will be honest with you.

You landed on a page that you remember fresh in your mind because you had only written one thing on the page, and it was three weeks ago when you wrote it.

A single thread ties me to you and yet not a single memory clicks. Are there clues I didn’t see?

It wasn’t the first time you wrote a poetic line in this notebook about the faceless boy, and it wasn’t the first time a poetic line became a fully fleshed-out song. And this moment of inspiration that you had didn’t make anything different. Maybe it was because you were still giddy from the night before.

So you grabbed a pen, picked up your guitar, and began writing and strumming your little heart out.

My sweet boy…

Those three words rang through Peter’s mind for the rest of the night until he fell asleep. And then he dreamt of all the times you called him that before.

He knew you didn’t remember him, that was clear. But something happened when you guys kissed. He knew you felt it because he felt it, and he felt you feel it. On top of that, you didn’t feel any pain from it. And then when you called him my sweet boy…

He nearly lost his mind.

So when Peter woke up, he felt determined. He made a decision that he should have made weeks ago. Really it should have been five years ago.

He was going to tell you everything. And nothing could and would stop him.

So he got up and got into the shower. He spent an ungodly amount of time in there trying to figure out what he was going to say and how to react to any of the possible reactions you would have. After that, he got out and forced himself to eat something before grabbing his backpack and pulling out from under his bed the suitcase full of the things he took from your room instead of telling you everything right then and there. He had his reasons, but he was beginning to second-guess them. He opened the suitcase to check and make sure everything was in there. When that was done, he set the stuff he was taking with him on the bed.

He put on his spider suit, the one you made for him all those years ago, and put his backpack over his shoulders. He made sure the suitcase was locked and secured so nothing would fall out. He thinks he would actually die if that happened. He picked it up and went to hurry out before he backtracked.

He glanced over at the silver spider necklace sitting on his end table.

He chewed his lip. He wants to give it to you so badly, but…he wanted it to be another special moment when he did give it back to you.

So he left it there and hurried out of the apartment window.

Once, he made it onto the roof of the building, he called you. But it went to voicemail. No doubt, you were taking a break from work today. So just to be sure he called your office number.

"Stark Industries," Nika chimed in a customer service voice.

"Hey, Nika. It's Peter,"

"Ah, Avenger Lover Boy,” Her voice went back to normal. “What can I do you for?"

He blushed under his mask at the nickname. "Is (Y/N) there today?"

"Yep, she's up in the penthouse-"

"Cool! I'll be there in like…fifteen minutes."

“Oh?” she asked with obvious cheekiness in her tone. “Making a grand gesture? You better be bringing flowers.”

“She doesn’t do bouquets,” Peter stated. “She prefers going to see the flowers in their natural state. Better for the environment in her eyes.”

Nika hummed in amusement. “You pay attention. Good. See you in a few.”

And with that, she hung up.

He swung from Queens to Manhattan as fast and as carefully as he could and even helped a few people along the way. When he arrived he walked straight into the Avenger’s building. He would’ve swung up to a window and climbed in, but he had no idea how security was and he didn’t wanna risk dropping anything from the highest building in New York City. Again, he thinks he would actually die if that happened. So he let his anxiety win and played it safe by going through the building like a normal person.

He hurried straight for the elevator and impatiently pressed the button as if that would make it come down faster. He tapped his foot on the ground in suspense and waved at different people who walked passed and greeted him. When the doors finally opened, he waited for the people to walk off before hurrying his way inside and aggressively clicking buttons again.

Before the door could close, a hand stopped it from doing so.

Peter looked to see Nika step inside and give him a straight-faced nod as she pressed the button for the door to close. She glanced at him without saying anything and then scanned her eye. There was a long silence as the elevator went up and it honestly made Peter uncomfortable.

“You know,” Nika started. “You’re bold for wearing that suit today after that kiss from yesterday.”

Peter looked at her, his mask showing that his eyes widened.

“I’ll make sure the top floor is on lockdown from anyone else.”

“Nika…” Peter replied as his face burned under his mask when he realized what she was implying.

“Relax, I’m messing with you,” she smirked at him. “You’re so tense right now. Lighten up, dude.”

He took a deep breath and shook it out a little. He was extremely tense. He was about to tell you everything that you should’ve been told years ago.

Once the elevator stopped, she spoke again.

"Good Luck, Peter Parker,” she smiled and walked off and gave him a salute.

"Th-thank you," Peter replied and the elevator closed again and went up.

He took another nervous breath. “Alright, Peter, you got this. No backing down.”

When the doors opened he hurried in to find you, but he stopped when he heard the sound of a guitar coming from the conference room. He stopped in his tracks when he realized that it was you playing your guitar. He slowly walked over to the staircase walked up quietly and kept his distance.

He stopped when he saw you, dressed in a pair of black joggers, a black fitted sleeveless crop top, and a long black cardigan that was falling off one shoulder. You had your stark specs on and you wiggled your bare toes and you strummed the red guitar that he recognized all too well. You were facing the window and he could see your reflection through it but he was just out of view to where you couldn’t see his. He smiled under his mask. He missed watching you play.

But the minute you started singing, his heart nearly stopped.

Green was the color of the grass

Where I used to read at Centennial Park

I used to think I would meet somebody there

Peter remembered when you told him that there were days when you would go to this park and read a book. Sometimes you still went when you needed to clear your mind. Although you were proud to be a Stark, it was a bit of a heavy thing to have on your shoulders at such a young age. So to get away from everything, you would take a book, go to Centennial Park, and escape into worlds that were different from yours. He remembered how you told him that you always hoped to meet eyes with somebody there and fall in love with them.

That’s not exactly how it happened with the two of you, but you always said it was better than your little fantasy.

Blue was the color of your shirt

When you were sixteen at the deli shop

You used to go when you had a little money

He recalled the first time you went to his place with Celina. You all had a project you were working on and he took you to Delmar’s deli shop to get some food.

Time, curious time

Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Were there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

Peter realized the song was about your memories of him in your dreams.

Bad was the blood of the vibes in the flight

On your trip to Germany

You ate at my favorite spot for dinner

Bold was the waitress on our three-day trip

Getting lunch in Saxony

She said I looked like an American sweetheart

He remembered that day. The first time you guys met as Spiderheroes.

Time, mystical time

Cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine

Are there clues I didn't see?

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

He leaned against the wall and listened to you continue to sing.

A string that pulled me

Out of all the wrong arms right into the right heart

Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons

One web of silk and gold tied me to you

Peter smiled as he listened to your melodic and poetic words.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind

For the ones who broke my heart

Now I live life in the present.

Gold is the color of the leaves

When I'll show you around Centennial Park

Hell, what a journey but it brought me heaven

He looked forward to when you took him to your safe place. Again.

Time, wondrous time

Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies

And it's cool, darling, with me

And isn't it just so pretty to think

All along there was some

Invisible string

Tying you to me?

You finished the song, let out a breath of relief, and drummed your nails on the guitar gently before setting it down next to you and picking up your notebook. Then you paused and Peter knew why. You sensed him and your eyes widened as you whipped your head around to look for him.

Now’s your chance, he thought, taking off his mask and walking into view.

"Peter…!" You chimed as you set down your notebook and got off the table. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Peter pressed his lips together. Here goes nothing. Actually, it’s everything. "(Y/N)...I have something to tell you."

"Okay…" you responded gingerly as you crossed your arms over yourself with your brows pulled together with a concerned look on your face. You must have sensed his nervousness.

Peter walked over to the table throwing his backpack down and setting the suitcase on the table. He quickly fiddled with the latches, forced them open, and then turned it towards you. You looked at it to see a scrapbook, picture frames, polaroids, and other items that you recognized from…your dreams. Your eyes widened.

"Peter…?" You looked up at him wondrously.

"I know Ghost Stories is your favorite Coldplay album and Lover is your favorite Taylor Swift album.”

You looked at him confused.

“I know you can't get a night of proper sleep unless you drink a cup of tea mixed with milk and honey and you need something to hold while sleeping, specifically, Starky, your wolf plush that you named after your family and the Starks from Game of Thrones. I know your favorite character from Game of Thrones is Lyanna Stark because of the quote 'You saw her beauty but not the iron underneath' from the books and that's the meaning of the blue roses on your tattoo. You also asked Steve to help you with the drawing years ago.”

Your expression turned to shock as you kept looking at him frozen.

“I know that you hate messy spaces and people handing you things because your dad was the same way. I know that you have to pet every cat you come across and that you like dark content and media because it reminds you of who and what you're fighting for and you fear being so out of touch with reality because you're extremely privileged.”

You blink rapidly as you process what is happening at the moment.

“I know that you love playing the guitar and you write songs. It's like your diary where you can properly express yourself because you wish your life was a musical because you're secretly a theater nerd. And you love Hamilton and Six. And Disney movies. And you love listening to the SMASH soundtrack. It’s one of the things you were shy about telling anyone about.”

You press your lips together as your expression softened and your eyes glossed over.

“I know that you love movies and that you have a huge crush on Anakin Skywalker, which I always found concerning by the way. Like…everyone finds that concerning. Ned and I had a conversation about it yesterday. You also hate the recent Star Wars trilogy but you continue to hate-watch it with me because it's something that we did together and as long as we were together, you didn't care what we watched.”

You sniffled softly, listening to him go on.

“I know that you love cold weather because you love the feeling of it on your skin because it reminds you that you're alive and human. You love Edgar Allen Poe and Shakespeare because you love Shakespeare's humor and Poe's dark romanticism. And although you deeply despise magic you love a good fantasy novel. And your book boyfriends are Draco Malfoy and Aaron Warner. And I'm not getting any further into that because I should not be this jealous of fictional characters.”

You let out a choked laugh.

“You have sensory sensitivity so you hate loud noises, bright lights, and feeling things on your hands. And it only worsened when you gained these spider powers that we share.”

You nodded softly and put a hand over your mouth to keep in your sob that was threatening to escape.

“(Y/N),” He walked up to you and gently cradled your face as his own eyes glossed over. “ We….we were in love....deeply and truly and I...fucked it all up and I still don't know if I regret it or not because you have grown into this amazing and beautiful person that I am still in love with....deeply and truly. And five years is a long time I know but...I wanted you to live your life without having to worry about me and be able to focus on yourself.”

He chewed on his bottom lip for a second like he was deciding on his next words carefully.

“When your dad died ...I could tell that you would have been in a really dark place if I wasn't there to help distract you from it. And you know what? It was the same for me too. But we never really worked through it on our own. We became each other's distractions. And I wanted to come to you five years ago, but I made the impulsive decision to let you go so you could heal, grow, and explore life I know that's not a decision I should make for you and I'm so sorry, (Y/N/N), I'm so, so, so, so sorry-"

You couldn’t take it anymore and you grabbed his face and kissed him deeply and passionately before he could continue babbling. Peter froze a moment but then matched the energy of your kiss as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to him.

The kiss was much more desperate but just as passionate as the day before. And there was no one here to interrupt you. It was just the two of you and your passion running wild for each other.

Peter wouldn’t have it any other way.

You pulled back for a moment and he chased the kiss instinctively not wanting to part just yet. He looked at you with hooded eyes and you both catching your breath because you both forgot that breathing during a kiss is essential.

You smiled softly and leaned your forehead on his as said barely in a whisper. "You finally admit you’re the faceless boy,” you sniffled as you met his gaze. “Idiot. You could’ve told me sooner that you’re the guy in my dreams..."

“I’m sorry…” Peter blushed and gulped softly before asking, "Can I also be the guy in your reality?"

You giggled. “There you go flirting again.”

“And I’m still being serious,” he smirked softly.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your smile grew. “About damn time you asked me.”

Peter smiled that charming smile you loved so much as he tasted your lips again and your senses continued to bloom within the both of you.

You had so many questions and Peter was expecting that. He was honest and didn't hide anything from you when you asked.

He started by explaining everything that happened and why nobody could remember him.

You repeated it back to him to clarify that you heard everything correctly.

"I'm not sure what pisses me off more, honestly."

"I think all of it pisses you off."

"You're right, it does. And you tried to get everyone to forget that you were Spiderman but you accidentally messed up Strange's spell and it caused a tear in the multiverse? And there were other Peter Parkers? And their villains were here? Wait, did you say Norman Osborn killed your Aunt May?!"

"Not our Norman Osborn," Peter explained. "Ours hasn't done anything yet. I've been keeping an eye on him."

You rubbed your temple and took a deep breath. "That's a lot to process. I think I hate magic again."

After that, he showed you all of the things in the suitcase. He started with the scrapbook that you both made together. It had a red cover and black pages that were filled with drawings, cute words, and pictures of the two of you. The front of it read "Our Story."

There was a tic tac toe game page that read "You Won My Heart" where you both were bored one day and played a game of tic tac toe. You put hearts over each winning line and taped it nicely into the scrapbook. There was another page that read "Our Soundtrack" with different songs written under it. The page was filled with music-themed doodles. Some pages marked your firsts and different highlighting events and you took it all in as you flipped through the pages.

Peter was leaning his head on your shoulder as he also looked at each page. He has looked over this scrapbook on his loneliest days and he memorized it front to back.

He half expected you to say something witty like "We're so cringe for this" or "This is so corny but I kinda love it" but you didn't. You were studying it with soft eyes as you ran your fingers over different parts of the pages and smiled softly. Sometimes you would ask a question about a certain page and Peter would answer.

You came across a page that read "Things I love about Peter" with a list.

"Hmm let's see if this still stands," you teased. "One, pretty smile: true. Two, genius: also true. Three, Kind-hearted: very true. Four, Short King: also very true and adorable. Five, nerdy and geeky: love that. Six, hair: agreed." You skimmed down the rest of the list. "Wow, you're literally my type."

Peter smiled smugly. "I know."

You giggled in response. "Confidence is sexy on you."

"I thought I was conceited?"

"It's different, you're my boyfriend now."

His heart fluttered at that.

"I mean, I'm no Aaron Warner or anything." He teased.

You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Let me explain something to you," you tapped his forehead. "What I like in fantasy and what I like IRL are two different things. In fantasy, I like the dark, brooding bad boys because they're written by women. They're meant to cater to my deep and dark desires personified into my fictionalized self. In real life, I like guys like you. The sweet-hearted cuties from the start." You smiled at him as he looked at you. "So don't worry yourself over men who don't exist. Especially Anakin Skywalker. The actor was just cute and I have a thing for masks."

"Trust me, I know."

You giggled softly and turned the page where it was a list called "Things I Love About (Y/N)". You paused and looked at it.

"Let's see if this still stands," Peter stated with a playful tone. "One, prettiest girl in the world: yep. Two, outspoken and not afraid to stand up to bullies: very true. Three, genius: also true. Four: hard exterior, soft interior: eh, you softened up. More approachable now. "

You snorted in response.

"Five, geek, weeb: still true. Six, talented: extremely true. Shall I keep going?"

You giggled. "You're making my teeth hurt."

"You have phenomenal dental health, you'll live."

You threw your head back and laughed before looking at him. He was looking at you lovingly. You pressed your lips together and looked at the scrapbook shyly.

"Thank you," you started. "For telling me everything."

You felt his presence closer to you and looked back at him to see his face inches away from yours. You met his gaze before he leaned in to kiss you deeply and you responded by kissing back and closing your eyes. His hand softly landed on your cheek and he could feel the warmth of your face and the feeling of love and something else through his senses. you set the scrapbook off to the side and moved yourself to sit facing him as you both deepened the kiss.

He pulls back after a moment.

"Sorry," he said lowly. "I…I just had to make sure that this is real…that you're real."

“I should be the one saying that,” you grinned. “I’ve been the one with dreams.”

“Touche.”

You giggled in response and kissed him again.

You both spent most of the day in and watching movies as you cuddled on the couch. You lent him a pair of joggers and a Joy Division band tee shirt to wear instead of him walking around in his spider suit. You guys ordered pizza and tacos and then went back to watching whatever you guys felt like watching. Peter was lying back on the couch while you were lying on top of him with your head on his chest and your legs entangled together. His hand would stroke your back lightly every once in a while and it lulled you to sleep a couple of times. That, and the sound of his heartbeat in your ears.

"(Y/N)," Peter called to you softly.

Your eyes fluttered open and noticed that the movie you guys were watching had ended. You looked up sleepily at Peter who was smiling down at you.

"Hm?" You hummed in question.

Cute, he thought. "I have to go patrol."

"Huh?" You asked and looked at the time. Five Thirty. "Jeez. I didn't realize…"

"It's okay," he kissed your forehead longingly for a moment and you closed your eyes at the feeling. "I can come back after."

You pout and then shove your face back into his firm chest. You didn't want him to leave.

"No."

Peter chuckled and wrapped his arms around you. "Okay, princess, no more pouting."

He knew pet names like that are your weakness. He could feel the heat of your face on his chest and he smirked.

"Princess," he sang.

"Stop," you whined into his chest shyly while the heat on your face widened which caused Peter to laugh softly.

"You know," Peter started. "You could come with me. People miss you, y'know. Silk and Spidey, Spidey and Silk. I get asked about you a lot."

You sighed and slowly sat up to where you were sitting in his lap. He wrapped his arms around you instinctively as you leaned your head on his shoulder "I…don't do that anymore."

You knew that people wondered what happened to some of the Avengers, and you were one of them that people often wondered about, especially since Spiderman was still out there protecting the little guy.

But one day you just stopped and people wondered what happened to the beloved spiderhero.

"I meant to ask,” Peter started as he looked at you. “Why did you stop?"

You looked at Peter and chewed your lip nervously. Many reasons made you hang up the suit but there were some that really caused you to stop. And you really didn’t want to talk about it.

"Well, for one, I wanted to help Pepper raise Morgan. Two, I have to focus on the company. And Three," you closed your eyes as you thought of the chapter in your life that you never wanted to speak of ever again. "I…made some big mistakes. I…hurt people in…so many different ways and I just don't see myself as a hero anymore because of it. When I was needed most, I let everyone around me down.” You took another deep sigh. ”Not much of a hero thing to do."

Flashes of the past enter into your mind and Peter could feel the guilt, pain, and fear of your senses stirring within him. It was strong and he didn't like it. Something told him there was more to the story but he didn't want to pry. Instead, he kissed your forehead comfortingly.

"Sometimes even the greatest of heroes make the biggest of mistakes."

"I doubt that," you replied. “I kind of like…really fucked up.”

“The fact that you feel guilty about it shows that you aren’t a bad person,” he began. "Do you remember when you first got your powers and what the first thing you did was?"

You remember that day clearly like it happened yesterday.

"I saved a van full of women and girls from getting kidnapped."

"Yeah,” Peter smiled. “ Still in your ballet outfit. Bright pink with your makeshift mouth mask that you quickly made out of your extra pair of leggings.”

You looked up at him.

“It went viral on YouTube and TikTok,” he continued. “You didn't hesitate a second."

You looked at your hands and played with your fingers.

Peter kept going. "You said in your expo speech. With great power comes great responsibility.

"My dad told me that when I was little," you replied with a small smile. “‘Where there is great power there is great responsibility, where there is less power there is less responsibility, and where there is no power there can, I think, be no responsibility’ said by Winston Churchill. And ‘the more privilege you have, the more opportunity you have. The more opportunity you have, the more responsibility you have said by Noam Chomsky,” You raised your hands and looked at your fingertips, where your webs come from. “He told me to focus on the line that resonated with me the most and it was ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ and I’ve tried to live my life by that ever since.”

Ah, Pete thought as he ran a hand through his curls. “Aunt May told me that exact same thing moments before she died."

You looked at him vaguely remembering him telling you that once before. A vague memory flashed in your mind of you holding a crying Spiderman in your arms alongside Ned, MJ, and Celina in the pouring rain. The memory brought a frown to your face.

"When you have this power and then the bad things happen, then it's on us. You knew that immediately. Whether it stemmed from a hero complex or whatever, doesn’t matter. You understood that you had a responsibility. I had to learn it the hard way. And it cost my Uncle Ben’s life."

You looked up at him sadly and a bit of shock in your expression. You felt the guilt and sadness flowing through him.

He continued.

"You're a hero, (Y/N), even when you think you aren't good enough to be one,” he leaned his forehead on yours. “And you'll always be a hero to me."

Your heart swelled at his words and you pressed your lips together. “You always know the right things to say.”

“And I mean every word.”

You smiled and pecked his lips softly and he pecked yours back before you removed yourself from his lap so he could get up.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’ll be waiting here for you when you get back.”

He nodded in response. “Okay.”

He got up, got changed, and walked out onto the launched pad for when your dad would put on the Iron suit. You walked out with him as you wrapped your cardigan around your shoulders.

He turned and looked back at you with his mask in his hands. His eyes glistened in the sunset as the wind danced through his curls softly. He smiled softly at you.

“See you later?”

“Mhm,” you responded with a smirk. “Actually show up on time this time, yeah? Because if I have to go looking for you again after another five years I’ll-”

“Kick my ass into another dimension?”

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously. “Yeah…”

“You told me that before,” He said with a chuckle. “Five years ago, Statue of Liberty, moments before…the memory blip, as you call it. But I kissed the words out of your mouth.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms over yourself. “Maybe I should act on it.”

“Maybe you should,” Peter teased and put his mask on. “You gotta catch me first.”

“You’re just trying to get me to patrol with you.”

“Maybe,” he sang. “Maybe not. You’ll have to get it out of me.”

“Goodbye, Peter Parker,” you laughed. “Go, before a bank gets robbed or something.”

“Wow, trying to get rid of me? A bit ago you were begging me not to go. I didn’t take you for the wishy-washy type but hey a lot can happen in five years.”

Your jaw dropped in total shock. “You know what-” You began to speed walk towards him with a playful smirk. “Come here, Smartass!”

He laughed as you chased him around the platform before he ran towards the edge and you stopped in front of him slightly out of breath. He lifted his mask to reveal the bottom half of his face and he kissed your cheek and your face burned once again like it had been doing all day.

“I’ll come back on time, I promise.”

“You better,” you smiled at him. “Now go be a hero.”

He smiled back at you. “And you continue being mine.”

Your face softened as your heart beamed and he turned and jumped off the platform and swung across the city.

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