Nikolai Lantsov Recommendations

another world [1]

after your boyfriend, peter parker, is killed by the green goblin, you take on the mantel of spiderwoman. a few years later, you're suddenly shoved into a multi-versal war after being called to another universe to help a (smaller) version of peter. a familiar face leaves you shaken.

[2] [3]

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

CONTENT: NO WAY HOME SPOILERS!!!!!, mentions of suicide, angst angst angst angst, may parker deserves so much better and i apologize for putting her through this

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

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Here lies Peter Parker. Beloved son.

We shall meet again.

[Y/N] stands over his grave. There's a chill in the air, autumn has finally taken New York. She shivers, her coat a few sizes too big, and two hands make their way to her lapel to tuck the girl in tighter. May Parker let's out a sigh.

"We've got to get you a thicker coat," May says. There's a tired look in her eyes. The lines on her face seem deeper. She's pushing on fifty-two now. The grief has aged her far more. "You're going to freeze when December hits."

"This one was his, May," [Y/N] replies. The words make May take a temporary pause. "I can't just find a new one."

Wind sends the leaves skittering along the graves. The red and brown contrast greatly to the pure white bouquet of cleomes sat on the headstone. Spider flowers, [Y/N] thinks with a small smile. He'd appreciate the irony.

"I think Peter would rather you be warm and cozy in your own well-fitting coat than freezing to death in one of his old, worn, baggy ones," May eventually responded. [Y/N] wrapped her hands around her body, subconsciously pulling the coat even closer. She could still pretend it smelled like him if she tried hard enough. The warm scent of cinnamon with hints of oak and amber. The smell of home.

The older woman gave her a sad smile and comfortingly rubbed her back. "But, I understand. It's hard to let go of it when you can imagine it's him. You wouldn't believe how many of Ben's old flannels are still folded up in my dresser."

Quiet crept in again. [Y/N] could still remember Ben Parker's death, how Peter shut down, how May crumbled. How could that have been nearly eight years ago? May still had her days of darkness, when the grief became too much. She had lost a husband and a son. [Y/N] had watched this woman quite literally go through every mother's nightmare. How did she get out of bed? How did she go to work? How was she still breathing?

"How do you do it?" [Y/N] broke the silence, unable to hold her thoughts back any longer. "It's been three years, May, and I still wake up expecting him to be next to me. I still wait for a call, a text, letting me know he's going to be late to dinner again this week because he's gotten caught up with some robbery downtown. I come home from work and I wait. I wait for Peter to walk in with Chinese takeout, give me a kiss that takes my breath away, and sit down to explain his latest gadget idea to me. I look at the door and I wait. I wait it for to open and it never does."

A sob falls from her lips. Tears are streaming down her face openly now, though [Y/N] can't remember when they started. May embraces her, tightly, as if she's keeping the girl in one piece. They fall together as [Y/N]'s knees give in from the weight of it all. The ground is cold. The grass is dead. Peter's headstone has collected enough dirt to look beige. There is no sign of life, no sign of who he was. All of it is dull. It makes the sobs wrack through her body even harder.

The two women sit there for quite some time. May cradles [Y/N] in her arms, whispering soothing words in her ear as the waves of sorrow slowly become smaller and smaller. There's been a quiet understanding between them ever since Peter's passing. They were family now. Neither would ever grieve alone. Neither would ever be alone. This was not the first time May Parker had held her son's partner in her arms as she grieved the loss of her love, and it would not be the last.

"You won't believe me, but it does get easier," May speaks while gently petting the girl's hair. Her breath had finally evened out, she was fresh out of tears. "It took me almost three years to come to terms with Ben's passing. I'm still learning to live without him. Healing is not linear, darling. I know it seems like this is never ending, but you will make it through this. We'll both make it through this, together, hand in hand. I am never leaving you and you're sure as hell not leaving me on my watch."

[Y/N] let out a shaky laugh, pulling back from May to look level with her. There were a few tear streaks down the older woman's face and [Y/N] felt a pang of guilt. She hated upsetting May or making her worry even more than she already did. May gently pushed the hair out of her face and [Y/N] took her hand.

"I'm not going anywhere, May," [Y/N] replied, placing a gentle kiss on the older woman's knuckle. "I'd miss your meatloaf too much."

May snorted, standing up and helping [Y/N] off the ground. "Now, there is no point in lying to me to butter me up," She joked, brushing the grass and dirt off the girl's coat. "Why don't you come back to the house for a bit? I'll make some tea. We could finally take a crack at that pumpkin bread recipe you've been talking about."

As if on cue, the shrill screech of a police siren broke May's created facade of a peaceful night. The women shared a look, [Y/N]'s full of remorse while May's held sorrow.

"Duty calls." [Y/N] sighed. She really did want to try that pumpkin bread recipe.

There was a beat. May opened her mouth and closed it again, trying to find the right words to say. She didn't have to. [Y/N] already knew.

"I know, May," The girl spoke up. "He wouldn't want this for me, and you're right, but he also wouldn't want New York to be completely on its own. This city needs a hero, a symbol of hope. It's selfish, but this is for me too. Makes me feel like I'm carrying on his legacy, I guess. As long as there's a Spider, there's still a piece of Peter around."

It had been hard informing May of the double life Peter had been living after he passed, but what else could [Y/N] have told her? "Ah yes, your son died in a very tragic car accident and that's why his spine was shattered into pieces and I was left completely unharmed although I was also at the scene." Lying to May after losing him just felt wrong.

So [Y/N] told her everything, about Spiderman, about the Green Goblin and the Osborns. And a few months later, when [Y/N] decided to take her late boyfriend's place and protect New York, the first thing she did was tell May. May, of course, pleaded with the girl not to go any further with the idea of Spiderwoman, but [Y/N] had her mind set. She was going to protect New York, not only for her home state's sake, but for Peter's memory as well.

May sighed. She knew there was nothing she could do to stop [Y/N] and there was no point in wasting both of their time. She'd been trying to put an end to this for two years now, but the girl was stubborn. Peter had called it "overly ambitious". May couldn't help but think that Ben could've put an end to this somehow, but it was just her now. She'd find a way eventually.

"If you need anything," May finally spoke. "I'll be home all night. I don't have night rounds at the hospital for the rest of this week. You stop by, no matter how late, okay? Peter's old bed is always there for you."

[Y/N] felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Peter's childhood bedroom. She'd spent at least four months after his death practically rotting away in his bed. There were so many memories from their teenage years in that room. She didn't know if she could face them again without deteriorating.

"Thanks, May," [Y/N] gave her a small smile. "I'll shoot you a text if I decide to stop by. In the meantime, pamper yourself. You work too hard."

The women shared a hug, May giving the girl a warm kiss on the cheek before they finally parted ways. [Y/N] watched May make her way out of the graveyard before leaning down to Peter's headstone. She gently sat her forehead against the stone and closed her eyes.

"I really, really hope you're proud of me."

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It was late. She'd been out for hours now, patrolling around the entire state of New York. Stopped a few break-ins, prevented some drug deals, the usual crime scene. It had been quiet ever since Norman Osborn's death. His passing was sudden, an apparent suicide. The news had sent [Y/N] into a fit of rage.

"That coward took the easy way out. After everything he's done, after Peter, it's over because of a fucking self-inflicted gunshot to the head? It was supposed to be me, May. I wanted to watch him bleed."

[Y/N] sat close to the top of the Empire State building. This had been her and Peter's hiding spot. She could remember the first time he had brought her up here, sometime during junior year, and the view had completely taken her breath away. Peter had taken her hand and told her he loved her for the first time. It truly felt like they could've conquered the world together.

She took a breath, attempting to let herself relax for the first time in a few days. She was exhausted; her head was pounding and her body ached. It was a lot more difficult to do the job that Peter left behind without any super-human abilities. She was extremely lucky all of his equipment hadn't taken damage, trying to follow Peter's notes and blueprints felt like reading a foreign language. It was a miracle she hadn't taken life-threatening injuries yet, though she had ended up on May's doorstep needing help getting patched back up more times than she'd like to admit. Thank God for May Parker.

The wind up this high was chilling. It seemed to bite, but it held a certain familiarity that brought comfort. [Y/N] wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the structure of the building. The red and blue of the suit reflected against the metal. She had managed to adjust Peter's old suit enough to get it to fit her smaller frame. She was cold. She never used to be cold up here.

Her eyes were getting heavier and it was dangerous to stay up this high, but she couldn't seem to care. She gave in almost at once, letting her eyes drift shut. I'll just rest my eyes for a minute, she thought. It's not like anyone will find me up here.

There was a brief moment of complete silence. No city sounds, no wind, she could barely hear the steady intake of her own breath. It was calm, almost as if she had made her way to the end of the world. A bright, nearly blinding light made [Y/N] squeeze her eyes shut tighter. What the hell?

The noise resumed. Cars honked, people yelled. [Y/N] rubbed her eyes, trying to shake off the effect of the light, and noticed that the sun had risen. Had she accidentally fallen asleep and slept until morning? She'd have to send May a text. She always sent May an "I'm Ok! :)" after patrol. The woman must be worried sick.

[Y/N] made her way off of the building, slipping her mask back on and beginning to swing home. The sounds of Jonah Jameson's voice echoed through Times Square. Since when had he begun filming his episodes? She could've sworn the reporter only did his podcast.

J. Jonah Jameson sat at a desk, a stack of papers in his hand. His voice seemed to echo through the city. "Spider-Man continues his era of chaos with no remorse—"

That was weird. She had sworn everyone had switched to referring to the vigilante as Spiderwoman ever since the change had become more apparent. Also, when did Jameson go bald? He looked just... slightly off.

The reporter's rant on the hero continued. "When will you cease this meaningless destruction? After your betrayal to Mysterio, it's a miracle you have any public support remaining at all."

Mysterio? Who the hell was Mysterio?

The girl stopped, perching herself on the edge of a building and looking at the screen expectantly. She couldn't remember fighting a "Mysterio". There hadn't been a big bad in New York since the Goblin.

"It's time this little round of show-and-tell was put to an end," Jameson continued. "When will you face the facts? For the betterment of this city, you should be put behind bars. It's time you turned yourself in, Peter Parker."

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop.

The screen flashed. A photo of a teenaged boy was put on display. The words "PUBLIC ENEMY #1" were plastered over his face. Footage followed of the man Mysterio, accusing Peter of attempting to kill him. He revealed his identity and screen went to black.

[Y/N] could see Jameson's face appear back on the screen, but she couldn't hear a word he spoke. Something was extremely wrong here. She couldn't stop thinking about the boy that they had shown.

That's wasn't Peter.

perishable hours 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: peter reminds you how important sleeping is. and then proceeds to keep you awake. 

warnings: fluff, insomnia, half-asleep drabbles. 

a/n: and in this i attempt to write fluff without writing fluff 

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Hii! I don’t know if you still take requests, also I’ve never ever really requested anything. What would you say about the prompt "I'm sorry, I just really need a hug right now." With avenger Bucky? Just a comfort bubble with Bucky to brighten up a cloudy day, that’s what I see here. Or a cheer up after a miserable mission that went sideways. Just anything to get a hug from Bucky. It’s just a suggestion though, no pressure! Sending love ❤️

M, I loved the plot. I love writing fluff for our grumpy supersoldier <3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: He thinks that the world owes him this—a safe haven. A special place that's only his, and that never fails to make everything fade to white noise. When Bucky is having bad days now, all he needs to do is find comfort in your arms.

A/n: Feedback is really important to me. Tell me what you think and I’ll adore ya forever :)

Word count: 1.1k

Warning(s): I also do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded anywhere else.

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist 

Send me a prompt + Character!

ㅤㅤㅤ — getting used to receiving —

His dark days used to be cold and lonely.

Not just any type of cold—the permeating one which sinks into your bones like leeches sink their teeth in whatever they find. Bucky used to feel so cold all of the time, that he grew used to it. In both lives, before and after the fall, his days which were not so good always felt like that: the old and uncomfortable tinge of ice in his veins.

Now, there's you, and nothing brings him more warmth than the way you put him in his embrace.

When he comes back from the mission, it's all he wants.

Therapy. Avengers. Captain America.

(Winter Solider. White wolf. Bucky Barnes. Sgt?)

Sometimes, Bucky finds himself.

Other times, he disassociates, uses punching bags in Sam's basement, drinks with Yori, and even cries now.

Being alive is exhausting, but sometimes, Bucky finds himself and something beautiful as well:

The sight of the Shield which means so much to him in the right hands.

People being good. Forgiving.

The exquisite joy a good food that melts on the tongue brings—those little things that are beautiful and make life worth living are his favorite bits, and the ones he holds onto.

(His therapist is proud of him. What a wild concept, he thinks.)

Still.

Through all of the colorful things piercing the white noise, the favorite beautiful thing he's found while being alive in this 21st century is undoubtedly you.

When you open the door for him, Bucky thinks thank fucking god.

I'm home.

Your hand leaves the doorknob and your arms open wide, and that single image is the reason why he smiled more times these few months than he has in years.

"Hey, you," you say.

His two favorite words.

Bucky throws his duffel bag somewhere behind you and then steps into your embrace.

It's all he wants a lot of the time.

After missions — especially the hard ones like this one they're still stuck on — is everything he wants and craves.

Something about the way you hold him is holy to Bucky.

He's aware that love is supposed to be such a strong, gripping feeling—the drowning sense of peace in being with a person, but you terrified him at first with that power.

The one to bring him peace.

Your arms fit around Bucky's shoulders and in his arms, you melt. Always. As if he was a hot pan and you were butter, your body becomes as relaxed as it can be, surrendering inside both his warm and cold cage.

It terrified him the first time Bucky felt you so comfortable in this position.

You had laid your head on his chest for so long on the couch that his heart had started to pound right where you laid.

"Doesn't—isn't the metal arm a little... uncomfortable? For this?"

"Nope," you said. Softly. Sleepy.

"Oh." He was surprised. He'd always imagined it was. "Okay."

"Never been comfier," you mumbled. Bucky's heart had lept because something told him not only your words were true, but that you were almost asleep.

Since that day, it was here that Bucky liked spending a lot of precious time.

Whenever you hugged him, Bucky was able to think about only the good bits.

Whether he was holding you more or you holding him like right now, fitting your bodies like a puzzle became his founding pillar for peace.

(Sam had even joked about it.

"Dude. You look so chill lately," he had laughed.

"Do I?" Bucky asked, deadpanned.

"Look! Not even now—man, the corner of your mouth just quivered tryin' to be funny about this," he had laughed. "This is golden."

Inevitably, Bucky joined him in laughter. "I'm glad you're entertained."

"Oh, I'm more than entertained," said Sam. "I'm happy for you.")

Bucky felt you sighing against his chest, slowly.

Then, he felt your cute nose nudging his neck, right below the ear.

He chuckled—little wolf.

In probably two seconds, you'd make a comment about—

"You smell like dust," you sounded whiny, but then the feeling of a kiss blooms on that spot of his neck, and Bucky's brain goes even a little quieter. "It's ok. We'll shower."

"Will we?" he asks, interest peaking. You laugh at him, but now with the offer on the table, Bucky switches his plans of cooking you dinner and asking you to update him on the last episodes of the series you were talking to him about over the phone. He picks you up by your thighs, laughing at the squeal that comes out of you. "Alright. Let's go."

"Bucky!"

"What?" He plays dumb, kicking the door behind him with his foot. "You don't wanna shower with me?"

You laugh at him, and Bucky leans his head to get a kiss from you. "I'll cook for us later."

Mouth still touching his, your words come off muffled by both the kisses and the smile. "I've been waiting—hm—for your food for—weeks."

"And you'll get it," he switches to place one last kiss on your neck, then pays attention to hold you right as he switches your weight onto only his metal arm so he can open the bathroom door. "Shower first. I don't wanna see those little faces of yours every time you get your nose on me. They distract me, and the kitchen is not—"

"—a place to be distracted," you join him, holding on for dear life on his neck. "I know."

As if I'd let my most precious thing drop, he rolls his eyes internally.

Bucky gets inside the bathroom but still keeps you in his arm for just a moment longer. He likes to hold you in any way he can. "Let's shower. Then food. Then more hugs on the couch 'cause I need to tell you some stuff, then..." he lets his words drift off, and shrugs his shoulders.

You shake your head, smiling at him. "Coy comes out as a terribly smug look on you, and you know that."

"You love it," he says, pressing a kiss to your mouth as he lets you down gently.

"I do. Love every bit of you," you say, a little shy as you always are when telling him cheesy things.

(If the world could only see the nasty, filthy things you say with a smile on your face.)

He holds your face in his hand and kisses you a little more. He missed being able to do that. "I love you more, angel."

You fought him on it, but Bucky liked to believe he was right.

And it would always make him smile to think you also believed your words.

🏷 b.b. tag list ☆ @undiadeestos ; @keepingitlokiii ; @hallecarey1 ; @mardema ; @mollygetssherlockcoffee ; @justlovelifeblog ; @fallenoutofrose ; @rvgrsbrns ; @tripletstephaniescp ; @mal-edictions-blog ; @rippl3s ; @barnesafterglow ; @vintagepigeon ; @dirtyweenerking ; @couldabeenamermaid ; @winter-soldier-sebstan ; @leyannrae ; @nerdwholikesword ; @andreead ; @ren-ni ; @pastamomma ; @fiftyshadesofokay ; @peonyophelia ; @murdermornings ; @bvckysmoon ; @buttybarnes1917 ; @rebekahdawkins ; @tylard-blog1 ; @xbeauxny ; @fandoms-writings ; @thatblondebrownie ; @carrotfantasimp ; @teenagedreams-bucky ; @buckspumpkin ; @sltwins ; @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson ; @mrsbarnesinmyimagination ; @pineprincess ; @cpag7 ; @iambeeee ; @sstan-hoe ; @weirdowithnobeardo ; @hdbngsprnva ; @itsdawnashlie ; @sweetdreamsbuck ; @slutforsteve ; @maladaptivexxdaydreaming ; @holl2712 ♡

Going on a job interview:

Them: what is your biggest weakness?

Me: NOSE SCRUNCH

don't fucking interrupt me when i'm reading my x reader fics it's rude

Lokitty ❤️😼

"We are fortunate that President Trump has indicated that he will work with us on a solution to reinstate TikTok once he takes office. Please stay tuned!" how about you go fuck yourself

…

Do you like reading because it's fun or do you like reading because you're a burned out kid who used to always have the top grades in the class and now you read because you realize that the only people who will truly understand you are those who are made up of literal ink on paper and you believe that you are unloveable and have never been in an actual relationship so the only way that you could feel love is through another person's eyes and you have an obsession with fictional men not only because they are hot but because they will love you despite every flaw and they will treat you the way that no one else would and all you want to do every day is wake up to your comfort character kissing your forehead and telling you that they love you and that it's ok and that you are only human and you deserve love despite your worst traits?

do you all ever miss one of your old daydreams and the characters that it had? it feels like a old movie or book that i once watched or read. Sometimes like friends that i used to hang out with.

I really miss one of my daydreams now and i wish i could watch it all over again. That was one of my favourite. I even have some of the dialogues written in my notes and a drawing.

so mark zuckerberg is allowed to recreate a reality he read in a book, but when I try to make enemies to recreate an enemies to lovers, I'm toxic and mentally ill ???