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onsunnyside · 2 years

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⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again.

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe.

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all.

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being.

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift.

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still.

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another.

Hopefully, one with him.

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head.

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last.

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.”

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map.

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive.

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.”

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.”

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried.

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant.

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved.

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done.

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well.

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on.

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.”

“I have clouds… in my eyes?”

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak.

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?”

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly.

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you.

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed.

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness.

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers.

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question.

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen.

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced.

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.”

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.”

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt.

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens.

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom.

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long.

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.”

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.”

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare.

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled.

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him.

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of.

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want.

That’s the difference between the two of you.

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips.

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin.

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.”

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old.

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire.

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe?

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you.

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away.

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet.

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless.

That’s why he loved it here.

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is.

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places.

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand.

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter.

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman.

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did.

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch.

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left.

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete.

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair.

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?”

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.”

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.”

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply.

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.”

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin.

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.”

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense.

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest.

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you.

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning.

It only made it harder to leave you.

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you.

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking.

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time.

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you.

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky.

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you.

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains.

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone.

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving”

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter.

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life.

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town.

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair.

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply.

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different.

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off.

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you.

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else.

This town was in your past, just like the rest.

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare.

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline.

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.”

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost.

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full.

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room.

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface.

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth.

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish.

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed.

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you.

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view.

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears.

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address.

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy.

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious.

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you.

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more.

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow.

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite.

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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justaboutsnapped · 9 months

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Of the gardens of Adonis, Lydia, I love Most of all those fugitive roses That on the day they are born, That very day, must also die. Eternal, for them, the light of day: They're born when the sun is already high And die before Apollo's course Across the visible sky is run. We too, of our lives, must make one day: We never know, my Lydia, nor want To know of nights before or after The little while that we may last.

Sebastian Vettel + As rosas amo dos jardins de Adónis by Ricardo Reis (Fernando Pessoa), transl. Edouard Roditi @f1blrcreatorsfest Week 4: Poetry-Inspired

#sebastian vettel #f1blrcreatorsfest23 #f1 edit #*mine: edits #f1 #f1edit #seb vettel #sv5 #userxoames #hoyanjo #userbrawn #usermeangirlcoded #kylelook #formula 1 #formula one #f1 edits

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transhawks · 1 month

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canon dabi is actually so much more unhinged (and more complex tbh) than fanon dabi. as someone who loves unhinged characters this is a positive for me. i've actually enjoyed his fanon portrayal a lot over the years and had trouble adjusting at first when more got revealed about him but now i appreciate both the canon and fanon versions. the way large parts of fandom react to his canon characterization just goes to show that they really cannot handle more than one type of abuse narrative or one type of abuse survivor. Some of the commentary is honestly offensive. Like there's no problem with still enjoying fanon dabi imo as long as you're not massively fucking disrespectful to his canon version (and the people who can relate to him). anyway i can always trust your blog to have the good takes

I genuinely feel canon dabi is more unhinged. Like he's more complex and interesting. But yeah this asks is perfect:

the way large parts of fandom react to his canon characterization just goes to show that they really cannot handle more than one type of abuse narrative or one type of abuse survivor.

This might be the biggest issue here. The story is very much about explaining there's no perfect victims. Our like one "perfect" victim is Eri, but other than that, Horikoshi makes sure to explain that this idea of victim as a virtue is both dehumanizing and harmful in letting people actually get out of victimhood. Because there's an instinct to make people who get harmed seem like they should be saints, and many worldwide religions and culture see suffering as virtue.

You see this in the manga and very much in fandom. It's why anyone saying Rei was culpable until she had to speak HERSELF in the manga, was silenced or told to stop any Endeavor apologia. You see this in the completely lack of nuance when it comes to Twice and Hawks - the unhinged Hawks fans will completely woobify and strip Keigo of agency and accountability, blaming Twice and saying he "needed" to die (which Horikoshi has had to a number of times say no to) but on the other hand you have hardcore villain stans who will completely play stupid when it comes to contemplate the enormity of the institutionalization and grooming Keigo has been subject to as a child born to fugitives, essential homeless, and then as a ward of the state/bought child soldier. Or ask people about Tomura. There's no nuance, there's no desire to understand because even the idea of understanding, not excusing, but understanding is seen as apologetics or "supporting the other side". It fascinates me how much this is clear in both manga and the real world. Some of the biggest lessons in BNHA are clearly missed by its own fandom, and there's a lot of irony in that.

#asks

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roguehongsami · 4 months

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Forever Angel.

pairing/s: outlaw!yeosang x fem!fugitive

genre/s: crime, suggestive, au

synopsis: as you're hiking roadside, yeosang decides to give you a ride only to realise you don't have any idea where you're going. he takes you in, but the rest of the members are apprehensive of your presence.

content: domestic violence (insinuated), gun violence, prison break.

word count: 3k

author's note: not my proudest work lol. been in my drafts since 2 dec & just wanted it out. xoxo.

* DISCLAIMER: THIS IS FICTIONAL. IT IS NOT A REPRESENTATION OF KANG YEOSANG'S CHARACTER, PERSONALITY OR BEHAVIOUR. THIS IS SOLELY FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES. *

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ lana del rey // angels forever

Y/N had been walking under the sun for a good two hours. With the clothes on her back and leather jacket held over her shoulder, the only thing that created a buffer between her eyes and the sun was her Tom Mix hat. It was only a matter of time until the soles of her boots melted off, and she was barefoot and begging for an end.

She needed to find shelter before sundown.

A rundown car sped past her, exhaust fumes lingering in the air as it disappeared into the distance. Her brain pounded violently against her skull, a few heat blisters materialising on her body in response to the raised temperatures. The sound of exhaust pipes rumbling, polluting the air, neared.

A black Harley fat bob halted beside her as she slowed in her tracks. The owner's hair was tucked behind his ears, some strands cascading down the sides of his face. A pink heart-shaped birthmark, right by his eye, that called for attention. Sunglasses covered his eyes. He looked like an easy rider. Those weren't common in this part of the province anymore.

He pulled his dimmers over his head, taking in Y/N's figure before speaking. "Need a lift, pretty lady?"

Hand on her hip with her hat shielding most of her face, she uttered, "You offering?"

"Only if you tell me your name, sweetheart. Take off that hat so I can see your pretty face." he flashed his pearly-whites.

She brought her hat down beside her body, revealing two large and nasty bruises on her jaw and under her eye, her bottom lip cut. "It's Y/N."

He grimaced at the sight, at a loss for words. Not wanting to press for news that did not concern him, he instructed her to hop on. She positioned herself behind him on the seater, her hat and jacket nestled between their bodies. Her arms snaked around his torso before he revved the motorcycle and rode off.

The pair stopped by a roadside biker bar named Tripp's Saloon. Very old western, inside and out. A few cars and a variation of Harleys parked out front. The air conditioned interior served as the perfect escape for Y/N. Seated at a booth in the far back corner, Yeosang ordered them food, and not so long after, the waitress was back with their plates.

Being in the sun that long can work up an appetite.

"Tell me, where you headed?" Yeosang popped a fry into his mouth.

Y/N took a swig of her beer. "I haven't really thought it out honestly. I just took myself and went on. A fresh start anywhere would be nice."

Dumbfounded, his eyebrow arched. "So you journeyed into the sun with nothing but the clothes on your back and wishful thinking?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, now downing her fries and onion rings. Her demeanour was relaxed. She had finally cooled down. Any more time in the sun would've resulted in dire consequences.

He motioned gestured at her face with his chin. "And those bruises? They got some' to do with your fresh start?"

He watched as her body tensed up. She took a serviette from the holder, and as she swiped it across her lips, her head hung low. His gaze was fixed on her, awaiting an explanation for her injuries.

"Maybe." she quipped. "He's the sheriff, so nobody ever bat an eye. Would've snuffed me out eventually, so I had to get out."

They dined in silence for the remainder of their meal. Yeosang paid the bill and they were soon back on the road. The sun had took its leave, with millions of twinkling stars taking up space in the black sky. A cool wind blew, the temperatures much kinder than before.

Her head rested on Yeosang's back, taking in the fast-passing view of the endless desert and sparse cacti. The motorcycle begun slowing as Yeosang yielded in front of a cabin. Dried russian thistle dancing on the barren land, the greener kind still rooted in the earth. A black van parked out front along with another fat bob. No sign of life for kilometres, just this cabin isolated from civilization.

The Harley's engine died as Yeosang stepped off. With Y/N's jacket and hat in one hand, he held out his other hand. She took it, reluctantly so, and brought her leg over the motorcycle as they walked toward the entrance. The porch floorboards creaked under their weight. Yeosang knocked in what was presumably morse code. The door opened and they were greeted by a 6'0 tall man with a broad build.

In his baritone, he spoke, "We're bringing alley cats to our hideout now?"

Yeosang pushed Mingi in the chest, causing him to stumble back. He walked past him with Y/N still in hand. "Eat shit." he spat.

Mingi locked the door and followed the pair into the living room. There, the other members were seated and chatting amongst themselves. When their eyes landed on Y/N, all hastily stood at attention. Perplexed, feeling as though they had been infiltrated. A man who stood at 5'7 approached them, finger pointing at her.

"Who is she?" Hongjoong sneered. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

She stood behind Yeosang, feeling like an intruder who had been cornered. Her elevated heart rate made the constant thumping fill up her ears. Her senses were dulled by fear.

Yeosang raised his arm to put distance between himself and Hongjoong. "She's good people, Hongjoong. She just needs shelter."

The others closed in, as they circled around Yeosang and Y/N. He pulled her into a hug, trying to keep her away from the others. He knew bringing her over was risky, but guilt would eat away at his conscious if he did not at least try to lend a helping hand.

Jongho pointed an accusatory finger. "Did she have nowhere else to go?"

"Does she not have a home, or is she a stray?" San chimed, tone laced with disdain.

Y/N escaped the hug, body turned toward San. Her eyes welled as she spoke with a tearful sob. "I can't go back there." she pulled her shirt up to expose her stomach. "I'd get sent to my next life. Please..." she pleaded.

Her torso was covered in bruises, some old and some fresh. The room fell silent, the guys all looking at her injuries. She pulled her shirt back down. Her eyes danced between the crew, taking in all of their shocked expressions.

"Just for the night, I'll be out of your hair by dawn." she spoke firmly.

[ . . . ]

Sleep could not find her. With Yeosang sound asleep beside her, she was unable to relax. Just stared at the ceiling. She hustled out of bed and rummaged through the inside pockets of her jacket. Bringing forth a cigarette and lighter. She found herself seated outside on the porch bench.

As she blew smoke from her mouth, the flavour of tobacco still remained. Her nerves slowly relaxed. The sight of the stars, and the midnight breeze had put her at ease. That pit in her stomach was doing away with itself. She couldn't recall the last time she was this placid. The usual noise in her head had abated. Accustomed to being ruled by fear and suffering. It started off so inconspicuously and before she knew it...

That had been her life for a little over a year.

The floorboards creaked when Yeosang stood by the bench, towering over her as he interrupted her daydreaming. She took another pull of her cigarette before looking up at him. He stood idly.

"So worried about getting killed yet here you are, doing it to yourself." Yeosang spoke bluntly.

Y/N chuckled before taking another pull. "Old habits die hard." she exhaled the smoke.

"When'd you start?"

"High school. I'd gather about ten years now, never looked back."

He stuck his hand out, gesturing her to hand over the cancer stick. She obliged. "That's one nasty habit, I'll tell you that." he threw it down and put it out with his bare foot. "You weren't in bed when I woke."

She sighed as she leaned back. "I've been skittish for so long that sleep don't come easy anymore."

"If you're worried about shelter, I made the others understand your situation. You're staying with us now."

"And I thank you for it." she gave him a small smile. "A year of being a punching bag will unnerve you in ways you can't imagine."

Yeosang stood up, sticking his hand out for Y/N to take. They went back into the cabin, locking the door before proceeding to the bedroom. Laying in bed with no sheets because of the sweltering heat. Facing each other, the sound of their breathing filling the atmosphere. His hand brushed over her face, cupping her cheek. He inched forward, lips locking with hers.

She had not felt this way in so long, as fireworks erupted in her stomach.

As the kiss intensified, their actions grew more aggressive. She winced when a sharp pain from the bruise on her jaw. He apologized and eased his hold. His hand ventured down her hips and between her thighs. Their kisses grew sloppy.

Yeosang got up out of bed to remove his sweats, as Y/N pulled off her underwear. He positioned himself between her legs, bringing her legs up to his waist, making her wince from the pang in her abdominal muscles.

"Switch." her voice low.

As she hovered over him, she leaned in to catch his lips. He positioned himself upright, his arms around her waist. She lowered herself, slowly fitting him. He pulled the sweatshirt that he lent her over her head, exposed her torso and chest. His vest was the last item to be discarded.

Afraid her moans were growing louder, she bit down on her lower lip. One or two escaped but nothing serious. The floorboards creaked and the bed frame squeaked. She went in for a deep kiss, his tongue exploring her mouth.

A light knock on the door startled them, halting all their actions. "A bit louder, please. I can't hear you." Wooyoung said sarcastically.

They broke into fits of giggles, continuing as they were. Calling it a night, Yeosang laid Y/N back down and grabbed the tissues on the bedside to clean her up. He cocooned her in his arms, their bodies tangled with one another.

"That should tire you." he joked.

It had been some days since her arrival. By 9:15, she was wide awake and well rested. She was alone in bed, Yeosang had already started his day hours prior. Before joining the guys, she made the bed and picked up her clothes off the floor. Curtains open to let in some sunshine.

When she finished showering, she rummaged through Yeosang's drawer to find clothes to wear. A white sweatshirt and grey sweatpants sufficed. She stood before the small mirror hanging on the door. Taking in her mildy deformed face, her fingers brushed the bruise under her eye. The swelling was gone, only discolouration remained. The cut on her lip was far from healing.

The guys were gathered in the living room, watching the television. A news broadcast came on, a picture of a police officer was shown right beside the news anchor.

"The body of thirty-two year old Sheriff Max Hynes was discovered this morning in his home by one of his deputies. He was bludgeoned to death with a golf club. The Riverton police department says that they have already identified a possible suspect."

The camera cut to one of the detectives working the case.

"We've interviewed several community members and gathered all the evidence that we could. As of now, we've identified Y/N Reeves as our primary suspect." a picture of Y/N was shown. "We believe she may be on the run. Possibly armed and dangerous. Anyone who sees her, please call your local police department."

Y/N's criminal status was about to complicate their entire operation.

The floorboards creaked as Y/N approached the living room, standing inches away from the couch. They all turned to look at her. She saw the broadcast. She knew she had been caught. Her demeanour was relaxed as her eyes remained glued to the television. Her face wore an emotionless expression.

She rued nothing.

Seonghwa circled the couch and squeezed Y/N's arms. "You realise you're being here compromises us? Huh, answer me!" he yelled from the top of his voice.

Yeosang cut between them and pushed Y/N behind him. "She probably has an explanation, Hwa. Back off!"

Yunho towered over Yeosang, catching Y/N gaze. "With everyone on the lookout for your girlfriend, our cover will be blown if they find her. She needs to leave."

"She ain't going nowhere!" Yeosang bit back. He turned to face her. "Y/N, you said you ran away. What really happened back there?"

"I fled after I clubbed him upright the head. His time was comin', I just sped it up." she spoke coldly. "I was a good woman until I met him."

"Why didn't you just report him in a different district?" Mingi asked.

She turned her head to Mingi who was seated on the couch. "I did. He broke my arm." she lifted her left arm, revealing a healed stitch scar running along her inner forearm. "Said it was nobody's business what went on between us. And you know pigs always look out for their own, they called him as soon as I mentioned his name."

Yeosang waved his arms around, calling for the conversation to end. "Enough. Y'all got your explanation, she's staying."

Hongjoong stood before Yeosang, face stern and lips pressed into a hard line. "You better pray the cops don't come knocking on our door, or it's your head, Kang."

[ . . . ]

The remainder of the day was fairly mundane. While she was sat on the couch before the television, the guys were huddled around the dining table. They spoke in hushed tones whilst they assembled and dismantled mechanical parts. She paid them no mind.

It was dark out. While Yunho and Wooyoung packed away their contraptions, particularly careful with the hourglass artifact, Mingi prepped their dinner. The lot gathered in the living room as they watched the television.

In the distance, the faint wailing of sirens could be heard. The sirens got louder as the squad cars neared. They knew. Everyone scattered as they gathered all their belongings. Making haste to the van, the squad cars closed in as they blocked the van's path.

As Y/N was about to get in, an officer shot at her. The bullet tore into her thigh. She fell to the ground, soil getting in her eyes. Yeosang climbed out to help her but Jongho reeled him back in. The officers ran toward her. As they approached the van, a dim white light shone from inside. When the officers opened the door, all eight men were gone.

With Y/N apprehended, she was admitted into a hospital to treat her wound. Waking up after surgery the next day, she found herself handcuffed to her bed. In the corner of her room sat a detective who was working her case. He grilled her for a few minutes but he didn't get the answers he was looking for.

The detective handed her a picture of the eight men from before. "Just give us Ateez and we'll drop your murder charge."

"For the last time, suit; I don't know who they are." she struggled while handcuffed to the bed. "They took me in after I ran away."

The detective took the photo and said as he walked out the hospital room. "Guess I'll be seeing you in court."

O N E M O N T H L A T E R

Leaving the cafeteria and making her way up the stairs to her cell. Limping, with a crutch to support her. Her trial was swift. She told her truth. Expressing no remorse, she vowed in courtroom full of witnesses that she'd remake said decision should a man ever raise his hand again.

So silent she could hear her heart pumping blood. She laid facing the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come. A commotion broke out in the lower floor as gunshots could be heard. She was quick on her feet as she stood behind the metal bars.

All she saw were guards running in one direction, some plummeting to the floor in their tracks. A posse of masked men ran rampant on each floor. The guard in front of her cell shot a few times before falling to the ground, a wound between his eyes releasing blood. She distanced herself, tripping on her feet and landing on her backside.

One man stopped in front of her cell, a rifle pressed to his chest. She crawled further back with pain shooting in the wound in her thigh. She sat against the wall, shielding herself. The man pointed his firearm at the lock, releasing two shots before the bars opened.

He entered the cell and kneeled before her, pulling his mask over his head. "Y/N?" his husky voice called to her.

She pulled her arms down and her jaw slacked. "Yeosang?"

"Your bruises are all gone." he smiled as he stroked her cheek.

"And I sleep better now." she nodded. "What was that white light in the van? The cops asked me about you lot, why'd they call you 'Ateez'? I have so many questions."

Another one of the masked men stood by the entrance of her cell. He pulled his mask up. Before speaking, he fired a few shots in the direction he came from.

"If you two lovebirds are done with your reunion, we need to leave." Hongjoong announced as he fired more shots. "They're sending back-up."

Yeosang stood as he brought Y/N up with him. "I'll answer all your questions but first, let's get you out. You shouldn't have been here in the first place."

#ateez #kang yeosang #yeosang fluff #roguehongsami

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flordemurta · 1 month

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4 portuguese monarchs who might had same-sex relationships:

1) Pedro I of of Portugal, certainly, one if the most renowned portuguese monarchs, largely due to the saga of “love and passion” with Inês de Castro. Yet, it was common knowledge that she wasn't the Pedro’s only love: he harboured a passion for his squire, Afonso Moreira, a relationship that ended as disastrously as his other romantic (or not) entanglements. On one fateful occasion, Afonso was caught in bed with Catarina Tosse, wife of Lourenço Gonçalves, who was an esteemed magistrate.

Throughout his reign, Pedro earned the epithet “the Cruel” for his ruthless administration of justice, whereby transgressions of any magnitude often resulted in swift execution. Pedro’s decision to order Afonso’s castration as punishment for his adultery starkly manifested his merciless ethos. Nevertheless, according to Fernão Lopes, a chronicler of portuguese court at the time, in chapter VIII of “Crônica de el-rei D. Pedro I”, his harshness stemmed from a surge of jealousy on the king’s part upon discovering his beloved squire’s relationship with a woman.

2) Prince Henry, revered as “the Navigator”, occupies a central role particularly during the epoch of maritime exploration.

He was hailed as “chaste prince”, having never entered into wedlock, with no historical accounts suggesting (with certainty) any relationships with women. In the annals of 1444, Henry experienced the loss of a “dear friend” in Ceuta, a tragedy that pluged him into 3 months of profound mourning. Both his father, King John I, and his brother, King Edward, counselled him to “rein in his emotions, lest he indulge men beyond what virtue dictates.”

3) King Sebastian contracted gonorrhoea at the age 10/11, a malady documented in medical records at the time that rendered him sexually impotent. Some historians posit that this affliction may have dissuaded Sebastian from pursuing matrimonial unions or romantic relationships with women.

Even though, the “Crônicas de el-rei D. Sebastião” by Friar Bernardo da Cruz recounts an incident during a hunt in the Alentejo, where the entourage of nobles accompanying King Sebastian were stirred by a commotion. Investigating the disturbance, they stumbled upon the monarch locked in an embrance with a fugitive slave amidst the woodland.

4) King Afonso VI, sibling to Queen Catarina of Braganza, earned a reputation for rebeliouness and unruliness from a tender age, yet he harboured no ambitions for kingship.

His reign , marred by a series of missteps, was etched in history for its futile ventures. Despite grappling with severe health afflictions — such as partial paralysis stemming from hemiplegic fever, and scourge of bulimia — Afonso found solace in nocturnal escapades with his inner circle of friends. Among them was António Conti, an intalian peddler of opulent attire and accoutrements to Europe’s nobility. Conti’s sway in Afonso’s court burgeoned as he assumed the role of sartorial advisor and facilitator of introductions to foreign luminaries. Also, both grew increasingly closer to esch other, with Afonso avoiding royal gatherings to spend time with Conti, mostly in his chambers.

In 1666, Afonso took the hand of Maria Francisca Isabel of Savoy, yet their union was fleeting. Maria, citing non-consummation owing to Afonso’s hemiplegia, sought an annulment. In letters to his sister, he bemoaned Maria’s coercive measures, by which she compelled him into relationships with 14 courtesants in a bid to unearth the root of their marital discord.

Seeking to shield Afonso’s sovereignty and secure the portuguese lineage, Luisa de Gusmão, his mother, sanctioned the arrest and subsequent exile of Conti to the distant shores of Brazil.

#i am sorry for how long it is #but i really wanted to post it #so there you have #theres other monarchs to talk about #but these are the ones with the most evidences #pedro i of portugal #prince henry #king sebastian #afonso vi of portugal #historical facts #portugal

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moiteneia · 2 months

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Cell’s Moving Castle: AU Guapoduo.

g!Cellbit é um bruxo fugitivo. Vivendo escondido em seu castelo animado, possuí inúmeros nomes, disfarces e muita magia. Anos atrás fez um acordo com uma estrela, trocando sua alma e coração por proteção, mas aos poucos esse acordo, assim como fogo, está enfraquecendo, juntamente com a sua essência (a sua própria magia está se voltando contra ele).

Sempre acompanhado de dois garotinhos, Pepito e Richas, ele está a procura de algo ou alguém que ele viu em seu passado e que prometeu a ele salvar seu coração.

g!Roier é um jovem chapeleiro que vive sob a sombra de seu irmão. g!Doied é um gênio, o orgulho dos pais deles e vive no luxo e na glória, sendo treinado para lutar na guerra que assola o reino deles (o Rei g!Philza desapareceu e o reino acusa o reino vizinho - Capybara - de tê-lo sequestrado).

Tudo corria bem, g!Roier se escondia das bombas, costurava chapéus e se escondia de todas as visitas de sua família. Tudo ótimo!

Até que em uma certa tarde ele quase é atacado por dois soldados mau intencionados, mas, por sorte, alguém veio ajuda-lo.

-Guapito, onde você estava? Procurei por você por todo lugar!-Um rapaz loiro de enormes olhos azuis o pegou pelo braço e começou a leva-lo para longe dos dois. -Segure-se firme.-Ele sussurrou.

Momentos depois, agarrando-se no braço do outro, viu seus pés se afastando do chão.

XxX

Naquela noite, g!Roier foi amaldiçoado por uma bruxa invejosa pela atenção que o Bruxo havia dado a ele e agora, sua aparência, tal qual sua autoestima, se deteriorou, parecendo mais um velho.

Agora, ele terá que fugir da cidade e ir em busca de refúgio…Talvez um certo castelo seja o lugar certo!

xXx ENG XxX

AU Guapoduo:

g!Cellbit is a fugitive wizard. Living hidden in his lively castle, he has countless names, disguises and lots of magic.

Years ago he made an agreement with a star, exchanging his soul and heart for protection, but little by little this agreement, like fire, is weakening, along with his essence (his own magic is turning against him).

Always accompanied by two little boys, Pepito and Richas, he is looking for something or someone he saw in his past and who promised him to save his heart.

g!Roier is a young hatmaker who lives under his brother's shadow.

g!Doied is a genius, the pride of their parents and lives in luxury and glory, being trained to fight in the war that ravages their kingdom (King g!Philza has disappeared and the kingdom accuses the neighboring kingdom - Capybara - of having him kidnapped). Everything went well, g!Roier hid from bombs, sewed hats and hid from all his family's visitors. Everything's good!

Until one afternoon he is almost attacked by two soldiers with bad intentions, but, luckily, someone came to help him.

-Guapito, where were you? I looked for you everywhere!-A blond boy with huge blue eyes took him by the arm and started to take him away from the two. -Hold on tight.-He whispered.

Moments later, clinging to the other's arm, he saw his feet moving away from the ground.

XxX

That night, g!Roier was cursed by a witch jealous of the attention the Wizard had given him and now, his appearance, like his self-esteem, deteriorated, looking more like an old man. Now, he will have to escape the city and go in search of refuge...Maybe a certain castle is the right place!

#qsmp #q!cellbit #qsmp cellbit #headcanon #q!roier #guapoduo #spiderbit #cellbit qsmp #qsmp doied #qsmp roier #AUGuapoduo #qcellbit #qroier #guapoduo au #guapoduo qsmp #spiderbit au

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prettypiscesgal · 2 years

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Bugaboo

Summary: You’re Wanda’s little sister and Peter’s girlfriend and things get messy when you try to help Peter out by fighting Green Goblin.

Warnings:[18+] Lots of angst & a little bit of fluff in the beginning.

Listen while reading:

Apocalypse - Cigarettes after sex

Prey - The Neighbourhood

Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift

I love you - Billie Eilish

Summertime Sadness - Lana del rey

Epiphany - Taylor Swift

Note: Requested by @oyasumimosura This is very, very, very long and will follow NWH plot, with changes, obviously.

You and Peter were know for being the couple. All the Avengers would always tease the two of you ever since you met, knowing you were made for each other, even when you hadn’t know that.

The two of you met during the fight at the airport between Cap and Tony. You, of course, being on Cap’s side with your sister Wanda. You were told to cover Peter since you were the same age, but looking back on it now, you feel like it was a little ploy to get you together.

“I’m sorry, um.. I don’t really hit girls.” Peter had awkwardly said when you approached him.

“I can take it, Spider-boy. Try me.” You’d replied, tying up your hair while a red glow grew in your eyes.

“It’s actually Spider-man.” He corrected politely. “Are you like a mini Wanda?”

“And Pietro.” You smirked as the eyes of his mask squinted.

“Pi-ah-what now?” He tilted his head to the side, not noticing your fist coming at him before it was too late.

“Oof.” He landed to the floor with a thud, quickly shooting a web towards the second floor of the airport when he spotted Bucky and Sam.

When he landed on the second floor, he didn’t notice that you had sped up there before he could, and were now standing in his way.

“How- but.. you were-” He stutters, looking behind him to where he thought he had left you and back to your smug expression.

“Just fight me, Spiderboy. I want to see what you can do.” You replied, walking towards him while he backed away.

“I would, miss, but I really don’t want to hurt you or your pretty face.” He rambles as he backs away, holding his hands up in surrender.

You paused, a smile gracing your lips, “You think I’m pretty?”

“What- Did I say that? No, I mean yes, you’re pretty but.. I- um..” He stumbles on his words and you smiled at his awkwardness.

You reached forward, pulling his mask off, and met with a very shocked and pretty face. He just stares at you while you admired his adorable expression.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the Quinjet flying off, signaling that your team had won this round.

“Ask me out after this mess and I might say yes.” You said, handing him his mask back before flying off, leaving him a confused and blushing mess.

And then he did ask you out, after a week of chickening out and asking all the other Avengers how he should. And you, of course, said yes when he showed up with flowers that May helped him pick out, practically sweating.

“D-Do you.. um.. Want to go to dinner with me?” He asked, practically shoving the flowers into your hands.

“Took you long enough, pretty boy.” You laughed, “Do you need to use the restroom or do you always look like you’re gonna piss yourself when you ask out a girl?”

“The latter.”

The Avengers always teased you two on how clingy you were, practically joined at the hip all the time. They knew you two were the definition of endgame, though. Everyone who had eyes could see that. The love you had for each other was something straight out of the movies. And through all these years, even though you two lost many people close to you, you never grew apart. You only grew closer together through everything.

You were now living with him and his Aunt May. You’d been staying with him since he asked you out after everything went down with the accords and the airport fight, laying low since you were fugitives. And when everything got cleared up, you’d decided to just stay and Peter could not have been more thrilled.

“Morning, bugaboo.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around Peter’s waist and kissing his neck while he makes breakfast.

“What did you just call me?” His eyebrows scrunch up in offense and you giggle.

“Bugaboo. Because you’re a bug and you’re my boo.” You explain and he glances over his shoulder to give you a deadpanned look.

“That is the stupidest nickname I’ve heard yet.”

“Well now I’m just gonna say it more.” You tease, biting playfully on his shoulder as he laughs, going back to focusing on the pancakes.

“These are taking forever to cook.” Peter groans, poking at his still runny pancakes. You place your chin in his shoulder to take a look.

“You could’ve just asked me to help.” You reply, bringing up your hand and hitting the pancake with some of your red sparkles, making it instantly perfectly cooked.

Peter pouts, “I could’ve done it myself, you know?”

“I know you could’ve, big boy.” You pat his cute butt walking over to the couch just as May walks out of her room.

“Wow, those pancakes smell delicious.” May comments, giving you a warm smile.

“Okay, we get it! Peter’s bad at cooking!” Peter shouts from the kitchen making both you and May laugh.

“Have you checked the mail, Pete?” May asks while making herself a cup of coffee.

Peter gasps at that, running over to grab the mail from the basket by the door. He skims through all the envelopes and his eyes widen when he finds one special one.

“I gotta go find Ned and MJ.” Peter says, sliding across the apartment to find his things, leaving a quick goodbye kiss to your lips before running off.

“God, he’s like a lost puppy with you.” May says, shaking her head.

“I actually think he’s just a lost puppy in general.” You reply with a smile, staring at the door he’d just ran out of.

“You’re probably right.”

———

You were beyond worried. You only left for a couple hours to go visit Wanda, and when you got back Peter and May were nowhere to be found. Neither were answering your calls so you decided to go look for him in the first place you could think of.

“Ned? Have you seen Peter? He hasn’t been answering my calls..” You trail off when you walk through the front door of Ned’s home to find him waving his arm in circles while MJ shouts out him.

They both freeze at the sound of your voice.

“Are you guys alright? Do I need to call someone?” You ask, genuinely concerned that they maybe losing their mind.

“You’ve missed a lot.” MJ says and your eyebrows furrow.

“Basically we didn’t get into college and Peter tried to get Dr. Strange to fix it and it didn’t work and now monsters from different universes are coming and we’re trying to find Peter with this ring we stole from Dr. Strange.” Ned explains and you get whiplash from shock and also how fast he’s explaining everything.

“Pretty much what he said, yeah.” MJ nods along.

“Okay.. um.. any luck with the ring?” You ask, still trying to process everything that’s going on.

“He’s made a few sparkles, but that’s pretty much it.” MJ shrugs and Ned’s jaw drops in offense.

“They we’re not sparkles, they were sparks. There’s a difference.”

“Okay, Ned. Try again, try harder. We need to find him soon before he gets himself into more trouble.” You interrupt their fighting, speaking sternly as worry starts to fill you.

“What do you think I’ve been doing!?” Ned replies, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

“Well, do it again!” You shout back at him.

“Fine.. bossy.” He mumbles under his breath as he starts trying to open the portal again. “I just wish we could see Peter!”

We all gasp at the sight of the portal successfully opening to reveal a dark alleyway with a figure standing at the end.

“Is that him?” MJ whispers as we all stare in shock.

“Yeah, it has to be.” He replies and we all start to shout for him. He runs over and jumps through the portal, which causes Ned’s grandma to start screaming and throwing pillows at him.

“Hey, hey! I’m a good guy!” He shouts back at Ned’s Grandma, pulling off his mask and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Who the hell are you?” MJ asks as we all stare at him in shock and confusing.

“I’m Peter Parker-”

“Uh, no the hell you aren’t. Our Peter is much shorter and his hair isn’t as.. poofy.” You say, waving your hands around dramatically as you speak.

“Okay, my hair is the perfect amount of poof, thank you very much.” He says, raising up a finger, “And if you would let me finish.. I was saying I’m Peter Parker from my world.”

“The poofy hair world?” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, rude.” He sasses back, “I’m Spider-man, in my world, and then yesterday I was just.. here.”

Poofy Peter starts mumbling about nerd stuff as he walks around the room while Ned whispers, “This has to be because of the spell.”

“Spell? Like Magic?” He asks, looking back to the three of us.

“No, there’s no spell.” Ned quickly tries to cover up.

“Nope, no spell.” MJ adds.

“There’s magic here too?” He asks with a shocked smile.

“No.”

“Then what’s that red stuff coming out of her hand?” He replies, pointing to you as everyone turns to look at you.

“Y/N!” Ned whisper yells at you.

“Sorry, I’m in the defense since Poofy Peter from another universe just jumped through a portal!” You whisper yell back, turning back to the suspicious Peter, “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that you’re Peter Parker.” MJ joins in my interrogation.

“I don’t carry an ID with me that kinda defeats the purpose of the whole anonymous superhero thing-”

He’s cut off by MJ throwing a piece of bread at him, then going into a karate stance as if preparing to fight him.

“Why’d you do that?” He whispers.

“Tryna see if you have the tingle thing..” She replies.

“I have the tingle thing just not for bre- OH MY GOD!” He cuts himself off with a shout, jumping out of the way to avoid a chair being thrown full-speed at him.

“Why’d you just throw a chair!” He yells, trying to catch his breath with a hand over his chest.

“Tryna see if you have the tingle thing.” You shrug, using the same excuse as MJ.

“You are deeply mistrusting people.. and I respect it.” He replies, jumping up and using his sticky fingers to cling to the ceiling.

“Crawl around.” MJ orders, waving her finger around while holding a piece of bread, ready to attack again.

“Crawl around?”

“Yes.”

“Why do I need to crawl around?”

“Because it’s not enough.”

“This is plenty.”

“Do it.” She demands throwing another piece of bread, grabbing another as a threat.

“I don’t- Okay, whoa, please put down the chair.” He says, realizing you were picking up another chair to throw at him.

“Only if you crawl around.”

“Um.. my mom was asking if you could- just.. get the cobweb there. Since you’re, like, up there.” Ned cuts in, pointing to the cobweb in the corner.

He sighs, crawling over to get rid of the cobweb before jumping back down to the ground. “Good?”

“For now.” MJ replies and we all turn to eachother to discuss what to do next.

“So I opened the portal to the wrong Peter Parker?” Ned shakes his head in confusion.

“Yeah, so I guess we just keep opening portals until we find the real one.” MJ shrugs.

“Okay.” Ned breathes deeply before repeating the same thing he did last time, “Find Peter Parker.”

Another portal opens behind Ned, a random man stepping through with a confused expression.

“Great, it’s just a random guy.” Ned sighs.

“I hope it’s okay I just stepped through this.. oh, it’s gone now.”

“You’re.. Peter?” MJ asks.

“Yeah. Peter Parker.” He smiles.

“Oh god, is every random man with brown hair Peter now?” You groan, throwing your head back in annoyance.

“Wait, he’s not your friend is he?” The Man Peter says, pointing to Poofy Peter in confusion.

They suddenly start shooting each other with webs and flipping around, until Man Peter hits Poofy Peter’s wrist with his web shooter.

“Okay, let’s stop this and go find the original Peter, please!” You yell, your brain not being able to handle everything that’s going on right now.

“Okay.. um.. is there some place he might go that has meaning to him? Like a place he would go to just-” Man Peter starts to ask.

“Get away from everything.” Poofy Peter finishes his sentence and an idea sparks in your head.

“I think I know where he is.”

You remember one place Peter and you would go to when things got too much. You went there for your first date, after dinner he slung you up to the rooftop to look at the sunset. You always revisited that place whenever either of you got overwhelmed or simply just wanted to see the view.

“What are you taking me up here for Spiderboy? Think you’re gonna get lucky?” You teased him, fixing the collar of the button-up he wore for the date.

“W-What, no, of course not! I mean- not that I don’t want to.. I mean..” He stuttered, his face turning bright red, making you laugh.

“Calm down, Pete. Just teasing you.” You mumbled, kissing him on the cheek and making his cheeks burn even brighter.

“I wanted to show you the view. I thought it was really pretty.. like you.” He mumbled the last part and you smiled.

“How many girls have you used that line on?” You asked.

“N-None.. you’re the first girl I’ve ever brought up here. Actually, the first person.” He replied, scratching the back of his neck.

“You’re adorable.” You smiled, booping him on the nose and going over to sit on the ledge and watch the sunset.

“It really is beautiful. How’d you find this place, pretty boy?” You asked, swinging your feet as you see him take the spot next to you out of the corner of your eye.

“Found it while swinging around, you know? Fighting crime and all that.” He said and you giggled and nodded. “It looks a lot prettier when you’re watching it with someone else, though.”

“Wow. You are quite the romantic, aren’t you? Who would’ve thought?” You nudged your shoulder with his, causing him to giggle and look down to his lap with a flushed face.

You two sat in silence while watching the sky merge into different colors. You glanced over to see Peter’s face, his side profile looked mesmerizing with pink and orange dancing across his face. Plus a little bit of red from his constant blushing.

“You really are a pretty boy.” You admitted, causing him to turn to you with wide eyes as if he hadn’t expected you to say that.

“T-Thanks. You’re a really pretty girl.” He replied.

“You suck at flirting, but it’s kind of endearing.” You smiled softly, “Get over here and kiss me, Spiderboy.”

———

“Peter!” You call out, looking around the roof to find the boy. You see in the darkness, a figure huddled up by the edge of the roof. “Pete.” You gasp, running towards him.

You fall to your knees next to him, grabbing his face and finding his absolute heartbroken expression. “Baby, oh god.” You feel tears brim in your eyes as you look at his red ones. He’s bloody and bruised, but you could tell that wasn’t even the worst part.

“May.. she-” He starts to say, but is cut off by his own choked sob. You heart breaks and you hold him so tightly, his head against your chest as you try not to cry.

“Shh. Just breathe, Pete.” You whisper, your voice coming out cracked as you try and fail at keeping your own emotions in. “I’m so, so sorry, bug.”

May was one of the sweetest people you’ve met, taking care of you and letting you live with her when she absolutely did not have to. And now she’s gone.

You look over to MJ, Ned, and the other spider-man’s who are looking at the two of you with solemn expressions.

“Peter.” You whisper in his ear, “There’s some people here to see you.”

Peter sniffles and looks up to you, “W-What?” He stands up, groaning and looking ready to fight, only to find his friends and two figures sitting on top of the tower behind them. They begin to jump down and Peter raises his arm, signaling for them to stop, “Hey- woah, wait!”

You place your hand in his arm, letting him know it’s okay.

“Sorry.” Man-Peter spoke, “About May.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I got some understanding of what it’s-” Fluffy Peter starts to say.

“No, no. Please don’t try to tell me you know what I’m going through.” Your peter cuts him off, “She’s gone. And it’s all my fault. She died for nothing, so I’m gonna do what I should’ve done in the first place-” He says, reaching for the button to undo everything.

“Peter-” Man Peter tries to reason with him.

“Please don’t. You don’t belong here. Either of you. So, I’m sending you home. Those monsters were from your world, so if you kill them, that’s on you. I don’t care anymore. I’m done.” Hearing Peter talk like this breaks your heart, hearing him lose his morals. But you stay quiet, knowing the only people who can help him now are himself. As weird as that sounds.

“I’m really sorry that I’ve dragged you into this, but you’ve got to go home now. Good luck.” He reaches to press the button again, but MJ moves it from his reach as Man Peter begins to speak.

“My Uncle Ben was killed.” He says, catching Peter’s attention. “It was my fault.”

“I lost-” The other Peter struggles to get the words out, “I lost Gwen. My- uh.. She was my Y/N.” He points to you and and you look at the pained expression on his face with a quivering lip. Both Peter’s explain how much the grief affected them, how they stopped pulling punches and didn’t care anymore. And how none of it helped.

“I wanna kill him.” Peter speaks up, his voice rough and broken. “I wanna tear him apart. I can still hear her voice in my head-” His voice broke and you immediately interlock your fingers with his, giving a comforting squeeze. He looks to you, before turning back to speak in a quivering voice, “Even after she was hurt, she said to me that we did the right thing.”

“She told me that with great power..”

“Comes great responsibility.” Man Peter finishes for him.

“Wait, what? How do you know that?”

“Uncle Ben said it.” Fluffy Peter says, nodding.

“The day he died.” Man Peter says, “Maybe she didn’t die for nothing Peter.”

———

The three Peter’s were each working on their own cures for the guys from the other worlds while you, Ned, and MJ all just watched.

“This is so freaky.” You whisper, watching them all move around and speak almost identically.

“Yeah.” Ned and MJ nod along.

You walk over to sit next to Peter, your Peter, giving him a small smile, “How you doing, bugaboo?”

He sighs, “I thought I told you not to call me that.” You can see the little smile threatening to break on his face, which makes you smile.

“Yeah, but when do I ever listen to you?” You tease, kissing his cheek while he still focuses on tinkering with the cure.

“True.” He smiles softly, setting down his stuff and suddenly turning to you, “I’m so sorry. I never told you what was happening because I wanted to keep you out of it. May, Ned, and MJ weren’t suppose to know either and I somehow dragged them into this, and now you too, and I-”

“Peter.” You grab him by his cheeks to get his attention and stop his rambling.

“Yes?” Both of the other Peter’s ask, looking up from their projects.

“No, I meant-” You motion towards your Peter and they nod in realization. “We got to get something figured out, I’ve just been calling them Man Peter and Fluffy Peter.”

Peter laughs breathily and you hold his face in your hands before speaking, “You didn’t drag me into this. You didn’t drag any of us into this. We made our choice to stay, Pete.”

He looks into your eyes and he looks scared, “Y/N, you can’t fight this with me. You have to stay with Ned and MJ-”

“No!” You immediately shake your head, “Peter, you’re not the only one with powers here, remember? I can fight.”

“I don’t care.” He replies, eyebrows furrowing in frustration, “I can’t lose you too. I can’t.”

You falter for a second, your face softening as you hold his in your hands, softly running your thumbs along his cheeks. “You could never lose me, bug. No matter how hard you try. I’ll always be there, even when my heart stops beating.”

“What!? Why would it stop beating!?” Peter panics and you laugh, pulling him in to kiss his lips softly.

“Calm down, Pete. I’m just trying to be poetic. I’m never gonna leave you, and if you try to leave me I’ll hunt you down.”

He laughs, kissing you again. “Just.. be careful.”

“I always am.”

———

“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper under your breath, currently running from sand.

Yep, sand.

You weren’t running in fear, no, you were running in more of annoyance. The last thing you need is sand stuck anywhere on you. It’s just uncomfortable.

“Peter!” You yell, jumping up and grabbing onto a pipe to pull you to the top floor of the Statue or Liberty.

“Yes?” You hear all three of them in your earpiece.

“One, Peter One!” You shout, very confused as you watch the sand start to build up towards you.

“What’s wrong?” Peter breaths heavily, landing beside you as you motion to the sand.

“You really tried to put me in gladiator armor to fight some sand!?” You scold him, talking about earlier when he tried to put you in a full body metal suit that was about two sizes too big for you.

“I just want to keep you safe!” He defends, throwing his arms up in surrender.

“I can’t believe you left the sand to me! You know I’m stronger than that!”

“Hey!” The Sandman, who was actually quite polite compared to the others, says in offense.

You give him a deadpan look, raising your hand up and collecting all the sand into one big ball, raising your other hand to fly the cure over, using it on him quickly and watching as he turns from sand to a man, dropping him back on the floor.

You look back to Peter with an annoyed expression and he removes his mask, offering an awkward smile.

“You know, I love you sooo much-”

“Don’t even try.” You cut him off. “Peter. Let me fight Green Goblin. Give me his cure-”

“No, no! Not happening!” He yells, backing away, trying to escape the conversation.

“Peter!” You grab him by the collar of his suit, pulling him back towards you, “Don’t try to swing away from me.”

“Y/N, no. You know I can’t let you do that. He’s mine. I’m not letting him even go near you.” He says, grabbing your face in his hands and looking deeply in your eyes to make sure you understand.

“Peter, you can’t fight him and you know why. I can take care of myself.” You reply, holding onto his wrists as he frowns.

“No, no, I can’t let you do that.” He shakes his head, his eyes welling up with tears, “I can’t let you go too, I can’t miss you too-”

“But you won’t miss me and you won’t let me go. I’m there. I’m always there and even when I’m not, I come back, don’t I?” You smile sadly, your voice thick with emotion as you wipe tears from his face.

“Yeah.” He nods, sniffling. “Okay, yeah. But you have to come back. Promise me.”

“I-” Your promise is cut off by the sound of cackling and then a green device landing by yours and Peter’s feet.

Peter looks up at you, completely fear on his face as he jumps over to reach you and push you out of the way, but you both react too late.

The explosion pushes Peter away from you and you away from Peter, both of you landing harshly onto the not-so-secure metal. Peter groans, disoriented and trying to hear past the ringing in his ears. He looks over to find you knocked out, blood on your forehead and soot covering your hair and face.

“Y/N!” He yells, his voice cracking and hardly carrying volume. He groans as he tries to crawl over to you, fear building in his stomach.

He’s almost reached you when a creaking sound startled him and makes him stop. Suddenly the metal floor beneath the two of you starts to tilt diagonally, causing you to slide with it.

“No!” Peter screams, lifting himself up and limping his way towards you as you slide down the metal, stopping right at the edge, so close to falling 200 feet down to the floor.

You start to gain consciousness, but not enough to understand what’s happening, not until it’s too late.

With one last sound of metal screeching against metal, one last yell from Peter’s lips, your body is suddenly falling, the harsh breeze you feel against your back stirring you from your sleep.

You open your eyes and the first thing you see is Peter’s completely fear stricken face as he dives after you. You can’t comprehend anything fast enough to stop what’s happening.

And when you see Peter’s body knocked away by a green streak of light, it all hits you, but still not fast enough. Even though it feels like everything is moving in slow motion, it’s still moving too fast, way too fast. Until you meet the ground with a sickening thud.

It’s silence.

When did silence become so scary?

Peter picked himself up, looking over to where you landed, where everyone watched in sickening silence. He was waiting for you to stand up, say you were okay, call him that stupid nickname while smiling in your stupid (adorable) way.

You didn’t move.

He couldn’t move.

His body was stuck and he thought the first emotion that would fill him would be sadness, fear, hopelessness. And while those all came, the strongest was rage.

He turned to the man that caused all of this. The man that took May from him, and now you. He knew he probably should’ve gone to you, gone to help you, but all he could think about was killing that man.

He grabbed onto the collar of Green Goblin’s suit, throwing him up in the air and slamming him down harshly on his back. He wasn’t laughing anymore, he was wheezing and groaning in pain.

Peter started to hit him, only this time, he wasn’t holding back. Every punch was his full strength. Goblin was already knocked out by the second punch, but Peter didn’t stop.

“Peter!” The other Spidermen were shouting behind him, but Peter didn’t listen. He didn’t care.

“Peter!” Their voices got closer until they were pulling him by his shoulders and away from the very, very bloody goblin.

“No, no!” He screamed, trying to pull out of their hold to finish the job, “Let me go!”

“Peter, you have to stop. Before it’s too late.” Peter 2 said, pulling him back as he shook his head and tried to free himself again.

“No! He took everything from me!” Peter screamed, his body sagging in defeat as he registers his own words. “Everything.” He cries softly in a broken voice.

“Y/N is not gone yet.” Peter 3 whispers.

Peter’s head snaps up at his words and then he’s running as fast as he can, ignore the ache in his body as he makes his way to you. His heart breaks to find you laying there limp while Ned and MJ sit beside you.

He runs to you, falling to his knees and lifting you into his arms. He holds his head against your chest, reveling in the sound of your faint heart beat against your chest.

“Hey, pretty girl.” He whispers, his voice wet with emotion as he sniffles and moves the hair out of your face. “I need you to wake up for me, yeah? It’s time to get up, baby.”

You were still. Peter felt his hope slipping, but he continued to whisper into your ear and nudge you to consciousness.

“Peter.” Another voice spoke in alarm, grabbing his attention from you for just a moment.

Dr. Strange was storming towards him, explaining how people from different universes were coming for him. Panic fills him once again as he looks to your unconscious body.

“W-What can we do?”

You were laying unconscious in Peter’s arms as him and Strange found the only solution to be that everyone forgets Peter Parker. He looked down to you, tears in his eyes as he brushes away the dirt and soot from your cheeks.

“Hey, pretty girl. You won’t remember me when you wake up, but know that I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Even when you call me stupid names like bugaboo.” He laughs breathily at his own joke, his red-rimmed eyes glances to his friend who are standing with solemn looks on their face. He gives a single nod, which they understand completely, nodding back.

Then he looks to Dr. Strange and everything resets.

———

Peter watched outside the hospital window in his suit, no mask so he could get a clear look at you. It was raining, covering up his tears. It made him sick to his stomach to think about what he did to you.

He shouldn’t have let you come. He shouldn’t have been so distracted. His spider senses should’ve worked faster to save you.

There’s so many things he should’ve done differently.

And now you were sitting in the hospital bed, lifeless, wires attached to you as you continue to sleep.

You’ve been in a coma for two weeks. The doctors say you’re going to live, but you’re paralyzed from the waist down.

And Peter thinks it’s all his fault.

He pulls out a paper from his bag. He knows you couldn’t hear, especially since he was at the window, but he still needs to stay it. The ink was smudge from the rain, but he’d already memorized it by heart.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to you. It’ll be okay? I know it won’t. Because of me, you’re not okay. I don’t know how to fix this, and I’m sorry. That’s really all I can say. I’m so sorry I did this to you. I have all of these powers and I still couldn’t save you. It just sucks, you know? Cause you were the one for me. You were the one and I ruined it all because of who I am and who I will always be. I thought I could have love as long as I kept it safe, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep you safe.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Not just for everything I’ve done, but also because I know I can’t let go of you, even when I’ve destroyed all that we were.”

He can’t bear to watch you anymore. He comes back everyday and everyday it seems to hurt a little more. He swings away, his heart aching as he realizes he’s all alone and it’s his fault.

“Peter.” He jumps as he he closes the window to his new apartment, turning around to find Wanda.

“Wanda? How do you-”

“Remember you? You think I wouldn’t find a way to get out of Strange’s spell? You don’t know me very well then.” She teases with a small smile.

Peter doesn’t notice it though, because all he can think about when he sees her face is you. What he did to you.

“I’m-” His voice cracks in the middle of his sentence as his eyes start to burn with tears and emotion, “I’m so sorry, Wanda.”

“It’s not your fault, Peter.” She replies, shaking her head as she looks at him with sympathy. Of course she was grieving over her sister too, but Peter wasn’t just grieving over her, he was taking responsibility for everything that happened to her.

“Yes, yes it was.” He quickly disagrees, shaking his head as his red rimmed eyes find hers. “It’s always been my fault. I always do this and someone else pays for my mistake. Uncle Ben, Aunt May, and now Y/N.”

“Peter, you know what’s going to happen when you blame yourself. You’re going to end up in a dark and lonely place. I know that place. It happened to me with Vis. You’ll do things you regret, Peter.”

“I already regret everything I’ve done! Do you see all the damage I’ve caused!?” He shouts, throwing his arms in the air.

“She’s alive, isn’t she?”

“Barely.” He spits, “All because of me. She’s probably never going to walk again. And it’s not even like she can hate me for it, like she should, because she can’t remember me.”

“Peter-”

“Just leave. Go to Y/N. She deserves to wake up to someone she can remember.”

———

“Wanda?” Your hoarse voice murmured as your eyes finally open. Wanda lets out a breath of relief, glad you’re finally awake. “What’s going on?”

“Hold on, Y/N, I need to get the doctor.” Wanda says, causing panic to fill you as you realize where you are.

You look around, terrified now that you realize you’re in a hospital with no idea how you got there. You try to move to stand but you can’t feel the lower half of your body.

“Wanda.” You breath out, your face full of fear, “Wanda, I can’t feel my legs.”

“Shh, just lay down, Y/N. It’s okay.” She tries to push you to lay back down, but you’re hyperventilating.

“I can’t feel my legs, Wanda!” You shout, tears filling your eyes as doctors rush in to try to calm you down.

A needle gets put in your arm and suddenly you start to go from hysterical to extremely tired.

Peter watches the scene from his window, a crestfallen expression on his face as he dwells on what he’s put you through. All he can think is “it’s my fault.” He’s starting to wonder if any of it was worth it. If he should have just never been with you in the first place and save you all this despair. But he was selfish and now, once again, someone else has to suffer the consequences.

He’s not sure how much longer he can take hurting people he loves.

Maybe it was a good thing the world forgot him.

It makes it much easier to keep his distance.

———

“I can’t remember him!” You gasp, sitting up in your bed as Wanda quickly runs to your side.

“Shh, breathe Y/N.” Wanda coos, running her hand through your hair.

“Wanda, I can’t remember him. Spider-man. I can’t remember who he is.”

Wanda is shocked by this. You shouldn’t have been able to remember that you even knew who he was.

“I dreamt him, but I know it was a memory. And I can’t remember his face or his name. Who is he, Wanda?” You beg and Wanda gives you a look of pity.

“Even if I told you, he wouldn’t want to see you.” She admits solemnly.

“Why?” You whisper, your voice so small and sad that she feels bad even telling you about any of this.

“Because he couldn’t save you, so he thinks he doesn’t deserve you.”

“But I love him and he loves me. I can feel it. I can’t remember who he is, but I remember him.” You didn’t care if you were paralyzed, you knew it wasn’t his fault. You knew he could never hurt you.

Wanda now had tears in her eyes as she watched yours spill down your cheeks. She knew you were right, but she also knew Peter had so much self hatred that he could not bare to even try forgiving himself. Everyone seems to forget he’s just a kid. A kid isn’t meant to carry so much guilt and trauma on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispers, pulling you into her as you sob violently.

He couldn’t save you, but he loved you like you were made of all things bright and beautiful. Why would you care if he dropped you when you know he could pick you up better than anyone ever could?

———

I told ya it was long

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