#ngl before this ask i thought were were like. on the even horizon of friendship

[sobredunia]

we should be friends :] (and uprise against Beet /j)

REAL AND TRUE

[watermelinoe]

You're bi correct? Do you mind, when did you realize you were bisexual? Has it been easy or difficult for you?

i started questioning my sexuality when i hit puberty, around 12 or 13. the thing was that i was a pretty online kid. and i was unfortunately exposed to a lot of fetish content bc of my interest in webcomics (sites like topwebcomics didn't separate adult comics from general audience comics) and that made it really difficult for me to figure out if i was actually attracted to girls or just seeing other girls as sexual objects. the other thing was that i didn't really know you could be bisexual. i knew you could be gay. i read yuri manga and webcomics like "i was kidnapped by lesbian pirates from outer space" and i drew original female characters in lesbian relationships. but my impression of bisexuality came from maureen from rent and whatever was going on in rocky horror picture show. it seemed purely sexual.

i was really frustrated that i was sexually into girls but romantically interested in a boy. it was confusing because i knew i liked this boy, but with my girl friends we'd have sleepovers and we'd sleep in the same bed and i thought about what it would be like if we kissed, and meanwhile i didn't really think about kissing the boy i liked? i designated all of my female friendships as platonic, by the way. the kissing thoughts were just thought experiments, i guess. i tried dating a different boy who asked me out in middle school and it just felt embarrassing and burdensome and the intimate moments we had made me feel unclean. i just thought my feelings for boys and girls should be the same if i was really bi, and they weren't.

i think by high school though i was thinking of myself as bisexual. i didn't really ever have to come out to anyone that i remember. i was the only girl in my class with short hair who didn't wear makeup. some other girls were uncomfortable with me, i knew, especially when we had to change together in p.e. or choir or theater. my haircut was even a point of contention with the directors in one of my extracurriculars because every other girl in the performance had long hair and i ruined the homogeneity. i tried to grow my hair out my sophomore year and even wore contacts and mascara, i couldn't stand it and had it all cut off again before it even reached my halfway down my neck fjhgksfjdg

(as an aside i'm forever grateful that the trans social contagion was only a point on the horizon when i was k-12 bc my crossdressing ass might not have gone unscathed)

but as i touched on before, i really struggled to recognize when i was attracted to other girls. i would draw boys (or male celebs) that i found attractive, and that artistic motivation seemed obvious. meanwhile i had a close friend and i once named a piece after her because some drops of ink spilled on it and reminded me of her moles. we exchanged portraits of each other. yet i was oblivioussss i fumbled her so hard, i was dumb as hell.

it got difficult again when in college i discovered i don't want to look at or interact with dick in any way, and i had to reconcile that feeling and decide if i thought you could be penis-repulsed and bisexual (yes bc all forms of attraction count toward your sexuality)

tl;dr i probably realized when i hit puberty, the inconsistencies in my feelings really bothered me for a long time and the sense that i wasn't like other girls had me feeling alienated on some level, but i had some really strong female friendships and that helped me. the fact that randos can look at me and tell that i'm into other women makes me anxious abt their reactions and it frustrates me when people act like all bi women look straight. being bi is kinda difficult ngl but i am happier w my sexuality now than i've ever been

[aminiatureworld]

Damocles

Characters: Zhongli, fm!reader

Word Count: 3,211

Warnings: Hanahaki disease – depictions of a fictional illness with symptoms mimicking tuberculosis, mentions of coughing up blood, talking a lot about death

Premise: In which the reader thinks Zhongli doesn’t reciprocate their feelings, and fears the consequences.

Author’s Note: Ngl, I don’t think I’ve ever really heard about this trope before, except maybe in passing. So if it’s a little weird that’s why.

I ended up taking the story in a bit of a macabre direction. Hopefully not too melodramatic, but I kinda like how it turned out.

Zhongli

“Thank you for telling me, but I’m afraid I cannot return your feelings. I’m sorry to be a disappointment.”

 In truth you couldn’t decide whether or not you had expected your feelings to be returned. You and Zhongli had been friends for years now, and you had grown closer to him than you had to most of your previous friends and acquaintances. Indeed, you had grown closer to him than you had to many of the people you’d been in previous relationships in. You called upon him in some form almost every day, whether it be to discuss something of importance or simply bask in his presence. When there was something new you found about, whether it be a story in a book or a particularly funky looking shell, you almost immediately sought out Zhongli to share your find with.

For Zhongli’s part, he also liked to share experiences with you. At the very least you couldn’t say that your friendship was one sided. He often would be the one to walk up to you on the street, a new brand of tea written down on a piece of paper in his pocket, or a location where one could find particularly beautiful glaze lilies on his lips. He never seemed to mind when you peppered him with endless questions, or talked his ear off about your own day; something which you often asked if he found annoying. No, you were very sure that Zhongli wasn’t simply spending time with you out of pity.

In truth it was your friends who guessed the trajectory of your personal feelings before you did. Though you often found their poking and prodding intensely irritating, they had the common sense to keep the questions to a minimum – perhaps in hope their silence might guarantee that your affections would reveal themselves naturally one day. Now though you had to admit they had been right. You had fallen for Zhongli how long ago? It seemed so difficult to say when, so gradually had your feelings changed from viewing him as a confidante to viewing him as something more. Once you had finally come to terms with it you’d put off revealing your feelings as long as possible.

It wasn’t just the chance of rejection, something that would already cause emotions to run high. You had seen what sort of disease could ravage those who were unlucky in love. One of your own friends had suffered from such a disease, a fellow member of the Liyue Qixing had died from such a thing only a few months ago.

It was a terrible disease, everyone at least could agree about that. The origins of such an unfathomable sickness was much less understood. Most saw it as a curse from the gods, a punishment to the humans who would love a fellow mortal more than those who ruled above them, who gave their protection, their mercy, and their gifts to the people below. Others argued that it was simply a result of stress, for what heart could take the shock of a truly deep rejection. A rare parasite, a curse from malevolent demons, all these theories made little difference when it came to the actual disease. You were fairly sure anyways that people dying of it couldn’t care less why it happened, only that it was happening to them.

First came the coughing, easy enough to ignore in a land where the common cold truly lived up to its name. Then you couldn’t run as fast or as far as you had once, at least on the days were you weren’t fighting off crippling fatigue – the night sweats doing little to help you in your desperate need for rest. Then the fever set in, then the blood that stained the porcelain sink. By the time the first few petals would appear emaciation would already begin to claim your muscle mass and the precious body fat that kept you alive. Some people didn’t even get to the point of regurgitating fully formed flowers. Those people were usually considered lucky, for when one must deal with an incurable disease, well, surely it is better to go sooner rather than later.

You wouldn’t lie and say that wasn’t one of the reasons it took you so long to confess. After all, what you don’t know won’t kill you, right? You weren’t actually sure about that, but it sounded right in your mind, regardless of its actual veracity. However, as with most people in love, you’d found a growing recklessness inside you, paired with the sudden desperation for a happiness which you would certainly never obtain at this rate. So you’d made up your mind to tell him, deciding that perhaps the certainty would be better than the ever growing cloud of anxiety that surrounded your thoughts.

Now you’d been rejected. You had to admit that your first reaction was utter panic, the distinct feeling of having made a terrible sort of mistake. Oh sure, your feelings were undeniably hurt, but that was less important than the virtual death sentence you’d been handed. Why oh why had you decided to do this? The world seemed to swim in front of your for a moment, as simultaneously everything came into sharp focus and faded away into the recesses of your mind. What would you do now? There was nothing to do, you just had to wait for the inevitable, wait for the cold embrace of death to welcome you to its abode. You took deep breaths, trying to control yourself. Tears were forming in your eyes, but you knew that they weren’t from romantic distress. Ironically romance was the last thing in your mind right now.

“I, I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

It was all you could manage to make out. Turning around, head light from fear, you bolted down the streets of Liyue, desperate to be in your home, desperate to ignore the sword of Damocles that now hung dangerously low over your head.

 Zhongli watched you go, watched as you stumbled your way through the crowd that always packed the streets of Liyue in the daytime. He was fine, he was perfectly fine. He had seen it through, had done what he knew was right. There was no reason to regret. Surely the small stab of pain he felt was temporary, a pinprick compared to all that the ex-archon had suffered over the years.

Zhongli had suspected that a confession like this might’ve been on the horizon for quite some time now. Not that he was dreading it out of a personal inability to reciprocate. No, in his heart Zhongli already reciprocated your suspected feelings. He loved you, adored you even; within the stony heart that had atrophied over years of war, suffering, and personal duty, grew a love that Zhongli had not felt for a very long time. He cherished every moment with you, knowing that his long life would try to compress the memories that were so precious to them. Seeing you whenever he could, dragged out conversations as long as he possibly could, Zhongli was practically desperate for time with you. He was also intensely aware of how short that time would ultimately be.

How could Zhongli push the curse of loving an immortal being on you? For it truly was a curse, to both parties involved. His side was painful of course, the knowledge that your memory, you lifespan even, would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He would always be wondering whether or not the two of you would be experiencing a “last”. Last visit to the sea, last time to climb up the Huaguang Stone Forest to watch the sunset together. Last, last, last. Always the shadow of death would hang over you, so palpable in Zhongli’s mind that he might almost reach out and grasp the gossamer veil that would eventually steal you away. Yes, it would be a truly painful experience. Not nearly as painful however as your own experience.

Zhongli had long ago come to the conclusion that mortals had no true concept of the passage of time. You were young now, the world was your oyster. Zhongli’s immortal status would be nothing more than a passing thought, an anomaly and nothing more. Then your 40th birthday would pass, then you 50th, then you 60th, 70th, 80th. By the time you reached the end of your life the difference between you and Zhongli would stretch out like a chasm between the two of you, something to never be reconciled, for the old rarely forgave the young for their youth. Not to mention the other scenario, the one that Zhongli would never allow the freedom to truly cloud his thoughts. Your death of old age would be a tragedy, the alternative a catastrophe.

He knew all this, had seen it time and time again. Zhongli was hardly the first immortal being to fall in love with a mortal, would not be the last. Adepti, archons, all walks of immortal life were drawn to humanity, drawn to the freedom that came with mortality. Humans did things because they died; they had no forcible tie to nature, no innate duty other than to themselves. Humans could be wicked or kind or cruel or merciful as they wished. To those who were chained by their destiny, well, there was something very anomalous in such a choice. Perhaps it was no surprise then that an immortal being would inevitable find themselves interacting with those supposedly below them. Perhaps it was no surprise that this often led to love.

All that being true, Zhongli still refused to give into his needless selfishness. He loved you, yes. Knowing that was enough. He wouldn’t push such a burden on you, wouldn’t cause you resentment or pain. It would be better if you thought that your feelings weren’t reciprocated, it would be less painful.

Nor would you have to worry about the curse to which many less lucky fell. Zhongli still loved you, still cherished you deeply. You would never have to worry about that, for archons and adepti do not move on from love the way humans do. Zhongli’s love for you would long outlast your lifespan, one which, the archon prayed, would be very long indeed.

Yes, everything had been handled well enough. Perhaps you would never wish to speak with him again, perhaps you would grow to resent him even, how quickly love can turn into hate. It didn’t matter though. Zhongli had shielded you from long, drawn-out suffering, and that was all that mattered. He should’ve been satisfied, should have felt relief. Instead however he only felt a great sadness pressing down, a sadness combined with the pain that accompanied a love that must never truly be realized.

 It had been nine days since you’d been rejected by Zhongli. Crossing off another square on the calendar which you had dug out of your old stationary you sighed. The nine days succeeding the encounter had been utter hell. At first you were convinced that the worst thing that could happen was the symptoms of the wretched illness showing up quickly, so convinced you were that the next day you would wake up with blood on your pillow. Soon however, you’d come to a completely different conclusion. There was nothing worse than waiting.

Every day was spent in the agony of anticipation, every day waiting for the coughing to begin, for the night sweats to begin ravaging your sleep, for the breathe to be stolen from your lungs. Yet every day you woke up with none of these things, though your fatigue was real enough.

You should have been relieved, should have been glad for the opportunity to live even a few more days. Yet instead of relief you only felt deep, unrelenting dread. You couldn’t bring yourself to do anything, so crippled were you by morbid anticipation.

Not that your thoughts were particularly worthwhile either. Perhaps it would be one thing if your ruminations had brought up something profound, something that you could write down in a book for your family or your friends. Though it still would be poor solace, well, at least it’d be something. But your thoughts had all turned to mush, replaced by a paranoia so strong it confined you to your bed most days.

You thought that the death sentence would in some way be freeing, that you might be able to recklessly throw yourself at all the things you had avoided out of fear for so long. Instead you found yourself depressed, waiting for an inevitable so terrifying you found yourself disconnecting from the people around you. What did it matter anyways? You’d be dead soon enough.

This gross neglect of your wellbeing was at least somewhat allayed by the routine that had been drilled into your body from so many years working for the Liyue Qixing. Though you didn’t go to work, something you were sure you were going to hear about eventually, you still dared to venture out to the market. At the very least you would eat your fill in good for before the end was nigh. No need to worry about your health after all. Besides, your definition of good food didn’t necessarily always align with completely unhealthy.

Walking through the familiar streets you stared at the people around you. How odd it was to see people so close you could touch them but so far they might as well have been in Inazuma. Was there anyone else here suffering like you were? Anyone who could understand the thoughts that now flooded your brain? You stared at the ground, trying not to think about it. You’d be confronted with these thoughts the minute you got home anyways. Might as well delay it a bit.

Turning to find the fishmonger you spied a familiar silhouette. Stopping in your tracks you stared unabashedly at Zhongli. The man seemed to be carrying himself much as ever, but the unapproachable atmosphere which he’d blanketed himself in seemed somewhat more prominent. Perhaps it was your imagination, he seemed to be talking to the butcher easily enough. Not that it was any of your business. Zhongli wasn’t any of your business anymore. It would be better if you could forget him, if you could erase this feeling in your heart that refused to go away. Even now Zhongli was beautiful. Even now you wished to run up to him, to hug him, to make pretend everything was right with the world. You couldn’t do that though. Just as you couldn’t forget him, you couldn’t love him. Not in the way you wanted. Turning away you trudged back home, good food utterly forgotten.

It was day eighteen since Zhongli had rejected you, and by now your emotions were running almost unbearably high. You’d sunk into an odd reverie of adrenaline, anxiety, and utter disbelief. What in the world was going on? This was a familiar illness to you, something that had almost claimed the life of your friend and had felled your coworker. You knew everything about symptoms, timeline, etc.; and what you knew was you were supposed to be falling ill ages ago. Eighteen days between the initial rejection and the beginning of symptoms? It was unheard of! You didn’t know what to think. Were the rumors about the gods true, had Zhongli imposed some divine protection on you for the sake of your friendship? Were you somehow a superhuman who had the white blood cell coding to defeat the bacteria that caused this disease? Why hadn’t your descent begun yet?

You lounged on the couch, having moved out of your bedroom on the thirteenth day, three days after the latest possible showing of symptoms. Though you still felt deeply afraid, you found that curiosity was a surprisingly good deterrent when it wanted to be. Your fears hadn’t disappeared, but mixed with them was a disbelief so great that you often found your thoughts drifting to questions of how rather than questions of when.

Of course your initial instinct had been to seek out Zhongli. Pride mixed with fear however had kept you firmly at home. Really what was the point in even seeking out the answer to your miraculous reprieve at this point? It wouldn’t really change the outcome. Instead you might as well enjoy this unexpected extension of your life. Besides, you didn’t want to tempt the fates a second time.

 Zhongli stood at the window of your first story apartment, a glaze lily in hand. He hadn’t meant to do this, but the urge refused to leave him.

He’d noticed you a few times at the market, face drawn, eyes empty. Zhongli wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but certainly this wasn’t it. He knew you weren’t suffering from illness, your pace was strong, if slightly erratic, your general aura not that of the sick that Zhongli was all too familiar with. Why then did you look so terrible? The doubts that had plagued Zhongli began to rise again, jeering at the mistake he had made. He was supposed to protect you, right? Why then did you look as if you had experienced a total health collapse?

At first Zhongli tried to ignore it. You had not come to him for help, it was not his place to try and insert himself back in your life once more. The more he thought of you however, the more he found himself uneasy. He had to have some form of communication, some way to enquire about your health. At least one last time. If you explicitly rejected all forms of contact, well then Zhongli would leave. He would never defy your wishes in such a way. Until then however, he felt like he needed to ask.

The idea of walking up to your apartment and asking you was utterly off the table. Who knew how that might end? No, he wanted a subtler way. Glaze lilies had always been a favorite of yours, sneaking out into the evening to see them bloom even more so. He would simply leave one on your windowsill. If you took it, then he would enquire about your health. If you left it, well Zhongli would have his answer.

His hand trembled slightly as he stared at the windowsill, causing the gold ribbon tied around the lily to tremble slightly. At first Zhongli wanted only to give you the flower. He realized soon however that you might be confused, wondering if someone had not simply dropped a flower on your windowsill, or had the wind blown it there? The ribbon would hopefully clear things up. Even if it looked a little silly.

Slowly placing the flower down onto the open window Zhongli sighed. Turning around he did not dare spare a glance backwards. He would have his answer soon enough after all. Until then, well, there was no point in looking back.

 You exited from the kitchen, having finally felt the energy to make yourself that good food you’d been promising yourself. Going to look at the sunset you let out a soft gasp.

On your windowsill was a single glaze lily, wrapped in gold.

[mischiefandi]

Prom? - Peter Parker

A/N: sooo, it’s been a hot minute since my last fic on this blog haha, and by hot minute, I mean over a year and a half hahaha (not counting my drake fic). This also happens to be my very first Peter Parker one-shot, so I really hope you guys enjoy it!

Summary: Peter wants to ask Y/N to go to prom with him, but will it go as planned? 

Warnings: it’s pretty fluffy ngl

Word Count: 4,3k

“Y/N, wait up!” Y/N whirled around instantly at the sound of the familiar voice calling out her name.  

The corners of her lips quickly quirked up when her eyes rested on her best friend, Peter. He was running towards her, his backpack jumping up and down against his back as he leapt across the hall and past the lockers to catch up with her. His eyes met hers, a bright smile on his face.

“Didn’t get much sleep last night?” she asked him, glancing at his obviously mismatched socks peeking out from under his pants and disheveled hair.

“Uh, yeah, not really. Ned and I stayed up really late to finish building the Lego Death Star.”  

“How’s it looking?”

“She is officially up and running- I mean obviously not- up and running, I mean, it’s just a bunch of Legos- what I’m trying to say is-,”

“-Peter?”

“Yeah?” he asked, lips slightly parted, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Why are you rambling? You only ramble when you’re really nervous about something,” said Y/N, smiling tentatively at her friend.

“I’m not rambling? Why would you say I’m rambling?”

Walking alongside Y/N and passing by the brightly-colored prom posters plastered on the walls, Peter looked down at the floor and she laughed, the angelic sound turning the color of his cheeks to a deep shade of red. He was nervous. Truth be told, she had always had that effect on him. Making him blush and stutter was something she did a lot more than she noticed. But he was more nervous than usual that day. Prom was right around the corner, and the students of Midtown High had been asking their significant others to the dance. Almost everyone had a date at this point. Except for Peter, and hopefully, Y/N.

Y/N chose to ignore her friend’s anxious antics and spoke again, her skirt twirling a bit as she danced ahead of Peter, still facing him. His pulse quickened at the sight of her. She truly was the most gorgeous girl in the world, at least in his eyes. She always wore sweet dresses and skirts, and she was never seen without two little hair clips in her gorgeous hair. She didn’t wear makeup aside from a light shade of pink lightly applied to her soft lips by her delicate fingertips. Her eyes sparkled with joy everywhere she went. She was sunshine. She was his sunshine. Or at least, he wholeheartedly wished she was.

“I had lunch with Tobias and Jessie. It wasn’t half as fun as building a toy spaceship would have been but-”

“-it’s not a spaceship Y/N! We’ve talked about this,” he whined with a smile tugging at his lips and she burst out laughing before hooking her arm around his own and kept walking, dropping her voice to a lower tone.

“I’m just messing with you, Parker.”

Her breath hit his neck and every single hair on his body raised at the warm feeling, his muscles tensing as she held onto his arm and swung it a little on their way to History.

It was moments like these, harmless to her but so utterly overwhelming to him, where he wished the simple action meant the same thing to the both of them. Where he wished her heart fluttered when she saw him run towards her, where he wished she was holding onto him because the idea of not feeling his touch was simply unthinkable.

Moments like these, he wanted nothing more than to lower his lips to hers and kiss her in front of everyone. They didn’t matter. Only she did.

“When do you go home? I always confuse Ned’s timetable with yours,” said Y/N, furrowing her brow.

“I-uh- have History with you and then Calculus right after.”

“Ha! Sucks to be you! After this, I am done for the day, and thank God too ‘cause I’m exhausted!” she added with a sing-songy voice.

Peter rolled his eyes at her but grinned from ear to ear as she rushed into the classroom, his body feeling light as air. A feeling that was about to disappear in just a matter of seconds.

“Oh my god Toby-…”

Inside the classroom, a dozen students stood next to Tobias who was holding a bouquet of pink roses in his hands, a dorky smile splashed across his face. Peter’s heart sank as he glanced at Y/N. She looked completely dumbstruck as the crowd held up a large poster with the words : “WiLL YoU Be mY DaTe To PrOm?” written in bright purple glitter letters.

Peter suddenly felt like melting into the ground and disappearing, the harrowing reality striking him. She was going to prom with Tobias and he was a fool. Squeezing past the students who had gathered around to watch the promposal unravel, the distraught boy slid out of the classroom and walked past the lockers.

An eruption of cheers coming from inside the class made his heart throb and he shut his eyes, accelerating his pace, knowing full well that what he had prayed wouldn’t happen, had.

Peter burst through the main doors of the school and stumbled down the stairs as he chewed on his lower lip, trying to inhale and exhale through his nose with serenity but failing miserably. He wasn’t going to admit it, not even to himself, but he was fighting tears right then and there. Ignoring the confused looks students were throwing him, he dashed down onto the sidewalk and turned a sharp left. Crossing the street, Peter ran towards the small alley by the dry cleaners and he stopped to catch his breath. He was probably going to get in trouble for skipping class, but he didn’t care. He needed to get away.

His eyes stung with emotion and he groaned out loud, weakly huffing before resuming his journey. After running past the dodgy trash cans and garbage, desperately trying not to inhale the unpleasant air engulfing him, he finally came to a halt and placed his backpack on the concrete ground. The strong smell of something rotting and other things he’d rather not think about filling his nostrils, Peter grimaced as he hurried to take off his blue sweatshirt and beige pants. Throwing his clothes in the backpack, Peter struggled to get into his spidey-suit, his shaking fingers making his task a little bit more difficult than usual.  

The disguised teenager then spewed a web at his things, sticking them to the brick wall opposite him, looked up, and leapt. Closing his eyes, he felt his feet leave the ground and the wind blow against his suit-covered skin. He always embraced the feeling he got while jumping up into the sky, the sensation unparalleled, but this time, his thoughts were clouded by the cheers he had heard just minutes before.

Peter shook his head as he landed with a smooth flip, his breathing slightly ragged, and he resisted the urge to yank his mask off, knowing it was still too big a risk taking it off so close to the ground.  

Again, he spewed webs all over the place, pulling and jumping and spinning around the towers and buildings that surrounded him. A few excited squeals could be heard as he flew above the crowded streets of New York but he didn’t bother stopping for a selfie. He needed to go somewhere quiet, somewhere he could be alone with his thoughts and his dejected self.

He found it soon enough.

It was the small fire escape he had spent most of his summer and early fall lunches at, calling Happy every single day to tell him what he had done around New York and to describe the crimes he had stopped. It was a place he knew well, a place he had gotten used to. His old faithful.

Peter huffed and rubbed the back of his neck after pulling off his tight mask, his hair messy and uncooperative. He tried to pass his fingers through the locks but his disheveled mop refused to set itself straight, so he gave up.

Looking out at the horizon, Peter gazed at the Manhattan skyline, the lines and corners of the buildings in front of him clashing with the sunlight. He had always loved this view. It wasn’t the best one in the city, but it was something, and it was his. You could still hear the cabs and the people down in the streets, but the sound was music to Peter’s ears, as was the sound of Y/N’s laugh, the sound of her voice.

Peter’s eyes welled up and he angrily rubbed at his them. Tobias was an idiot. He was. He liked baseball more than breathing and his stupid smirk made Peter’s blood boil. He wasn’t a bad boy, but he liked to pretend he was and that was something that annoyed Peter more than anything else. He seemed to think it was cool to say idiotic things, and he thought it was fun to smoke and drink cheap beer and wear a leather jacket. He was a walking cliché.

But…he was nice, and pretty funny once you got used to his sense of humor. And he was a decent chess player. He even liked Star Wars. He was a good guy, and that’s what Peter hated about this most of all.

Peter had liked Y/N for months, but he had always been so afraid of telling her how he felt. It was because he knew his awkward rambling would quickly turn him into a blabbering fool and he would hate himself for making his friend feel uncomfortable. But mostly, it was because he was terrified she didn’t feel the same way. It wasn’t just the obvious humiliation that scared him, it was the idea of losing the beautiful friendship he had with her. She was his everything, and losing her would hurt more than anything else.

As he gazed at the view, Peter thought back on the wonderful times he had spent with her since the beginning of the year.

They had met in that very same classroom in September. She was sitting in front of him, her back turned on him. He was absent-mindedly staring at the blackboard, his thoughts on something unimportant when she suddenly turned around and clapped her hands against his desk, bright yellow nail polish painted on her nails catching his eye.

“Do you have a highlighter I can borrow?” she asked, her voice smooth as honey.

Peter’s mind blanked, his eyes widening at the sight of her beautiful eyes, eyes he would often get lost in later down the line.

She watched him curiously, a confused but kind smile on her lips.

“Earth to Parker?” she insisted playfully and the boy snapped out of his daze.

“You know my name?” he asked her, bewildered.

“Well yeah, aren’t you in Debate Club?”

Peter’s brow furrowed and he leaned in a little, the sudden scent of sweet vanilla and strawberries invading his senses.

“Yeah, how do you do that?”

“Oh, I’m psychic,” she replied, shrugging nonchalantly as though this was a perfectly normal statement. Peter’s eyes widened a bit and she giggled, shaking her head with a grin.

“I’m kidding, obviously! I talked to Mr. Harrington about joining this morning. He showed me a picture of last year’s team and told me everyone’s names,” she explained.

“Right, obviously. My bad,” Peter replied, chuckling softly. His eyes clinged to hers. They were beautiful and vibrant, twinkling with joy as she smiled at him. He was enthralled by her. Though her smile became hesitant as the seconds grew longer.

“So, um, about that highlighter?” she said, laughing nervously.

“Right! Yes, a highlighter. I’ve got plenty of those!” Peter exclaimed, shoving his hands in his pencil case, retrieving a bright blue felt tip pen. He grinned, victorious, and she laughed again, the sound sending butterflies in his stomach.

“You’re a lifesaver! Thank you,” she said softly as the History teacher walked in and sat himself down at his desk, the students starting to quiet down.

Peter smiled at her and shook his head.

“No problem. By the way, it’s cool you’re thinking of joining Debate. I like it a lot.”

“Yeah, there weren’t many clubs at my old school so I really wanna branch out, try something new,” she said.

“Alright everyone, let’s all use our inside voices from now on. I suggest we start the year off with a reading from your textbooks, page 7,” the teacher drawled and Peter reluctantly looked down at his history book, his fingers slowly flipping through the pages in sync with the other students, the girl’s back facing him again, though not for long. She turned around again and held out her hand.

“I’m Y/N by the way, Y/N Y/L/N,” she said with a grin.

Peter smiled at her and took her hand, his body jolting at the feeling of her skin against hers, soft and soothing like herself. He calmly shook her hand and chuckled.

“Peter Parker. It’s nice to meet you.”

That had been the first of many History classes filled with laughter, fun, and inside jokes, all so dear to Peter. Y/N finally joined Debate which he was thrilled about. He also introduced her to Ned, and the trio started to hang out after school, watching movies and going on walks around the city. Y/N especially loved nature so she constantly dragged Peter to Central Park, giggling at the sight of squirrels and little children running around the pathways. He always felt so lucky falling in step with her, her arm linked around his, something she always did.

Months later, their friendship was even stronger than before, the pair confiding in each other and exchanging stories and secrets they hadn’t told anyone else. Peter told her about his uncle’s death and how difficult it had been going through that, and she told him about her insecurities and fears. She was afraid of being alone, of being left behind, and she wasn’t confident, something he just couldn’t understand.

He couldn’t think of anything he didn’t like about her. Yes, she was very stubborn, she hated to admit when she was wrong, and she didn’t like Star Wars. But that was all fine. It was who she was, and he loved who she was. Because aside from her flaws, she had wonderful qualities that made her so very special. She was a joyous and optimistic ray of sunlight, happy and enthusiastic about everything. She was understanding and kind too, always by his side in case he needed anything at all. Y/N was curious as well, asking questions about anything and everything, constantly in the mood for an adventure. She was vibrant and just the sight of her made his days a hundred times brighter.

He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment where he had fallen for her. It was all of the little things about her: how her eyes sparkled when she was happy, how she always skipped ahead of him to get to History, how she hummed to herself whenever she looked up at the sky. Insignificant things in the eyes of a stranger, but so precious to Peter, like little drops of gold gifted by the universe, destined only for him. He cared so much about her. Which is precisely why he wanted to invite her to the prom.

He had spent weeks trying to come up with the perfect way to do it, afraid of doing something too tacky or cheesy. He wanted to do something memorable, but what if he messed it up with his rambling? Peter had so much he wanted to tell her, his extracurricular activities being one of those things. He still hadn’t told her he was Spiderman. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. He knew she would never betray his confidence, of that he was sure. He wasn’t sure, however, that she wouldn’t see him differently. Maybe she’d think he was lying, or maybe she’d only like him back because he was Spiderman. So many maybes and what ifs.

Peter eventually told Ned about his feelings and fears, and Ned wasted no time, immediately encouraging his friend to confess the truth to Y/N. The whole truth.

“She won’t see you differently, it’s Y/N! She’s the most down-to-earth person we know. And she’s crazy about you, even I can see it.”

“She’s not crazy about me…” Peter replied shyly, his eyes fixated on the floor.

“Um. Yes, she is. Do you not see the way she looks at you? Heart eyes!”

After much deliberation and planning, Peter had finally mustered up the courage to reveal himself to Y/N, tell her how he felt about her, and ask her to go to prom with him. It was no small feat. But now it was too late; she was going with Tobias. Peter was so disappointed, angrily cursing at himself for wasting so much time and for letting her get away.

He had worked so hard on what he was going to say and on the actual promposal, and he had been so nervous as well. When Peter got to school that day, his lungs felt like they were about to burst from anxiety. He was unbelievably scared, terrified even of what was going to happen later that day. After school, Y/N was going to go home and see what he had left for her.

Oh no.

Peter shot up, the sudden realization hitting him square in the face like a pack of bricks. She was going to go home and see what he had left for her. A huge pit formed in his stomach and he hastily covered his face with his mask, immediately spraying his webs onto the building opposite him and leaping off the railing of the fire escape. He had to get there before her.

Almost out of breath, he jumped and somersaulted off apartment complexes, flying above tourists excitedly calling out for him just like they always did, but again, he paid them no mind, mentally apologizing to them. The air grew a little cooler as the late afternoon settled in, a welcome breeze blowing against Peter’s warm body.

“I’m almost there, almost there. Can’t let her see it.” He thought to himself when a ding sound suddenly interrupted his inner dialogue. He gripped onto the side of a deli, taking out his phone and his heart sank further down.

Y/N: peter?? where’d u go?

Y/N: I told the teacher u were sick, what’s going on??

Y/N: peter you’re scaring me!! where are u??

Y/N: I’m heading home cus I cant find u

Y/N: pls call me and tell me ur ok

Peter groaned. He quickly typed in a vague but somewhat explanatory answer, praying it would stop her from worrying.

Peter: I’m okay. Just had to take care of stuff!

Y/N: I’m almost home, r u sure ur okay??

The suit started to have difficulty clinging to the building so Peter decided to shove his phone back in his suit and leave. He couldn’t risk her seeing what he had done in her room. Thankfully, he wasn’t too far from her apartment, only a few blocks away.

After what seemed like an eternity, Peter finally reached the apartment building, his nerves wracked and fingers shaking. Shooting a small web onto the glass window of Y/N’s bedroom, he managed to slide the panel up, effectively slipping inside, eyes immediately landing on the giant web he had meticulously created for her. It spread from her bed to her desk like a gleaming trampoline, only much more delicate. The shiny white strings clung to each other, forming a large and uneven set of letters that spelled out the word he had planned to say out loud to her.

Prom?

He sighed loudly, removing the mask from his face, his hair messy and disheveled as usual. Passing a hand through it, he turned around to shut the bedroom door, but he stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes met Y/N’s.

They were wide with astonishment and shock, her lips slightly parted, expression completely blank.

Peter gasped, desperately gesturing towards the webs behind him.

“I can explain! I-“ he exclaimed, but she cut him off, taking a step forward.

“You’re Spiderman?” she almost shrieked and Peter’s finger immediately reached his lips in a shush signal.

“No one can know, Y/N!”

“You’re Spiderman?” she tried to say in a hushed tone, her voice wobbling a little. She couldn’t believe what she had just seen.

“Yeah. I’m Spiderman.”

“So that’s why you run off after school and you’re always really jumpy and nervous?” she inquired, eyes still wide open.

Peter’s heart stopped for a second.

“Well-um, that’s part of it,” he croaked.

“Peter, what’s going on?”

The boy looked at his friend, the girl he cared so much about. She seemed genuinely concerned, her brow furrowed as she gently contemplated him. He hated the thought that he was the cause of her worries, so taking a deep breath, he looked down at the ground, and finally, spoke.

“The truth is yes. I’m Spiderman, and I’ve been meaning to tell you that for a while, because I really care about you and you mean so much to me and I hated not telling you but I was afraid that you’d see me differently or that you’d think less of me, so then I talked to Ned about it and he told me I should tell you, and I wanted to, and I also really wanted to ask you to go to prom with me, so I thought I’d do both, because you’re amazing and you deserve the truth and you also deserve a great promposal but I didn’t know what to do so I figured I would do both at the same time, right?

“So then I did this and I was gonna walk you home and skip Calculus and I was gonna tell you once you saw the webs in your room but then at school, Tobias asked you, and I’m really happy for you, and I didn’t want to make you feel bad, so I came here and I was gonna clean it all up but you’re here too and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean for you to see this- I mean I did, but-“ he rambled on and on, unable to stop the words from spewing out of his mouth, only to be cut off by Y/N.

“-Peter, I said no. When Tobias asked me. I said no,” she said, her voice gentle and sincere.

Peter couldn’t believe his ears. Had he heard her correctly? His hands trembled a bit as he passed them through his hair yet again.

“What?” he asked, unsure.

“I mean, I said yes in front of his friends because I didn’t want him to feel bad in front of everyone, but I talked to him right after and told him no.”

“Wh-why would you do that?” Peter muttered, bewildered by her words. Why would she say no to Tobias Pierson?

“Because I don’t want to go to prom with him. I want to go with you,” she replied hesitantly, her cheeks filling with red as she bit her lip.

Y/N Y/L/N wanted to go to prom with him. He just couldn’t believe what was happening. He found the courage to look her straight in the eyes and the kind look she was sending him made his heart skip a beat.

“You do?” he whispered, unable to take his eyes off her.

Y/N giggled nervously, her arms tense with anticipation hiding behind her back as she shifted her weight.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been dropping hints for weeks!”

“You were? When?” Peter exclaimed.

“Um, like when I sent you pictures of prom dresses and asked you which ones you liked best. Or when I told you about how Marcus had just asked Jess and I told you it was really sweet and she was a lucky girl, and-“

“-those were hints?”

“Yes! Although, now that you mention it, obviously not very good ones.”

“Well, technically, your hard work paid off,” Peter said, a soft smile drawn on his lips as he gestured back at the large and shiny webs.

“I still can’t believe you’re Spiderman.”

Peter tried to suppress a frown before speaking again.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Peter, I don’t care if you’re Spiderman or Batman or Wonder Woman for that matter. You’re Peter. You’ll always be Peter to me. You’re the one who always makes me smile, the one who makes every day, no matter how terrible, so much better. You’re the person I care about the most. I’m just happy you felt like you could tell me.”

“Really?”

Y/N nodded with a grin, her beautiful eyes twinkling like they always did.

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that,” Peter said, breathing out for the first time in what seemed like ages. His heart felt light and airy, utter joy settling in his abdomen like warm tea. She cared about him too, and that simple fact sent a whirlwind of butterflies straight to his stomach.

“So, weren’t you going to ask me something?” she said playfully, her grin widening.

Peter laughed, suddenly remembering why he was in her room in the first place.

“Y/N, will you please go to prom with me?”

Y/N stepped closer to him, just inches away from the suited teenager, her gleaming eyes boring straight into his before lifting her body on the tips of her toes, reaching up to place a soft kiss on his crimson cheek and saying:

“I thought you’d never ask.”

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! feedback is always appreciated and feel free to reblog :)

if you would like to be added to my taglist(s), feel free to fill in this form

Peter tag:

@stiles-o-dylan24 @duskholland @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @r0s3mm @hcomet28 @decaffeinated--fangirl

Forever tag:

@stixnstripesworld @masterofbluff @drakewalker04 @superapplepie

[eatsockss]

Irondad and SteveTony Fic Recs!!

I decided to do a fic rec list bc i always see them and am So Grateful for them, esp rn bc everybody’s quarantined so what else is there to do but read fanfic. these are some of my favorite fics/some of the fics I read recently and just have open in safari rn. they’re mostly angst or whump ngl bc that’s my favorite but,,,, enjoy!

Irondad

ever in your favor by @iron--spider

Summary: Peter startles awake when someone shakes him. “Sorry, honey,” May says. Peter blinks a couple times and she comes into focus, her hair pulled back from her face. She’s trying not to look a certain way, but he can see it in her eyes anyway. She clears her throat, keeps talking. “But it’s…” She glances away, wets her lips. “You gotta get ready.” He remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.

Note: this is probably my favorite ever irondad fic so like ,,, ummm ,,, Please read this

lay your weary head to rest by @the-great-escapism

Summary: “Please.” He means to say it loudly, with confidence, but it comes out as nothing more than a raspy whisper. His ears are ringing painfully, and his head feels like it’s going to explode. It hurts and hurts and hurts. “M-May,” Peter cries out to no one, feeling like a child. “Tony. Please, ‘m so tired.” He inhales and chokes on his tears. He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not, but he’s pretty sure he hears a laugh. In which Peter gets kidnapped, and that's not even the worst part. The worst part is he's not allowed to sleep.

Priorities by JLMonroe1234

Summary: Tony had been in the cave for a month. Waiting. Planning. Healing. Biding his time until his creation would be ready and durable enough to get him home. With Yinsen's help and Tony's expertise, he would save them both. But when an injured teenager is brought into the mix, Tony must reevaluate his priorities and decide what's more important; a speedy escape, or rescuing the boy with the spider tattoo?

Return to Normal by Singing_Sirens

Summary: On his first day back, he didn’t expect the stares. Well, he expected some stares, but he didn’t think the entire hallway would just… stop. But that’s what they did. They froze, jaws hanging open, eyes wide, as he lowered his head and curled in on himself. He pushed through the attention. He set his jaw and marched forward, because he had been through worse in the last year.

Patient by alifetime

Summary: Just because Tony has retired as an Avenger, does not mean he still doesn’t have a business to run with Pepper. Since both his oldest children cannot always babysit for Morgan, he hires a babysitter. Harley didn’t really know what to think of the babysitter, and always kept a protective eye on Morgan. But she had told him that Skip was nice. She always seems to be smiling and happy whenever Skip comes to stay. It didn’t filter his concern. So when he goes college, he demands that Peter keeps an eye on him. Peter liked Skip. Until he didn’t. However, he will do anything to keep his brother and sister safe.

Identity Theft by KitCat992

Summary: It's been months since the events of Civil War, and the Avengers are doing their best to remain a team, having promised to forgive and forget. Unfortunately for them, Tony Stark's latest invention has been stolen and recovering it causes tension to reappear. Meanwhile, in Queens, Peter Parker has two main priorities on his plate — complete his midterm finals, and track down a fishbowl wearing criminal that may or may not lead him right into the hands of the Avengers. Somehow between all of this, Spider-man's identity is revealed to the Avengers, Steve and Tony's friendship may permanently be damaged due to continued hidden secrets, and Happy struggles to buy a youth-sized casket for Peter's funeral. Things were a lot easier when they were fighting over Bucky Barnes. (Or: The Avengers welcome Peter into their crazy superhero family and will do anything to protect him.) Shameless Peter whump and Protective Tony Stark.

the second law of thermodynamics by fourleafchloe

Summary: It happens the same way it always does. (It's just discipline. It's not that bad. It's fine, Peter is fine, he'll be fine--) Except he really isn't fine, and Tony knows something's up, and Peter's house of cards is falling apart, and so the story goes. — separate from other fics in the series. a recovery story full of soft irondad, found families, and (eventually) tons of fluff.

Note: this is part of a series of separate irondad fics, each one of them is incredible, so go check out this entire series.

how can the body die? (you tell me, everything) by @madasthesea

Summary: Tony felt panic creep up his spine. Something was occurring to him, slowly percolating in the back of his mind. “You said the stinger got you. Is Scorpion’s stinger venomous?” “I don’t—” Peter cut off as he groaned, the muscles in his jaw tight. “I don’t know. He upgraded—he was faster. Bigger. I—I thought I could beat him.”

oh, darling. by luna_e_stelle

Summary: "Peter?" Tony’s voice wavered with an urgency that cut through the thick haze in Peter’s mind. There was so much emotion in that one word that Peter wondered how he had ever doubted that Tony loved him. They had never said it out loud, just showed it in a way that spoke louder than words ever could. — Peter is taken, and he tries to find his way back home.

whumptober series by @iron--spider

Summary: 10 fics that fulfill whumptober prompts (i could many choose one so just go read the whole series)

Pieces of Echoes by @geekymoviemom

Summary: this is like a rewrite of the MCU integrating most of the storylines So Seamlessly with SuperFamily. Amazing series.

uneasy lies the head by @tnyystark

Summary: Two thoughts come to Peter, both at a breakneck speed he can barely handle. One: the world now thinks he is responsible for the attack in London. And Prague. And Venice. And the murder - murder; as if the man is really dead; as if the universe is kind enough to let that happen - of Mysterio. And two: the world now knows who he is.

Long Shadows by Black_Briar

Summary: Peter comes into contact with a foreign substance on a mission, and things only get worse from there.

I’ll Be Your Home (Forever and Always) by ScarletPotter

Summary: Peter didn't plan on being kidnapped, it all just sorta, maybe, happened? Peter was on his way to meet Ned when suddenly everything goes dark. When he wakes up he's restrained to a table and a man introduces himself to be Quentin Beck, and that he's going to kill him.

god did not craft us as alters, but as dying gods by helloitisafellowgay

Summary: Peter Parker is not immune to trauma. Far from it, in fact. (With great power comes great responsibility, Peter.) So when the building collapses, when the dilapidated remains of metal and concrete, and later searing scraps of plane, fall around him? Well, this is practically nothing. Practically. He’s fine, really. It just gets a little hard to breathe sometimes. Like, when he follows Happy into Stark Tower through the parking garage. Or when he turns on the news while doing homework and sees reports of a plane crash. And sure, the small fire that broke out in the chemistry lab had sent his heart racing and caused sweat to bead on the back of his neck until even Ned asked if he was okay, but it’s nothing to worry about. Regardless, he knows where those come from. But this? In which Skip Westcott is a repressed memory, until he returns.

Note: favorite fic title!

Stony

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast by @kapteniron

Summary: Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual. He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either. What is unusual is that the stranger is silent. (One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Forever Linked by ashes0909 and athletiger

Summary: Before the door even clicked shut, he opened his mouth to let the pink petals flutter to the ground. In the center of all this mess was a single rose, not yet bloomed, but Tony knew, deep down, what this meant. But they were only teammates for sure; nothing else will go further. — “You have Hanahaki?” she asked, barely more than a whisper. He fisted out the petal from his pocket and held it out to her. “If that’s what would cause this to come out of my throat.”

Steve Rogers’ Guide to Wooing Tony Stark by Tonks22

Summary: Steve tries to woo Tony. Steve is not very good at it. Tony is oblivious.

Blue Lips, Blue Veins by @romanoff

Summary: Tony Stark is Iron Man. Before that, he was an man with bigger heart than brain. Before that, he was an asshole with a bigger mouth than sense. And before that, he was was a scared little boy. Not that it matters. Stark's always have had iron in their backbone.

Note: this is more of a character study of Tony Stark but it’s Incredible. Cannot recommend this enough.

The Butterfly Effect by @itsallavengers

Summary: While fighting with Loki, Steve Rogers from 2012 hears the two simple words: "Bucky's alive." And the whole universe ripples with the aftershocks.

Going Steady by @itsallavengers

Summary: Steve has a soft spot for the sound of Tony's heart

Hide A Heart Of War by RayShippouUchiha

Summary: “You’ve got war in your heart boy,” Howard sneers, “don’t ever try and pretend to be anything but what you are.” Tony feels the familiar burn of a flower mark being etched into his skin but he doesn’t look, doesn’t try and check to see what it is. Instead he keeps his eyes on Howard and his hands cupped around his bleeding mouth and nose.

Note: this is technically Stuckony but,,, it’s rly good so it’s going on the list.

Assorted

a primer for the small weird loves by babyloveparkner

Summary: “What are you—?” “Hold on,” Peter says, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration as the pen moves across the page. He rips out another page, then seems to grow frustrated and just opens up his notebook to start writing in it rather than stealing pages out of it. Harley feels stuck, flabbergasted and frozen, and he doesn’t know how long he sits there and watches before Peter lets out a huff and finally leans back, satisfaction in his eyes as he hands it all to Harley, all the scribbled writing and torn pages. “Read these.” Harley blinks once, slow, as he takes the offered notebook with the ripped out papers on top. “What…?” And Peter just smiles and shrugs. “They’re poems,” he says. “I looked some up, wrote down the good parts. Maybe those’ll give you that hopeful feeling that you were looking for.” or: harley runs from a homophobic town and finds solace in poetry and peter parker

the spider-man conspiracy by @tempestaurora

Summary: WHO IS SPIDER-MAN? The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks. “My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.” OR "what if peter just decided to fuck with everyone who didn’t know he was spider man and make a documentary about him trying to uncover the Truth."

5 times Tony kissed Rhodey and the one time Rhodey kissed back by lomku

Summary: Exactly what it says in the title.

Note: I wish I had more Ironhusband fics to rec bc i love them but they aren’t as abundant as Stony fics and the ones i’ve read most recently are Stony.