NOW AT THE URL @PHANTOMSMENACE (i switched accounts)
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IMPORTANT
I SWITCHED BLOGS
ahsesque was my main blog and @phantomsmenace was my sideblog.
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Don’t Let Me Go
Request: Fic Req: Peter Parker coming over in the middle of the night because he had a nightmare. + based on that pic of tom shirtless scrolling through his phone with a cup of tea/coffee bc I’m thirsty
Pairing: Peter Parker + Reader
Warnings: A few curse words I think if you consider that a warning lol A LOT OF FLUFF SURPRISNGLY
You had only been asleep for maybe an hour when you heard the incessant knocking on your window. You were in your apartment alone since your parents had decided to take a trip together alone for the anniversary, so you were on higher alert and the fact that someone was knocking at your door at two in the morning didn’t sit right with you.
You sat up in your bed, hesitantly grabbing the first object within reach which just so happened to be an umbrella littered with various cats and dogs – a joke gift Peter had given you on your third-year friendship anniversary because, “Get it?! It’s raining cats and dogs!”
At the thought of Peter you smiled slightly, but the continuous knocking snapped you out of your thoughts. You lowered your umbrella as you walked closer to your window, the thought that it might be more likely that Peter be at your window than a murderer. You were proven right as you drew your curtain back and saw a flushed Peter sitting on your fire escape, clad in his alter-ego’s costume minus the mask.
You pushed your window up, immediately being pushed back into your bedroom as Peter’s arms wounded around your waist and pulled you against him. You were stunned for a couple of seconds, hearing his harsh and broken breathing. You eventually returned his embrace, your arms finding themselves around his neck.
“Peter?”
“God, you’re so warm. No!” He gripped you tighter, stopping your movements of trying to let go. “Please, don’t let go of me.”
Your grip tightened around him as he lifted you off the floor slightly. “Peter,” your grip loosened as you felt yourself on the ground again, “I have to close the window. Go lay in my bed, I’ll be quick.” He reluctantly let go, shuffling to get to your bed. As promised, as soon as you shut your window you returned to his open embrace under your comforter.
“Do you want to know why I’m here at two in the morning?” In all honesty, you weren’t going to ask. You didn’t mind losing sleep over Peter, especially when he seemed like he needed you. You were just going to fall asleep against him, like you had done so many times before. You’d do anything just to be like this with him every night.
“Only if you want to tell me.”
“I had another nightmare.”
“About?” You knew what the answer was. Ever since Peter had told you about him being Spider-Man, his nightmares about you being taken from him were almost a weekly thing. It had never gotten bad enough for him to visit you in the middle of the night, however.
“You… except it was different. God, it felt so real.” His voice started to tremble as his arms tightened around your waist. “You wouldn’t wake up – no matter what I said or did, you just didn’t respond to me. Then your body was ripped away from me, I couldn’t say bye and I didn’t know where you were. I saw flashes of green and orange, but nothing else. Everything was dark, cold – everything I imagine life without you to be.”
His head had drifted down to rest on your chest, his grip on you deadly but you didn’t mind. You knew what it felt like to dream of a world without Peter. You would never tell him but knowing how often he risked his life scared the absolute shit out of you. You knew it was something he felt he needed to do, an obligation of some sorts, and you knew he was more than capable, but nothing would ever make you comfortable with the idea of him not ever coming back to you. Even when he promised you each time he would always come back to you. “(Y/N)?”
“Yes, Peter?”
“Don’t let me go.” His speech was slurred, dripping with exhaustion as you felt every one of his muscles relax, his eyes fluttering to a close.
“Never, Peter.”
“Good,” his grip loosened, “I love you.” You tensed at the words, Peter already having slipped into unconsciousness. Peter and you had been best friends for four years, he still flushed whenever your hands so much as skimmed each other’s while you walked down the sidewalk together. Your fingers lightly continued to card through his hair as you fell asleep with a smile on your face.
You woke up to the sun peeping through your thin blue curtains, the New York cold becoming evident with the lack of the additional body heat next to you. “Peter?” You heard a soft “in the kitchen!” before you flung your legs off the side of your bed and padded your way to the bathroom to freshen up before making your way to the kitchen.
Your knees almost buckled at the sight in front of you. Peter stood at the kitchen entrance without his shirt, his hair a complete mess as he idly looked through his phone, occasionally bringing a cup of coffee to his lips. You shook your head at the sinful thoughts that overwhelmed you and started walking up to him. You had gone unnoticed until you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You laughed lightly as you felt his body tense and then relax under your touch. “It was cold without this morning.” He turned in your arms and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
“Sorry,” he laughed in return, “I had to use the bathroom, and then I decided to make some coffee. Want?” You shook your head no, burying your face further into his bare chest. Peter set his cup down on the counter next to you and wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “Want to head back to bed?” At your nod, he began to walk you backwards to the direction of your room. His hands dropped to your waist, helping you lay backwards on your bed, crawling on top of you as his hands supported his weight above you.
His head rested in the nape of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. You smiled softly as you felt his lips peck you a few times, feather like kisses trailing from you neck to your jawline, only to rest on your cheek. The moment felt so intimate, it made you dizzy – the feeling almost making you forget Peter’s confession to you last night.
Almost.
“Peter?” You didn’t allow your voice to come out as more than a whisper, scared that you’d make him nervous with any other tone.
“Yes?” His breath fanned across your face, making your cheeks burn just the slightest.
“I love you, too,” you prepared for him to pull away from you, for him to at least tense above you, or for him to laugh, even… but, he didn’t. You felt the ghost of a smile against your cheek before you felt his lips against your skin again. He dragged his lips from your cheek to the corner of your mouth, pecking you there in the softest of ways. You breathing hitched as his face pulled away to look at yours, his eyes trailing along every detail of your face.
“Say it again,” he closed his eyes before taking a deep breath in, out, “please.”
You smiled, bringing your hands to rest on either side of his face, pulling him closer to you. “I love you.”
As soon as the words left you, it was almost as if he wanted to inhale them, wanting to hear you say you love him in every inch of his body. His lips landed on yours in a rushed kiss, filled with heavy breathing and soft sighs and wide smiles, almost making it impossible to kiss through it.
“I love you,” his kiss traveled across your face, earning small laughs from you, “so much.”
(via arcxreactor)
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“Captain America! That’s Who You Remind Me Of”
Pairing: Steve X Reader
Requested: No
Summary: When you’re walking around New York and a creepy guy is following you, Steve comes to the rescue
Word Count: 1810
Warnings: cat calls, creepy men, bad feelings in general, language
A/N: I’m really bad at summaries as you can tell, also isn’t Steve such a gentleman?
Excuse any typos/misspellings please! Thank you for reading, please leave feedback and feel free to request!
(via ahsesque)
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The Troublesome Trio
Steve/Bucky/Reader
Chapter (1/?)
Chapter 2 (http://spoonfulofsexy.tumblr.com/post/127941835281/the-troublesome-trio)
Chapter 3 (http://spoonfulofsexy.tumblr.com/post/128019259956/the-troublesome-trio)
Chapter 4 (http://spoonfulofsexy.tumblr.com/post/128132063011/the-troublsome-trio)
Chapter 5 (http://spoonfulofsexy.tumblr.com/post/128205506176/the-troublesome-trio)
Chapter 6 (http://spoonfulofsexy.tumblr.com/post/128251608051/the-troublesome-trio)
Summary: Reader walks down the streets of Brooklyn with one goal, but instead gets in a fight, that wasn’t hers from the start.
AN: Okay so second fic, so sorry if it’s rough! (also im awful at writing summaries) I’m planning to do more chapters so sorry if nothing really happened in this! If you have any requests or tips for my writing please don’t be afraid to message me!
Rain trickled off your black umbrella. It was a very rainy week in Brooklyn and the fact that it was cold didn’t help. Luckily, you had your favorite raspberry red jacket on, that never failed to keep you warm. You especially loved the big, round buttons that ran down the front of it. To make your outfit even better you sported your most comfortable pair of Oxfords.
this is always always always ALWAYS one of my top fic recs. i read this when it was first published (i think?) AND IT STILL AMAZES ME NOW. IF YOURE LOOKING FOR A GOOD STEVE/BUCKY SERIES READ. THIS. ONE. 100/10
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Anonymous asked: Do you mind me asking for a young Sirius black Drabble with 27,28,32 and 34 from the Drabble list possibly please ?
27. “I love you, you asshole” and 28. “You did this for me?” and 32. “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend” and 34. “The way you flirt is shameful” with Sirius as a strapping young lad!!!
Also, I listened to this song while writing this. Just as a side note lol
Tall and lean with amazing hair, Sirius was a teenage heart throb. All the girls were head over heels for that uppity idiot, and, well, you weren’t blind. You knew he was handsome. If you could describe anyone with the archaic word handsome, it would be him.
You didn’t really expect him to pay you much attention, because not only was he handsome, but also conveniently clever. He didn’t need to try when it came to school, which was infuriating sometimes for you, since anything technical was usually the death of you and you had to work hard to stay in the running. But he, somehow, had no difficulty getting constant O’s in all his classes while maintaining playful conversations with the giggling throng of girls the table over.
“The way you flirt is shameful,” you told him as you left class by his side, referencing his attempt to charm Professor Sprout to get out of detention.
“Are you jealous, darlin’?” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, nudging you with his arm, but you just rolled your eyes and punched his arm hard enough to bruise. You didn’t hold back when it came to punching a bitch, especially one with a weak ass like his.
But he did seem to like spending time with you. Sometimes he would kidnap you from the library or the common room and take you on a venture by the Lake, or go on a stroll through the forest (he knew it like the back of his hand). He would smoke and you would talk. Overall, it was a good time.
Something was different this time around, though.
You were sitting in one of the armchairs, a rare opportunity you were happy to take advantage of by settling with a blanket and a good book. You were reading something Lily had lent you (Something by that muggle bloke, Scott Fitzgerald) when Sirius appeared.
Being an annoying twat, he took the liberty of sitting on your armrest (practically on top of you) and stole a kiss, right from your warm cheek. You grimaced and rubbed the kiss off with your palm, looking at him crossly.
“What the fuck, Black?” you demanded, “You ruined my immersion! Gatsby was getting passionate.”
“You and your immersion,” he laughed, “let’s go have some fun.”
“I’m already having fun,” you huffed, pouting crossly and returning your angry gaze to your book.
“I meant real fun,” he drawled, tickling you in the spot just by your ear he had discovered a while ago when his hair had tickled your chin as the two of you lied down next to each other by the Lake one lazy Sunday.
You squealed and pushed him off the armchair, which made him fumble and fall gracefully to the floor. You gasped and started laughing really hard, smacking your knee, so he took the opportunity to snatch your book from your hands and hop onto the couch, right over the bemused onlookers who yelled in surprise.
“Give it back, Black!” you shouted, hopping after him over the people, who continued to yell.
“Say you’ll go out with me!”
“I thought that was Potter’s line to Evans!” you yelled, letting a giggle escape as you played monkey, the table between the two of you as the prefects who were studying for their NEWTS shushed the both of you angrily.
Sirius let out a horrendous laugh as well, before skipping over to the fire and holding the book over the open flame.
“You wouldn’t,” you gasped, when he dangled it dangerously from his long fingers.
“Say you’ll go out with me.”
“It’s past curfew!”
“As if that ever stopped us before.”
You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms.
“Is this how you ask girls out on a date regularly, Sirius? ‘Cause if so I feel sorry for the poor sod who ends up with you.”
“Date? Who said anything about a date?” he teased, making you bite your tongue.
“Come off it, you prick! Fine, I’ll come, just – give the book back, I borrowed it from Evans.”
“Deal,” he tossed the book back to you. You knew he wouldn’t have actually done it, but you were up, and someone had already stolen your armchair in all the ruckus.
Sirius then strutted around the couch of the first years who had been watching the argument like the Quidditch match and grabbed your hand.
“Let me get my coat, first!”
“You’ll be fine. If you aren’t I can think of some things we can do to warm up,” he winked in your direction, which just made you groan and the fourth years by the door snicker.
The night was chilly. Early spring brought with it breezes from the top of the distant mountains, filtered through the Forbidden Forest so that it smelled of pine and dirt and pale moonlight.
Sirius quickly lit a cigarette and began smoking it with a casual elegance you would say only James Dean would nail. The smoke rose to the sky in furls, and you were anxious that the smoke or the trail of embers he left in his wake would get the two of you in trouble, but he didn’t seem to be too concerned.
He turned his head upwards and blew out a steady trail of grey, closing his eyes and hissing softly. You were a little enamoured at the sight, despite the fact that you knew how bad it had to be for him. It was a radical view, even in the magical world, but you had never really gotten into smoking yourself, if it wasn’t social. You preferred sugar quills to rolling up a doozie.
“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?” Sirius pondered, mimicking a smoldering deep Elvis voice that made you roll your eyes. You rolled your eyes a lot around him.
“Nothing much, just how tarnished my reputation has become since I admitted to being your goddamn friend,” you grumbled, “also how much of a fire hazard smoking is in a forest.”
“Aw, is my baby grumpy ‘cause I made her go outside for a change?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
He threw his head back and laughed, coughing a little. You shook your head.
“How you manage to be an all-star athlete and still maintain a smoking habit, I’ll never know.”
“Hey, I don’t smoke that much! I’m no Blondie.”
“Blondie or not, I don’t want that smoke in my face. Put it out.”
“Fine, Professor.”
He put it out then threw an arm around you and pulled you close, making you squirm.
“Whatcha doin’, huh?”
“You’re cold.”
So you let him. It’s not like you didn’t want his arm around you, it was just… hard to admit. Just like how you didn’t want to admit that you had felt flurries of something stupid when he had asked you to accompany him in the dead of night.
You made an inclination to take the usual route to the left, but he pulled you the other way, making you trip a little.
“Nu-uh. We’re going the right way tonight, sweet heart.”
“Whatever,” you muttered, as he pulled out his wand from the back pocket of his black bell bottoms and retracting his arm just to push back the sleeves of his leather jacket.
He had the kind of style that teenagers would call very ‘Alex Turner’ in the future, but for now his style was too reminiscent of a fifties bad boy to fit in to the post-Beatles style which he deemed to seem too ‘pedophile-y’.
Although he did pull off his United Jack shirt really well. He shared good taste with Mick Jagger, for sure.
“Stand back,” he told you, before casting a powerful Lumos spell without a word. Then he made the rather overgrown path ahead neater by waving his wand in a sweeping motion, the tree branches drawing to the side like stage curtains.
He smirked in your direction and offered his arm to you. You were wearing a skeptical expression, but you locked your jaw and followed him anyway, trusting him despite the promise you had made to never trust Sirius Black.
You gasped when you saw what was beyond you, though, and Sirius was delighted to see the wide eyed wonder you displayed when you saw it.
In a small clearing between two birch trees was a full out picnic, set with pillows and authentic lamps. He had even draped a curtain just a little over the blanket on the leafy soft ground to provide some cover, open enough to see the stars sneaking some glittery winks between the tree branches which canopied the setting beautifully.
“Sirius, what is this?”
“I meant to do this a while ago, but the atmosphere was never quite… right,” he told you, although his tone of voice had lost its edge and you noticed that now, it was just Sirius, talking.
“What for, huh?” you inquired, “you planning on bringing a girl over here and getting lucky or something?”
“Er…”
His gaze followed the trunks of the trees upwards to the sky.
“What is it, then –?”
Then in a softer voice, he answered.
“You.”
You paused, then raised a hand to rest over your heart.
“You did this for me?” you breathed. His brown eyes traveled back to your face.
“Yeah.”
His long lanky hair floated a little as another soft breeze carried through the scene. You breathed in deeply.
“What did you score to eat? I’m starving.”
His guarded smile grew into a much bigger toothier one, his eyes looking glassy in the flickering wand light. He took your hand gently, which you squeezed to let him know you were down for it, then led you towards the blanket.
“I nicked these from the kitchen,” he opened the basket and pulled out two clear containers, both of which having a full chicken inside. You gasped before laughing in delight.
“Well they aren’t actually chickens,” he told you, to which you returned a quizzical expression, “barbecue tofu. The real chickens are being saved for Easter, according to the elves.”
“Alright. Tofu it is,” you took one eagerly and opened it up, “let’s just hope the creatures of this forest don’t smell this and come to eat us when they realize it’s just stinky tofu.”
You stuck your tongue at him to let him now it was a joke, both of you laughing before digging in.
After finishing your tofu chickens (followed by lemonade and treacle tart), the two of you fell into easy conversation, lying on the blanket next to each other and pointed at various stars, making plans to travel to the sky and discover the worlds beyond the round faced moon. You talked about the war that was coming, and how scared you were. He didn’t say it at first, but he admitted how scared he was as well.
“I just… I don’t wanna kill anyone,” he muttered with his arm crossed behind his head, staring blankly at the sky. You heart broke a little bit more, just like when he had told you how terrible his mother was, or how anxious for Regulus he was.
He noticed how cold you still were so he pulled off his leather jacket and threw it on you like a blanket. When you protested, saying that his weak lungs wouldn’t handle catching a cold, he silenced you by getting under the jacket with you, pressing his body against yours to fit. You snuggled with your heads together, and you could have easily fallen asleep in the warmth of his body. His jacket smelled like smoke and magic, which masked what he was really like. He really smelled sweet, like musky cologne and cedar wine.
“Hey,” he whispered, when your eyes fluttered shut. Midnight had passed like a cloud overhead.
“Hm?”
“I gotta tell you something.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t fancy you.”
You punched his arm under the jacket, which made him laugh breathily.
“You’re stupid,” you murmured, your eyes still closed as you snuggled in closer again.
“Well, I suppose that’s what I get,” he muttered back, his jubilance making his voice tremble a little, “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”
You cracked open one of your eyes and peered at him.
“I thought James and Remus and Peter were your best friends.”
“Nah, they’re my brothers,” he told you easily, “if I had to choose a best friend, though, it would be you.”
Heat creeped up into your cheeks, and you closed your eyes again. You then grumbled something under your breath, muffled by your hands which were cupped together by your mouth.
“Sorry, what was that?”
“I love you too, you asshole,” you answered more clearly, still not opening your eyes. You heard him laugh softly, before you felt his cold lips being pressed to your forehead.
Just as well.
You opened your eyes slowly, staring at him. He returned your stare with hooded eyes.
You raised your head slightly and kissed him on the lips, tasting the lemonade, and the mint gum he had chewed. You moved slowly, experimentally against each other. You opened your eyes and saw that his eyebrows had furrowed slightly, but otherwise he looked like he had entered a state of ecstasy. You couldn’t say much different for yourself.
“If I could do this instead of smoking I’d quit in a heartbeat,” he purred, making you moan so softly he wouldn’t have known had he not felt it vibrate against his lips, “I’d quit quicker than a cat on fire.”
“…Strange expression.”
“Shut up, I’m on a high.”
Sirius Black, more than just a bad bad Leroy Brown. He was James Dean with a personality. A soft spoken guy with sweet words and a sweeter taste.
He was the nicest asshole you had the fortune to meet.
Send me one (or more!) of these prompts for a drabble!
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Shame On Me
**NOT MY GIF**
Part 4 of the Fool Me Once series
Part 1: Fool Me Once
Part 2: Shame On You
Part 3: Fool Me Twice
Steve Rogers X Reader
A/N: Um…hello? Here’s the fourth part of the Fool Me Once series and it’s the conclusion. Just a reminder that you guys can request things and I’ll get to them as soon as possible.
Words: approx. 1.5K
Prompt: When Hydra hires an agent of SHIELD to bring down an none other than the Captain himself, chaos ensues. (cont.)
Warnings: so much damn angst, swearing, fighting, hospital descriptions, self-depreciation
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It was a fact that Steven Grant Rogers had been through hell and back in the entirety of his life.
But in that one moment, he’d never felt more helpless. Not when he’d been wheezing in a desperate attempt to get enough air to his lungs. Not when he’d been rejected countless times from the US Army.
You had never had sounded so broken. So frail, then when you’d said that you didn’t have a reason to trust him.
Your voice brought him out of his daze, “Christ…Cap, can’t you even let me die in peace?” You slurred, exhaustion making your words come out in a forced whisper. You weakly tried to push him away as he wrapped his arms around your stooping figure, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. You didn’t struggle.
You took a sharp breath, wincing in pain as he held you against his chest, walking towards the door of the cell, “Just ‘cause I fucked up, doesn’t mean you get to stop me from dying.” You wheezed, attempting and failing to push yourself out of his grip.
That was the moment that Steve felt that his heart stopped beating.He clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
“Shut up and let me save you.” He whispered hurriedly, his voice strained. His thoughts swirled like a maelstrom of pain and fear.
“What if I don’t wanna be saved, Captain? I…I’m not worth it. You…weren’t supposed to come for me…” You muttered, the excessive loss of your blood making you delirious.
“Shut up!” Steve snapped, his emotions disabling his ability to control them. You flinched.
“I’m sorry. Please…don’t…I….” You whimpered, repeating the plea that Rumlow had heard leave you lips too many times to count. Steve stiffened.
“Fuck.” He said sharply under his breath.
You stayed silent after that, much too scared of the arms that surrounded you. Your breaths came in shallow gasps as your eyes drooped.
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Fool Me Twice
**NOT MY GIF**
Part 3 of the Fool Me Once series
Part 1: Fool Me Once
Part 2: Shame On You
Steve Rogers X Reader
Words: approx. 1.5K
Prompt: When Hydra hires an agent of SHIELD to bring down an none other than the Captain himself, chaos ensues. (cont.)
Warnings: so much damn angst, weapons, Hail Hydra, swearing, fighting, graphic violence, torture, suicidal thoughts
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Fear.
That was the only thing that filled your veins.
Your hands shook by your side as you forced herself to stay calm….at least until you could make it back home.
But where was home?
You blinked away the tears forming in your eyes, your head resting against the cold, unforgiving metal cell which you’d been shut in.
When… if … you made it back, you could immediately count on the fact that you’d be thrown out of the Facility. Of course, by no one other than Steve.
And for the first time in your life, you were scared. Genuinely scared. Terrified.
No one would come for you. You weren’t stupid. You knew Steve never do it. Not for you. He had a group of capable heroes to lead. What were you compared to them?
Steve was right.
If only you’d been half the agent Peggy Carter was. If only you weren’t so damn reckless. If only….
The cell door screeched open, echoing loudly in your ears as the steel frame of the door scraped against the hard concrete floor. You winced at the sound.
Two cold hands closed around your shoulders, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. And fuck, you may as well have been weightless from everything Rumlow put you through.
“It’s been two weeks, sweetheart. They ain’t coming.” His voice whispered in your ear. His hot breath fanned over your neck as you stayed limp in his arms, having nothing to fight back with.
“I know.” You replied weakly, your voice not crossing an octave above a whisper. You didn’t have to turn around to know that he was smirking.
He was triumphant.
He had won.
Hydra had won.
