#kavys10kwc

[foreverbeingthunderbuddy]

Just Say It [one-shot]

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Prompt: “Not to be dramatic, but I am going to die if we don’t do something … like now.”

Summary: Tony throws a Halloween party – the first ever for the reader. What to wear when you want to impress your superhero crush, Steve, but also want to hold on to your dignity? light, fluff, and one or two cuss words ;)

A/N: This is my piece for @starksparker’s 10k Writing Challenge! I’m so so sorry this is coming so late ://  Prompt is in bold. Also first time I wrote for Steve so please don’t kill me :) Word count around 5,5k. Gif by @drunkromanogers .

Masterlist

Until you moved to New York, Halloween was never really a big thing for you.

Your little group of friends in your hometown never bothered throwing an actual party or attending one, it was always more like a coming-together while wearing cat ears and eat chips in candlelight kind of thing. Of course a scary movie would play on TV and you’d spend your night screaming at too many badly done jumpscares while your friends would laugh and talk about how badly done these jumpscares were.

You like to think you never went to a party dressed like a slutty bunny because you are better than that, but behind that carefully built wall of denial you know it’s because you never got invited.

So? There are worse things in life.

For instance, being invited by your boss Tony fucking Stark to come to his probably way-over-the-top Halloween party with no Halloween party-experience on your side whatsoever. Do people still go slutty these days or are scary costumes actually in now? Should you come alone or bring someone? Besides, for a party of that scale, do people even put on costumes or is that just an excuse to have another sinful fête (how May, your supervisor, always calls it) and everyone wears the usual glamour and glitz-attire?

Google doesn’t seem to be able to give a clear answer.

Another question. Assuming people actually go scary nowadays, what could you wear that would both showcase your funny, spontaneous side by committing to a creative, spooky outfit, and your sexy, I’m-single-too-must-be-destiny side by, well, wearing something sexy? 

Even though sexy isn’t usually the style you feel most comfortable in, a party is a party and a party whose guest will be Steve “strongest BDE” Rogers calls for special actions.

“Before I forget, have you finally figured out your costume for the party next week?” Roxie asks and takes a sip from the cup filled with hot chocolate in her hands. Her dark eyes roam over your face curiously, eager not to miss the smallest hint of emotion. Roxie knows about your crush on Steve.

“Nope. Last night I had a drink, or four, and I thought it’d be super funny if I showed up as Captain America. With a shield and angry eyes and everything. But then I thought, maybe that’s weird to dress up as … Steve basically to impress said Steve.” Your last words hang in the air like a question and you see Roxie raise her eyebrows.

“Odd mating call, I have to admit,” She says and breaks into a grin but collects herself when you threateningly lift your index finger. “But of course, I, too, think that’d be a great idea. Or you don’t dress up as an Avenger when going to a party hosted by the Avengers. Just a suggestion.”

You sigh and look down into your own cup on the table in front of you. You’re sitting in your little kitchen, both gulping down hot chocolate like it’s water and listening to old songs playing on the radio.

She came straight from the hair salon to show off her now super short hair à la Danai Jekesai Gurira and you spent the last fifteen minutes admiring every single inch of it. And then you spent another ten minutes praising the white eyeliner she’s wearing that builds the perfect contrast to her dark skin and got all the details about the collection that “Never gonna buy anywhere else, Y/N, I’m serious”-eyeliner comes from.

“What if- I mean, we know Steve lived in the 40s right, so what if you went all retro and dressed up as someone from the fourties or fifties? That’s trendy nowadays and you like old stuff, right?” Roxie asks and you don’t miss the teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“You like old stuff?” was the exact question she asked the moment you told her you fell for Steve Rogers. She didn’t intend to be mean, she just wanted to provoke you out of your Finally-we-have-world-peace, trance-like state that you were in during the first weeks of having a thing, a huge thing, for him.

“Isn’t he like a hundred years old?”

“Um, no, I mean, uh- no. He didn’t age, Roxie, not his fault he was frozen.”

“….. Imagine the diseases he could have. I’m sure a hundred years ago diseases were different. I don’t think our modern bodies are made for 40s’ STDs. You could die.”

“Um, I don’t think our bodies are made for any kind of STD but that’s not the point.”

She has admitted she finds him kinda hot, too, but she’s too proud to go any further than that. Sometimes you wish you could read her mind. Or more accurately, all the time.

“Yes, I like old stuff. Old music and clothes, everyone does. It’s called vintage,” You say and try to distract her before she gets the chance to start philosophizing about Steve’s STDs again.

Alleged STDs. She has no proof he actually has them and you’re definitely not going to tell her that he probably was a virgin until he woke up in the modern day. Again, no proof, but people talk and people speculate, especially people who work for Stark in the Tower or Upstate Facility and who regularly pick up a couple of words and sentences here and there, making six out of two and two.

You probably shouldn’t believe anything that gets exchanged in the daily Stark Industries gossip meetings in the hallways and kitchens but … believing Steve didn’t bang his way through the country in the 40s does help calm your jealousy a bit. A tiny bit. 

You know he had girlfriends since starting to work for Tony but a girl can ignore that and wait ‘til she’s home and has a glass of wine in her hand before she turns to google to figure out what the “Ten Signs He Likes You” are. Preferably, there’s a phone in her other hand and her best friend (Roxie) on the line.

Cliché, you know, but … there’s a reason why these things are cliché, they’re just too fitting. And relatable. Roxie disagrees.

“But just imagine. You, in a 1940s vintage style tea dress, grey tartan, short sleeve. Black T-Strap Pumps, but sexy. I’m talking five inch heels. You’re going to a Halloween party, not church. Ooh! And one of those little hats that women wore on the side of their heads. And red lipstick, heavy eye make-up, some rouge. Did they have anything else? A highlighter?”

“You look remarkably excited about your vintage ideas for someone who doesn’t like old stuff,” You comment but can’t hide a smile. Your best friend is a stylist first and a lawyer second. Only the latter professionally, but the former at heart. If you let her, she would give you a complete make-over. Needless to say, the thought alone scares the shit out of you. She is just too unpredictable.

“Y/N, maybe try to contribute to this brainstorming, would you, I’m trying to get you somewhere.”

*****

You shouldn’t have made brownies. What made you think bringing brownies to a Tony Stark party was a good idea? You are going to make a fool out of yourself if you walk in there with two loads of self-made goods in your hands. What made you think this was “cool and spontaneous”?

Ah, yeah, right. Ally told you this year’s party wouldn’t be held in one of Tony’s mansions or the Tower. Due to some mild excesses last year, Tony – and the various authorities involved, yikes – has decided to keep it small and personal this year. His words, not yours. The party will be at someone’s apartment in New York where you live, but rumour has it that that someone is loaded as fuck, so apartment probably doesn’t apply entirely.

Read: a gigantic loft.

The fact that there aren’t going to be as many people here as you thought, makes you a little nervous because your anonymity and option of turning invisible, if everything gets too much, go downhill the minute you step through the front door. Hard to disappear without leaving if there’s hardly any space to disappear into.

Why the brownies?

How Ally put it, it sounded like this is a cozy, little get-together among friends and bringing something is usually what you do when you’re invited to something like that, right? Right?? Roxie talked you into it, to be honest.

“Men love those!” She screamed whilst wildly pointing at the freshly baked goods on the counter, “Everybody loves chocolate caramel layer scares, trust me. He won’t know what’s happening to him.”

Ha. You can guess what’s going to happen to him if he tries more than one of these: diabetes. Not that you told her that.

It’s fine, Y/N, it’s gonna be fine, just drop the brownies on the diamond counter and never get near the kitchen again, so no one will suspect any connection between you and these health risks.

You take a deep breath and one last look at the intimidating building in front of you before you start walking to the entrance. It’s been a while since you last wore heels, but thankfully Roxie doesn’t just understand style but also comfort and picked a pair that looks and feels good. You shouldn’t get too optimistic, though, the evening hasn’t even begun yet.

Before you reach the glass door, you see your own reflexion in the dim street lights.

Your outfit is exactly what she envisioned in your kitchen, grey, very 40s, very femme fatale and tight on the right places. She even got you one of those “little hats women wore on the side of their heads”. Her sister Florence took care of your make-up which means you have your face all done up, smokey eyes, lashes who aren’t exactly your own, dewy cheeks and serious red lipstick.

To add a tiny scary factor, Roxie and Florence put some fake blood on your stomach area to make it look like you got stabbed, some on the side of your head where the hat sits – “Someone crashed the hat needles into your skull, Y/N, and blood is dripping down your temple” – and on one corner of your mouth.

You wish you could have taken Roxie with you as your plus one, but Ally said no companion – small circle. Well, judging by the music already coming from a window on the, what, sixth floor (?) small circle means something entirely different to Tony. Who knows how many people he invited.

You step into the building and walk to the reception. Yes, you heard right. Reception. This is going to be fancy, you can tell. Doesn’t help your goddamn nervousness. The box in your hands gets heavier and heavier the longer you hold it and there’s one needle attaching the hat to your head that just pokes into your scalp like it’s holding on for dear life. You need to fix that as soon as you find a bathroom.

Nothing in this lobby hints at the ongoing party or its theme, everything looks as sterile as possible. Not Tony’s style, admittedly, but you guess he had trouble with the neighbours, so he refrained from decorating everything.

“Good evening, Miss, can I help you?” The man behind the desk asks and looks up to you over his round little glasses. Is that a smile or just a coincidental shadow illusion on his face?

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N, I was invited to Tony Stark’s Halloween party,” You answer (um look at my costume?) and try another smile that doesn’t get reciprocated, instead he nods and pulls up a piece of paper that looks like a list. Oh, there’s a smiling pumpkin candle on his desk, right next to the little box of paperclips. Mister Dead Inside rebelling against the stuck up neighbours, what a nice touch.

Within a few seconds he finds your name, puts a check mark behind it and meets your eyes again with a sober look on his face.

“The elevator is over there, the party is on the fifth floor, 1-0-3-1 is the code for tonight. I hope you’ll have a very nice evening, Miss Y/L/N.”

I hope so, too.

You thank him and walk to where he pointed, punch the numbers into the little keyboard on the wall and step into the opening elevator. The last thing you see before the doors close is him pulling out what looks like another pumpkin candle from one of his drawers and positioning it on his desk.

There’s no music coming from any speakers in the elevator during your ride up, but there’s definitely music coming from outside the elevator, growing louder and louder the higher you get. Hrrr, your pulse really has no business speeding up like that. It’s not like you’ve never been to a party.

You’ve just never been at a party smaller than Tony’s huge orgies (basically) and therefore never got the chance to talk to Steve with a champagne glass in your hand and no “I have to go save the world now, sorry, dear” between you two. All you know is Business Steve, stern eyes, determined eyebrows, important stuff to do. You have no clue what Private Steve is like. And that’s … kinda scary.

What if Private Steve is a douche? No. He isn’t. You don’t need to know him to know that. But what if Private Steve is boring and stiff (hmm) or … what if he likes to collect stamps or miniature trains? Is there a bigger mood killer in this world than collecting miniature trains and would you be able to stand above it?

Roxie would be of great help right now, it’s a shame you couldn’t bring her.

The doors open and reveal an open, dark hallway that is decorated with spider nets, candles, two skeletons, fake blood on the wall, a couple of pumpkins, a crooked mirror and various dusty boxes and murder equipment. This looks surprisingly awesome. After what you saw in the lobby, your expectations fell to a humble level but this is really cool.

At least a dozen voices can be heard from around the corner and the music is a notch too loud for your liking. You hesitate for another second before entering the apartment and slowly walk around the corner. What you see definitely has Tony Stark written all over it.

Take the decorations from the entrance and multiply it by a hundred. You have never seen this many different candles, and someone really had a blast with the fake spider nets. There is even a broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling, adding to the dim, mysterious atmosphere produced by the candles and blinking chains of lights.

It looks like a great party.

Oh and the people? As diverse as it gets. From vampires, werewolves and witches to pirates, various animals including a giraffe, to cartoon show characters, murdered people, injured people, angry people, to clowns, zombies, princesses, nuns, nurses, monks, angels and devils, the KFC guy and oh, is that one-armed Spongebob?

Looks like people go scary, sexy and funny. Questions answered. Time to drop off the brownies that are still in your hands and that feel like two hundred pounds at this point. No one seems to notice you as you walk past the Power Rangers and follow Ernie and Bert into a hallway that hopefully leads to the kitchen.

It doesn’t. It leads to another hallway with several closed doors which could be bedrooms. Ah. Ernie and Bert want to make out. Your bad. You turn around and walk back to the gigantic living room that in itself looks like a loft and try to make out the way to your admired location.

“Am I having hallucinations or did the 1950s just arrive at my party?” A voice suddenly asks and you jump, not expecting the noise next to you. The person who the voice belongs to turns out to be a black Aladdin, open vest showcasing abs and everything, completed by silver eyeliner and a fake wig to get the typical 1001 Nights Prince’s hair but doesn’t quite fit the rest of his appearance. But who are you to judge a dedicated man’s Halloween costume at his own party?

“Yeah, that actually might be a hallucination because I don’t represent the 50s, but the 40s,” You say and smile, just as Albert Einstein walks past you. Something to tell your grandkids about.

“Oh, I’m sorry M’lady, I got the decade wrong but the costume looks, um, fetching.”

Is this really how people talked in the 40s? Probably not. You laugh and feel a little of your nervousness go. Only a little, but still.

“So this is your party? Can you tell me where the kitchen is then?”

“Over there, next to the skeleton on the wall and the bloody unicorn. Thank you for bringing something, Miss 40s, I really hope this is dessert.”

“It is. Brownies,” You say and watch as Aladdin punches the air in joy.

“Nice! I’m glad Tony invited you, no one else brought Brownies yet. Speaking of, Tony should be here somewhere,” He informs you and roams the crowd.

Oh, please let him be Genie! Please let him be Genie, God, please!

Tony Stark topless in blue body paint and a little ponytail on the top of his head is something that would make the whole stress worth it.

You scan the room and look for Tony but you find someone else. Steve. Standing with a small group of people, a beer in his hand, he looks too beautiful to handle. So much about getting calmer.

“Okay, I’ll bring these to the kitchen, thank you!” You quickly announce and start to move.

“It was my pleasure, a lady in distress, how could I not help? The royal court has raised me to be a Prince, not a dizzard,” Aladdin proclaims and tips his fedora- you mean, his little hat. Didn’t Aladdin grow up on the street and only got access to the palace when he met Jasmine? This Aladdin here either forgot his own origin story or had more than a couple of drinks already.

While dodging guests, you walk over to the skeleton and the bloody unicorn (another guest) and enter the kitchen. Having a will of steel, you didn’t once look at Steve or check out his outfit. Like a powerful queen.

You walk around the kitchen island and put the box on the huge counter (not diamond by the way) and start unpacking. It looks like a lot of people brought some stuff, thankfully, and you place yours at the dessert side of the buffet. There are a couple of vampires with you in the room, but suddenly you hear more people walk in behind you.

“… like it’s the worst, Abe.”

“If anyone makes another theatre joke to my face, I think I’m actually gonna shoot someone,” A deep voice answers and you turn around. 

Abraham Lincoln and a zombie nurse are deep in conversation while the nurse pours glasses of bowle on the kitchen island for them. You need a couple of seconds to recognize them as Mark and Jess from your department.

“You chose the outfit, Mark- um Abe, so you gotta live with that now. Just suck it up like a real man and get drunk with me. I never drank with a president before,” She says and hands him his glass. That’s when she notices you.

“Y/N, hi! Good to see you! Nice costume, are you … I don’t know who you are. Someone from the 60s? A celebrity? Meryl Streep?”

Did she just say 60s? Wait, did she just say Meryl Streep??

“Um, no. I-“

“Jess, why would she be Meryl Streep, she looks nothing like her, look at the hair. There were other actresses besides Meryl in the 60s, by the way. Also, I don’t think Y/N is going for the 60s, I think she is going for first World War,” Abraham Lincoln muses and takes a sip from his cherry bowle.

1910s definitely wasn’t what you envisioned.

“That’s why she is all bloody, because she served in the war and got killed by a grenade splinter in her chest,” He continues and seems very sure of his ability to identify vintage fashion.

“Women didn’t fight back then,” Jess retorts and pushes a strand of red hair out of her face. Even if women had served in the World War, they wouldn’t have worn a dress and heels. Time to solve the mystery.

“I’m a lady from the 40s and I got brutally murdered by my unfaithful husband who didn’t want to pay for a divorce.”

“Makes sense.”

“At least you got the decade right, Abe,” She says and pinches Mark’s side who squinches his eyes at her comment.

“The first World War wasn’t in the 40s, that was the second one. Did you leave your brain at home tonight?”

Geez.

“Y/N, by the way, Steve was asking about you.”

What.

WHAT.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare at Jess.

“He was?”

“Yup. Wanted to know if you’d be here, too, ‘cause he had overheard Ally telling you about Tony’s invitation. I said I didn’t know and that you’ve never been to Tony’s Halloween party before, so who knows if you’d be going.”

Yeah, because you’ve never been invited before but that’s the details. Steve asked about you!! Is this even real?

“I, um, okay? Cool. Well … I’m here. Um … do you know why he asked?” Okay, can your voice sound any more unstable? Try to keep your cool, for god’s sake!

“Nope,” She simply says and eyes you curiously. Poker face! Poker face!! You smile.

“Okay.”

Short silence.

“Wow, Y/N’s got a thing for Cap. That’s cute.”

“Mark!”

“Jess, I’m Abraham Lincoln, please respect your presid-“ A rather violent punch against his shoulder cuts off his sarcastic remark.

At that moment, a small group of people walks in and to the dismay of your previously relatively steady heartbeat you see Steve with them, now being nerve-wreckingly close. The kitchen seems quite crowded now.

Did he dress up as Han Solo? Heart be still!

Before he can catch you staring, you quickly turn back to face the counter and pretend to be occupied with inspecting the cover of the box you brought the brownies in. Oh, click-closure, interesting. But is it purple from both sides…?

From the corner of your eye, you see someone push in right next to you, and you don’t need to look up to know who it is. You’d recognize that cologne anywhere. You dare a glance to your left and realize that Steve has his back to you and is talking to a fantastic-looking blonde in a Super Woman costume.

It’s easy to see that every single woman in this room and a couple of dudes are subtly staring at Captain America and you can’t blame them.

He doesn’t notice you and you think you’d get away when, on the other side of the room, two of your co-workers in sexy Harry Potter costumes (Hufflepuff and Slytherin) come up to the kitchen island. Hufflepuff sees you, claps her hands and laughs, getting everyone’s attention.

“I didn’t think you would come!”

Slytherin whistles approvingly at your costume and excessive make-up just as Steve turns from having his back to you to looking at you. His expression is kind of friendly when he turns, surely because he’s having an inspiring discussion with Wonder Woman, though he also looks curious to see who Hufflepuff is yelling at, or at least that’s how it seems to you. The minute his eyes meet yours, he freezes and stares.

“Look at you!” Slytherin calls out and grabs an empty glass to fill it with bowle, “That dress is beautiful, so retro, I love it. 50s? You should come to work looking like that, no wait, we should all come to work looking like that. Every Wednesday. We’ll make it our Mean Girls-inspired theme day. Minus the fake blood of course.”

You want to run. You don’t want everyone looking at you.

“You have no idea how long I have waited to hear those words,” Hufflepuff comments and goes for her own glass, “I’m a sucker for everything vintage. It’s so cute.”

“I’m actually a lady from the 40s, whose, um, whose husband cheated on her and now doesn’t want to pay for a divorce, so he, uh, killed me,” You explain, now not so sure about your costume idea anymore. You also try to avoid Steve’s beautiful eyes which are so painfully close and they are looking at you! One might think you never had a boyfriend before, it’s pathetic.

“Ooh, drama! I like that,” A guy who you don’t know says, “Trouble in paradise?”

Trouble in paradise? Does he think you had beef with your *non-existent* boyfriend and now you went for Murdered Wife? That’s something Roxie would do, no doubt.

“No, just liked the idea.”

The general attention in the room moves away from you and the little groups get back to their own conversations.

You chance a look at Steve out of the corner of your eye and see he’s still staring at you, no longer frozen. There is activity behind his eyes, lots of it. Just nothing you can understand. You stop trying to look at Steve without looking like you are looking at Steve and take a step forward.

“Can you pour one for me, too?” You ask Hufflepuff and she does as you ask. Steve’s gaze burns into the backside of your head. Why isn’t he saying anything? He never seemed shy around you.

The music in the living room changes into a different song and a Pink Power Ranger shrieks and pushes against the pirate next to her.

“Let’s go dance! Please!”

“No, let’s just stay here for a while.”

She sighs and looks annoyed, as far as her body language tells you because the mask covers her face completely. All of a sudden, you feel a heat at your back, like someone came up behind you and you think you know who it is. For the sake of your reputation – ‘cause you’d definitely ruin that if you turned around now and stuttered like a horse – you keep your back to him and hold on to the surface in front of you.

“We’ve been standing around all night. I need to move!”

The pirate doesn’t answer and demonstratively takes a sip from his cup. You do the same and listen to the music blasting through the apartment (Steve has moved to stand next to you now), all while ignoring the tension between the two of you in the air.

The music goes into the chorus and the bass booms.

“Not to be dramatic, but I am going to die if we don’t do something … like now.”

“Sarah, if you want to go dance, go.”

Seriously. You start to grin at her childlike crossing of the arms.

“Y/N.”

The blood in your veins freezes at his voice, so close, so him, captivating you instantly although you try not to let it show. You turn your head, still smiling, and look at him. You barely smile around him, let alone at him, because you are usually too nervous but he took you off-guard this time. Then you realize where you are, only a few inches away from Steve fuckin’ Rogers, and your smile dies on your face.

He is still staring at you, but now he is staring at your mouth.

You feel your knees get a bit weak.

The tension gets unbearable, so all you have in mind is ESCAPE. You turn away and attempt to walk around the kitchen island when Steve grabs your wrist.

“Hang on, Y/N,” He says.

He pulls you back gently and you involuntarily get close again, head tilted up to meet his eyes but immediately regretting it because how are you going to get out of this situation now?

“Hm?”

“I like your outfit. Been a while since I saw someone dressed like that.”

Roxie would high-five you now if she was here.

“Thanks.”

“I was actually … hoping to see you here, I-“

“Oh my god, who made these brownies?!” Someone cries out next to you and both of you turn your heads to the side. Albert Einstein stands at the counter, eyes huge, one of your brownies in his hand and his mouth is chewing wildly.

“Me,” You inform him and hesitantly raise your hand.

“These are unbe-fucking-lievable. I’m in love. Everyone please leave me alone now, I need some me-time.”

You smile at him, what a nice thing to say, especially from a physicist that legendary.

You look back at Steve and realize he is watching you again, this time a small smile plays around his lips. Seeing a Private Steve Smile up-close creates a tingling flutter in your belly and kind of detaches you from reality for a second. Where are you again?

“Y/N, what did you put into th-“

“Okay, that’s it,” Steve declares, interrupting Hufflepuff, lays one arm around your waist and starts to move, so you have no other option than to follow him. “I can’t even have one solid conversation with you without anyone interrupting.”

You don’t say anything because you’re way too overwhelmed by the sudden physical contact. He has never really touched you before, aside from shaking your hand or platonically laying a hand on your shoulder, and now you don’t really know how to react. The wild beating of your heart doesn’t help the matter.

He guides you out of the kitchen and you find yourself standing in the loud living room. Pink Power Ranger is dancing like there’s no tomorrow and if this wasn’t such an important moment, you would laugh. Are you being dramatic or just needy?

“I mean, I’m sure the brownies are great, but … well,” He says, arm still around your waist, blue eyes looking down at you, his smell has long catapulted you into a Steve-induced trance, “What I was saying is, I’m glad you’re here because- actually I was trying to approach you at the Tower this week but you’ve been busy and I didn’t want to interrupt, and … well, I was wondering if you want to go out-“

“Han Solo and Lady 40s, arm in arm in my living room! Never thought I would see that happening,” Aladdin booms a few steps away from you. Is this night even for real? Since when have you been so popular??

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Steve bursts out, grabs your hand and drags you past Aladdin into a hallway. You shoot the host an apologetic look but don’t bother stopping the grin on your face. This is kinda funny, not gonna lie.

The hallway is empty and there seem to be no other horny guests so far. As soon as he knows the air is clear, he turns around to you and moves way into your Personal Space (like always, it seems), his beautiful blue eyes locking on yours.

“What I was trying to say is-“

“Hey, Steve my man-“

“You better piss off now, Carl, or I can’t guarantee for anything anymore!” Steve growls at Carl, who just appeared behind him, without even looking over his shoulder.

At this moment he sounds so threatening that you can’t help but wince a little, your eyes grow huge as you watch Carl do a 180 and walk into the direction he came from. Your gaze flickers back to the man in front of you and it’s obvious he is trying not to lose his temper – a trait you never thought he had in him, losing his temper, you mean.

A small muscle in his jaw twitches and his eyes look unusually dark while they stare at the corner of your mouth, so you try a smile. At that, his face changes and he looks up into yours.

“You wanted to ask me something?”

Phew, who would have thought you would be that fucking courageous. Roxie won’t believe this.

“Yes.”

He gets even closer, so you retreat until your back hits the wall, and he puts his big hands against the surface next to your shoulders. Caging you. It’s just that it doesn’t feel like it. He could show you a way out and you would still stand glued to this spot.

“Before anyone gets in the way again, I’m gonna make this short. Do you want to go out on a date with me?”

****

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[fanatic1997]

Stay With Me Tonight

Summary: You were content being friends with benefits with Tom Holland. But the seasons are changing and Tom wants more than just a good time.

Parings: Tom Holland x Reader

Words: 958

Warnings: Smut, sort of NSFW

This is for @starksparker 10k writing challenge!! Congrats, you’re a phenomenal writer!

pic is not mine

Your feelings for Tom were supposed to always remain platonic. The deal you two had struck had ensured that.

Sex with no strings attached was supposed to save you from any awkward one night stands that you would have otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up feeling Tom’s breath tickle the back of your neck. His arm was lazily lying over your midsection. Your eyes widened, you had never fallen asleep after sex before.

You unwrapped his arm and rolled away slowly so to not wake him up. The clock on his night stand read 3:16 am. You gritted your teeth, you didn’t mean to stay so long.

You carefully slipped off the bed, the crisp air giving you goosebumps. You didn’t see your dress anywhere on the floor with the rest of the discarded clothing. So you slid on Tom’s discarded shirt and slipped on a pair of his sweatpants that you swiped from his drawer. It’s not like he would mind; you could return them later.

Before you reached the bedroom door, Tom’s voice stopped you. His voice was full of sleep and he rubbed his eyes slowly trying to gain focus. “Hey, where are you going? I promised you breakfast.” Tom smiled running a hand through his ruffled hair.

You swallowed. You didn’t know how to respond. How could he be so casual about the change in your relationship?

There had never been any breakfast involved. Your platonic relationship had never involved breakfast the morning after.

You and Tom had always been friends. The deal you two had agreed on had come about after a drunken accident a couple of months ago. Even then, you had enough sense to not spend the night. No, spending the night meant feelings, and feelings weren’t ok when Tom would leave for months on end to film.  

Tom smiled lazily at you before sitting up, “I can hear your thoughts from over here. Come on, it’s Christmas, stay with me tonight. Don’t think about it,” he patted the spot next to him for you to rejoin him.

You blamed your sleepiness and even your holiday spirit for stepping away from the door and walking towards the bed.

Any regret you felt washed away as soon as Tom wrapped his arms around you.

Sure enough, the next morning, you woke up to the smell of bacon.

You hadn’t sat up completely yet when Tom walked into the bedroom in nothing but a pair of Christmas sweatpants carrying a plate of food and a mug of coffee if your nose was correct.

“Merry Christmas love” Tom smiled, handing you the mug and setting the plate of food down on the nightstand.

“Wow Tom, if you treat all your one night stands like this, they’ll never leave” you laughed. The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

Tom’s smile slipped away slowly, before a look of anxiousness crossed his brown orbs.

“About that, do you…. would you like to go on an actual date with me?” Tom bit his lips nervously while scratching the back of his head. His ears had turned pink.

You moved the mug away from your lips and set it down on the nightstand. “Tom we have a deal.” You pushed the sheets away from your body, ready to leave.

You should have known Tom was up to something. Last night’s sex had been different. He had spent hours kissing you and he had made sure to make eye contact when he finally slid inside you. You could have sworn he had whispered “mine” during that first thrust but you couldn’t be sure. He had brought you two three orgasm before he finally exploded in you.

Truth be told, after last night, Tom could have asked you for anything and you would say yes.

So you didn’t have it in you to reject Tom’s offer. But you knew better. Long distance relationships never worked out and you wanted to keep Tom around for awhile, even if it meant being friends with benefits.

“I know, but I want to be more, so much more. I agreed to the stupid deal so that I could at least have my foot in the door. Plus, I can’t imagine you sleeping with someone else” Tom’s jaw tightened slightly. “Please don’t walk away, we can forget I ever asked.” You stood at the frame of the bed. You had been reaching for your boots but Tom’s pleading voice had stopped you. “Please don’t go.”

“Tom, please don’t ask. I don’t trust myself to say no,” you whispered but Tom heard. He walked quickly around the bed to where you stood. He felt a small sliver of hope and time was of the essence.

“Please, is it the long distance? We can make it work out. I have a few movie offers to film here.” Tom closed the distance between the two of you and you knew you had lost your argument.

Tom knew it too, and he got even closer to you and placed a hand under your chin. “Please love, I can make this work. Just go on one date with me.” Tom whispered. “It’s all I want for Christmas,” he pleaded.

Your last bit of reservation washed away from you and you smiled, Tom really had an obsession with Christmas. “Fine but only because I love bacon.” You swiped a piece from the plate next to you.

“What would you have done if I would have said no.” You glared at Tom who had been cheeky enough to swipe a piece of your bacon and was now eagerly chewing it.

“Make you forget this conversation with an Earth shattering orgasm and try again on New Years” he threw you a smirk.

[everythingcollided]

Even Spider-Man Needs Coffee [Peter Parker]

Summary: Peter likes espresso a little too much. 

Word Count: 1,629

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: this is for @starksparker ‘s 10k writing challenge! it’s late, but my inspiration left and whoops it took a while to come back, but here we are! hope you like it! also thanks to my sorta-kinda-really beta @beautiful-writings . 

“Hey, that espresso guy is back.”

She turns her head from the steaming cup of black coffee she’s just finished placing the cap on, to her co-worker. Jake’s face is settled in a way that she’s classified as hesitance in the three years she’s worked with him. “Peter.” She corrects with a roll of her eyes. Jake knows his name. “What about him?”

“He ordered his coffee with eleven shots of espresso. Eleven.”

“And?” She hands the finished cup to a waiting customer who offers her a timid smile. Poor girl looked so confused when ordering from the plethora of selections on the menu, and so grateful when she learned that just black coffee was available.

She then turns to Jake, who gestures wildly with his hands, as per usual. “And that’s totally insane! We’re not even allowed to give someone that much! How is he still alive?!”

There’s a fond smile on her lips as she searches for the boy in the relatively empty shop. People sit at dark wooden tables typing on computers or staring out of the large windows at the front of the shop, snuggled in the sunlight that streams happily through the glass in the morning. And then Peter, sat at a booth with his back to the rays, hand squished against his cheek and lashes fluttering as he tries to keep awake.

The sight squeezes at her heart. He’s clearly exhausted but still as gorgeous as ever.

“Peter’s...a special case.”

“Because you’ve been thirsting after him since he came in the first time?” He says with raised eyebrows. There’s a smug air coating him as he leans his hands on the wooden counter.

She purses her lips and narrows her eyes at him. “That’s not the point. Why are you bothering me?”

“Someone has to tell him we can’t make him coffee without getting fired unless he subtracts three shots of death juice.”

“And why can’t you?”

“Well,” he starts, plucking a coffee stirrer from a jar and grating on her nerves. “I thought that’d you’d be a better candidate.”

“Why? You’ve got a big mouth, can’t you tell him?”

Jake grins, eyes flitting over to the door a second before the tinkling of the bell rings. “I’ve actually got another customer to tend to. If you would be so kind to take over?”

“I despise you.”

“Just make me the honorary uncle of your first child and I’ll forget you said that.” He pats her head on his way to greet the customer and she has to remind herself that she needs this job when the thought of how easy it would be to break his arm crosses her mind.

Why does she have friends, again?

After taking a substantial amount of deep breaths and giving herself a pep talk, she walks over to Peter. It’s not a big deal, they talk when he orders almost every day and she likes to consider them friends, but still. Anxiety curls up inside her chest.

He straightens when she slides in across from him, bright eyes nearly taking all the attention away from the bags under them. “Hey.”

“Hey, Pete.” She murmurs back. Her fingers tap against the table, click click distracting her just the right amount.

“What’s up?” His voice is scratchy and slow. He clears his throat.

She regards him with concern. His worn college sweatshirt is crooked along the line of his collarbone and showcasing a chunk of his right shoulder. A freckle dots the skin and she stares at it for a little too long. With his messy hair he’s the epitome of a lazy and tired boy who just crawled out of bed and why is it so alluring?

It takes a questionable call of her name to get her back on the right track, shaking her head and cursing at Jake in her mind.

“You ordered eleven shots?”

The tone she uses is scolding and it gives her a jolt at how much it reminds her of her mother.

Peter cringes and rubs a palm against his neck. “Um, yeah?”

She simply raises her eyebrows.

“I, uh, didn’t sleep.”

“You don’t need that much espresso for one night.” A frown creases her lips.

He runs a hand through his hair, shifting his eyes down to the table. “It’s...kind of been three nights.”

“Peter.”

“Well, technically not three nights cause I have taken some thirty minute naps? Like when I shower, you know? So it’s not that bad cause I’m getting some sleep right but you’re glaring at me so you don’t agree?”

She rubs at her eyes and tries to ignore the drop of her heart into her stomach. “No.”

“I’m sorry?” He tries.

“You know how stupid you’re being?”

Peter offers something between a smile and a grimace, fusing into a light pink. “Yes.”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

“I know,” His expression crumbles as he collapses against the padding of the booth. “I know we have. It’s just...this crime ring going on around the city, all of the break-ins and muggings. They’re stressing me out.”

A pit forms in her chest as she analyzes the crease in his forehead, the faraway look in his dark eyes. Peter’s never been this...vulnerable. Usually tired, yes, always tired, but never quite like this.

The whole city’s been on edge with the rise in criminal activity. Shops have upgraded security, there’s been talk of a curfew being solidified. Some have even refused to take any cash, scared that they’ll lose it to a few thugs trying to make some money.

She almost reaches out to him, opting to play with a string of her apron instead. “We all are. But the cops have it handled. Even more, Spider-Man’s tearing it up out there. I have faith that he’ll stop it.”

Peter looks even more upset; if that’s possible.

“You don’t have to lose sleep over it, you know.”

He stays quiet and she purses her lips.

“Are you okay, Pete? I mean, you’ve always inhaled caffeine in an unhealthy way, but you haven’t ordered over nine shots since you came here the first time. And I’m not allowed to ask your business as an employee, but I care about you as a person and not just as a customer so I have to ask because you’re really starting to worry me.”

Peter smiles shyly. “I-I’m good. Fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Part of her doesn’t believe him, but she needs to. “Just try to get some rest. Even Spider-Man has to sleep, after all.”

Peter jolts and his eyes widen. “What?”

“Spider-Man,” She says it slowly, confused by his reaction. “I’d assume that under that suit, there’s a human being that still has to go through bodily functions. He eats, he uses the bathroom, he sleeps. Just like all of us. To have all that energy, he has to sleep, even if that means leaving crime to the cops for a few hours. He finds a way. If he can do it, you can too. Without eleven shots of espresso.”

He leans forward with a smile that looks almost secretive. “What if Spider-Man needs eleven shots of espresso, too?”

“I’d hope that he’d be smarter than to operate like that.”

He regards her curiously. “You’re a Spider-Man fan aren't you?”

“Who isn’t?” She shrugs.

Peter chuckles. “Fine. I’ll try to sleep.”

“Good.”

“Can I still have my coffee, though?”

She sighs with a fond shake of her head. “Nine shots.”

He pouts and she manages to maintain her eye contact and not let his looks get to her. “Okay, yes. Whatever. Nine shots.”

“We need to work on your coffee intake, seriously.”

He sends her an unimpressed look. “Nine shots.”

“Fine,” She stands. “Die, then.”

His laugh rings through the place as she heads back to make his order.

“That went well,” Jake sidles up next to her as she’s pulling the shots, leaning against the counter smugly. “I’d love a thank you and a big, warm cordial batch of chocolate chip cookies.”

“I still despise you.”

He hums. “That’s not how you treat your wingman.”

She turns to him with a gummy smile and with the sweetest voice she can muster, says, “Thank you so very much, Jakey. I’m not making you cookies.”

He scoffs and walks away, muttering about rude people under his breath.

It gets so busy in the next hour that she doesn’t even have time to chat with Peter some more when she delivers his coffee. She doesn’t notice the napkin laying behind on his table until she goes to wipe it down. 

Thanks for the advice. Maybe I could return the favor?

P.S. Remind me to sleep? End my caffeine addiction? Help?

-Peter

His phone number dances near the bottom in messy scrapes.

She laughs because it’s Peter. Adorable, dorky, Peter Parker. Giving her his number.

Giving her his number.

Shit.

She folds the napkin and stuffs it into the pocket of her apron, trying to keep her smile at bay when she tells Jake that she’ll bake the cookies he’s been obsessed with since she’d made them for their manager’s baby shower.

He squints suspiciously. “What happened?”

She pulls her best innocent face. “What, can’t a girl congratulate her wingman?”

“Maybe a girl that isn’t you.”

“Do you want cookies or not?”

Jake doesn’t say anything more about it.

Later that night, she sits in bed for hours, staring at the style of his writing, pondering. It’s eleven when she types the number into her phone.

I think you can return the favor right now, actually.

Peter responds a nail-biting thirty minutes later. Really?

Yeah.

How would you go about asking someone who loves killing their body with espresso out?

[hvllanders]

“no strings attached”

for @starksparker‘s 10k wc

You whisper things to him at night, when you think he’s asleep. Things you don’t dare say aloud. In the judgmental light of day, words fall clunkily from your lip; somehow less impactful than you intend. Peter didn’t have that problem. He could be tender and soft and kind whenever he pleased. At night, you were more evenly matched.

“Babe,” you whisper to him, because you are always much too chicken to call him babe to his face.

If you’re lucky, he won’t stir in your arms. You shouldn’t have bothered him anyway; God knows he needs the rest. He always seems so much smaller when he’s curled up, clutching your hand. Moonlight flickering in from the window, illuminating the freckles on his shoulder. A patch of cheekbone resting against your shoulder. His breath tickles the hair at the base of your neck as he snores. Oblivious to the world.

“Babe.”

His head tilts up, chin perching on your shoulder. His eyes don’t open, but he makes a noise of irritation.

You know if you’re silent enough and still enough he’ll fall back to sleep. And, maybe after all he’s been through these past few months, that’s the better, less selfish thing to do. But you can’t help yourself now.

“Do you think we’re soulmates?” This is quieter than your initial statement. Less certain. You aren’t sure of Peter’s thoughts on soulmates, but you do know this is not a question you’d dare ask any other time than the dead of the night.

He’s silent so long you’re sure he’s fallen back asleep.

Then. Murmured into your shoulder. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

You run a hand up and down his back slowly. There are no scars on Peter Parker, though there should be. Evidence of stab wounds, of burn marks, of scrapes from being dragged across buildings, of bullet holes. But his skin is smooth and clear save for the freckles. Your hand moves up and down along his spine as he breathes.

He shifts so his chin rests on your chest, and he can look into your eyes. His gaze is steady, which surprises you. Usually he’s dead to the world at this time of night.

“Then yes.” He reaches up a hand to touch your lips.

“Yes, what?” You try not to get distracted by his soft fingers. But, like most things Peter related, you give in too soon; pulling him up so you can kiss him properly. It’s gentle and fragile, the way you expect kisses at 2 a.m. to be. He’s full and beautiful in your arms; head coming to rest in the crook of your shoulder. His lips press soft kisses to your neck.

“Yes, to what?” you ask again. He snorts in the way he does when something seems blatantly obvious and you’re being purposefully obtuse.

“I don’t think it’s overly complicated. If you believe in soulmates, I believe we could be them. No strings attached.”

He pecks your forehead, your nose, your lips drowsily. You hook an arm around his waist, pulling him closer, so you can feel his heart beat against your chest. A kiss pressed against his curls, against the tips of his ears. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He’s already limp in your arms; asleep once more.

tagging my old tag list even tho it’s been a while since i’ve posted writing...lmk if your url is updated/changed (i’m not really sure if i’ll be doing a taglist in the future?? we shall see): @ceruleanparker @underoosstark @webfluidbih @yourtomwritings @spideykisses @gqtom @demigodscum​ @bethanyleerose @infamous-webhead @pumpkinravingparker​ @transnerdparker @freeheat @infinityonfiction @peterpcrker @tornadoxx @lovelyh0lland​ @hollandahlia @hollandlovely @supernaturallyholland​ @petertomparkerholland @k0h04 @nobledoritoman @freeheat @totallyreadyforthis @tomhollanduniverse @beterbarkerbooty @hxllandsbabygirl @mayhemmeg @tremendousstudentartisanfestival @spo0derman @notimeforthemessenger @pensysto @jet122​ @comfiecorner@dontpanc @ajramrox

[blackberrywidow]

Drive

Summary: When a dangerous assassin breaks into the reader’s car, she realizes that becoming his glorified Uber isn’t actually the worst thing that could happen to her. 

Warnings: This story is kind of a roller coaster. There’s language, violence, death mentions, and also fluff. It’s weird. 

Word Count: 7,766 (I’m so sorry)

A/N: This was written for @starksparker‘s writing challenge, which I am super excited about because her blog is awesome. However, I am not really thrilled with this story, but I'm already an hour late as it is so I’m just going with it. I hope it’s not too terrible?

“You’re bleeding all over my car.”

The man merely grunted in response, though you thought that may have had more to do with whatever he was doing in your backseat than your comment. From the sound of it, he had managed to find the duct tape that you kept under your seat for emergencies and commandeered it for make-shift bandages. You had never imagined that “emergency” would mean “patching up several stab wounds,” but you weren’t going to complain. You were certain that it wasn’t the most advisable action, medically-speaking, but he really was getting blood all over your backseat. Besides, he seemed like the kind of guy who knew what he was doing. For the most part.

You drew in a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut for a fraction of a second while contemplating bashing your forehead against the steering wheel before releasing a heavy sigh and snapping them back open to stare at the road ahead of you in determination. You certainly hoped that he knew what he was doing, considering you had otherwise gotten yourself into a situation that would end in your death. You glanced in your rearview mirror, took one look at the shirtless, clearly worse-for-wear man with duct tape covering his still-bleeding torso and the horrible scarring surrounding his metal arm, and felt your hopes plummet even further. If whoever was after himdid manage to catch up to you, you both were going to be worse than dead.

“Do I at least get to know where I’m taking you?” you asked after the silence became too much to bear again.

To your surprise, his eyes snapped up to meet yours in the mirror, the blue of his irises shinning strangely in the dim lighting. You sucked in a sharp breath, thinking that eye contact was probably good progress; however, he only held your gaze long enough to say, “Just keep driving.”

For someone that had broken into your car and demanded that you uber him across the state, he was rather tight-lipped about the details of your impromptu trip.

Honestly, you just couldn’t believe your luck. You had dreamed of meeting superheroes since you were a little girl, and now here you were, driving to God-knows-where with the fucking Winter Soldier in the backseat of your shitty Impala.

Life has a really sick sense of humor, you thought with a self-deprecating chuckle as you contemplated all of the terrible choices you had made that led you to this point in your life.

---

It had started out as an average day, the same as every other day since you had moved to New York—wake up, skip breakfast, rush to work to do the same damn thing you did every day. However, at some point it had transitioned from an average New York afternoon to a slightly less average New York evening.

It started with a man dressed in all-black tactical gear with at least four guns strapped to his body flying through the window of your office. Which wouldn’t be all that astonishing given that you lived in the city of perpetual disaster, if said office hadn’t been located on the thirty-first floor of a skyscraper.

This, of course, had prompted everyone in the office to rush to the windows, though you were all careful to avoid the panel with the large hole and the nearby body. What was taking place on the streets below was utter chaos—the Hulk crashed into a building across the street  and you quickly deduced that he was who had put the man in through your window; there were swarms of men and women with guns swarming the streets, all dressed like the (probably) dead man lying nearby and armed with strange-looking weapons; there were other heroes fighting on the streets below, though they were hard to make out around all of the people attacking them.

You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out that this fight was a particularly bad one. The Avengers, while amazingly powerful and skilled fighters, were vastly outnumbered and being attacked with alien technology that they seemed unprepared for. And from above, the enemy’s strategy was clear: section the Avengers off from each other and overwhelm them.

You weren’t sure if the heroes had figured that out themselves yet or not, but it didn’t really matter. It was working either way. The Avengers were still adjusting to their new team since Iron Man andCaptain America had retired, so that made this the perfect time to strike. Which whoever the assholes in black were obviously knew.

In the thirty seconds it took for your mind to piece all of this together, your coworkers had begun to panic, just like everyone else this side of Brooklyn probably was. Everyone ran to the elevators and stairs, carrying you with them in their attempt to escape. You chose the stairs, not wanting to risk getting stuck in the elevator even though running down thirty-one flights of stairs was enough to make you nauseous and out-of-breath by the end.

Once you reached the lobby, you found yourself stuck in a mosh pit of people both trying to get in and get out of the building, and you felt your panic swell as you tried to figure out what the smartest course of action would be.

Your decision was made for you when a large truck was propelled across the street and directly into the front doors, knocking several people back and causing the surrounding foundation to crumble and crush several others. The now unsteady foundation prevented anyone from even thinking about attempting to find a way through the door again.

You shakily backed into a corner, heaving in deep, calming breaths as you reevaluated your situation.

The sounds of the fight still raged outside, and you were effectively trapped in a building that was full of people trying to get out. You closed your eyes, willing the tears that had begun to leak out of the corners to dry, and waited. For death or salvation, you weren’t sure, but it was the best you could do at the time.

And that’s where you stayed for five hours, with your back pressed to the wall and tears occasionally streaking down your face. When the clean-up crew and police finally got around to finding a way to safely evacuate your building, you could feel the relief in the air and almost cried again due to the sheer force of it.

You didn’t though, and you made it safely out of the building only twenty minutes later. You looked around as you walked to the parking garage that held your car, taking in all of the carnage that had been left in the wake of the fight. Entire buildings collapsed, cars crushed, streets destroyed. You felt odd, simply walking to your car as you would any other night, your coworkers and fellow New Yorkers surrounding you as they always did at this time. But what were you to do other than carry on?

This wasn’t the first battle that had terrorized your city, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. What mattered was that the Avengers had come through and saved you, and that they would always be around to do so in the future.

Or at least, that was what you had thought until you got into your car and almost had a heart attack.

A large, warm hand clamped down on your mouth, and you froze, half turned in the driver’s seat, arm extended to deposit your purse in your backseat. Which was currently occupied by a large man.

“Shut the door,” he said, voice a low growl.

You blinked at him with wide, terror-filled eyes as you tried to process his request. When he repeated the command, you threw your hand back, blindly grasping for the door handle to pull it shut with a thudthat seemed to resound in the silence that had consumed the parking garage.

As soon as the door shut, the hand dropped from your mouth, leaving behind the faint taste of salt and blood on your lips. You watched in stunned silence as the man fell back onto your seat with a groan.

What the actual fuck?

You remained that way for an embarrassingly long time, just staring at the man lying in your backseat with your mouth hanging open. It wasn’t until your eyes adjusted to the low lighting that you were able to make-out his features, prompting you to gasp.

His eyes snapped open, looking startled, as though he had forgotten that you were even there. Which was kind of bullshit, as he had broken into your car, but as you took in his wounded state, you figured it was understandable.

“Holy shit,” you breathed while he continued to eye you warily. “You’re the Winter Soldier.”

James Barnes continued to stare at you for only a moment longer before he apparently deemed that to require too much effort and flopped his head back down on the seat. “They don’t call me that anymore,” was all he said.

“What happened out there? Why are you in my car? Where are the other Avengers? What—”

“Stop,” he growled through clenched teeth, slowly sitting up.

You gulped. He was clearly in pain, his human hand clutching his abdomen while the metal one ripped into the fabric of your backseat. But his clear discomfort did nothing to dull the murder in his eyes as he stared you down. “I can’t answer any of your damn questions if you don’t breathe between asking them.”

You nodded at him, not daring to do anything else while he looked at you like that. You weren’t afraid of him—you knew that he was a hero now, far past the days when Hydra controlled him. That had been made clear when he was brought back. But he was intimidating regardless of his questionable sanity.

He sighed heavily, and slumped a bit in the seat, seeming to resign himself to something. “We were overwhelmed. Hydra attacked, using stolen alien technology from the Battle of New York. We couldn’t shake them. So we were given the order to retreat and regroup until S.H.I.E.L.D. can retaliate.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off with a sharp look. “I’m still answering your questions, or would you prefer I didn’t.” When you said nothing, he continued. “I’m in your car because it was the first place I could make it to in order to lay low until Hydra cleared out. I must have passed out.” This seemed to be disturbing to him, judging by the displeased twist of his mouth and the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly when he said it. You supposed he wasn’t used to being vulnerable.

“Well,” you said, seeking to reassure him, even though you were sure it was the dumbest thing you could do at the moment. “It’s understandable, given your condition.” You waved a hand in his direction, as though he would need help understanding what you meant.

He scoffed, the serious set of his features warming into something close to amusement. “Yeah, I noticed.” His face quickly settled back into seriousness with his next statement though. “I have no idea where the others are. Just where they’re supposed to be going.”

You swallowed thickly, unsure if you should ask your next question. You did anyway. “What happened to Hydra then?”

“They did what they do best—crawled back into the shadows to wait for another moment to strike. They’ll be back, ready to take what they came for, but next time… we’ll be ready when they do.”

You analyzed him for a moment, taking in the stiff set of his shoulders and the determination in his eyes. You had never seen someone look that way—as though the world rested on his shoulders and he was ready to carry it for as long as he could, despite his wounds and the bitter taste of loss in his mouth. It must have been what prompted you to say what you did next, which would definitely go down in history as the dumbest thing to ever come out of your mouth.

“What do you need me to do?”

His eyes flashed up to yours in surprise, and he took a moment to answer as he stared at you in contemplation. You weren’t sure if it was the direness of his situation, wounded and bleeding in the backseat of your car with nowhere to go, or if he saw a hint of his own determination reflected in your eyes that gave him his answer, but eventually he found it and said one word:

“Drive.”

---

And that was how you found yourself driving down a deserted road with a possibly dying former-assassin/current-superhero taping himself up in your backseat, guided by nothing but a destination that you weren’t privy to.

Your attention was drawn to the backseat again when you heard a low curse come from said dying man. “You should let me take you to a hospital,” you muttered, though you knew it was worthless. You had already told him that at least a dozen times during the hour you had been on the road.

His response had always been the same: complete silence. So you were surprised when he graced you with a response this time. “Can’t. Need to get to the meet point as soon as possible, and Hydra will be looking for any Avengers they can find. I’ll heal fine on my own.”

You scoffed, unable to resist despite the seriousness of the situation. “Yeah, your super soldier bullshit seems to be doing you wonders right now.”

“It’s the alien tech. I just need more time.”

“Yeah?” you ask, glancing back in the mirror. There was a breathy quality to his voice that you didn’t like. His head was lolled back on the headrest, and he was breathing hard. You bit your lip, returning your attention to the road. You just had to get him to whatever safehouse he had, and then you were done. Worrying like this wouldn’t help anything. “How much time? How far away are we from wherever the fuck it is you’re making me take you?”

He sighed heavily, and you thought that would be the end of the conversation. He hadn’t been really big on talking for extended periods of time thus far. So it surprised you again when he said, “You don’t have to take me anywhere. You can drop me off here; I’ll make it there on my own.”

You were ashamed to say that you hesitated, your hands gripping the wheel tighter than necessary as you contemplated your options. It would be safer for you if you pulled over now, left the Winter Soldier to his own devices. No one would be chasing you. You wouldn’t have a grouchy man bleeding all over your car. But, looking at him in your rearview mirror, you knew that there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it if you did that.

Your grip on the steering wheel eased and your shoulders relaxed as you made your decision, comfortable knowing that even if what you were doing ended in your death, it was your decision. You had a choice, and you were choosing to help this man that had given so much of his life to protect the world, and if that got you killed then so be it.

“I’m not leaving you anywhere. I just want to know how long it will take us to get there.”

The car was terribly silent for another tense moment, and you got the feeling that he was watching you. But eventually he relented. “Four more hours.”

And suddenly you were tense all over again. “Four more hours?!”

“That a problem?” he asked, and though you couldn’t see him, you imagined he was smirking. It seemed like the kind of thing a jackass like him would do.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

“No,” you said after a moment, forcing yourself to relax once more. This was your choice, you were going to deal with it. “I’m just not sure that you’re gonna make it that long if you don’t get medical attention.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on getting us there in one piece.”

“That would be a lot easier if I knew where we’re going.” The silence that accompanied your statement was expected, but not appreciated. You sighed heavily. This was going to be a long four hours if you weren’t even able to talk.

“So, if you don’t go by the Winter Soldier anymore, what should I call you?” More silence. “Look, if I’m going to be stuck in a car with your grouchy ass for four hours, I think I should at least know what you like to be called. It’s not like I don’t already know who you are,” you pushed, more than fed up with the one-sided conversation.

“Bucky,” he said, after just another beat of silence and you smiled.

“Bucky it is,” you replied, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “I’m (Y/N).”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, making your grin widen. “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)… and thanks.”

---

You drove in silence for another hour or so before it happened. You were talking to him, about nothing in particular, and he would occasionally chime in to let you know that he was still alive. That was the agreement that you had come to, though he had scoffed at it. So when you had called his name for the third time and received no response, you knew something was wrong.

You glanced behind you, making sure that you were still alone on the country road you were currently driving on, before pulling off on the side of the road.

You were out of your door as soon as the car was parked, running around to the back and throwing the door open more aggressively than necessary. You immediately gasped, your hand flying to your mouth. With the light now on in your car, you could more clearly see the damage that Bucky had taken, and it was bad.

He was sprawled out in your backseat, unconscious and badly damaged. Though the bleeding appeared to stop, partially due to the numerous strips of duct tape he had applied to himself in lieu of bandages. There were a lot of patched up areas, and though you couldn’t see the damage through the tape, you imagined the cuts were deep. He was also heavily bruised, nearly every piece of visible skin discolored.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you chanted to yourself as you clambered into the backseat, crawling over Bucky in your haste to check his pulse.

You were straddling his body the best you could on the narrow seat, one hand brushing his hair out of his face while the other pressed two fingers to his throat when he woke up. His blue eyes snapped open, fevered and crazed, and all of a sudden a knife was being pressed against your throat.

You froze, every muscle in your body tensing as you waited, hoping he would realize who you were before slitting your throat.

He blinked up at you, clarity returning, and he dropped the knife with a groan. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You huffed, shifting until you were sitting next to him rather than on him. “You passed out again. I thought you were dead.”

He scoffed, moving back until he was sitting upright. He didn’t look at you as he said, “You shouldn’t do that. I’ll be fine.”

You dropped your head back against the rest and pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, trying to staunch the sudden build-up of tears. You hated that you wanted to cry, knowing that to Bucky this was just another day and that you were doing neither of you any favors by being emotional. But for you, this wasn’t normal. Sure, you had been in New York for the alien invasion. And sure, a number of horrifying things had happened since then, but this was different.

This time you were directly involved. There were people coming after this man, and they would certainly kill you to get to him. And he was really too injured to do anything about that himself at the moment—he was too injured to do anything but bleed-out in your backseat. His life literally rested in your hands, and you weren’t sure what to do with that. He wouldn’t let you do anything to help him, and you didn’t have the strength or know-how to do it yourself. This entire situation was just becoming too stressful for you to deal with without some emotional spill-over.

You drew in a few deep breaths, willing the tension to drain from your body, and finally turned to face Bucky. He was watching you, like he had been off and on for the past few hours whenever he was conscious enough to. Like he was waiting for you to break and run, leaving him to survive on his own. You wondered if that’s what he would prefer.

It was enough to push you forward—spite was always a big motivator for you, and it would do the trick now. If this man didn’t think that you could handle yourself… well you would just have to prove him wrong.

You straightened your spine, made direct eye contact with him, and without a hint of uncertainty said, “We need to stop for you to rest.” When he opened his mouth, a protest on his lips, you cut him off with a sharp look. “You can’t keep going like this. You’re too injured—you may heal with enough time, but if we just keep driving like this Hydra will probably find us before you do. And if you’re passed out or too delirious to fight, we’re fucked.  So, we need to find somewhere to lay low until you’re healed enough to fight, and then I’ll take you the rest of the way to where you’re going. Besides,” you said, seeing him waver as he considered what you said. “If you pass out while I’m driving, I’ll have no idea where to go since you don’t see the reason in telling me where we’re going.”

He watched you for only a beat more before sighing deeply and closing his eyes, looking as though he was resigning himself to something. You suppressed your smile as he said, “Fine. One night.”

---

Thirty minutes later you were smiling pleasantly at the cheap hotel’s receptionist as though you weren’t about to smuggle a wanted-superhero into one of their rooms. Honestly, you were becoming kind of numb to the absurdity of it all at this point.

“Here you go, sweetie,” she said, handing you the key with a kind smile. “Enjoy your stay.”

You only took enough time to give her a rushed but polite goodbye before hustling back out to your car. You knew that Bucky was probably right—that his enhanced genes would heal him. That it wasn’t as serious as it looked, and some good rest would be all he needed to heal by morning. But you couldn’t help but worry that he would die while you weren’t looking. So the sigh of relief when you opened the door to see him still breathing was completely involuntary and underserving of the eye roll it earned you.

“Still alive,” he said with a wry smile. It was the closest he had come to outwardly showing his amusement, and you forcefully pushed away the swooping feeling in your stomach that it caused. He was definitely attractive—probably the most attractive man you had seen in person, even with his numerous open wounds he had at the moment. But this was certainly not the time or place for you to notice such things.

“Yeah, but you won’t be for long if you keep that attitude up.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your lips twitched in response, and you relaxed ever so slightly. Banter was good. Banter helped you forget that you were helping a man on the run from a Nazi organization and not on a weekend getaway. You held out your hand, which you were happy to say he only eyed for a second before taking and allowing you to help him slide out of the car.

“We’re in room 214. So you’ll have to make it up some stairs, but I thought it would probably be better than the ground floor.”

He nodded at you and released your hand, looking all around as you guided him to the stairs the receptionist had directed you to. “I’m not dying, (Y/N). I can make it up a few damn stairs.”

You eyed him critically but said nothing.

He did make it up the stairs with little more than a grimace and a limp. It wasn’t until you had made it safely inside your room and he had fully investigated the area that he collapsed on the bed with little ceremony, causing you to jump in alarm.

“Bucky?!” you exclaimed, rushing to him. You placed a hand on his back, making him groan and throw back a hand to try to smack yours away.

“Just let me sleep,” he slurred, his voice muffled by the bed his face was currently pressed against. You raised an eyebrow and stepped back, crossing your arms.

“That’s it. You’re just going to go to sleep now?”

He rolled his head to the side just enough to look at you with his left eye, making his annoyance clear. “You insisted on stopping to rest so I could heal. That’s what I’m doing. Wake me up if something happens.”

And with that, he shoved his face back into the mattress. You continued to stare at him in shock for a few seconds before shaking your head and settling into the chair in the corner of the room.

You didn’t often imagine what a super soldier with a shitty past would be like, but it wasn’t this.

---

Bucky woke up only four hours later, and he was clearly feeling much better. If he was surprised to see you sitting in the chair, still awake at five in the morning, he didn’t comment on it. He only took the time to wash himself of the blood and dust he had accumulated the day before, removing his bandages (better known as duct tape to normal people) to reveal mostly-healed skin.

You had taken the time to run to the local Wal-Mart to get him some clothes while he showered, and you almost swallowed your tongue when you got back and he was standing half-naked and wet with only a towel covering him. Which he clearly noticed, if his self-satisfied smirk suggested anything.

“That for me?” he asked, nodding at the bag you were still clutching in your hand.

You blinked at him, quickly recovering enough to toss it at him. “I thought you might like some clothes. Unless you would prefer to take on Hydra naked.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but made no effort to hide the smile that was now curling his lips. “Clothes are fine, but I can go without if you prefer.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “Doesn’t seem the most practical of choices, if you ask me.”

“Practicality doesn’t always equal preferability.”

“It does when you’re being chased by Hydra,” you scoffed. “And I’d be careful if I were you, Bucky Barnes. It almost sounds as though you’re flirting with me.”

He blinked at you, amusement dropping off of his face for a moment, and you almost regretted your words. But he quickly recovered, giving you one last smile and saying, “A little rest can do wonders for your attitude, you know,” before swaggering off to the bathroom to change.

You wanted to punch him in that moment, but the feeling was overridden by your ridiculous desire to kiss him. You were smart, however, and did neither.

---

Ten minutes later, you were walking to your car. Bucky was quieter than he had been in the room that morning. You had your hand on the handle of your car door before you realized that he had stopped walking a few feet back and was just staring at you.

You cocked your head to the side in question and asked, “Is something wrong, Bucky? Five minutes ago, you said we needed to get back on the road as soon as possible.”

He considered you for another moment before shaking his head and holding his hand out to you. When you did nothing but stare at his hand, he elaborated. “The keys.”

“You want my keys?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes. He couldn’t seriously be about to ditch you in the middle of nowhere.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, like he tended to do whenever you asked questions. “I’ll drive. You need to sleep.”

You blinked, unsure of how to respond to his surprising thoughtfulness. So, you just tossed him the keys and moved to get into the passenger seat.

The car was quiet again, just as it had been on the drive last night. But this silence was less tense, more familiar, and it quickly lulled you to sleep as Bucky began the trip to wherever the hell it was you were going.

---

You awoke to the sound of screeching tires and crunching metal.

Your eyes flashed open, catching glimpses of the chaos that surrounded you. Bucky’s metal fist glinting as he clenched the steering wheel. The car that had just rammed into you. The world tilting out from under you as the seatbelt bit into your chest.

You were only in the air for a moment before you crashed back into the ground, though it felt like ages. You imagined the sound of shattering glass and scraping metal and the screaming that you knew must have been coming from your mouth, but your ears were ringing to loudly for you to make any of it out.

Which was why it took Bucky ripping the door off of your side of the car and pulling you out to gain your attention. He had been calling your name, and he still was if you were reading his lips correctly, but it didn’t matter. You hadn’t even noticed him get out of the car, you were too focused on the fact that they had found you to pay attention to anything else.

“(Y/N)… you ne… get out of…”

“What?” you said, or rather shouted, trying to make out what he was saying as your hearing came in and out. “What are you saying?”

Bucky growled and shoved you to the side as he shouted one word that you had no problem hearing. “RUN!”

You listened without question, darting across the street that Hydra had swarmed sometime after that first car had made contact with yours. The road was surrounded by woods, and without any idea of where you were supposed to be going, you simply picked a direction and ran, trusting that Bucky would soon follow after.

You ran for what seemed like several minutes, breaths coming in sharp gasps as you willed your legs to just keep moving, when you noticed a shooting pain course through your leg. You tripped, catching yourself on a nearby tree, and glanced down at your right leg.

You wish you hadn’t.

A shard of glass had embedded itself in your thigh at some point, unnoticed by you in your haste to get away and the adrenaline rush. But it was all you could focus on now.

You sank to the ground, breathing fast and shallow as you tried to figure out what to do. You knew that you had read stuff online before—do you pull it out or leave it in? You didn’t know. All you knew at the moment was that it hurt.

“Well hello there, sweetheart.”

And that you were supposed to be running for your life. Right.

Your head snapped up, seeing a man dressed in black approaching you in a slow swagger with a raised gun, as though he had all the time in the world to kill you. You supposed he did. It wasn’t like you were going anywhere at the moment.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” you said, because it was bad enough that you were going to die alone in the woods at the hands of a Nazi-wannabe. You weren’t going to let him patronize you as well.

He scoffed, looking at you with a look that could pass for amusement in a different situation. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m afraid you’re not calling the shots here.”

“No,” another voice said, you could have cried in relief. “But you aren’t either.”

You closed your eyes and rested your head against the tree, comfortable in the knowledge that Bucky would take care of this and not really caring to see it. You didn’t open them until you felt cool metal against your check and heard a gentle voice calling your name. “Are you with me, (Y/N)?”

You groaned, but opened your eyes. “Unfortunately.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips and he nodded. “Good,” he said. Resting back on his knees and unbuckling his belt. You only raised an eyebrow, too tired to even ask him what he was doing, but he must have understood. “I’m making a tourniquet, and then I’m going to pull the glass out. It’ll hurt.”

It did, which is probably why you blacked out. Well, that combined with the single hour of sleep you had gotten in the past thirty-six hours and the numerous near-death experiences. But you didn’t really care as your vision went fuzzy and the comforting numbness of sleep overtook you.

---

“Who the hell is she?”

“… A friend.”

The first voice scoffed, “Since when do you have friends?”

The two voices continued to bicker around you, and you fought to crack your eyes open if only so you could tell them to shut upand let you sleep. However, it was about this time that you remembered what had happened before you passed out and you promptly shot up with a gasp.

Bucky was by your side in an instant, pressing you back into whatever it was you were laying on. Probably a bed, judging by the softness of it. “Not so fast, (Y/N). You’ll bust a stitch.”

“Stitches?” you asked, the word feeling strange in your mouth. Your head swam as you tried to make sense of everything around you. “Did you give me some pain killers too?”

Bucky nodded, looking at you with caution. “Yeah, I figured you would appreciate it when you woke up.”

You breathed deeply, noting the dull pain in your leg. Much better than it had been before… however long ago that was. “Thanks. But can you tell me what happened now?”

“Yeah, I’d love to know too.”

Your eyes snapped to the doorway, seeing a man leaning against the door. You had tensed, anticipating more trouble, but immediately relaxed once you recognized him. Bucky, however, seemed to have the opposite reaction as he glared at him. “(Y/N), this is Sam. Sam, this is (Y/N). And I was getting around to it, if you’d just be patient for a damn second.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but motioned for Bucky to continue. Bucky took the que, returning his attention to you as he said, “I took care of the guys that came for us, tracked you down in the woods, took care of the dick who found you, took care of your leg, and then hauled your unconscious body to the safehouse.”

You raised a brow as Sam scoffed. “Thanks for sparing no detail.”

Bucky sighed, shaking his head, and glared at Sam when he chuckled. “What more do you want me to say? That’s what happened.”

“How long have I been unconscious? How did you get us back here? Where are we? What do we do now?”

“You’ve been out for three hours. I took you back to the road, took one of Hydra’s vehicles, and drove us the rest of the way while you were unconscious. We’re at the safe house. In New Jersey. Youare going to stay here until you can move. Weare going to fix this.”

You saw Sam widen his eyes in surprise at the way Bucky ran through your questions without protest, but ignored it in favor of asking, “What do you mean ‘fix this?’”

Bucky looked at you, eyes seeming to sear into you as he said, “The less you know the better, (Y/N).”

You closed your eyes and dropped your head back against the bed with an annoyed sigh. “That is such bullshit, but I’m too tired to fight you on it, so whatever.”

Sam laughed, breaking the heavy silence in the room and making you jump. “Damn, man. Where did you find her?”

“He broke into my car and made me drive his dying ass here,” you said without inflection or opening your eyes.

“Okay,” Bucky interrupted as Sam continued to laugh. “First of all, I didn’t make you do anything. Secondly, I was never dying. And I actually ended up driving most of the way.”

At that reminder, you cracked open an eye to look at him suspiciously. “Yeah, about that. Why did you even bring me the rest of the way? You didn’t really need me after you healed.”

Bucky opened his mouth, seeming to flail for an answer before settling on, “I couldn’t just leave you to bleed-out in the woods.”

“Okay,” you said, slowly raising yourself up on your elbows, maintaining eye contact the whole time. “But what about at the hotel?”

The sound of gravel crunching outside drew everyone’s attention to the front of the house and away from your question, much to Bucky’s visible relief.

“That’ll be the others,” Sam said, giving you one last amused glance before heading out of the room. “I’ll leave you guys to it, but we’ll be heading out soon.” With one last meaningful glance at Bucky, he left to greet the others.

You returned your attention to Bucky, though he was careful to keep his attention trained across the room. There was a lot you wanted to say, but you eventually settled on, “Thank you. For not leaving me.”

His eyes snapped to yours and he nodded. “I was just returning the favor.”

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t have it in you to actually smile at him. “Still. Thank you. Though I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do now that I’m here.”

“There’s a doctor that was evacuated form Stark Tower on her way here. Dr. Helen Cho. She’ll watch after you while the rest of us take care of Hydra. Once you’re healed enough to move, we’ll arrange for someone to take you back to the city.” This was said with a clinical detachment and efficiency that had you raising your eyebrow.

“Really? That’s it?”

He mirrored your look, face blank. “What?”

“Well, do you have a plan? Do you know how you’re going to fight back?” you tried to keep the annoyance out of your voice, but you were sure you weren’t successful, judging by the flash of Bucky’s eyes.

“I don’t really have the time to beat around the bush with you, (Y/N). We’ll take care of this. You don’t have anything you need to worry about, so just focus on healing.”

You clenched your jaw, wanting to look away and fade back into unconsciousness, but you stubbornly maintained eye contact. You had done a lot of crazy things that you never would have thought possible in the last twenty-four hours. You might as well be brave enough to ask what you really wanted to. “Will I ever see you again?”

Bucky held you gaze for several seconds before giving you the answer that you had anticipated but feared: “Probably not.”

You nodded, smiling at him despite the pain his statement caused. You had met the man only a day ago, and you could hardly call yourselves friends. But you couldn’t deny that you felt connected to him after everything that you had been through with him. It didn’t matter though, and you weren’t going to hold that against him. “Okay. Be careful, Bucky. And good luck.”

He smiled at you, the first real one that you had seen from him, and left the room. You settled back on the bed, closing your eyes and willing yourself to fall back asleep. The world of superheroes was fun (i.e. terrifying) while it lasted, but you knew it was best to let it go. Even if Bucky Barnes was kind of dreamy and you felt like you had developed an unhealthy attachment to him sometime between him breaking into your car and saving your life.

It was just the crazy circumstances of the situation that made you feel like that. It would fade in time, with the wound in your leg and the distance that he was putting between you, and you would return to New York and forget it ever happened. Easy.

---

Three years later

“You’re bleeding all over my car.”

Bucky laughed, only furthering your irritation. “I’m serious, Bucky. We’ve talked about this. If I’m going to pick you up after a mission, I would really appreciate it if you at least properly bandaged yourself first.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky said, grinning at you with his sparkling blue eyes that never failed to make you swoon. Which only pissed you off more. “I’m sorry, Doll. But I was just remembering the first time we met.”

Your anger dissolved instantly at the memory, and your lips begrudgingly curled into a smile as you cocked an eyebrow at him. “You mean when you broke into my car?”

He smirked back at you, above rising to your bait after all of these years. “Yes. It was when you oh-so-eloquently chastised a dying man for bleeding in your car that I knew I had fallen in love with you.”

“You are so full of shit, Bucky. And besides, I thought you weren’t dying?”

You saw him nod out of the corner of your eye as you continued driving, and you fought the urge to grin at the sight of him sitting so calm and relaxed in your passenger seat, despite the sizable cut above his right eye.  You wanted to maintain your annoyance as long as possible, mostly because watching Bucky beg for your forgiveness was pretty cute. “Right and right. But it waswhen I knew that I was lucky to choose your car. Not everyone would handle an assassin breaking into their car and telling them to drive so well.”

“Former assassin,” you reminded him, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building. You turned to face him once you put the car in park, assessing his nervous smile and bouncing knee. “What’s up with you tonight anyway? Why the walk down memory lane?”

Bucky tore his eyes away from yours, focusing them on his hands instead. “I’ve just been thinking about it recently,” he shrugged.

You pressed your lips together, contemplating him with narrowed eyes. Something was definitely up. “Just tell me what’s going on, Buck. You know that I’m here for you, whatever it is.”

“Yeah,” he said, finally looking up at you with one of his rare, shy smiles. “I do.”

After he was silent for another long moment, you shoved his shoulder feeling the cool metal press against your palm as he allowed you to move him ever-so-slightly. “Well? Please just tell me. This suspense is killing me.”

That seemed to snap him out of it, and he raised his eyes to yours, a look of determination crossing them. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, would we.” He gulped, which was really odd for him. You were just starting to feel really concerned when he drew something out of his jacket pocket, popping the lid and holding it out to you with steady hands and serious eyes. “I love you, (Y/N). I may not have loved you from the moment I met you, but I knew that you were something special. There’s no other woman that would put up with me the way you do—protect me the way you do, support me, care for me. Love me. And I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. It’s what we did, back before the war. You find a nice girl and you marry her and that’s that. But things have changed a lot since then, both for me and the world. And I didn’t want to be the kind of man that would willingly put you in danger like that. But,” he quickly corrected with a smile when he saw you ready to protest, “that’s your choice to make. So, I’m giving you a choice, (Y/N), and I’ll respect whatever decision you make. Will you marry me?”

You sucked in a shocked breath, as though you hadn’t anticipated this the second he brought the ring out. It was one thing to think it than to hear him say it though. His smile had just started to wane when you realized that you still hadn’t answered him. “Yes,” you gasped out. “Of course I will.”

Bucky smiled widely in clear relief, and you started crying as he slid the ring out of the box and onto your finger. You chocked out a laugh as you admired it, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you were actually nervous about this.”

Bucky smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I never know what to expect with you, (Y/N). You were just as likely to say yes as you were to tell me to fuck off.”

You glared at him, trying to will some venom behind the look despite your tears. “That is so not true.”

“I know,” Bucky said, gently gripping your chin to guide your mouth to his. “But I still worry.”

“You shouldn’t,” you said, pulling back from him so he could see the sincerity in your eyes. “I’d do anything for you.”

Bucky nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he said, “Well, it’s official, Doll. I’m with you ‘till the end of the line.”

[pikemoreno]

Colors

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: fluff and angst in equal measure, not well edited whoops

Summary: A study of colors and feelings over the course of a relationship

A/N:This is for @starksparker‘s 10k writing challenge! Congrats darling! 💞 Feedback appreciated as always.

masterlist

You were furious as you stomped up the stairs of your residence hall, attempting to get as far away as you could from room number 307 of Adler Hall’s science wing. You wanted to rip the Empire State University sweatshirt right off your torso, not feeling too much in the school spirit at the moment.

Needless to say, your group research project for your Introductory Physics class didn’t go well. Out of the five people in your group, only you bothered to show up for class today, meaning you had to go up in front of the lecture hall and deliver a presentation that you only did 1/5th of, leaving you stumbling and “umm”ing your way through the other 4/5th. You knew the grade wasn’t going to be good, but, damn, did you need it to be. The results had been less than excellent on the two previous exams, leaving you with one more exam and the final to get your grade up to where you needed it to be. Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes and, you did it, you ripped the damned Empire State Sweatshirt off in the middle of the empty dormitory hall and threw it on the floor, leaving you in your jeans and a plain tank-top. You stomped all over the red sweatshirt and muttered various combinations of “Stupid effing physics. I hate group projects” in an attempt to get all of the anger out of your system.

Thank goodness for the tank-top. The dorm hall had been empty, but it was while you threw your tantrum that one of the doors behind you opened. A brown-eyed boy had chosen to step out of his dorm at the worst possible time. Startled by the sight and the intense, grumbled words, he attempted to tip toe back inside until you’d finished your sweatshirt abuse, but the door creaked as he starting pulling it back to closed. With wide eyes he looked up at you and with wide eyes you turned around, both afraid you’d been caught by the other— which you had. There was a moment of staring in silence.

“Uhh. Are you ok?” he finally spoke up, stumbling over words and feet. What do you say to someone you just caught stomping on their shirt? How does one act in this situation?

“Oh what? Yeah, fine. Totally fine. Just, you know—” you rambled as you pulled your sweatshirt back over your head and picked up your backpack that you’d thrown on the ground. “Have a nice day,” forcing a smile, you began to speed walk away, hoping to conceal the red color that had taken over your cheeks.

“I can help you with physics… If you need it,” he called after you, stepping out into the hallway to watch you walk away. For reasons you couldn’t explain if you tried, his words didn’t stop your retreat, in fact, you would dare to say they made you walk faster. You mentally slapped yourself for that once you closed your dorm room’s door behind you.

“That’s not what you say to someone you just caught stomping on their shirt,” the boy mumbled, scolding himself, as he walked to class.

It was 8 o’clock and your head hung low over your physics notecards. It had been 5 hours since you locked yourself in your room to study after your little freak out in the hallway and you had made little progress since then. The words blended together and jumbled in your head. You could read the same sentence four times and not comprehend a word of what it meant. You slammed the book shut with a groan and leaned back in your desk chair, hands covering your eyes. This was not good. In one week you had to know this material inside and out for your next-to-last exam, but right now every word looked like gibberish.

What was his room number again?

You really didn’t want it to come to this. Your pride was still a little hurt from the sweatshirt scandal earlier, but you were just far too desperate to let pride be too much of a factor. You drew in a long breath and let it out before you lifted your fist to knock on door 513. It was only a few seconds before the brown-eyed boy opened the door. His appearance honestly hadn’t been something that crossed your mind during your first meeting, but now, you gave yourself a moment to take him in now. He looked like he had been so comfortable before opening the door, brunet locks tousled messily, eye-lids noticeably heavy. The burgundy sweatshirt he wore was over-sized even for him. You found yourself imagining how it would feel to be wrapped up in— how soft it would be and the way the sleeves would fall over the tips of your fingers. Why were you thinking that? You decided you should probably say something instead of just check him out.

“Hi, I’m (Y/N). I was the…” there was no dignified way to identify yourself, so you changed tactics, “You offered to help me with physics earlier? I would really like to take you up on that.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Tuesday’s ok? Maybe like 5? At the library?” he responded with a wide smile.

“Sounds great. Here, let’s exchange numbers,” you continued, whipping your phone out and quickly tapping accordingly to pull up the ‘add new contact page.’ He blinked a couple of times at the phone being held out in front of him before springing to action.

“Right, right,” he mumbled to himself as he took out his own phone as well, letting you enter your number into it while he entered his into yours. You exchanged them once again with grateful smiles; and you moved, begrudgingly, to walk back to your dorm.

“Great. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you looked down at the new name that had been saved into your phone, “Peter.”

Once again, his reaction time was a bit slow— chalk it up to nerves— but he regained his composure and after a moment called after you,

“See you around,” he mumbled when your name rolled off of his tongue, “(Y/N).” He waited a beat before adding,

“Hey!” you turned around, “The sweatshirt looks nice on you by the way, don’t beat it up,” he called out, the teasing grin evident in his voice. You shook your head at him, giggling. That red sweatshirt... You might have to hold onto it now. Red. The color of anger, but also excitement.

“Thanks? I think?” you called back before rounding the corner and getting back to your room.

“There are worse ways to spend Tuesday evenings,” you mused when sat back down at your desk, now looking at your physics textbook with a new-found fondness.

Peter flopped onto his bed and picked up his laptop to start refreshing his memory on all things physics. He had to be ready to impress tomorrow.

---

The library at Empire State University was having a relatively slow evening. The tables that sat amidst the shelves were mostly empty save for a small handful of students getting some much-needed quiet study time away from their bustling dorms. All but one were relaxed.

You sat at one of the tables in the front right corner of the cluster, significantly less relaxed than your peers around you. They glared over at you as your foot tapping was the only real source of noise in the room, but, being otherwise occupied, you didn’t take notice. Your hands were noticeably redder due to clenching and unclenching them for the past fifteen minutes. You glanced at the ticking clock that sat on the wall. Peter was now ten minutes late, leaving yourself alone with your thoughts while you waited.

Why were you so nervous anyway? Sure, he was smart—or he must be if he was confident enough to offer to help you— and cute and had a quick wit and seemed really sweet and… Yeah, all of that was probably why you were so nervous. You didn’t have another moment to linger on your self-realization about the itty-bitty crush that had formed in the past twenty-four hours because it was then that he finally walked through the door. You sat up straighter, waving to him so he’d notice you from across the room. He waved back, quickly moving over to you.

“I’m so sorry! I haven’t kept you waiting too long, have I?” he babbled on apologetically, wasting no time in setting down his stuff and sitting across from you. He looked a bit disheveled, much different from the calm, comfortable Peter of yesterday evening, you decided. Seeming to notice your glance, he danced around the subject before you had a chance to even think about mentioning it.

“Let’s get started then, yeah?”

You actually did manage to get some studying done— emphasis on some. There was studying, sure, but there was also watching stupid internet videos and teasing and playful touches. And laughter, there was so much laughter, much to the chagrin of the students around you. Neither of you seemed to notice: not when they stared, not when they loudly cleared their throats, and not even when they slammed their books closed and huffed. You finally noticed when they started packing up and leaving, but Peter remained completely oblivious, too wrapped up in too loudly explaining the intricacies of particle physics.

In addition to his tendency for obliviousness, you discovered an array of other information about the boy that sat across from you over the course of the next two weeks of study dates. For instance, he bit his lip when he was thinking really hard, turning it a deeper shade of pink from the pressure. He looked really cute when he was concentrating, you thought. And it seemed that he always had to be doing something— tapping a foot, twirling a pen. It made you want to hold him down by the shoulders before he vibrated right out of his seat. It was endearing, though, and you wondered if he was always like that, or if, maybe, it was a product of nerves. Your heart fluttered at the thought. Could his heart race as much as yours during your times together?

He was also, as you had supposed, really smart. He was an absolute genius, in fact. He seemed to know absolutely anything about any subject of science you brought up, all without being a know-it-all. Along with that, you also discovered that he had taken this same introductory physics class last semester.

“The last two exams aren’t that hard,” he had claimed with a wave of his hand.

“Maybe for you!” you retorted, gesturing towards the sheet of notebook paper in front of you that was filled from top to bottom with the work from a single equation.

“You’ll be fine; you know this. And Professor Macrie grades on a crazy curve anyway. He’ll give you points if you remembered your name on every test this semester.”

“I feel like you’re not kidding.”  

“I’m definitely not,” he laughed, you joining in.

You walked out of the library with him after your fourth study date in two weeks— the last one before your next test— feeling incredibly ready for the test tomorrow. You would have never believed that you could be so confident in your physics skills. Peter had really worked a miracle in getting you to understand the concepts so well.

“Nah, that was all you and your hard work. I was just there if you got stuck,” he reassured as you walked through the chilly October air. You found yourself admiring his profile against the backdrop of the sky, the evening giving way to night as the sun dipped into the horizon, turning the sky all different shades of pink. Pink. The color of love and unrealistic optimism. Then you found yourself blurting out:

“Would you want to go out with me sometime?” Your eyes widened slightly at your sudden burst of confidence.

“I was kind of under the impression that that’s what these were. I was hoping, anyway,” Peter chuckled, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“O-oh. W-would you like to go out again, then? Maybe where we don’t have to talk about physics?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” he grinned, his hand now finding yours. So you walked back to Traer dorm hand in hand, making plans for your first real date as the leaves fell around you, eventually deciding that a chilled out movie night that upcoming Friday— after your exam was behind you— was the way to go.

And so a night of celebrating your A on the exam and watching laughably bad sci-fi movies turned into more evenings together. Walking hand in hand among the falling leaves and pink sunsets turned into walking hand in hand under the falling snow, sneaking cold kisses between sips of coffee, and many more outings in between. Movie nights quickly became the favorite pastime between the two of you, enjoying nothing more than legs being intertwined under a fuzzy blanket, a movie softly lighting up his dorm room. Sometimes you might even watch the movie. Study dates were still regular occurrences, especially as your final loomed ever closer; and the other students eventually learned to not sit anywhere near the two of you when you were studying.

You were so thankful for stupid physics and temper tantrums. Those first two months with Peter were perfect bliss.

Your physics final came and went; and thanks to your study buddy you passed with flying colors. Now the semester was over and everyone was home for the winter holidays. You were pleased to find that you and Peter lived close enough that it would still be relatively easy to see him even when living off-campus again. You could hardly contain all of the fun ideas you had for the two of you over the break. New York in the winter was a couple haven.  

Except you realized something about Peter you hadn’t noticed during the school year: he was ridiculously flaky. There were a couple of times during the year where he had to cancel plans at the last second, but it was rare and spread out enough that you didn’t find yourself questioning it. You understood; it happens.

But it was happening more and more often. It was January now. You had been out of school for a full month and it was nearing time to return, but you had only gotten to spend maybe five days total of solid quality time with him. He always had some sort of excuse that would dash your newest plan. You would respond with a simple, “Oh, ok.” Peter never seemed to notice that a response that quick and emotionless was unlike you. Often, he would “make it up” to you by showing up at your door late in the evening, flowers in hand; and you would graciously accept the apology. It worked the first time, but by time number five, the yellow flowers in the vase made you feel nothing short of ill. He would lay next to you and the two of you would talk into the early hours of the morning about anything and everything— everything except the real reason for his absence. Did you really know him at all?

You didn’t; and it made Peter feel awful. He hated every moment of lying to you, but he couldn’t pull you into his other life, not yet. As much as he loved being Spiderman, it could be a terrible burden, one he wanted to fewest loved ones possible to have to bear. He would tell you eventually. He just needed to be sure you were going to be around a long time before putting that on you. But that was so much easier when school was in. During school he kept Spider-man on the down-low, only going on two or three missions a month and taking on small crimes around the area when he had a chance. But now that he was out he found himself being called up left and right. As much as he loved being needed, he hated that he couldn’t spend time with you. If he had to cancel one more time, he was going to have to tell you. He wasn’t stupid, he knew how much it must be affecting you. For now, as he got dressed for the day, he was just thrilled that he would finally get to show up to your latest date suggestion, finally get to spend time with you. His phone buzzed, cutting that feeling short. It was Mr. Stark. He didn’t even have to read the message to know what it meant. He was needed. Immediately. His heart sank.

You sat in a little yellow booth at a local coffee shop. Yellow. The color of optimism, of positivity, but also of anxiety. He was an hour late to meet you and you hadn’t heard from him all day, your “where are you” texts going unanswered. Even when he did cancel he would always at least tell you. This was a million times worse. A disheartened sigh left your lips as you checked your phone one last time before standing up from the booth. The pitying looks from those around you were difficult to ignore. You nearly sprinted from the shop, the stares proving too much for you as your eyes turned watery. Your steps and the furious wiping of your eyes halted when you heard your name being called after you. Peter, with flowers in hand. He nearly tackled you in a hug.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I forgot to text you. But I’m here now and we can do whatever you want ok?”

You remained stiff as a board, not returning the embrace, not responding to his apologies. He pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

You narrowed your eyes and tried to sound angry, but it just came out as heartbroken as you felt. “What’s wrong? You mean other than cancelling on me for the fifth time this month and not telling me?”

“I know, I know. I’m the worst. But I— You know what? Come with me,” he grabbed your hand cautiously, afraid that you might reject the touch. But you didn’t. You thought about it, but curiosity overtook you, so you held onto his hand as he led you around the corner of the café and to the unpopulated back of the building.

“Peter, what the hell are we doing back here? It’s creepy.”

“I’ve wanted to tell you for a really long time and I was never quite sure if it was the right time to say it, but I feel like now is probably a good time because it’s really gotten in the way of things lately and—” he took a deep breath, noticing his rambling getting out of hand. He lifted a blue and red spandex suit out of the bag in his hand and your eyes widened at the familiar fabric. “I’m Spiderman.”

“You— wow.”

“That’s… Wow,” you couldn’t form any sort of coherent response.

“Yeah, pretty crazy right?” he smiled, shoving the suit back in his bag before anyone noticed. “Now, let’s get back to it.” He stepped up to you, holding the flowers in his hand— violets— out to you.

You narrowed your eyes, “Hang on. That doesn’t automatically fix things, Peter.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” he quizzed, wide-eyed.

“I mean: That. Doesn’t. Fix. Everything. The Spiderman excuse doesn’t make me feel any better, Peter.”

“Excuse?” he quipped, eyes narrowing, “Keeping people safe is an excuse?”

“Fine, not excuse. Whatever word you prefer,” you rolled your eyes. “Either way, you ditching me constantly and, to make it worse, lying to me about it is not a good feeling. I’ve seen you, what, five times?”

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you, but I can’t apologize for being Spiderman. That’s insane.”

You groaned, your hands covering your eyes. “You’re not hearing me. You’ve been ducking out on me all break long. Can you not take a break every now and then?” So I don’t feel in second place to the rest of the world?”

“People don’t just stop needing me, (Y/N)! I can’t just let them suffer for some date!” He raised his voice.

“Some date? Is that as much as they mean to you?”

“Compared to an entire city? Yes! My God, you’re being so selfish right now.”

“I don’t think it’s selfish to want to see my boyfriend every now and then!” you met his loud tone now.

“What do you think this was supposed to be? I’m here now aren’t I?”

“Yeah, an hour late! With no warning!”

“I was stopping crime, keeping the city safe. There are more important things, (Y/N)!”

“I see,” your voice got quiet then. Scary quiet. It seemed to get carried away with the howling January wind. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

So, you walked off toward your apartment without looking back. Spiderman didn’t come to save you.

The violets were left to wither on the sidewalk. Violet. The color of arrogance.

Your eyes glazed over as you read through your organic chemistry book. It had been two hours and heterocyclic compounds still went completely over your head. God, could you use a Peter right now. Your Peter, you need your Peter. You hadn’t had a bit of contact with him since the fight. It had been such a hard semester without him and now that you were struggling to keep up in organic chemistry it made his presence even more missed. It wasn’t long before your foot started tapping furiously, your hands shaking, eyes watering. Why did you walk away? He hurt you that day, but you would take that a thousand more times if you didn’t have to miss him like this. You shook the tears out of your eyes; studying obviously wasn’t going anywhere. Might as well go for a walk.

Peter turned up the volume of his music. Studying at the student center was so much harder than studying at the library. The bustling hallways were much too loud for his liking, but the sting in his chest wouldn’t let him study at the library anymore. It felt wrong to be there now, only reminding him of a missing piece. You. It’d been hard. He bit at his lip, trying to pretend that his eyes weren’t watering. How could he have let you walk away? He wished more than anything that he could go back in time and change that day. He sighed, closing his book. He wasn’t getting anywhere like this. Might as well go for a walk.

As you rounded the corner of the Patton Student Center, the sky turned a cloudy grey. Grey. The color of detachment, depression. It looked like it would downpour any second, but you couldn’t care less. The calming rain would be a welcome addition to your depression walk. What wasn’t a welcome addition was a boy with mop of too familiar brown hair walking your way. You had seconds to act; he hadn’t seen you yet. But you froze like a deer in headlights and when he looked up so did he.

He gulped, “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” you responded, looking at your shoes

“It—" he sighed before starting again, “It’s really good to see you.” You looked up, a hint of a smile on your face.

“It’s good to see you too. I’ve missed you.” The admission flowed easily out of your lips, much easier than you had imagined it would.

“Yeah…” There was a beat before you both began:

“I’m sorry…” Laughs emanated from both of you.

“I’ll start, I’ll start,” you began. “I’m so so sorry for the way I acted. I was just hurt, and I really was being selfish. You deal with so much with your,” you paused to look at the people around you, “’night job’ and I definitely wasn’t helping then. You have so many more genuinely important things to worry about. And you revealed a major secret to me and I just went off and— I’m so sorry. I’d wish I’d never said any of that. It’s been so hard without you.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he smiled. “You should not have to apologize for voicing how you felt. I can’t believe I acted the way I did. You were telling me something that’d really been weighing on you and I just blew it off like it didn’t mean anything. That was so wrong of me. And God, I didn’t even go after you to apologize. What I do is important, sure, but I can’t just abandon the people I love for it you know?”

“Hang on. Did you— You love me?” you quizzed, wide-eyed, an uncontrollable smile forming on your lips.

“I— uh… Yeah. I do. I realize that this past month,” he ducked his head a bit to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks. You let yourself grin now and moved quickly towards him, grabbing his face in your hands and kissing him hard. At first, he was so startled at the sudden reaction that he found himself unable to respond, but after a second, he relaxed into it, kissing you back. It was everything each of you had missed in the past month. Your arms went around him, hands playing with the hair on the back of his neck and his went to the small of your back

It was almost impossible to now smile into the kiss. The calmness and absolute contentment in that moment was indescribable, you could almost see the soothing aura in the air. There was a new-found— or perhaps re-discovered and renovated— trust between the two of you. He didn’t take the decision to choose Spiderman first at times lightly, you understood that now. And your immediate reaction to those decisions wasn’t unfounded, Peter could understand the feeling of abandonment.

You regretfully pulled back a few seconds later upon remembering that you were in a very public place.

“Let’s never walk away again,” you murmured after a moment, both of your hands in his.

“Agreed. And I will do everything to make sure you don’t have a reason to.” Your heart fluttered at the promise.

“And I’ll remember that my boyfriend has the coolest job in the world, that it’ll sometimes take him away, and that that’s ok.” He squeezed your hands with a gentle smile.

“Now, can we go to the library? I’m seriously struggling with organic chemistry,” you teased. He narrowed his eyes, looking up slightly, as if trying to recover a memory.

“Organic chemistry hmm? Not sure how helpful I’ll be on that one.”

“Well, you can at least sit with me while it kills me slowly.”

“Now that I can do,” he laughed.

So, the two of you set off hand-in-hand to the library in the chilly wind, feeling very much like you were back in December. You caught him staring at you out of the corner of your eye, grinning.

“What are you looking at?” you turned to him.

“You. I like that color on you.” You looked down, unable to remember what you were wearing offhand, to find a sweatshirt painted in a deep royal blue. Blue. The color of serenity, of calmness, of trust.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “Me too.”

Permanent taglist: @petxrparks @pbnjparker @asphalt-cocktail @littlecrazyfangirl-98 @pumpkinsandparker @il-rose@farfromjustordinary@starkravingparker @darlintom@hazhasmycoffee @maefisher2003

[cas-backwards-tie]

Fleeting Fate

Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU

Summary: The Red String of Fate is said to be something only the two people intertwined can see. When born, a red string is wrapped around your finger. This red string leads to your soulmate. Upon meeting, only then will the red string unravel and disappear.

Prompt: Soulmate AU

Words: 1,065

Warnings: Anxiety, Worry, Being Rushed, Sadness, Loss.

Beta: @thinkwritexpress-official

Author’s Note: This is for @starksparker  ‘s 10k Writing Challenge! Second time (though the first I’ll be posting due to deadlines) I’ve written for Steve Rogers so please, feedback is always encouraged! I love this soulmate AU and I love Steve Rogers so why not combine both? Haha, of course, I’d use a gif from Teen Wolf because why not? It’s perfect. 

Steve never thought the day would come. Not when he had awoken from a coma, not when he had been fighting the aliens, not even when he first learned of what the Red String of Fate meant. “Yo, Cap, come on!” Steve shakes his head; he’d been zoning out while maneuvering his way through the crowd. Following his companions, Steve decides to keep a close eye on them as well as their surroundings; the citizens bustling about in the airport. Just pick up the intel and then we’re out of here, Sam’s voice rings in his head: repeat the mission, ingrain the mission into your mind and act towards your goal until it’s completed, Steve tells himself.

It’d become second nature, keeping his head down, scanning for watchful eyes or curious faces as this new team they’d formed had been operating in the dark. Steve was quick with his movements, always one step ahead; skate around people and never make eye contact. Nastaha was further ahead, almost to their target, ready to negotiate prices for the intel they currently needed. Natasha was good with negotiation; Sam and Steve were only there for backup if needed.

The clock is ticking, fifteen minutes at most is their goal, only twelve minutes remaining for their discussion and to quickly slip out of the airport. Tapping his foot nervously on the tiled floors, Steve glances around at the bar to his right, the flight directory to his left, above Natasha and their informant. No one seems to notice, no one seems to be paying them a second glance. Clock’s ticking, time’s running out, foot’s tapping. Eleven minutes and thirty-one seconds remain.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You’re anxious, your gate changed last minute to another wing of the airport. It's bustling, it’s crowded and the air smells of greasy food and bleach. Coughing, rolling wheels, and the rushed footfalls of hurried passengers drown out your thoughts. The only thing you can feel is your heart pumping faster than it had been before. Eyes shifting to the people around you; Giving them a once-over before your gaze flicks to the ticket in your hand, currently grasping the handlebar of your suitcase rather tightly. “I’m gonna be late!” You nervously murmur to yourself before the person in front of you gets off the walking conveyor belt. Deciding it worthwhile to start speed-walking to your gate, you search above for the upcoming signs that will lead you to your destination.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sighing out of relief, Steve nods in the direction of his companions; yes, now is the best time for them to make their getaway. Following their lead, Steve quickly walks to spare any chances their informant has to snitch on them. Making their way back toward the main section of the airport, Steve makes sure to stay close, maneuvering around people. Four minutes and forty-three seconds until they’d be open to capture.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Breathing fast, you’re en route to your gate, suitcase trailing beside you; all is going according to plan. You’ll be fine. You still have time. It’s okay. You remind yourself there’s no need to stress out needlessly, a hard habit to break. Sneaking another glance down to memorize the gate number, a stone wall smacks into you. A gasp emits from your throat as you stumble, turning around to glare at the perpetrator. Attention brought away from the person, you watch as the red string attached to your finger begins to unravel. The path is clear as day: the Red String of Fate connects you to whomever you bumped into. Eyes flicking from your fingers to his face, his hand comes up to grasp your forearm, a worried look upon his face. “You’re...” the man cuts you off with his finger against his mouth in a ‘shush’ position, “my soulmate.” Your heart feels like it stops as you inspect his face, his eyes, the weird tingly feeling in your belly.

“I have to go- I really-” you decide it’s your turn to cut him off.

“I feel like I know you from somewhere,” Your hearts starts to clench at the realization of what he meant. ‘I have to go.’ Those are the first words he has ever said to you.

“I promise I’ll find you again.” His hand squeezes your forearm for a moment before he turns and rushes off, not sparing a second glance in your direction. Feeling somehow emptier in only the seconds after he leaves; your chest wracks with a dull pain. ‘I’ll find you again.’ You were stunned. Your whole life, everyone has built up the Red String of Fate to be some sort of miracle; a beautiful, uniting moment in everyone’s lives where they finally get the chance to meet their destined beloved. Everyone wants to meet their soulmate... right? Confusion and hurt fill your veins as random strangers bump into you. The tardiness of your presence on the plane now brought back to your attention, you take the first step towards the rest of your life. Taking each step towards the plane, you feel a part of you get further and further away. Thoughts flood your mind as you sit in the lounge waiting for your flight.

You don’t know what to make of what happened, but, you know that you no longer have a red string wrapped around your finger. There is no more anticipation of meeting your soulmate; rather, you’re waiting for them to find you again. The intercom chimes; a voice announces that the flight to Wakanda is boarding. Your decision is made: you will find your soulmate first. Whether you give them a piece of your mind or decide if they are worthy of embracing, your journey is set in front of you.

[cameronspecial]

Best Friend To Boyfriend

Pairing: Roommate!Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom and (Y/N) have been absolutely in love with each other for years now, but they never got the courage to tell each other. (Y/N) can’t wait for Tom forever, so she has to move on. The only question is will Tom let her?

Word Count: 2 476

A/N: This is for @starksparker 10k Writing Challenge. Congratulations on getting 10k followers, you truly deserve all of them, and I hope you enjoy!

(Y/N) sat on the couch curled in her blankets watching the Shinning. She had come home from work and when she turned on the T.V. that is what was playing. She was not a fan of horror movies and she had no idea as to why she was watching this. She had turned off the lights for whatever reason, so when the lights suddenly turned on the girl practically jumped off of the couch. Here head turns towards the laughing that came from her best friend and roommate. “Love, I don’t understand why you are watching the Shinning? You hate horror movies!” Tom laughs as he comes to give her a hug. Tom couldn’t stop the flutter he felt in his heart when he sees his best friend curled up on the couch under some blankets. He had liked her since they were kinds, which he know people will say it’s cliché, but he couldn’t help who he fell in love with. But poor Tom thought that his feels will never be able to turn into a relationship. If only he knew that she felt the same way and thought the same thing, then they could be together. Unfortunately, the two weren’t so open about their feelings. “I don’t know. I can’t find the remote and I wanted to watch T.V.,” she informs him. Tom surveys the room and immediately finds the room, “Well I think you need glasses, love, because the remote is right there on the T.V. stand. I am going to go to my room, I have some work to finish. Will you be alright?” (Y/N) nods as her eyes stay glued to the T.V. and Tom heads to his room.

The only thought she had whilst she tried to sleep was that she should not have watched the Shinning. Every single sound made her fear for her life and think that an axe was going to break down her door at any second. (Y/N) couldn’t fall asleep, so she decides to go see if she can sleep with Tom tonight. Since they have been friends since they were younger she has always felt safe with Tom. She quietly knocks on the door, but she doesn’t get a reply so she decides to go in any way. Tom was fast sleep on his comfy bed. His soft curly hair resets softly on his forehead and light snoring is the only thing that could be heard. Tom awakes when he felt the other side of the bed dips. His eyes flutter open to see that (Y/N) was getting into bed with him. “(Y/N), what’s wrong? Are you all right?” Tom worries. (Y/N) nods her and just cuddles into him, “I can’t sleep. I don’t think I should have watched The Shinning. Can I sleep with you tonight?” Tom sighs in relief that she was okay and just nods his head. He wraps his arms around her waist and brings her closer to his chest. As soon as her head rests on his chest, she falls asleep right away. Tom, however, didn’t fall back asleep again for a little while. He looks down at her and smiles softly. “I will always be here for you. I will always protect you. And I will always love you even if you don’t love me back,” he whispers as he gives her head a kiss and is finally capable of following asleep.

Tom wakes up and he is just in a state of pure bliss. (Y/N) was still asleep on his chest and she looks so peaceful. He wished he could wake up like this every day and he wished he could stay in that moment for just a few more minutes, but unfortunately, duty calls and he has to get out of bed. He slowly gets out of bed and places a pillow under her head. He gives her a light kiss on the head and goes to get ready for work. It kills him that he has to leave her, but he needs to go to work. (Y/N) wakes up all in Tom’s bed. She checks the time to see that it was 10 am, so Tom must be at work right now. She had the day off today and she decided that she should do some cleaning since it was her turn. She didn’t tell Tom, but she was going on a blind date tonight. She thought that if she told him then she would be cutting off any chances she had left of being with him. She had her hair up in a messy bun and she was wearing one of her favourite shirts of Tom’s that he lets her wear to sleep.

She was loading the laundry into the washer when she hears the front door of their apartment open. Tom was not supposed to be home yet, so she feels a wave of panic overcome her. “(Y/N), I am here,” Harrison calls out as he looks for her. She sighs in relief as she remembers that she asked her other best friend, Harrison, to help her clean up the apartment so she could get ready for her date earlier. Harrison was the middleman in their friendship. He knows that Tom likes her and that she likes him. Harrison had always tried to encourage his friends to reveal their feelings for the other, but they were always too scared of ruining what they had. Harrison finds the young woman in the laundry room and goes to sit on the dryer. “Why am I helping you again?” Haz questions her. “Because I need to finish all the chores early so I can go on my blind date that my mom set up. You know it’s my turn to do them,” she retorts. Harrison frowns at her in confusion, “Why are you going on a date when you are in love with Tom?” (Y/N) shakes her head as she throws some more clothes into the washer. “Because I need to move on. He only sees me as a friend and I need to accept that,” she sighs. “I think you should just tell him. You can never know what he is thinking unless you ask,” he advises. She closes the washer and just shakes her head, “I don’t want to ruin our friendship. Now, get your tushie off of the dryer and go vacuum while I dust.” Harrison listens to her and starts vacuuming.

Once they finished cleaning, (Y/N) asked Harrison to stay and help her get ready for her date. Haz could have told her to wear the less flattering outfit, but he was her best friend as well and it would be unfair to choose to favour one of them over the other. When she was done getting ready, Harrison thought that she looked absolutely stunning and that any man would think so as well. Poor Tom, Haz thought. Tom came home around the same time that (Y/N) was going to leave. Tom unlocks the door to see that (Y/N) was putting on her shoes, “Oh, hey, (Y/N). Where are you going so dressed up?” (Y/N) looks up at Tom after she got her shoes on and straightened out her dress. Tom looks her up and down and he was absolutely speechless with how beautiful she looks. The tank top dress was a made out of lace and was a nice raspberry red. It hugged her curves perfectly. Her hair was braided to the side over her shoulder and her makeup was a natural look except for her lips which were a ruby red. Hanging from her neck was a small fake diamond ring that she used to wear when she was younger and had put it on a chain to wear around her neck.

“Her mom set her on a blind date,” Harrison responds for her. Tom’s face turns into a frown as he processes what Harrison said. Tom didn’t know what he thought would happen if he never told (Y/N) he loves her. He just always thought that maybe she would just wait for him forever or at least until he gets the courage to ask her out. Before Tom could say anything else, (Y/N) waves goodbye and she is off to her date. “Why is she going on a date?” Tom asks Harrison. “Because she wants to date to try to find a meaningful romantic relationship. Did you expect her to never go on a date again? You don’t have the balls to ask her out and she can’t wait for you forever,” Harrison answers. Harrison was right, (Y/N) couldn’t wait for Tom forever, but somewhere in the back of his mind he always hoped she would. Then everything he dreamed of with (Y/N) flashes before his eyes, but soon they start to change. Tom was no longer the man with (Y/N), but instead, the future he dreamed of was being lived by another man. Tom couldn’t let that happen; he had to disrupt her date and tell her he loves her. He couldn’t wait anymore. “I have to go,” Tom yells as he flings the door open again and runs to his car. Harrison didn’t have time to ask what Tom was doing, he had his suspicions though. Harrison laughs at his friend because Tom had no idea where he was going.

Tom soon realizes he has no idea where she went for her date, so he quickly calls Harrison and finds out where she is. Tom jumps out of his car after parking the car and sees that (Y/N) is at the window with her date. Her date was handsome and he was able to make her laugh, that made Tom worry that it really was too late. She found the person she wants to be with. (Y/N) sits across from Jordan as he tells her the story about how he had to run across a football field naked in the middle of the night. She wouldn’t deny that Jordan was handsome, sweet, and funny. However, Tom was still in her mind. She sees someone at the window of the restaurant out of the corner of her eye. She averts her eyes fully to the person and realizes that it was Tom. What was he doing here, she thought?  “Excuses me, I need to make an important call,” she excuses herself from the table. Jordan nods his head and stands up from his chair as well. “Yeah, of course. I hope you don’t mind, but I am going to head to the restroom,” he says.

“What are you doing here?” she interrogates. Tom takes a deep breath and lets it all out, “I know I have the worse timing ever, but I need you to know this. I love you, (Y/N) (Y/M/N) (Y/L/N), and I don’t want to keep it in anymore!” (Y/N) shakes her head although this was what she always wanted to hear; he was doing it at the wrong time. Before he could say anything else, she cuts him off, “Tom, I am on a date.” “I know, I know. I just need you to know that I love you. I love the way that you are kind to everyone. I love that you want to truly make the world a better place. I love when you bite your lip because you are nervous or concentrating. I love when you put your hair in a messy bun with one of my shirts on and dance around our apartment with your music blasting because you think no one is home. I love how great you are with kids and my family. I love everything about you. The one thing I hate about you is how much I love you. Please, just give us a chance and if it doesn’t work then you can go back to him.” Tom had finally declared his love for (Y/N) and he was terrified. (Y/N) didn’t know what to say. She finally got to hear what she always wanted to hear and she knew had to take the opportunity. Words wouldn’t be enough to show how she feels, so she did the first thing that came to mind. She ran to him and jumped; she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, then she smashes their lips together.

Tom kisses back immediately while wrapping his arms around her waist for support. Tom runs his tongue along her bottom lip asking for entrance and she lets him have it. The kiss was heaven on Earth and neither of them wanted to stop. The sparks coming from the both of them must have been too hot for the universe because it started raining. Even though they didn’t want to they had to pull away for air. They press their foreheads together and giggle. “This is so cliché,” (Y/N) laughs. Tom just smiles at her and give her a quick peck on the lips again, “I don’t care. I would do every romantic cliché for you if it would make you happy.” Someone coughs behind them, which causes both of them to look back to see Jordan standing there awkwardly. (Y/N) quickly remembers why she was here in the first place and she unwraps her legs from Tom’s waist. “Jordan, I am so sorry. Now, I feel horrible. I honestly didn’t know this would happen. It’s just-” she tries to explain, but Jordan interrupts her. “You don’t have to explain. I heard everything. You two really are meant to be. Your mom has talked about you two and how neither of you would tell each other that you liked the other person. You seemed like such an amazing person, you are, I just really wanted to meet you even if I knew you were in love with someone else. I just hope we can be friends because you truly are a kind person, and maybe I can talk about this moment at your wedding. I’ll leave you two alone, goodbye.” (Y/N) and Tom watch as Jordan walks to his car. She was a little shocked by his response, but she was glad that he was okay with it and still wanted to be friends.

The both of them were soaked because of the rain and they were freezing. Tom takes off his leather jacket and wraps it around her shoulder as he pulls her into his side. “Let’s go home, my love. I’ll make hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows then we can cuddle up on the couch and watch whatever movie you want with some pizza,” Tom suggests while he leads her into his car. She walked into the restaurant, so they didn’t have to worry about her car. She puts her head on his should and smiles, “I would love that. You know me so well.”

Permanent Taglist:  @tmrhollandkay  @embrace-themagic @whereartthouwakanda @smexylemony @bookgirlunicorn

[hazhasmycoffee]

Take the Lead || h.o.

Words: 2.9k Pairing: Dancer!Harrison x Dancer!Female!Reader Summary: Harrison only wanted to do a solo practice, but ended up with a partner. Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst?, no editing whatsoever

A/N: This is for Kaylee’s (@starksparker) 10k writing challenge! Congrats Kaylee! You deserve all the love for your amazing talent! The prompt is bolded! The dancer in the GIF is RJ Higton

Masterlist

“If you want love, you gon' have to go through the pain. If you want love, you gon' have to learn how to change. If you want trust, you gon' have to give some away. If you want love, if you want love.” If You Want Love by NF

Y/N walked up the steps of the dance studio hoping that the young man who said he’d dance with her at the recital would be there. She opened up the door to the studio, and she was glad that it was empty. She had worked hard on developing a routine for If You Want Love by NF for an audition with Juilliard. They sent a scout out to London to see the recital, and she knew that she couldn’t screw it up. Y/N began to do her stretches to limber up and pass time while she waited for her partner to show. Fifteen minutes had gone by, and she decided to shoot the guy a text.

Hey! It’s Y/N from the dance studio. Are you running late? 

She waited for a response, but none came. Her instructor said that the guy could be a bit flaky, but that he was an excellent dancer and would be perfect for the audition. She figured that even if he didn’t show up, she should still practice. As she opened up Spotify to play the song, Y/N checked her messages again. No reply. She decided to dance to anyways. As she watched herself through the mirrors, she realized that the routine only worked with a partner if she wanted to keep the routine. She sighed and decided that she would just finish up for the day. She decided to end her session with some stretches.

--

Harrison felt tension in his shoulders from the stress of the day. He had started taking a few dancing lessons after Tom taught him and Jacob some ballet in South Korea. He never expected to enjoy it as much as he did. Tom originally thought that when he was sneaking off it was because he was hooking up with someone from set. It wasn’t until one evening that Tom came across a gym bag that he thought was his but was actually Harrison’s. It had stretching straps and dance shoes. Tom laughed to himself because he thought Harrison was sneaking around about a girl; never in his right mind would he have thought that his best mate would take up dancing outside of the club.

“What are these?” Tom asked Harrison while holding his dancing shoes.

“Oh, uh, I’m holding them for a friend?” Harrison tried to play it off, but the crack in his voice exposed him.

“I know their yours. Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’ve been going to a dance studio, you could’ve been joined me.” He sat next to Haz on the couch.

“I know, it’s just I’m just starting out and you’ve been doing this for years, and I’m just starting out, mate.” Haz replied looking down at his feet before looking up at Tom again.

“All the more reason for you to come; I can help you, mate.” Tom’s phone buzzed, which he briefly looked at before shoving it in his pocket.

“Well I was actually thinking about heading to the studio right now. Wanna come with?” Harrison sounded hopeful at the newfound support.

“Uh, I can’t. I’m meeting up with Conor soon, but definitely next time, mate.” He placed a hand on Haz’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you later then.” Haz had a small smile before he got up to head out.

“See ya, mate!” Tom called out before Haz walked out the front door.

--

The dance studio was less than a mile away from the flat and walk would serve as a warm-up. Harrison thought that the dance studio was empty based off of the lack of light coming out the studio windows. He jogged up the steps. As we walked through the door, he saw the figure of a young woman, and he spoke before she noticed him.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think anyone was here.” Harrison didn’t know whether he should stay or go.

“It’s alright, I was just finishing up.” She turned to look at him.

“Are you sure? I can go if you still need the space?” He motioned back to the door.

“No, really. I’m not going to get any work done today.” She began to grab her belongings to throw into her duffle bag.

“What are you working on?” Harrison took a step forward, his curiosity getting to him.

“A routine for a recital, but the partner I was supposed to have bailed.” Y/N answered, his voice low from disappointment

“That’s shitty of them.” He simply remarked, not knowing if there was anything to say.

“You’re telling me. I’m thinking about just redoing everything and making it a solo piece.” She moved closer to the door to leave.

“Would you, maybe, care to dance?” Haz asked, his hand instinctively reaching the back of his neck.

“Excuse me?” Her gaze met his, her brows knitting together.

“Maybe I can help you, you know, with the dance.” His blue eyes never left her gaze.

“Oh, I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head and took another step closer to the exit.

“You must’ve worked terribly hard on the routine. It shouldn’t go to waste.” Harrison pointed, causing her to stop.

“I just don’t want you to feel responsible for this guy that bailed.” She looked back at him.

“No, really! I just started dancing, and I think this is a great way to help both of us.” He shrugged, hoping that she would agree.

“Okay, sure, thanks! I’m Y/N.” She extended her hand towards the young man.

“Harrison.” He shook her hand before setting his bag down.

--

After Harrison stretched out, Y/N handed him her phone and got into position. She nodded, and he pressed play. As she gracefully moved across the floor, she vocalized what he would mirror, and when he would lift, turn, or throw her. He was mesmerized by her movements and what she expected him to do. When she finished, she looked at him, only to see him in a daze.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, concern lacing her words.

“Yeah, no, that was brilliant. I hope I can be as good as you need me to be.” He stood up from his seated position.

“I’m sure you’ll be great.” Y/N smiled sweetly.

Harrison walked towards her as she counted out the beat for him. He followed her movements, that was until he heard her laugh.

“You’re thinking too much. Here, do you mind?” She looked up at him.

“Uhm, go for it.” He took in a quick breath.

“Okay, you place your hands here, and follow my body…” Y/N placed his hands on her waist, and she bent her knees slightly to give her a bit of leverage. “And we lift.” She pushed off the ground, and he helped her move from her position to the other side of him.

“Great! Now, take my hand…” She pulled away from him, only to be stopped by his hand in hers.

They continued to work through the routine. Y/N was impressed with his ability to learn quickly, and Harrison was simply impressed with her. She moved gracefully, and he tried to mimic her grace, only to be met with her sweet laugh and a smile his way.

“Harrison, don’t get inside your head too much. I know this is new, but this all has a natural flow to it. Take a deep breath, and let your body take the lead.” Y/N took a deep breath herself for Haz to follow.

He took a deep breath, and as he exhaled, Harrison felt the tension in his shoulders fade. His movements flowed more smoothly than before, and the rest of the rehearsal went by without a hitch.

“I think we’re good for today. You did an amazing job, Harrison!” Y/N smiled at her new partner.

“Thanks! And you can call me Haz.” He smiled back.

“Do you think we can rehearse tomorrow? Or do you need a break? We did do a lot today.” Y/N began to pack up.

“I think I can do tomorrow, I just havta check work stuff first. Mind if I have your number?” He asked, concerned he overstepped some sort of boundary.

“Not at all!” She smiled, and they exchanged phones to put in their numbers.

“Thanks, love. I’ll text you tomorrow.” He gave her a small wave before walking out of the studio as Y/N was pulling a hoodie over her head.

--

Harrison was practically flying from the rehearsal he had with Y/N. He was captivated by her creativity and appreciated that she was open to his suggestion. He couldn’t wait to tell Tom about her. As he reached their flat, he saw Tom at the door.

“Hey! How was it with Conor?” He asked as he approached his best mate.

“Great. You know, talking about music and just catching up. How was time at the studio?” Tom unlocked the door and stepped inside.

“It was amazing! Tom, there was this dancer, and she was amazing! She’s beautiful; has a gorgeous laugh. She choreographed an entire routine to If You Want Love and the guy that was supposed to be her partner bailed.” Haz followed Tom inside and set his bag down before grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“What did you say her name was?” Tom asked while settling onto the couch.

“Didn’t, but it’s Y/N.” Haz answered, taking a seat next to Tom.

“Fu-” Tom was cut-off by his best mate.

“Tom, really?” He looked disappointedly at Tom.

“What? You and I both know I can’t commit to anything right now with the reshoots I gotta do.” He tried to explain himself to Haz.

“Did you tell her that?” He asked, completely baffled that Tom would do anything like this.

“She doesn’t exactly know who I am, so I didn’t say anything.” Tom looked down at his feet.

“C’mon mate, that was a dick move.” Haz’s voice was laced with disappointment.

“You think I don’t know that? I just didn’t know that her application to Juilliard was going to be on the line.” He tried to make Haz understand.

“W-what?” He looked at Tom, his eyes as wide as saucers.

“Mate, did you not know that?” His brows knit together, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“No, she just said that it was going to be for a recital?” Harrison tried to recall the conversation with Y/N.

“It’s to see if she can get into Juilliard.” Tom informed his best mate.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” His body filled with panic.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, they won’t be looking at you anyways.” Tom tried to calm Haz.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I’m-I’m gonna go shower.” He got up and left Tom in the living room.

--

The following day, Harrison decided that it would probably be better to talk than text Y/N about the bomb Tom dropped the night before. He found her contact and called her. As the line rang, he began to have second thoughts.

“Hello?” Y/N answered the call.

“Uh, hey Y/N.” Harrison tried to calm his nerves.

“Hey Haz, how are you?” She asked sweetly.

“Not well. Is this routine an audition for Juilliard?” He mentally kicked himself for not building up to it.

“Yes, it is. Wait, did I tell you that?” She tried to remember the previous day’s events.

“Tom told me!” His voice was louder than intended.

“Tom? The div that bailed on me? How do you know him?” She was confused as to how Haz knew so much.

“That div is my roommate!” He answered her, his voice still louder than hers.

“Why didn’t he answer me back? Did you know that he bailed? Did he send you instead?” She continued to ask questions.

“No, no, no! I had no idea he was supposed to be your partner.” His voice lowered a bit.

“Does that change anything? Like, do you not want to be my partner?” Y/N’s voice dripped with worry.

“I-I don’t know. Can I think about it?” Haz’s voice was low.

“Yeah, take your time, just let me know what you decide.” She answered quietly.

“Will do. Bye Y/N.” Haz hung up before Y/N even had a chance to reply.

--

Y/N was taken back by her phone call with Harrison. She thought that everything had been going well with him, but she also recognized that she should have been honest with him about the audition. She needed to figure out what she was going to do if Harrison decided to bail on her too. Should she call Juilliard to keep them from sending a scout? Should she pick a different song and create a new routine? Questions flooded Y/N’s mind as she tried to figure out what step to take if Harrison decided to not be her partner, that was until her phone buzzed.

--

Harrison paced back and forth in his room trying to figure out what he should do. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t see Harry standing in his doorway.

“If you keep at it, you’ll make a dent in your floor, mate.” Harry let out a laugh.

“Div… What are you doing here?” Harrison stopped in his tracks to look at the young Holland.

“We were going to the mall today. Don’t you remember?” Harry stepped into the room.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. I just got a lot on my mind right now.” He sat at the foot of his bed.

“Wouldn’t have guessed.” Harry smirked, taking a few steps closer to his mate.

“Shut up!” Haz looked up at Harry.

“Okay, okay. What’s going on?” He sat down next to Haz.

“Tom was supposed to be this girl’s partner for a recital at the dance studio but he bailed on her. I ended taking his place, but that was before I found out that it’s for a Juilliard audition, and that’s a lot of pressure. So I don’t know if I should still be her partner.” He informed the young Holland.

“You dance?” He looked at Harrison shocked.

“That’s seriously all you got out of that?” He gently nudged Harry’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Harry let out a chuckle.

“Div, I need help and all you care about is that I dance?” Haz began to fiddle with his fingers as he looked down at his feet.

“Look, you seem to care about dancing, so it’s not like you’re going to take the piss. Have you danced with her?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got most of the routine down.” Haz smiled proudly to himself.

“There’s your answer. You took it seriously when it was just a recital. I’m sure you can handle the audition that isn’t even for you. You need to get outta your head, mate.” The young Holland spoke some sense into Haz.

“Yeah, you’re right. Ya know, she said the same thing to me.” He chuckled at the memory.

“Great minds think alike. Now let’s go because I am starving, and I want to go to Cinnabon.” He got up from Haz’s bed and headed toward the door.

“Fine, just let me text her first.” Harrison reached for his phone to text Y/N.

--

After Harrison agreed to being Y/N’s partner for the recital/audition, they went back to rehearsing. They rehearsed daily for at least two hours, and it showed. Harrison no longer put too much thought into the moves and he moved just as gracefully as Y/N. The routine itself transformed as well. Harrison suggested different lifts and transitions that Y/N had not thought about but when they tried them, the moves made the flow more natural and seemingly flawless. Tom even stopped by a few times to watch the rehearsal. He apologized profusely to Y/N, which she forgave him, but also made him promise that he would be there for the recital. He said he would be front and center. Tom was also very proud and impressed by Harrison’s dancing ability. It was nothing he expected. The routine, Harrison, and Y/N came together in a way no one had anticipated.

“Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.” Harrison spoke up after a rehearsal.

“What is it Haz?” Y/N looked up at him.

“I was wondering, love, if after the recital, we could maybe go out?” He asked shyly.

“Go out? As in a date?” She asked hoping her assumption wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, that is if you want it to be a date.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I’d love that, Haz.” She smiled sweetly before kissing his cheek.

--

Two weeks passed, and the day of the recital came, both Y/N and Harrison were extremely nervous. Harrison paced back and forth backstage waiting for Y/N to join him so that they could take their respective places on stage.

“Haz…” Y/N’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Y/N…” He hugged her before taking in her outfit: black leggings, a sheer charcoal gray ballet skirt, and a black camisole.

“We got this.” She assured herself more than him.

“Deep breath, and let our bodies take the lead.” He smiled as he recalled the advice she once gave him.

She let out a breath. “Yeah, nice outfit by the way.” She gestured to his black joggers and charcoal gray plain tee.

“Thanks, my partner picked it out.” He winked at Y/N, which caused an eruption of butterflies to swarm in both of their stomachs.

“And now, a piece from Y/N Y/L/N and Harrison Osterfield.” A voiced announced that they were going to perform.

“Here we go!” Harrison took Y/N’s hand, took the lead, and they both went out on stage.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! I have a few ideas for a part two, but you gotta let me know! I love you guys!

Taglist: @sincerelymlg @heavenly--osterfield @nilletellsstories @parkerstan @dee-rosemary @maraudersandco @fangedmutant @nerd-domland @thestoryofsj 

[intergalacticsuperstar]

Lights Out | Tom Holland x Reader

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You’re afraid of the dark and Tom is there to comfort you.

Warnings: panic and phobia

Word Count: 2305

Prompt: 14. “Relax. Just Breathe.”

Author’s Note: This was written for @starksparker 10k Writing Challenge! Congrats once again! xx

- my masterlist -

-

You never really mentioned it to Tom.

You were embarrassed and to be fair, the topic had never come up. You did everything to avoid the feelings and push them to the back of your mind. After all, only children were meant to be afraid of the dark.

It wasn’t necessarily the darkness itself that freaked you out. It was more the lack of control that was seeped away the moment things went black. The lack of vision, the disorientation, the inability to create light.

Which is why you were perfectly capable of sleeping in a pitch black room with the comfort of being able to switch on your bedside lamp at any given time. So, Tom never knew of your hidden fear of the dark. It just was never a relevant topic.

Looking back, you wished you had told him sooner.

It was a calm night. You and Tom were cuddled together on the bed, binge-watching episodes of The Office that you had already seen three times. Tom’s hand was running through your hair as you laid your head on his chest.

The worn out smell of his cologne that he put on this morning was still drifting through the air, making you feel warm and comforted. You snuggled your head further into his chest, embracing his cuddles and never wanting him to go.

Your legs were tangled with each other and every couple of moments you both would laugh, causing you to feel his chest vibrate. You could’ve stayed like that forever, but at last, it had to end somewhere.

With a buzz, you heard Tom’s phone go off, indicating he had a text message. Gently, he removed his hand from your hair to reach for his phone on the other side of you, letting his other hand ghost up and down your arm.

He read the text carefully with squinted eyes.

“It’s Harrison.” He mumbled out.

You didn’t pay him much mind as you continued to watch the show. The first boom of thunder rumbled gently in your ears. It wasn’t loud, and you weren’t scared of storms, so you ignored it.

He sighed and looked down at you, “He wants me to go out with him. I’d say no, but I haven’t gotten to see him since I’ve been back.”

You whined a little and pulled him in closer for a few moments, relishing in his warmth. After a few seconds, you consented.

“Okay. Only because you haven’t seen him yet,” you said with your face still buried in his shirt.

He chuckled and ran his hands down your arms.

“Thank you, my love. I’ll try not to be long,” He whispered and stood up from the bed, rather reluctantly, as another boom of thunder went off.

You paused the show, sitting up while he pulled on a hoodie and sat down to slip his shoes on.

“Can I take the phone charger?” He asked casually, swinging it up to show you. His had broken his own last week, so you were sharing one until he got another. You nodded.

“Sounds like it’s storming. Be careful out there,” You pled to him.

He smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, I will. I’ll be back soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

He leaned across the bed for a quick kiss then you watched him walk out of the room with his phone in his hand.

You scrolled through your phone for a few moments with your back against the headboard of the bed. You weren’t in the mood to watch TV without Tom. You checked various social media sites before your phone abruptly died.

You cursed to yourself. You thought it had been charging this whole time, but it must’ve slipped off the charger. You had a little anxiety about it, knowing that Tom would be out in the storm without a way to contact you, but you let the worry subside. You were probably going to go to sleep soon anyway.

You decided to take a shower, and get really ready for bed, not like you had gotten dressed that day anyway. You and Tom had elected for a lazy day, but since you had work in the morning, you figured you would just take a shower now.

You took your time in the shower, letting your brain rest and prepare for the week ahead of you. It probably wasn’t until 45 minutes later that you stepped out, feeling refreshed. You did a 10-minute facemask, brushed your teeth, and put on one of Tom’s clean shirts and some shorts.

Finally, you climbed into bed. It had probably been around an hour. The storm had grown a little outside. You flipped the TV on for a few moments just to check the status and heard that it would grow in power over the next hour or so, but then calm down.

Again, you didn’t worry too much. You loved the rain and the sound of thunder, and now feeling so refreshed, you just had to wait for Tom to get home.

You decided to pull out a book you had been reading for a while now. You had started it about a month ago but hadn’t picked it up in two weeks because you’ve been so busy. It was relaxing just to sit peacefully in your room with the rain hitting the window, reading away. It felt very aesthetically pleasing.

But, all of that peace rushed away when the power went out.

You heard a loud boom of thunder and a familiar click, and just like that, you were surrounded in darkness. Your heart started racing through your chest as you frantically tried switching the lamp on next to you with no avail.

You tried to turn the TV on, but nothing was powered. You were in pitch black darkness. No light was even coming in from the moon because the blinds on your windows were shut.

You began to panic. You suddenly felt trapped and claustrophobic as the darkness circled around you. Your breaths were now exiting out of your chest at a rapid-fire as you tried to calm your brain down and think rationally.

Where would we have flashlights? Do we have flashlights?!

You couldn’t think of a time when you or Tom had ever used a flashlight since moving into your new house. You mentally cursed at yourself for being so unprepared. You were sure you had one somewhere, but you had no idea where that would be. Besides, usually you’d have your phone flashlight...except when it’s dead.

You were shaking on the bed, not knowing what to do as tears began to brim in your eyes.

Okay. Candles. Where would we have candles?

You were almost positive you had a scented candle on the kitchen table downstairs. But, at the moment, you could barely move an inch. You had your arms wrapped around your knees while tears poured freely out of your eyes.

You wished Tom was there. Tom would know where a flashlight is or what to do. But on the other hand, you were so embarrassed to be reacting like this, and now you weren’t sure if you wanted him to see you in this state of panic.

With all the courage you could muster, with labored breaths and tears spilling onto your cheeks, you swung your feet off the side of the bed. You stood shakily and held your arms out in front of you, shuffling your feet towards the door in your bedroom. You tried to remember where all the dirty laundry that had fallen to the floor was, but it was hard.

You were crying pretty hard now, squealing every time your feet brushed against something. By the time you finally reached the door, your lungs ached with how hard your breaths were coming in and out. You just wanted to be able to see, but it was pitch black.

Your eyes had yet to adjust even a little and even if they could, they were full of tears. You couldn’t bring yourself out of your room. To get to the candle you’d have to go all the way downstairs and you weren’t sure if you could do it.

You were so so terrified.

The thunder became even louder and intense. The storm was much scarier now that it was pitch black. You slid against the wall until you were sat on the ground, not having enough courage to make it back to your bed.

You wanted to be able to see, you wanted some light, and you wanted Tom.

You continued to panic and cry for a few minutes, breaths getting dangerously loud and fast. But, you just couldn’t focus on anything other than the enveloping dark.

But, suddenly, you heard the door downstairs open.

Your heart rushed, not knowing who it was. It could be anyone and you would be completely defenseless.

“Y/N?” You heard a shout from downstairs.

It was Tom, and just like that your mind relaxed for just a fraction of a second, but you couldn’t find yourself to call out back to him. A few moments later, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs and then the door to your room opened.

Tom looked around, his face illuminated by the candle from your kitchen.

“Y/N?” He asked, softer this time.

You hiccuped a sob and Tom immediately looked down, finally noticing your shaking figure next to the door.

Fast, but with gentle movements he moved down next to you on the floor. He placed the candle on the floor and pulled you into his arms.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He comforted. “Shh… it’s alright.”

Your head naturally tucked into his chest as you continued to breathe way faster than normal. He ever so gently wrapped his arms underneath you and pulled you up and led you to the bed. He let go of you for just a moment, causing you to whine, so he could grab the candle and place it on the nightstand. Then, he scooted onto the bed next to you and held you in his arms.

“Relax, love. Just breathe,” He whispered.

One of his hands ran through your hair while the other rubbed your back. You kept your eyes shut and pushed against his chest so that you could pretend it wasn’t really dark. He was a little damp and smelled like the rain mixed with his cologne. The smell and his soft words helped calmed you down quickly.

“I’m right here, I promise.” He said into your ear while pulling the comforter on top of the two of you.

It wasn’t long until your breaths slowed and your tears stopped spilling from your cheeks, but your eyes were still hiding in Tom’s chest. He let you calm down, letting you take your time.

After it was silent for a few minutes, Tom braved a question.

“What are you scared of, darling?” He asked, probably not knowing if the fear stemmed from the storm, the dark, or both.

You didn’t reply right away, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed and shaky.

“It’s… it’s so dark.” You choked out, crying once again.

Tom shushed you gently. “It’s alright. Hey, I left my phone over by the door. I’ll go grab it and turn the flashlight on.”

He stood up slowly and walked over the door. He bent down and grabbed his phone, where he must’ve placed it while comforting you. He immediately turned the flashlight up to full brightness, lighting up the room.

You peeked your eyes open, still not comfortable with the level of darkness, but feeling much better having the extra light of the flashlight and candle. He placed the phone on the bed with the flashlight facing up and pulled you back into him.

“The power will come back on soon, love.”

With that, you settled into his arms, letting him squeeze you protectively. You were still on edge and spooked, but now that Tom was here, it was much better.

Fifteen minutes later, a short click sounded throughout the house and the power turned back on, springing your lamp to life. You let out a sigh of relief as you and Tom shifted in the bed. The room filled with light and Tom reached over to turn the flashlight on his phone off.

You shifted back on the bed and turned to face him, holding his hands. He smiled at you comfortingly.

“See, I told you the power would come back on.”

You smiled at him, but your face contorted showing embarrassment and blushing red.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows. “Why? Because you were scared?”

You shrugged. “And for freaking out.”

Tom sighed and chuckled a little, “You have nothing to be sorry for, darling. Everyone is scared of something. I’m just happy I got home when I did. I didn’t know you were afraid of the dark.”

You nodded and looked down, “Yeah. I know it’s dumb, but I’ve always been.”

He played with your hand for a second and then tilted your face up to his with his other one.

“It’s not dumb, okay? But, we will definitely buy some flashlights next time we go to the store.” He reassured with a grin.

You smiled back, heart melting out of love for your boyfriend.

“I love you,” You stated simply.

His grin somehow grew brighter. “I love you too. Now, let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

You nodded and snuggled into him. He asked to turn off the lights, which you were fine with now, and he wrapped his arms around you. You fell asleep with the smell of the rain, his cologne, and the burning scented candle wafting through the air. You felt safe in Tom’s arms, knowing that he’d always be there to protect you.

-

Taglist: sorry if it wouldn’t let me tag you xx

@thingsarebetterindreams @cinnamon-roll-parker @beautiful-holland @holland-haven @tommyparkerr @peachyhollands @cherryflame14 @laucontrerasv @youreafangirl-harry @mismatchingsocks @elliesnowbell-deactivated201808 @iron-spiderr @isabellamozzarellla @idkbroihavenolife @petertomparkerholland @tomsspideysenses @aestheticquackson @Loving-smol-brits @lovelyh0lland @my-current-obsessions-hehe @hyper-hipster @brokenuntilmay3rd2019 @starlightfound @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy @supernatural-trash-lover @hbmoore1986 @playinonaloop @reengard @scallopsandcrabs @ppaarker @slytherinholland @cherryhollands @dangerousluv1 @fairydustparker @bookgirlunicorn @myawkwardkindofgaylife @lucille-lovely @spideyyypeter @payyyy @bluparis @thingsarebetterindreams @Thingsafebetterindreams @greenarrowhead @vogeu-laurita @underoospeter @elentiya02 @euphoricmads @julianah29 @my-uncles-left-eyebrow

[uglypastels]

The Origin - Peter Parker  (1/2)

(a/n) This story if for @starksparker 10k writing challenge (congratulations and wow, you’re awesome!! <3) The prompt I chose was: #80 - “I like that color on you”.  I hope it’s as much of a joy to read as it was to write. 

I also want to give a big (like galaxy sized) shoutout to @andwhatdostarsdobest for helping/editing the shit out of this. Thank you for making this story readable. 

word count: 9927 

warning: cursing, sick Peter (so maybe angsty idk), fluff, some horrible jokes and references. 

The story ended up becoming much longer than I had anticipated. So stay tuned for part 2!!

“When do you think they will finally let us go home?” Peter heard the whispers behind him. He looked at his watch. It was around 2 o’clock. There was still two hours to go until the end of the trip. He had the urge to answer the question but knew it wasn’t directed toward him.

The girls behind him kept giggling, he wished they would shut up so he could hear the lab guide better.

“Hey, shut it.” Another voice spoke up from the crowd.  Peter, was, for a moment, convinced it was his voice but no, it couldn’t be, it was too high,  And it came from behind him. His eyes, which had been glued to the guide for most of the lecture, wandered off to the side where they landed on (Y/N). She was clad in her usual oversized sweater, fading into the crowd of bored teenagers. Her backpack casually hanging off one shoulder. The girls she had been talking to rolled their eyes and started laughing as they walked away to the side of the group. (Y/N) fidgeted with the sleeves of her sweater, pulling them down over her hands. She had been staring hard at the ground, but when she lifted her head, her gaze pierced right through Peter. It’s a weird sensation sensing someone watching you, Peter was sure that’s why she hadn’t looked him in the eyes. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable he mustered a half-smile before returning his gaze to the guide.

They had been sharing lessons ever since their enrollment at  Midtown High. Except for the conventional ask for a pen, they had never really talked much. In freshman year they did a project together for biology class, but in the age of Google Drive and shared documents, they barely needed to talk.

Still, Peter couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the girl. She had this something about her that made Peter want to get to know her. That something had always been there, nagging at the back of his mind whenever he saw her but each time his nerves got the better of him.  Peter mentally cursed himself for his anxiety

“Here at Oscorp Lab, we have spent many years trying to find out as much as we can about Vita Radiation,” the guide said,  moving to the side where a big window of, what Peter assumed to be, thick bulletproof glass,  separated them from a group of scientists in radiation suits.

“Our highest priority in this research has always been to try and recreate Erskine’s infamous Project Rebirth, of which you may have heard of in your history class-”

“-wasn’t that done in secret and illegally?” Michelle’s voice broke out from the back of the group. Their guide stared blankly at the group of teenagers before breaking out into an exasperated smile, disregarding Michelle’s accusation and continuing his story.. Peter snorted at the situation.

________________________________________

Half an hour later than planned, the group was finally standing on the steps leading to and away from the labs. Peter sat down on one of the higher steps, further away from the rest of the class. It would still be another minute or five before the bus would get there. He sighed, looking down at his fellow students... most of whom were on their phones. Joining them, Peter pulled his phone from his pocket and started scrolling mindlessly through his apps. There weren’t any notifications for him to check, so what else could he do?

A high pitched scream penetrated the silence, capturing his attention. A  few laughs followed. Peter’s gaze shifted from the screen in front of him. People were laughing even harder now, as the yelps and little screams continued. He scrambled up to get a better look. (Y/N) was stood a few steps below, moving vigorously, her arms flapping wildly around her as if she was trying to shake something off... It looked like she needed help.

Peter rushed down the stairs to help her, arriving just in time to catch her. Her chaotic movements had caused her to lose her balance and teeter dangerously close to the edge of the step... He reached out pulling her back before any harm was done.  Peter was a humble guy but he couldn’t help but expect some kind of thank you, even if it was only small. Instead, she whimpered, “gerroff! Gerroff!” He didn’t understand what she was saying until he noticed something in her hair. It was small, but the color contrasted deeply with her hair.

“Wait! Stand still,” he instructed. (Y/N) stopped moving. Her lip was quivering slightly, her hands shaking. Peter reached out to the strand of hair in which the small spider was hanging. He hated spiders, but that only made him understand (Y/N)’s reaction even more and he was determined to help her out.

Fighting back his own fears, he tried to keep his hand steady as possible. The creature scuttled up and down, causing (Y/N) to close her eyes and stiffen up. She bit down hard on her lip, attempting to hold in her brewing screams, and Peter was pretty sure she was holding her breath too.

Peter tried getting the spider one more time. He stepped a little closer and cupped the eight-legged abomination in his hands. When he stepped away, he saw all the muscles in her body relax.

“Thank you,” the words came out a mere whisper. They were looking at each other for a few seconds until Peter remembered that he could talk.

“Yeah, no problem” he breathed out a smile, “I- ouch! Oh shit!” A pain erupted from his hand and shot through his whole body. (Y/N)’s relief had made him completely forget about the spider encased in his palm. The spider was sick of being stuck in his grip too, apparently, because when he opened up his hands he saw the arachnoid poised in the middle... A red circle surrounding it. He looked at it in shock. The bastard had actually bitten him?! Was he going to die? Every possible outcome rushed through his mind, none of them resulting in a happy ending. How would he tell Aunt May? She would be so mad if he died on a school field trip. Nausea coursed through him and his head felt light. He couldn’t tell if it was from the bite or the prospect of his furious aunt. The spider twitched on his palm, making his skin itch. Without thinking, he shook his hand. The spider fell off and disappeared from view. Peter searched, but couldn’t see it anywhere. That’s what he always hated the most about spiders, the way they could roughly vanish into thin air. He felt very uneasy knowing it could be anywhere.

“Are you okay?” The soft voice brought him back. His eyes meeting (Y/N)’s.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he paused thinking of the right words, not wanting to stir panic within her, “are you okay? you almost fell and you know...”

“Yes, I’m good. Thank you, again,” she blushed. Peter thought she looked really cute. The way her cheeks had this soft pink glow against hair fair skin. “But didn’t it bite you?” She raised her eyebrow. Peter hoped she hadn’t seen that. He pulled down the sleeve of his sweater so it would cover his hand. “Nah, I’m fine.”

“So, what was that ouch all about.” There was an amused expression on her face. Peter wanted to say something, but no words came out. After a while, he stammered out, “cramp.”

“Cramp?” she scoffed, clearly not believing any of it. Peter nodded to try and assure her this was the case. The sound of screeching wheels below interrupted the awkward conversation. The two of them looked down at the bottom of the steps where the giant yellow school bus had just rolled to a stop. Peter wanted to get away from the confrontation so he started making his way downstairs, walking fast, faces passed. Peter hummed the piano melody when somebody called out his name, in some way or another…

“Hey, Penis Parker!” Flash yelled out from above him. Peter stopped and turned around. “Do you want your stuff?” Flash was standing next to his backpack.

“Oh, yeah, thanks, Flash.” He was walking up to meet him, but Flash had other plans.

He picked up Peter’s bag and practically yeeted it down at his owner. There was a $200 graphic calculator in it and aunt May would most likely kill him if he broke it. Fearing Aunt May’s wrath, Peter jumped up trying to catch it. His usually horrible reflexes gone as he grabbed it just in time. Another shot of pain rushed through him. Why did he have to catch it with that hand? He almost dropped the backpack as his whole arm went numb from pain.

“Oh right, totally fine,” he heard (Y/N) mumble from the bottom of the stairs. She rolled her eyes and headed off for the bus. Feeling defeated and a bit humiliated, Peter stayed behind, frozen on the steps. There was this feeling at the bottom of his stomach. This mix of nervous nausea and general sickness feeling his guts.

Peter could feel the ground underneath him shake as the rest of his classmates walked to the bus as well. Ned walked up to him, “at least you tried.” Ned gave him a little pat on the shoulder and more uncomfortable sensations littered throughout his body. They felt like ten thousand knives stabbing him in the shoulder, traveling all the way to his fingertips. He had to hold in a groan and the few tears collecting in his eyes.

Ned turned around to look at Peter when he realized his best friend wasn’t walking behind him. “Pete, let’s go.”

“Yeah, okay.” But Peter didn’t move. Ned had to get up the stairs again and drag Peter down himself.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Ned said as he grabbed him by the arm. More pain flushed through Peter. Through slightly gritted teeth, he managed to say: “Yeah, I know.”

They made their way over to the bus, the last ones to get inside. Ned walked ahead of Peter, finding his way to their usual seats. Peter would normally join him, but his legs were buckling beneath him. He fell into the first seat he reached and sank against the window. The cold glass cooled down his now boiling face. It also sent chills down his spine. He was sure his body temperature would break a thermometer, and the pain was spreading from his arm to his chest and right through to his feet. Maybe he was really dying. All those jokes he made were coming to bite him in the ass. He definitely didn’t feel so smarmy now. Everything hurt so much.

His painful thoughts had to be interrupted when his whole body started to shake. Oh, he was having a seizure? Why not. Only he wasn’t, because he heard a voice: “Peter, Peter!” Two hands gripped his shoulders. Peter groaned, pain bursting into him again, as he opened his eyes. When did he even close them?

“What?” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His arm ached with every small movement. He could feel someone looking at him.

“You have to get up unless you want to stay on the bus for the whole night.” It was Ned. Chuckling. Peter didn’t understand, but then he looked out the window and saw that the bus was standing in front of the school. How? When? Did he fall asleep? Did he already die and this was heaven… no, this was school - he was in hell!

Very slowly, he managed to pull himself up, the pain not subsiding for even a moment. Cold sweat pooled at his forehead and begun to trail down it in small, uneven lines.  The feeling was so intense as his entire body began to shiver. One of his knees was shaking so bad that he almost fell over. If it wasn’t for Ned catching him, he would have hit his face in the seat of the bus bench.  

“Are you okay?” Ned asked, still holding on to him. Peter pulled himself together. Clearing his dry throat, he managed to make out: “Yeah, yeah, just a bit sick.”

He picked his backpack up from the seat next to him. Stupidly using that hand again. Ned was still looking at him, so Peter bit his lip and pushed through it. He pulled the backpack over his shoulder, it still hurt but not so intensely as his hand. Ned gave his friend a concerned look. Peter just smiled through his pain. Yes, just smile while you feel like you’re being skinned alive. Just like any other day. Except it’s much worse. So, so much worse.

His internal monologue almost blocked out Ned’s voice. Peter could see his lips move and he knew there were words coming out of them, but everything just sounded like an air horn. His head hurt. Not getting any answer, Ned walked away, glancing back at Peter a few times before leaving the bus. Peter was now the only one left in the vehicle. Even the driver had gotten out, probably ready to smoke a cigarette after a full day driving around teenagers.

Step by step, he made his way outside, clinging onto anything he could to steady himself. Immediately, he was blasted by the sun, and a blistering feeling covered his corneas. Since when was it so bright in New York? He almost tripped, forgetting the last step. Thankfully, there was nobody around him to bear witness to that.  Nobody to see him walk clumsily to the subway station, reminiscent of a Walker from the Walking Dead. Granted, he received a few strange looks from the people on the subway, but Peter had the feeling they had seen stranger things… oh, at least now he knew how Will Byers felt all through season 2. Was the spider possibly from the Upside Down? Was Oscorp a real-life Hawkins Lab? Were they also trying to make a passageway to another dimension? It all made sense...all those weird alien things attacking New York for the past few years… they were just Demogorgons and whatnot.

Peter almost missed his stop. He was falling asleep again. The conspiracy theory about his favorite Netflix show becoming a bit too much for his last two working brain cells, but he knew he had to get back home. If he didn’t, things might end up getting much worse. The doors of the subway slid open and he urged himself forward, head rush hitting as soon as he moved. But by some miracle, he managed to weave past the other commuters and stumble onto the platform... Next followed a walk of thirty minutes which usually took him about ten. Most of the delay was caused by his tempo, his legs hurt too much to keep up his normal speed, but there were a few occasions in which Peter just simply took a wrong turn and almost ended up on the other side of the city. On a few occasions, he actually walked into a dark alley on purpose, his eyes couldn’t take the firing sunbeams anymore. These were all signs, he knew it - death was upon him.

Finally, at his own door. He swallowed, hard, trying to muster the strength to search for his keys. None came. Instead, he weakly knocked on the door, waiting for May to open it. His face felt like a juxtaposition, hot and cold all at once. His knees were now shaking at the weight of the rest of his body and his arms hung heavy by his side. The only thing that was missing was Aunt May’s spaghetti. Yes, this is definitely the time to make horrible jokes. While you are dying in the corridor. If he had the power, he would have kicked himself. Thankfully, the door swung open.

Aunt May appeared in front of him. The smell of her walnut meatloaf perforated the apartment and now the corridor, filling Peter’s nostrils and he was this close to throwing up. It wasn’t even because of the meatloaf, even if it was always a catastrophe, it was more the change for his senses that caused it. The difference in smells made his head spin and his stomach turn.

Aunt May had not been paying attention to the state of her nephew. Peter assumed she was rummaging in the key bowl next to the door. He could hear the tingling of metal in porcelain. The high-pitched noises left a ringing sound in his ears.

“Did you lose your key again? I swear, Pete-” May’s last words faded at the sight of him once she finally looked in his direction. Peter knew he must look horrible. The right word was probably “dead”. He looked dead. At least that is how he felt.

“What’s wrong with you?” She pulled him inside as Peter tumbled into the apartment, his legs giving up on him. If it wasn’t for May, he would have fallen to the ground, face first. She grumbled as she tried to keep him up and steady. Securing her arms around his waist, she managed to direct Peter to the couch, which he fell onto immediately. His eyes closed the moment his head touched the pillow. He couldn’t wait for sleep to properly hit him now.

He could feel a blanket being wrapped around him and a cool hand touching his forehead. It felt amazing. For the last few minutes, he had been feeling like he was stuck in a sauna. He could hear May’s voice in the distance, even though she was right next to him. “Oh Pete, you’re burning up,” May’s concerned voice echoed in his head. He just groaned in agreement. Unconsciously he pulled the sleeve even more over his bitten hand, attempting to hide it from May. He felt the weight of the couch change, telling him that his aunt was now sitting on the other side. There probably wasn’t much space left for her, as he could feel the opposite arm with his feet. May tried to pull his legs up to place them gently on her lap, not wanting to cause Peter anymore discomfort. Except, when his limbs moved, more pain shot through him and Peter practically yelled out in agony. May dropped them in surprise, causing another surge to race through Peter.

“Peter?” there was no real question asked, so he didn’t respond. His eyelids were so heavy now that he couldn’t even blink them open. He didn’t know when, but at some point, he finally fell asleep.

________________________________________

When he woke up, Peter couldn’t move. His barely existent muscles were fiery from the intense pain. Breathing had to be kept to a minimum because heaving his chest hurt too much. His head was throbbing. He could practically feel his brain pulsing, each and every beat adding to his miserable state. His clothes felt drenched from the cold sweat.

There was a knock on the door. Without thinking, Peter answered weakly with a, “come in.” But wasn’t he in the living room? Why would he answer that? He opened his eyes. Above him was not the grey ceiling under which he fell asleep. Instead, he saw the bottom of his bunk bed. How did he get to his own room?

The door of his room opened. Peter closed his eyes again, the glare from the light on the bedside table was too bright for his eyes. It was too painful. Footsteps approached him, they were heavy, definitely not Aunt May’s. The voice that accompanied the steps, verified Peter’s speculations.

“Hey, buddy.” Uncle Ben bowed down to sit next to him on the bed. The switch of the weight in the mattress made Peter shift a bit, causing a wave of pain to run through his ribs. It wasn’t as bad as before, but a small cry still left his lips. He made another attempt at opening his eyes. The light still agitated him, but he worked through it. Soon enough, he saw the broad shape of his uncle sharply in front of him. His sympathetic smile poked from underneath his mustache. He was holding a plate in one hand. Peter could smell burnt toast. Was he having a stroke?!

“Once you feel like you can get up, eat some breakfast, okay? I brought you some toast.” Oh, that explained it. But one thing was still bugging Peter. “Breakfast?” he quizzed his uncle. He hadn’t even eaten dinner yet. Ben chuckled at his confusion. As always, his laugh was casual but mocking at the same time.

“You’ve been knocked out cold for a good fifteen hours, Pete. May called the doctors at least five times.” Peter rose so quickly he felt like he got whiplash. His vision spun for a moment. He was starting to feel sick in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t have been sleeping that long. What was the last time he even slept more than six hours? He couldn’t remember.

“Fif-fifteen hours?” he mumbled as he held his head, trying to keep it steady. Everything was still spinning in front of his eyes hazily.

“Yeah, I brought you to bed after the first few. Thought it might be a bit more comfortable,” he smiled.  Small wrinkles spreading next to his eyes. Showing that even with his great looks, age would catch up with everyone eventually.

Uncle Ben put down the plate near Peter’s legs and got up. He reached out for the pillow lying on the upper bed of the two. After fluffing it for a while he put it behind Peter’s back, who leaned against it immediately.

“Thanks.” Peter sighed satisfied. The spinning in his head finally stopped.

“Well, call us if you need something. Get some rest, and eat if you can.” He leaned down to pat Peter’s knee. A high pitched squeal left his mouth at every touch. It hurt so much.

“Sorry.” His uncle gave him one last, apologetic, smile before walking to the door and closing it behind him, leaving Peter alone. Peter took a few deep breaths. Yes, his body felt like it was on fire and his clothes stuck to his sweaty skin, but on the bright side, at least he didn’t feel like he was about to faint from exhaustion. He was wide awake, in fact. He could finally think straight again.

The empty feeling in his stomach encouraged him to pick up the plate of toast. It was just plain toasted bread, but in his state, Peter knew that it was the safest option. He was hungry and he would like to actually keep the food he ate in him and not puke it out a moment later. He went to grab the plate but froze when he saw his hand. He almost threw up right there.

The red circle that had formed soon after the bite, was now dark purple, almost black. It had also spread over most of his hand drawing all the way back to his wrist - which had swollen tremendously. On the back of his hand, his blue veins taut against his skin and he could swear he could see the blood pumping around them.

But even with the horrible look of it, the hand didn’t hurt anymore. If he closed his eyes, it was almost as if nothing ever happened… almost. But really the pain had simply moved to every other part of his body and squared itself. And then there was the fever and vertigo. What did that spider do to him?

He didn’t want to think about it. It was best not to think about it. Too much thinking about it couldn’t help him anyway. Worst case scenario, he dies. Oh, well. It would happen sooner or later. Of course, later was always much preferred, but… oh, who was he kidding? Peter didn’t want to die. Not like this. Not a vi…

“Peter?” Aunt May’s sleek, brunette hair appeared in the doorway. Like a flash, Peter had buried his bruised and swollen hand deep under the covers. He could only imagine the reaction it would have on her. There was no need for that. Peter just hoped he was quick enough. Fortunately, she didn’t. Taking one step forward she wrinkled her nose, “ugh, Pete, open the window for once, would you.”

“Sorry.” With his free hand, he took one piece of toast off the plate.

May walked to the window and drew the curtains. The sun shone into the room, searing Peter’s eyes. It was a big change from the weak light coming from the small lamp on his nightstand.,  The light from outside was much too harsh, his eyes were still very sensitive. It was as if his eyes couldn’t take up all the light particles anymore. He whined as he hid his eyes away from the brightness, and then again as he moved a tad too quickly. His muscles still ached as much as they had when he fell asleep on the couch. When he opened his eyes again to look at Aunt May, the room got even brighter, as if someone had dialed up the brightness to over a 100%.

He saw her open the window and that is when everything really went berserk: A police car speeded by through the street nearby and Peter thought his head would explode at the noise. He had never heard anything louder in his life… and he had gone to a Metallica concert with Uncle Ben last fall. His ears were still ringing when May walked up from the window.

“Eat up. I’m gonna bring you some medicine and I want to check your temperature,” she eyed him up and down, “and put on some fresh pajamas.” Her eyes had that friendly sternness in them for which she was known.

“Yes, ma'am.” Peter smiled as he took another bite of his toast, the dry food hard to swallow but at least he wasn’t throwing it up. “Could you also bring some water?” He did his best to look as innocent as possible.

May gave him one last look before walking off to get the medicine and a thermometer.  Peter ate one whole piece of toast before struggling to his feet, fighting through the pain in his legs and arms the entire time. His eyes remained closed until he was upright, taking a few small breaths first. He made his way to his closet to get a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Every step hurt, his joints grinding, it took everything in him not to scream. The short walk had already exhausted him and he still had to pick some clothes and then put them on! Not to mention, he also had to take off the gross clothes he was already wearing. Tentatively, he shimmered out of the sweater that was stuck to his chest. Just like predicted, he was glistening from the sweat that dripped down his body. He had a feeling that as much as he was perspiring, this was a fever he just couldn’t sweat out.

With his upper body bare, he could get a better look at the rest of his arm. The bruising around his hand had only reached his wrist so far. But the dark veins were already showable all up to his elbow. Thick and bulging. Was this poison running through his veins? Would it kill him the moment it would reach his heart?

Peter glanced at the shirt he picked. It was a white short sleeve. With this one, it would be impossible to hide his arm. He put it on and over that a red hoodie that was comfortably laying in reach on a chair next to him. Perfect to cover up whatever was happening to him. He wasn’t doing this because he didn’t want his aunt and uncle to find out… well, that too, but mainly, he just didn’t want to look at it himself. It looked disgusting.

So he put on the sweater and took his jeans off, exchanging them for some blue sweatpants. The door opened once more, didn’t people in this house know how to knock? Peter only had one pant leg on so he jumped around a bit startled, almost toppling over. It would have been funny if he wasn’t in so much pain. He could swear he could hear his heartbeat in his head. Was that normal? Could he usually feel that? Surely not. Was he losing brain fluid? Was he literally drying out? It would make sense from the way he was feeling.

“Hi there,” Peter said awkwardly while still jumping around on one leg. Each time hurt more than the other. The dizziness was also coming back.

May had stood in the doorway waiting for him to finish putting on his trousers. The little nurse cap on top of her head. After all this time, Peter still couldn’t believe she kept that ridiculous thing. It started out as a little joke. His aunt would wear it when Peter was little and feeling a bit under the weather. Over the years it had just stuck around and become their thing. Even Uncle Ben would put it on sometimes. But mostly when it was Aunt May who was sick.

“Alright. Here.” She handed him a glass of water and five different kinds of pills. Peter had no idea if the medicine would actually work. He didn’t know if something against radioactive spiders could be found in your average drugstore.  Radioactive, where did that come from? He had no idea, but it all made sense now. It did happen in front of the Oscorp lab. A company so toxic and poisonous from all the chemicals that Peter was surprised he hadn’t grown another set of eyes or something from just standing in front of the building.

He took the pills from May and was about to take the first one but she stopped him abruptly, “wait!” Peter didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to take the pill or not? His hand was suspended in mid-air, mouth hanging wide open, Peter looked to his aunt. His arm starting to shake from the position it was suspended in, so he let it fall to his side. His eyes still locked with Aunt May’s.

“Let me first check your temperature.” She shoved the thermometer into his open mouth without hesitation. Peter almost choking on the metal end. He and May stood in silence looking at each other until the beeping sounded from the little device and Peter opened his mouth to pull it out. He handed it over, afraid to look himself. He already knew what to expect. He had been burning up the whole day. That could not lead to a normal body temperature.

And he was correct because when May  looked at the result, she gasped: “104 degrees!” Her hand shot to Peter’s forehead. Standing for so long was draining all his energy. When her hand reached face, he had to hold on to a bookshelf to stop from falling over backward.

Her eyebrows furrowed she let go of him. “Okay, that’s it. You’re getting in bed! Now!” Her arm was straight, Pointing in the direction of the heap of blankets. Peter followed her demand before she could do anything about it herself. If she had pushed just a little bit, he would be laying on the floor with a concussion. He was sure of that.

“You’ve been walking around without a jacket again, haven’t you?” she exclaimed once he was laying in bed again, tucking him in. Peter wanted to protest. To say that no, he has always had a jacket on. But what would be the point? He couldn’t exactly tell her that a spider bit him and that now its venom was flowing through his body. No, he could, but why would he give her, even more, to stress out about. Let’s keep it at one tragedy at a time.

May tucked him in so tight that he could barely breathe. He was lucky he had remembered to leave his arms free from the covers, or otherwise, he would have been stuck with the pills and glass of water underneath it. May stood up straight, looking rather proud of her job, but more than a hint of concern could still be seen in her expression. Peter expected her to leave now, but she just stood watching him. Like she was expecting something from him. Which she was, he remembered -

“Oh, right.” He put one of the pills in his mouth,  swallowing it down with some water. He did the same thing with the other four. The last one he had a particularly hard time with. It was disgusting! Peter gagged when the small capsule got stuck in his throat. May had to help him not choke. Once she was sure Peter was safe and could breathe properly again, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Ok, call if you need anything. I took a day of work. Ben will be leaving in an hour or so… uhm, your phone is on the charger. But I don’t want you staring at a screen the whole day so, read a book or something.” The stern look came back on her face.

“You got it.” Peter handed back the glass. He watched as she left his room, leaving the door slightly ajar so she could see if he needed her. He sighed, using his last bit of energy. Now that he was a bit relaxed, he felt how his legs were shaking from those five minutes of standing. His head felt heavier again, so he lowered it onto his pillow. It was so soft that he soon was dozing off again.

________________________________________

Peter stirred in his sleep. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Each tick reminiscent to his own heartbeat. Steady, but too loud for his own ears. There was another noise that bothered him and in the end, also was what woke him up. Footsteps. They weren’t Ben’s or May’s. He knew those all too well from all the nights in which he had to look out for them walking in on him while he was watching youtube or Netflix in the middle of the night. No, this was someone else… And they were walking towards his door. How did he know that? He could feel his heart beating in his throat now. The steps were so clear in his mind that he could envision the person nearing him. Getting closer and closer.

He was ready for a knock on his door any moment now, but nothing came. Instead, he heard the doorbell. Then May’s footsteps making their way to answer. Those he identified easily. She unlocked the door and Peter could hear her talking loud and clear: “Hello, there.” He could actually hear the smile that he knew was consuming her face.

“Hi,” it was a girl, a girl he knew, “I’m (Y/N). I go to school with Peter.” Her voice sounded shy. The same way when she was taken aback by a teacher asking her questions in class.

From the few people who cared about his existence at school, she was probably the last person who Peter would expect to visit him. His heart skipped a beat. Because - (Y/N)!? What was she doing here? How did she even know where he lived? And wasn’t it a school day? Or did he sleep through the whole day already?  The questions made his head hurt again, so Peter stopped thinking. Instead, he tried to concentrate on listening to the conversation. It hurt his head but happened much easier than he thought. It seemed impossible to him that he could not only hear, but also understand what they were saying from the distance which separated him, May and (Y?N).

Their conversation continued with a gasping laugh coming from May: “Ah, (Y/N). I’m Peter’s aunt, May. Nice to meet you.” (Y/N)’s voice responded almost immediately, now sounding more confident. “Likewise.” He had the feeling that the two were now shaking hands. Peter heard a creaking sound, presumably the front door opening wider. Then May spoke again, “come in. Come in. Does Peter know you’re-”

“Oh no.” (Y/N) interrupted, with a small laugh, “Ned was supposed to bring him his homework, but something popped up for the decathlon, so…” her words faded in the end, probably not having prepared a full answer. May, however, wasn’t bothered.

“Right, right. Well, come on in. I think he is sleeping.” This was followed by a small giggle. It was hard for Peter to identify who it was coming from. May? (Y/N)? Maybe both of them were laughing?

Peter rolled his eyes. If he had the strength, he would have run over to them and interrupted this embarrassing moment. It was so unfair. Wasn’t he supposed to at least be in the room if his aunt was embarrassing him in front of his crush?

After a small silence that followed the giggles, May spoke again: “I’ll go check up on him.” Footsteps approached his door for real this time. May sauntered in, her eyes sparkling even more than usual. Peter sat up as straight as his aching body would let him. His jaw locked in frustration...or was it from the pain?

His aunt was beaming gleefully, closing the door softly behind her so she could talk to her nephew in private.

“May, what are you doing?” he asked, internally freaking out and the smug expression of his aunt was not making anything better for him.

“Nothing,” May batted a hand in his direction, although he was sure he saw the corner of her mouth turning up, “there’s a girl-” She pointed back at the door with her thumb.

“I know,” he blurted out. May was taken aback but kept going. The smile not even fading from the corners of her mouth as she talked.

“She’s cute,” she teased. Peter wished that his illness would hurry up and kill him already. Mentally, this was so much worse than any pain he had endured so far.

“I know,” he repeated through gritted teeth this time, “and that’s why I don’t want her to see me like this.” He pointed at his face, which felt hot and sweaty and was probably paler than paper. May rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Biting her lip, like she always did when she was joking and said: “You look adorable, I’m sure she won’t mind. I’m letting her in.” Before Peter could object she was bouncing off towards the front door where (Y/N) stood to wait. The footsteps on the hardwood floor were clear as (Y/N) made her way through the apartment to his room. Peter felt beads of sweat drip down his forehead. He didn’t know if it was the fever or the nerves causing it. He never had a girl standing in his room before. And this was not the way he had pictured he would look the first time.

There was a gentle knock knock on the door. Peter answered with a croaking: “Come in.” and the door opened. Her hair fell into view before the rest of her. She poked her head inside. Probably a bit insecure about walking into his room for the first time, not sure what to expect.

“Hey there,” her voice its usual softness. Peter could barely make out her small wave as, as usual, her hand was completely covered by her oversized sweater. Peter waved back awkwardly. She drifted around his room, observing all his little trinkets. He followed her with his eyes, hoping he didn’t leave anything humiliating lying around. From what he could see, he seemed to be fine.  Although that reassurance vanished when he took another look at her. She seemed to have lingered on one thing in his room for an extended period of time, “is that a Lego Millenium Falcon?” She pointed at the object. Peter followed her finger. He looked at the grey sculpture standing in the corner of the room, leaning against a stand that Peter build after the original had broken when he and Ned were building it.

“Uh yeah,” Peter blushed. He couldn’t gauge from her level tone whether she was impressed or about to mock him. He hoped the former.  Luckily, he wasn’t wondering for long, as she walked up to it and smiled, “how long did it take you to build it?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck as he watched her examine the small version of the iconic spaceship. “I don’t know. A few weeks, maybe. Ned and I did it together.” She glanced at him from where she was standing, but her eyes went back to the Lego not even two seconds after. Whit a smile she commented: “Aw, that’s so cool. I have the Star Destroyer set at home, been trying to build it with my brother.” She looked at the lego set in fascination.

As she was not paying much attention to him, Peter didn’t know what to do. Should he lay down or stay seated? Should he start a proper conversation? He had no idea. This was the first time he had ever been properly alone with her. Trying to think of something as a reply, he dried his clammy hands on the duvet.

“Oh, cool.” Probably the un-coolest thing he could respond with, but he did anyway. (Y/N) chortled at his words, attention still on the Falcon. When she had finished marveling at it, she came over and sat down on the edge of his bed.  

There was a sheepish smile on her face.“How are you feeling?” she asked, “Ned told me you were sick. Was it the spider?” The last part came out as a whisper, which Peter appreciated as she never closed the bedroom door behind her.

Peter shook his head.“No, just a fever. Nothing bad,” he assured her. She looked skeptical, not buying into his flimsy story, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t believe it himself, so why would she. But she didn’t question him any further. Instead, she changed the subject completely. “Well, I brought you your homework. Ned couldn’t make it.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him.

“You do?” Oh, he messed up. How could he have possibly known why she was here without having listened in on the conversation she had with Aunt May? He couldn’t tell her that. He didn’t want her to think he was weird. “Yeah. Ned, uh, h-he texted me,” he stuttered out in the end.

“Weird. I didn’t tell him that I was coming to see you.” she bend down to look through her backpack, which she had put down next to her on the floor before. She had said this very emotionlessly. Peter started to worry again. He thought he had this under control, but oh boy, was he far from that.

“I meant, that he texted me that he couldn’t come himself,” he tried again. Her expression softened a bit with the new information, even laughing a bit. She sat up straight. Seeing the worry in Peter she laughed even more.

“Wow, chill out, Parker. Obviously, I did tell him,” her laughter filling up the room, melodic sounds that seemed to match Peter’s heartbeat perfectly. “Otherwise, how would I have gotten your address? Well, anyway,” she put her backpack on top of her lap and unzipped it, “here’s your homework.” She pulled out a big pile of papers and a small box of what seemed to be cookies, “and here are some chocolate chip cookies my mom baked last night. I picked them up on my way from school to your place. I don’t know if you want them, or even like them, but yeah...” She looked a bit unsure at the clear tapestry before handing it over to him.

“Thanks.” He took the box and stack of homework from her,  placing them down on the bed aside from her. He wanted to get rid of them quickly before his arms gave out but he didn’t want (Y/N) to know that. He looked down at his hands. The fingers of his left hand were trembling a bit. He glanced back at her, only to see her staring blankly at the open zipper of her bag.

“So…” he wanted to start a conversation, desperately trying to cling on to any good starters. At the sound of his voice, she eagerly looked up from her backpack. “Ho-how are you?” he asked, slightly cringing at his own words.

“I’m good,” she smiled sheepishly, “you?” She paused, cursing herself,  “that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“No. It’s- I’m fine. Just a bit tired, I guess,” Peter rambled. As if the bed was suddenly burning her, she shot up. Mumbling, “right, sorry. I should let you rest.” She was walking away. Peter’s eyes were glued on her. Cursing himself with every move she made away from him.

Her hand wrapped around the door handle, about to leave. Peter wanted to stop her. He didn’t want to be alone and those short minutes with her had almost completely distracted him from the imminent death he was sure was coming. But he couldn’t possibly ask her to stay. He would sound weird and pathetic. They weren’t actually friends, as much as Peter yearned for it. He opened his mouth regardless, “no, wait. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not that tired.” His incoherent babbling was making (Y/N) smile, every time he tripped over a word her smile grew bigger. 

“It’s okay, Peter. I have to get going anyway. I hope you get better soon.”

“I hope so too,” he laughed awkwardly. Before she left she had a few last words for Peter. She turned around. With a smirk, she said, “I like that color on you.” Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink and Peter had the feeling his cheeks looked the same. Although, his face had been boiling all day, so who knows.

“What?” he asked with a small laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a compliment from a girl - that wasn’t his aunt. It had also come so suddenly that he wasn’t sure if she had actually said or if it was just a figment of his imagination, resulting from him being so sick. He just looked at her startled.

“The blue and red,” she pointed at his clothes, “not a lot of people dare to color block anymore. It suits you.” Peter looked down at his hoodie. It was okay, he thought, nothing too special though.

“Oh, uhm, thanks, what was he supposed to say? He frantically searched his brain for something light-hearted, “you look good… too.” That was not it. Peter wanted to bury his head in his hands. Why did he have to be like this? Fortunately, she laughed it off and waved him goodbye,  saying, “bye, Peter, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, sure.” He said so faintly it was almost a whisper. He waved her off until she closed the door behind her. Falling back into his pillow, his spine cracked in a few spots. It didn’t hurt, but Peter had to admit, that did not sound healthy. But he had other things to worry about, so he pushed it to the side. For example: how was it possible that he could hear May and (Y/N) talk on the other side of the apartment? Was it a fluke? Peter needed to know, so he concentrated as hard as he could. More footsteps. (Y/N)’s footsteps. They were light and quick. Almost as if she barely touched the ground while walking. Then they stopped, but he didn’t hear the door open. Instead, there were voices. Just like Peter assumed, May said, “oh, are you leaving already?”

(Y/N) sighed. “Yes, I got homework to do, so I should really get going.” An airy laugh left (Y/N)’s lips. How can I possibly hear this, he thought - still very confused about the whole situation. He expected to hear (Y/N)’s gentle voice again, but it was May who spoke: “Well, thank you for stopping by. I’m sure Peter enjoyed the company.”  The two said their goodbyes and after a shuffle of footsteps, the door banged a couple of times, as May tried to close. Uncle Ben had planned on fixing the jammed door already for weeks. Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was glad that (Y/N) had left because he didn’t have to pretend like he was not in agony.. But, at the same time, he was sad. Because Aunt May was right. He did enjoy the company.

The next thing that happened was difficult to describe. It was… strange at the very least. The door to his room opened without a warning, but Peter was prepared, sensing it before it happened. It wasn’t that he knew it would be May, but he could feel it. In a very specific way that he just couldn’t explain to himself. It wasn’t that he heard her walk or that he could see her. He just felt the presence of someone nearing him. It made the hair on his arms stand up. Like all his normal senses blacked out and were exchanged for this other, new, sense, that he didn’t know he had. Did he actually have it before? It didn’t seem like it. The sensation was too bizarre. If he had ever experienced it before, he would have remembered.

May walked in, practically radiating from the opportunity she had to tease Peter.“Sooo,” May smirked as she rounded the door,. “who is she?”  Why could Peter feel his aunt coming to his room, but not expect this conversation? Even when he knew she wanted to talk to him.

“No- no one. Just- just a girl from school.” Peter scratched the back of his neck, not feeling like having this conversation right now. May crossed her arms as she leaned oh-so-casually against the door.

“Uh-huh, sure. So every girl at your school is cute?” her voice rising on the last word, eyebrows waggling wildly. Peter wished he hadn’t said that. He closed his eyes hoping to find an easy way out from this conversation.

The feeling from before came back. Even with his eyes closed, it was like he could see his aunt walk towards him. He could see her reach out for his hand. The bitten hand. Like a reflex, Peter pulled it away, still wanting to keep his secret. Opening his eyes again, he saw that May was, indeed, crouching at the side of his bed. Her mouth hanging open slightly and brow now furrowed. Luckily, she had misunderstood it as a moody-teenager-move. Her smug smile changed when she wrinkled her nose and she pressed her lips to one corner of her mouth.

“Pete, you don’t have to be ashamed. It’s natural,” she mused. “if you ever wanna talk about anything, come to me.” She laid a hand on his hair, before drawing it away when she felt how damp it was, ”or Ben, if you don’t feel comfortable. Just talk, okay?”

“Yeah.” It was a weak yeah, but it was enough to satisfy his aunt. He reciprocated May’s smile which only widened hers.

She sat down on her knees on the ground, her elbows on the edge of the bed, while she leaned her chin on her hands. With wiggling eyebrows she “So tell me, what’s she like?”

“Ugh, oh my god!” Peter rolled his eyes with a groan. He thought that would be the end of it, but apparently not...Was he really having this conversation with her right now? On his deathbed?

“Fine, fine. I thought I would at least try. She seemed nice though.” May backed off with the questions. Her eyes suddenly flashed to something laying next to him, “she brought you cookies?” May reached out for the little tapestry box. With a click, it opened and the smell of warm chocolate filled the room. Did she warm them up for him? Peter watched his aunt take one cookie out of the box.

“Oh, these are good!” she said, taking a bite, immediately followed by a small moan. “Did she make those for you?” She waved around with the remaining part of the cookie.

“No, no, her mom did. She just...brought them.”

“Right, well, I’ll leave them here then. But…” she took two more cookies, “I’m taking these with me.” Winking she got up and left Peter alone again. Not for very long though, as her head poked around the doorframe moments later, “how are you feeling? Steady enough to join us for dinner?” Peter just nodded.

“Yeah, I’m a bit better. Still a bit hot.” He rubbed his dry eyes. The rough skin on his fingertips didn’t make it much better. May had watched his every move curiously.

“Hmm, I’ll check your temperature again later, and give you some cold medicine.” She walked away, this time for good. Peter didn’t know what to do. From the clock on the wall he saw there would still be around an hour until dinner and from two whole days of sleeping, he was now wide awake. He hadn’t realized it when he had company, but his muscles weren’t causing him as much pain anymore. Now it was a mere myalgia. Like he used to have every time after Gym class when they were forced to do a PACER test. His body felt like it was starting to return to normal. Except for his face, but that was just the fever, he was sure of it. Well, pretty sure. Like 70% sure.

Peter’s stomach rumbled. The idea of dinner already sneaking its way into his brain. He hadn’t eaten properly since lunch of yesterday. The smell of the chocolate in the cookies filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. He couldn’t deny, they smelled delicious.

And they were delicious. Peter took one bite and the cookie melted in his mouth. The chocolate was hot, but not hot enough to actually burn his tongue. It was amazing, probably the best cookie he had ever tasted. Which was a bit suspicious. No cookie ever tasted that good after 24 hours. Good cookies were still good, but this was a bit too good. And they were warm. Not the microwave kind of warm, no, this was straight from the oven warm. Did she actually bake those for him?

Even though he was alone, he shook his head in denial. No, there was no way. When would she have gotten the time to do that? And why would she? They barely knew each other. It didn’t make sense. They weren’t on the ‘I’ll come over and bring you cookies when you’re sick’ level of friendship. Although, just minutes ago he didn’t think they were on ‘complimenting each other’ level, yet, that still happened.

“Hey, Peter?” Ben’s voice roamed the apartment. It shook Peter out of his paranoia. The small shock made him jump up in his position on the bed, throwing the box of cookies into the air. He moved around so quickly, that not even a crumb fell on the bed, including from the cookie he was holding.

“Nice catch.”  Ben’s voice was closer now. Peter turned around his uncle standing, smiling at him. “How are you, buddy?”

“Fine, better than before.” Peter put down the box between his legs. Ben glanced down at the plastic container, a bit confused about why his nephew had a full box of chocolate-chip cookies.

“Good. Your aunt is asking me to ask you if you are joining us at the table.”

“What are we eating?” Peter quizzed his uncle, who just sighed in response. Peter sighed back, understanding what that meant, “if I tell you that I’m too sick, are you gonna make me get out there and eat that?”

“No, but I don’t think you can escape the meatloaf today, bud.” ben huffed out a laugh defeatedly.

“Right, I’ll just come.” He threw the blankets off his legs and kicked them back to the end of his bed. The small cramp in his thighs and calves making it hard to walk, and his knees were still a bit weak. However, that could be the cause of laying in bed the whole day. Uncle Ben had already walked back to the kitchen to help his wife not burn down the apartment. Peter went out to join them. He passed the mirror and wanted to do just that, pass it, but something he saw from his peripheral vision made his double take. He took a step back so he was standing in front of his reflection. At least, it looked like him at first glance. With a  clearer inspection, the edges started to blur, minor details of his features morphing in front of him, or so it seemed. It looked like Peter if he had been amateurly drawn while sick. Everything was right, but just a bit wrong at the same time.

He was much paler. Hair stuck to his forehead. A vein in his neck was pulsing. It wasn’t dark though, like the ones in his arm. His arm. Peter pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie. To his surprise, all the veins were fading back to their normal color. His wrist was still a bit swollen, but the dark bruises had faded to a less threatening yellow hue with just a hint of red in the middle. The spot where the spider bit him. He stretched out his fingers to check if they hurt. Nothing. He pressed the middle of his palm with his ring and middle finger. Still nothing. The fingers didn’t hurt, but an intense pain erupted from the pressure point, through his arm, all the way up to his chest. But it was a different kind of pain. Not in his muscles. It felt like it was literally coming from his veins.

With all of this, freaking him out a bit too much, he pulled the sleeve back down and continued looking at his reflection. Except for the strange vein, there was something generally off-putting about his neck. Together with his shoulders, it all looked to be broader. He rolled his head from left to right, back and forth and then in a circular motion. He heard several cracks. They didn’t hurt. But when he rolled his head back again, it did a bit, like a horrible cramp. To stop the pain from getting worse, he pulled his head back up.

His eyes were back on the mirror. He traced his body slowly, trying to see every small detail. Now that he thought about it, the sleeves of his hoodie felt a bit tight. It was one of those things that you didn’t see until you realize it. The same went for his sweatpants. They were just a bit off. Maybe it had shrunk in the dryer? Clothes did that, after all. Hmm, the clothes. They were just a simple red hoodie and blue sweats. Really nothing special. A bit too bright, Peter thought. But for some reason, it did suit him. He had no idea why, but (Y/N) was right. With a smirk still plastered on his face, he walked away, ready to eat some “food” his aunt had prepared.

> Part 2  <

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[ijustreallylovezebras]

Missed You

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Summary: She missed him when he was away, so she got a friend (Prompt 13: So... I got a dog)

Requested: No

Anyone who saw him walking down the street would have thought he was a maniac from how wide his grin was. His blue eyes shone with glee, his blond hair messy from the day of traveling - not that he cared - and he couldn’t stop smiling.

He didn’t care. Joy coursed through his blood as he allowed thoughts of seeing his girlfriend again after so long filter into his mind.

He had been away for weeks, months, now, filming in Italy and had not been able to catch a break. Y/N normally flew out to visit him, to surprise him at least once while he was away but she had been crying when she told him that she was so swamped with her school work that she really just couldn’t make it. By the time that her exams had finished, it didn’t seem worth for her to take time off of work to come visit.

It was the longest time that he had gone without seeing her gorgeous face and Harrison couldn’t wait to kiss her again after so long. He unzipped his duffle bag as he entered his apartment building. Y/N had been staying in his apartment since she had broken up for her uni holidays in order to be closer to where she worked. 

He pulled out his keys, the smile on his face remaining uncontrollably  large as he listened to their happy noise when they clinked together. He was coming home!

What he didn’t expect, however, was when he stood outside his apartment door to hear giggling coming from inside. He couldn’t help it and jumped to the worst conclusion. Harrison felt his heart sink at the idea that his girlfriend, the girl he intended to marry one day, was giggling with someone else, doing other things with someone else.

As he stood outside, keys poised in front of the lock, he contemplated the last week or so. She had been acting weird, clearly keeping a secret from him but Harrison had hoped that she just didn’t want to tell him she missed him, hoped that - as she had done so many times before - Y/N was just planning a surprise visit for his last week in Italy before he came home again.

He prepared himself for the worst as he heard her giggle once more and he turned the key in the lock, pushing it open.

His footsteps felt impossibly loud as he walked down to the living room, his heart sinking a little further at every step. 

“Haz?” Y/N shot up from the sofa with a guilty expression on her face. Harrison was confused by the lack of company.

“Are you alone?” He asks, moving to look at the sofa but Y/N jumps over the back and hugs him as tight as possible. Harrison doesn’t have the self-restraint not to hug her back. She smelt exactly as he remembered, like vanilla and fairy liquid, like home.

“I missed you,” she murmured quietly, nuzzling further into his chest and, as she says the words, Harrison feels any doubt he had about her melt away. He shrugged the duffle bag off of his shoulder and pulled her so close that there was no space between them.

“I missed you too, love,” he responds, moving to press a light kiss against her temple, but she moves as soon as he’s done and captures his lips in hers.

He missed kissing her. It’s exactly as he always remembered it being only better, much, much better. He never wanted to stop kissing her.

But he does.

Because he hears something.

“Babe... what was that?” He asks, pulling away and quirking an eyebrow at her. Harrison can’t help but admire how pretty she looks with cheeks flushed from embarrassment, guilt and joy all mixed into one.

“So... I got a dog,” 

Her response is so blunt, so to the point that Harrison couldn’t help but laugh.

“You what?”

“I got a dog,” she, too, was laughing and Harrison picked her up, twirling her around.

“You’re amazingly odd sometimes, you know?” He tells her, kissing her once more.

“I was lonely!” She defends, moving her hands away from where they were clasped behind the back of his head and kneeling down, calling out “Rusty,” 

“You can’t buy a dog every time that you miss me, you know that right?” Harrison asks, crouching down next to her to greet the yapping dog, who places his paws on his knees and licks Harrison’s face.

“Don’t say you don’t love him,” Y/N grins and Harrison rolls his eyes.

“I do,” he concedes. “But I love you more,” Harrison grins, leaning over and pressing a swift kiss to the corner of her mouth. Harrison is proud to see the blush creeping over her face again and grins to himself, satisfied  with his girlfriends reaction.

“He’s a rescue dog,” she tells him later, when they’re curled up together in bed, Rusty lying across their feet. Her head is on his chest and he wonders if she can hear his heartbeat, if it comforts her. Whenever he was sad and curled up in her arms, the steady sound of her beating heart gave him more comfort than he could have ever imagined one person being capable of providing. 

“Yeah?” He asks, tired, his words slurring slightly from exhaustion. Y/N gives a mumble of confirmation.

“I found him ‘bout a week ago and took him to the centre. No one wanted him, though,” Harrison’s only response was to cuddle his girlfriend closer, wanting her to keep talking, he never wanted her to stop talking, but finding himself too tired to actually give a reply. “’M sorry I didn’t tell you first,”

“‘s okay, love,” Harrison nuzzles his face into her hair, finding himself craving her warmth, her smell. “Long as Monty likes him,” he says, his eyelids drooping closed.

“I really love you a lot,” 

“I love you more,” 

“You’re not leaving again are you?” Harrison opens one eye and immediately hates himself for being the person to cause the sad expression on Y/N’s face to emerge.

“Not for a while,” he assures her, placing his lips on hers. “Besides, you have the dogs now,”

“I’ll still miss you,” she huffs, moving to place her head in the crook of his neck and placing a feather-light kiss on his skin, one which makes a shiver run through his body.

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t be, you’re living your dream,” Y/N sighs but gives him a radiant smile that, even after all this time, still makes his heart flutter.

“I’m glad you’re a part of my dream,”

This is my entry for @starksparker ‘s 10K writing challenge, congratulations on 10K!!!

HAZ TAGS

@mjxmb 

MARVEL TAGS

@vineisdeadiwishiwas @sea040561

[social-holland]

Starry Night

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Female Reader

Word Count: 2492

Description: You fly out to visit Harrison during your break. What happens when you confronted with the feelings for your best friend?

Note: This is for @starksparker 10k writing challenge. The gif also belongs to her. Congrats again and thank you for doing this. ❤🎉

»»»

When you were little all you dreamed about was having a partner in crime. Someone you could love, support and cherish with all your heart and someone who would just give you back as much.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out as you had wished. There were crushes but they always stayed unrequited and the only boyfriend you had turned out to be someone who was only after your best friend.

School were your less liked years in your life. Giving you a rush of excitement when you finally had the chance to move away and start studying. You were excited for something new somewhere far from home.

And this time it didn’t turn out to be disappointing. With moving away, there was a new place to explore, stuff to adventure and new people to meet.

Harrison counted to one of those people. A fellow student introduced you two on a party at the start of the semester. Having a lot in common, you two took immediately a liking to each other.

Harrison, to your surprise, didn’t study. He was assistant to his best friend Tom and just happen to be there to attend the party. You two spend the night talking, getting to know each other and Haz was kind enough to accompany you home.

You two exchanged numbers and that’s how everything blossomed. When you weren’t in class or doing something for it, you spend your time with Haz. If he was home.

With Haz came Tom and a lot of other friends. Some of them only met because of the two divs. Also, the reasons why you would spend your summer in Atlanta.

Tom had invited you to come and hang out for at least a few weeks before filming would start picking up for Spiderman. The movie company had given Haz and him a house to stay and there would be also enough place to you.

Of course, you had agreed to it and that’s how you now ended up at the airport. Impatiently waiting for your suitcase, so you finally get to see your Haz again. Did you say yours? Of course, Haz wasn’t yours but you wished he would be. Ever since realising what a huge crush you had on your best friend.

First you didn’t have noticed how much you liked Haz. Not until Tom teased him and you one day while having a movie marathon for being so whipped for each other. Both of you laughed about it. Haz going back to watching but it had you thinking about Toms words and in the end, you knew how bad you were taken for the pretty blue eyed boy.

He was kind, adventures, pretty and all in all your best friend. The reason why you would always be afraid to make a move on him. What you had with Harrison, your friendship, was too important to risk it.

Finally, your suitcase appeared. You shook your head over your thoughts and took it before walking out to the waiting area of the airport. Nearly spraining your head to find him in the crowd. And soon enough there he was with a big smile and a ridiculous big sign with your nickname.

You laughed about it before calling him. “Haz!” As soon as he saw you, he ran over and picked you up. Swirling around with you a few times. Both you of smiling and laughing. It had been a few weeks since you two had seen each other and it felt good to be able to be near him.

When he stops swirling and let you down, his arms are not leaving you. Instead you two hug each other. Harrison pressing his face in your hair. “I missed you.” His simple words making you smile before you look up to him. “I missed you, Haz!”

He takes your suitcase and you both leave hand in hand the airport. It was not uncommon for the both of you to hold hands. Something that accomplished early in the friendship.

It makes you feel good to have your hand in his. You can truly feel how much you missed Haz. Having face time or skype didn’t make up for being finally close to him again.

While you are being trapped a little bit in your thoughts, Haz is rambling over what Tom and him had been up to the last few weeks. You shake your head when it’s appropriate to show him that you’re at least a little bit listening.

Watching his face and seeing his eyes light up when he talks about Tom and him pranking other cast members or Harry.

When you finally arrive at the car, Haz is kind enough to put your suitcase in the trunk before getting behind the driver seat. He turns to you for a moment, smiling really big. “I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N/N.”

“Happy because I’m here or happy you don’t have to care for Tom alone anymore?” You smile right back at him while teasing the blue- eyed boy. He groans over it before starting the car.

“Don’t even get me started.” The groan being clearly fake. You both know how much they take care of each other. Doesn’t matter how much the other one takes the piss out of them. True brothers.

“Well, since you are taking the topic to Tom.” Haz starts and you furrow curiously your eyebrows at him. “He is throwing a party at the house tonight for you.”

You laugh and groan at the same time. Knowing how wild Toms parties usually are. “No use to complaining. But I’m just saying, I don’t clean tomorrow morning.”

Harrison takes a look and you both know that you probably will clean tomorrow even through you say you don’t. If there is one thing that it’s that you can’t resist Toms puppy brown eyes and that’s what he will use to get (nearly) anything.

The drive to the house doesn’t take long before you know it, Harrison parks the car in front of a pretty mansion. “That’s what they let you stay at?” You ask not really believing your eyes. “Jacob and Z are staying here, too. That’s why this is so big.” Harrison explain before walking back to the trunk and taking your suitcase once again.

“You don’t need to do that.” You stretch your hand to show him that you want to take it but Harrison shakes his head. “I want to do it.”

He closes the trunk and walks to the door, you not far behind. Before any of you even have the chance to react, the door is thrown open and you can feel yourself lifted in the air again.

“It’s been ages!” Tom jokes before he places you back onto your feet. “Two weeks, you div.” You joke to him before walking into the house.

Harry is sitting on one of the sofas, smiling as soon as he sees you. “Hey div.” You greet him. He rolls his eyes over you while you two high five. Already greeting Zendaya with a long hug, as well as Jacob.

Tom throws an arm around your shoulders. “Loverboy is already bringing your suitcase up and basically under the roof. There is huge place for you, and Harrison is also close.” Tom wriggles his eyebrows at you before you push him off you groaning.

“Sometimes you are awful, Tom.” You announce before walking upstairs. You can hear Harry asking, “Sometimes?” before him and Tom start a brotherly argument.

You still smile over the Holland brother when you arrive in the attic. There are only two doors opposite of each other. One is open, and you walk into it. The room is huge. The walls are cream coloured and there is another door one the right side. Probably a bathroom or something along the line. A huge window is decorating the wall and next to it is a closet, your suitcase in front of it. Harrison is sitting on a big king size bed, playing on his phone.

You throw yourself next to him. “Thank you.” It comes out mumbled because your head is buried in the sheets, but Harrisons seems to have heard it. He pads your head for a moment before putting his phone away and letting himself falls next to you.

You watch him for a moment, starring at the ceiling, before closing your eyes. You pretty much slept on the plane but still start to feel tired from it.

You can feel Harrison suddenly get up and complain with weird noises about it. “Don’t go.”

He beams before he lays down again and you cuddle in his arms. “Tired?” He is starting to play with your hair. You just nod with your eyes still closed. “Little bit.”

You can feel yourself falling asleep with your head placed on his shoulders and him having his arm placed around your waist, the other one still playing with your hair.

It feels like only seconds when he shakes you awake. “Wake up, sleepy head.” Groaning you open your eyes. Harrison is now standing in front of you. His hair is wet, and he changed into black jeans with a white shirt and red baseball jacket.

“You have to get ready, love.” He simply smiles before making sure that you’re getting up and ready.

The first thing you do is look what’s behind the door and to your luck it’s a really nice luxury bathroom. Taking your favourite outfit, as wells as everything else you need, out of your suitcase and start to get ready.

After half an hour you done and already be able to hear music from downstairs.

You leave your room and when you arrive Tom throws his hands up and everybody else is cheering when they see you. Harrison comes over with a red cup filled with your favourite beverage.

Smiling at each other, you join the party. Making conversation with others, playing beer pong and just in general having a good time. Harrison is by your site for the most time. His hands always around your waist. You feel your cheeks heating up about it.

After a while, he excuses himself to go join beer pong again and you make conversation with Zendaya and a few other girls you haven’t seen in a long time. Hearing what they have been up to and them checking on you. A lot of them wanting to know if you and Harrison are an item, yet.

Which you deny, stating to only be friends. Everytime you have to say it; your heart feels like crumbling again. You wish there would be something between you two but suspecting that it would be like all your other crushes, unrequited.

That friendship is too important to risk for some unrequited feelings.

Shaking your head over the thoughts, you excuse yourself and walk outside. The garden is huge and luckily for you, there is no one outside. You still can hear the music though.

There is also a huge pool and you lose your socks and shoes to dip into it with your feet. Looking at the sky and enjoying the more or less quiet time before having to go back inside.

You didn’t want to seem unpolite or unthankful, but you needed just a moment to get over what you had to say inside. Without realizing it, it did hurt you. The whole Harrison thing was still a little confusing and more upsetting that you thought.

Being lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear how the door to the garden is opened and someone is making his way over to you.

You wake up when Harrison dips his feet next to yours, jumping for a moment. He laughs about it before checking you carefully with his shoulders. “Too many people?” He carefully asks.

“Hm-Hm.” You just answer. Here he is. This one guy that without asking too much, knows you better that anything else. You two sit in silence. Watching the sky, at least you do. Harrison is watching you. “Can I ask you something?”

“I think you know the answer to this one.” He groans. “Don’t joke now. This is serious talk.”

“Haz.” You laugh. “We are at a party and how many have you been drinking? None of this is serious talk.” He gives you a look you don’t really understand before continuing.

“Why did you never have a boyfriend?” You groan on the inside. Out of all the question, he had to ask that one. Why now? Why him?

Haz was someone that was so easy to talk to, but this one topic is something you couldn’t and didn’t wanted to talk with anyone about. Especially nor with him or right now.

“I did have a boyfriend or crushes if you’re talking about that.” You slowly state, didn’t even knowing why you say that. You have to remind yourself that this is Haz and it’s dangerous to go done that line with him.

“But not since we met.” You hesitate for a moment and don’t know what really to say to him. He talks before you can. “Why did you never talk about it or to them?”

“It’s complicated.” You simply bring out. He wrinkles his brows at you but you are not able to see it since you rather focus on the sky. “In which way?”

“I love them but they’re in love with somebody else or probably not interested in me.” You finally look at him. Harrison doesn’t answer to this. He is watching the water and looks unsure. Like he wants to say something to you. Probably trying to figure out, how to not upset you or something along the line. But you continue before he can even start, “I’m not angry about it. That’s how it is. You can’t make people feel things, they don’t feel.”

You just shrug with your shoulders while concentrating on the water. He hums, you’re not sure in agreement or not. Harrison takes your hand and draws little circles over it.

You two are quiet, hanging in your own thoughts. While you are watching the pool and the little rings you are creating the water with your feet, Harrison is watching you.

After a while he speaks again. “Are you really sure that everybody you have a crush on is in love with somebody else?” You are not sure if he actually said it because his words are whispered, and the music is still blaring from the House. When you take a look at Harrison again, he is no longer watching you.

Instead he focusses on your hand in his. Drawing endless circles on it while you are being breathless over his words. Your cheeks feeling like being on fire.

You don’t know how to react to it or what to say. So, you two continue to sit in silence. Him watching you and you watching the water.

Hate it, love it, any other thoughts? Let me know.😊

Permanent Tag List: @tomhollanduniverse @spideytaeh @marvelismylifffe @smexylemony @lavieenbananabread @tommyboyholland

Update: 6/10/18 Fixed the read more problem and description If it still doesn’t work, let me know.

[christinky]

The Premiere (Tom Holland)

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Prompt: “I’d choose you everyday of the year.” for @starksparker 10K celebration. #kavys10kwc

No warnings

Summary: You are Tom are friends who are very flirty with each other. Neither of you act upon it so you don’t ruin your friendship until one day.  

“Boys, can you please shut up?” you are getting irritated with them talking over the tv. 

Tom and Harrison turn their attention over to you. “Oh, sorry love. Are we interrupting your show?” Tom has a smirk knowing how much he is bothering you.

The boys are over in the kitchen while you lounge on the couch. “Shut it Holland, I just want to finish this show then we can go.” 

The two of them laugh, you never missed your shows. You force them to wait until its over before the three of you can go to dinner. At this point they are used to it, the three of you are best friends. 

Tom hops over the back of the couch and sneaks his way into the space next to you. “We are hungry now though.” He pouts and tries to pull your attention away from the TV. 

“Tom, I said give me a minute” You whine as you push him back with your elbow. Rather than taking your little nudge as a hint to go away, Tom wraps his arm around your waist to pull you closer. 

“Come on, can’t you just watch it later?” He begs as his stomach growls.

“You boys do this every time, I would have thought you would learn by now.” 

Tom sits up and looks over at Harrison and rolls his eyes. Harrison lets out a laugh at Tom. “How about I just go grab us some pizza?” 

“Whatever gets the two of you off my ass”

Tom chuckles, “Yeah mate, grab a $20 from my wallet on the counter.”

Harrison grabs the money and leaves your apartment. Tom doesn’t budge from your side as you finish watching your show.

Once your show ends you turn to Tom, “You really couldn’t wait another 5 fucking minutes?” You raise your eyebrows, giving him a judging look. 

“You couldn’t just wait until later to watch your show? You always have to watch it before dinner?” 

You roll your eyes and get off the couch, making your way into the kitchen. You go to grab some plates and napkins, getting it ready from when Harrison arrives back with the pizzas. Tom follows you, sitting at the counter. “Do you think Harrison knows to grab cheese bread?” You ask him.

“If he doesn’t, he is a lot dumber than we thought” 

Just then the door opens, in walks Harrison with 3 boxes. He sets them on the counter “Bon Appetite!” 

Opening the boxes there is one meat lovers, one with ham, and the other was cheese bread. “Yes, Harrison you are the best!” You lean over and wrap your arms around him, giving him a big hug. 

Behind you Tom’s smile disappeared and a hint of anger and jealousy shows on his face. You and Tom have always been a bit flirty with each other, you never take it too seriously. Everyone thought Tom has a thing for his co-star, he is famous after all, you’re a nobody really. Just Tom’s friend. Tom however, wishes the two of you were more than friends.

Once you all finish dinner, you guys just hangout for a bit. After a while Harrison stands up, “I gotta go guys, I have a shoot pretty early tomorrow.” He gives Tom a bro hug and gives you a hug before he walks out the door.

Standing up, you head to the freezer. “Ice cream?” You ask as you pull out a carton of your favorite ice cream. 

“Yeah, I’ll have some.” 

You grab two spoons out of the drawer and sit down next to Tom. “So (Y/N), I was thinking.” He seems nervous as he take a spoonful of ice cream, “Would you like to be my date to the premiere?” He smiles in anticipation for you to say yes.

Instead, you laugh. “Me? At a movie premiere? On a red carpet? Yeah right!” You take a bite of ice cream in between laughs. You try not to be too rude about it, but you aren’t the movie premiere person. Especially with the star of the movie.

“Why not? You would be great, I’d love to have you as my date.” Tom’s excitement was gone, He was really hoping you would say yes. 

“Why don’t you take Zendaya? Or one of those other actresses? Don’t you guys have a thing?” You sit up straight, “Besides, I’m a nobody, no one wants to see me there.” You aren’t looking for sympathy or anything, just stating a fact. You were fine with not being famous, you see what him and Harrison go through.

“That’s not true, everyone would love you there. You’re amazing love!” He looks at you with puppy dog eyes, “I’d choose you over any of them, I’d choose you everyday of the year.” He has a big smile on his face seeing you blush at his words. 

“Fine, I’ll go” You can’t resist his puppy dog eyes, and you secretly always wanted to go out with the boys to an event like this. You just never show it.

Tom’s face instantly lights up with excitement. “Yes!” He reaches over and pulls you into a hug, “I’m going to have the prettiest girl as my date, its okay if I introduce you as my girlfriend right love?” Turning his head to carefully watch your reaction.

“Excuse me Holland? Your girlfriend?” You pull away from him, cocking your head in surprise. 

“Yeah, you know” He pauses for a moment, “I just thought, maybe, umm... you would like to be?” 

You are caught completely off guard, you always felt something between you but ignored it to preserve the friendship. Knowing how he feels has your stomach doing cartwheels, you can feel yourself sweating, face burning, not knowing how to respond. You finally smile at him, his eyes are wide waiting for you to respond. Thinking he just fucked everything up.

“Are you sure?” You ask, just trying to make sure he is serious before answering, you need the validation. 

“Of course love, like I said I’d choose you everyday of the year.” He pulls you in again, resting his hand on your cheek.

Your cheek feels like it is on fire. You are frozen, his eyes meet yours. They are gorgeous, you get lost for a moment. You try to think of something but your mind is blank. Trying to think of something Tom finally speaks, “I like you (Y/N), a lot. I mean, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now.” 

His words hit you like a ton of bricks, Tom has a crush on YOU, Tom fucking Holland likes You! Your heart starts beating, you finally open your mouth, “I like you a lot too.” Letting out a smile, finally admitting it, you bite your bottom lip. Nervous of what is going to happen.

Tom’s face is full of pure joy hearing you admit it. Suddenly, his hand moves from your cheek to behind your neck. He starts to lean in as he brings you closer. Once his lips meet yours you wrap your arm around him and bring your hand up to play with his hair. 

Pulling away, you see a huge smile across his face. “You’re a pretty good kisser babe.” He laughs, “We should do it again sometime.”

“Shut up Holland!” You playfully hit his arm for the comment. 

Since Tom made his move the two of you have gone on a few official dates, making sure not to catch too much attention at first. Both of you are really happy together, your fights are usually small and about where to eat so it isn’t anything real bad. 

You stare out the window of the limo, you see all the lights and people at the red carpet. Your hands are sweaty, your heart is beating fast, you are so nervous. Thankfully you wore the strongest deodorant money could buy, suddenly regretting insisting on buying your own dress from the mall rather than letting Tom get you a designer dress. This is your first time out publicly with Tom where you two are showcasing you are an item. “It’ll be fine love, you are gorgeous on the inside and out. They will love you.” Tom can tell you are nervous. You give a shy smile at him as he grabs your hand. 

“I’ll get out first guys, get them ready for you.” Harrison winks as the limo comes to a stop at the end of the carpet. Your stomach drops instantly. 

Tom gives you a reassuring kiss before the door opens. Harrison steps out of the limo, you can hear the screams of young girls the moment they know who it is. 

Tom nods to make sure you are ready, he starts making his way out of the limo, his hand never letting go of yours. He steps out, the screams get louder. Tom ignores them as he helps you get out, letting go of your hand he wraps his around your waist.

All you see are camera flashes and screaming fans. You try to hide yourself behind Tom but he keeps his hand on your lower back forcing you to be next to him. “You’re doing great love.” 

He is waving at everyone as the two of you walk down, once he gets to reporters he has to leave you. Watching him, you walk over to the side to make sure you aren’t in anyones way. You admire how handsome he looks in his tux, realizing how lucky you are. All of those girls wish they could be you. Tom turns too look at you, catching you staring at him. He does a little wave and gives you a thumbs up. Maybe this isn’t as bad as you thought. 

Taglist: @saturn-aka-six

[just-another-fanfiction-writer]

Excuses - Peter x Reader ONESHOT

Heyo, my potatoes! ♥ I really missed writing a lot and with @starksparker 10k Writing Challenge coming around (congrats again :3) I thought I’d just join and write something real fluffy :D I hope you enjoy! ♥

Starksparkers’s 10k Writing Challenge

Prompt - “Just save your breath.”

Words - 2,954

Warnings - none really :P

“Come on, just one more chance.”

Your stern eyebrows and firmly crossed arms underline the seriousness of the situation. Yet Peter’s dark brown eyes melt your heart and you feel your knees getting weak.

“Please Y/N”, he pleads with his puppy eyes and you finally give up with a groan.

“Okay, but this is your last chance”, you point out, seeing Peter’s eyes grow wide and a big smile forming on his pink lips.

“I’m serious!”

“Of course”, Peter nods, trying to look serious as well but failing as he can’t hold back his smile.

“If you don’t show up in time, you better don’t come crawling back to me with yet another excuse.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there. I promise.”

“I really do hope so”, you cross your arms again.

And with that the bell rings to the first lesson and you two get to the classroom.

Sitting behind Peter isn’t that bad after all. Though a lot of times it distracted you from the lesson, you could stare at him the whole time wihtout being noticed. You could look at his soft curly hair and imagine how your hand runs through it. Sometimes you drew little sketches of him in one of his nerdy shirts and god these broad shoulders. They look so strong, just like his arms. With those arms he could carry you everywhere.

Suddenly Peter moves his head to the side, making you quickly look away. Luckily he just looks outside and is completely elsewhere with his mind instead inside this classroom. You can see his expression and he seems to be brooding over something. In the end he sighs, his shoulders slump down and he pays attention to the lesson again.

Were you too hard on him? 

He is quite a soft soul after all. But no. He left you out in the rain way too often already. This would be your last attempt. The last attempt to see if this friendship could become more. Sure, it wasn’t a date - at least you two didn’t call it that - but otherwise you two were never alone. Either you were in school around teachers and other students or out and about with your friends Ned and MJ. 

You basically did everything together in this group. Especially after school. But after developing a crush and harbouring it for some time, you want to move forward. But with all of these failed dinners and trips, you feel like moving backwards.

This time it has to work out.

“Can I come in?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The door opens hesitantly and Aunt May’s head pops around.

“Getting ready for a date?”

“It’s not a date!”, Peter immediately exclaims and stops doing his hair for a second to look at his aunt angrily.

“Oh right. The ‘We’re-not-on-a-date-because-we’re-friends” date.”

“Aunt May”, her nephew whines, clearly wanting her to stop.

“Okay, okay. I’m on my way to work anyways. Have fun...and don’t mess it up this time. Tell Y/N how you feel.”

With these wise words she leaves.

“Well, that’s the plan”, Peter mumbles to himself, looking at his reflection. As the day came closer to the evening, his pulse slowly but surely rose. Today had to be the day.

Today he’ll finally confess his feelings.

No longer should he keep his love for you a secret.

Everyone else knows already, so why shouldn’t you? Would it be so far fetched, that you might feel similar feelings for him? In the end you gave him far more ‘last’ chances than anybody else. Eiher you are a really kind person (which you are too him anyways) or you actually care for him a lot. And maybe enough for more than a simple friendship.

And if it wasn’t enough, he wouldn’t make a big fuss about it. You two would stay friends and he would find a way to get over you or push the feelings aside, even if it isn’t really healthy.

In ten minutes he would make his way to the restaurant. This way he should be early enough that even if something comes in between, he should have enough time to be back before you even come.

At least so he thought.

How long has it been?

Oh, just a minute.

You’re too early anyways. No need to worry. This time you want to believe what Peter said. This time he would come and you two would have a lovely evening together.

Just the two of you.

Right here in this restaurant. It’s a bit fancier, but not too fancy. In the end the two of you go there as friends. Sure, you wear a dress tonight which is your go-to dress for a date, but you just didn’t want to be underdressed in this restaurant. And just maybe Peter likes seeing it on you.

A small smile forms on your lips, thinking about his reaction, telling you how beautiful you look tonight.

As you stand in front of the restaurant next to a simple lantern, you watch people going by. Some of them are in a hurry to get home to their loved ones and for some others the night shift is about to start. Yet others are searching for a bar to enjoy the evening with their friends and colleagues. Some are doing their last-minute shopping for the weekend in the grocery store across the street. And the rest of them are with their dates, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings to each other or laughing about the same thought both of them just had.

A cute couple stops in the middle of everything to look up at the night sky to the single star, that shines so strong, it’s brighter than the lights of the city. They look at it for a moment and then back at each other. They seem very much in love.

Finally they take a step towards each other and share a short but passionate kiss. With a big smile on their faces, they continue down the road.

Just now you notice how you were watching them the whole time, holding your chest, where inside your heart’s still pounding with Peter on your mind.

If this night goes wrong and Peter doesn’t show up or he doesn’t return your feelings, you wouldn’t know what to do.

Yet there’s still time for him to show up. Surely you would wait a bit longer if he wasn’t right on time. A few more minutes would do it. The traffic is really bad on these kind of days. Especially on Friday evenings, being such a lovely summer night.

With the air cooling down you actually feel a bit cold on your arms. Rubbing your arms to warm them up, you look up to see the star the couple looked at covered by dark clouds approaching and they seem to burst any second.

Another look at the clock on your phone. He should be here any minute now.

He will be here. Just give him some more time.

He’s probably just around the corner.

So you keep looking at the corner, he'd come around and only look away to check the time on your phone every two minutes.

And as times goes by your hope does, too.

By now rain pours down onto your completely soaked dress, as you sit on the sidewalk leaning against the lantern, your arms wrapped around your legs.

It’s two hours after the time you two agreed on. Though Peter is far too late, you still sit there in the rain. You just want to see if he’ll ever come. If he even shows up.

Were you that stupid to think he liked you more than a friend?

Maybe.

But even a friend wouldn’t be this mean and leave you literally out in the rain for so long without even a message or anthing.

But he seemed to be such a good guy...

“Y/N!”

It does suprise you a little, that he really has the guts to still show up, but you don’t even pay attention to him. You don’t even look at him as you stand up. Peter immediately walks up to you completely out of breath and you can already hear his ridiculous excuses without him even saying them out loud, as he tries to catch a breath.

“Y/N, I’m...I-”

He cuts off as you lift your face and he sees your tears in the pouring rain.

“Just save your breath. I don’t want to hear your excuses. A friend doesn’t do something this cruel to another. Do you now what time it is? You’re more than two hours late! You could’ve even texted to tell me that you couldn’t make it. You know...sometimes I think you like to see me suffer. You’re really awful, Peter Parker. Anyways, I’m going home and don’t come running after me.”

And with that you leave Peter, who just stands there, watching you walk out of his life.

Is it suppossed to just end like this?

He wants to explain. He wants you to know it’s not your fault. He wants you to know how much he cares about you, that he really didn’t want to hurt you.

Wasn’t this responsibility there. The responsibility of being the ‘friendly’ neighborhood Spiderman, who saves people and catches criminals.

If you’d only know.

In this moment it hits Peter like lightning.

You’re the person he trusts most. You kept supporting him whatever he was doing. You didn’t give up on him. You believed he’d be in time for one of the dinners. You always waited for him.

This has to mean something, doesn’t it?

This night suppossed to be the night he would finally open up to you.

And this night is far from over.

But how should he tell you?

In his train of thought, Peter’s eyes mindlessly follow a couple walking into the restaurant and that’s where an idea comes to his mind.

With a towel lazily hanging around your neck and tears finally dry, you come out of the bathroom in your sleepwear and still slightly wet hair and go to your room. As you sit down, you take a look around.

It’s all still the same. The same four walls. The same mess as before.

But it feels so different. So empty.

Your eyes finally rest on the frame on your cluttered desk.

In it is a picture of you and your friends in Disneyland. You all wear Mickey Mouse ears with a big smile. Even Peter does.

You remember how excited you were to be on the new rollercoaster. Unfortunately (or fortunately, however you want to take it) there was only space for two more people and MJ and Ned let you and Peter go first. And you didn’t expect how fast and scary the ride would get. Out of fear and excitement you mindlessly grabbed Peter’s hand and you kept holding hands the entire ride. Somehow it felt like your hand belonged in his.

It was quite awkward when getting out of the ride, but for some reason Peter’s eyes and smile were brighter that day. He seemed to have a lot of fun.

A sudden knock tears you from your thoughts and weirdly it doesn’t come from your door, but from your window, which you turn around to.

“What the-?!”

The red and blue coloured spider looks to the left and right and back to you. With one hand and both feet sticking to the wall outside like glue, he lifts his free hand, which holds a paper bag and pulls on his mask with two fingers to reveal a brunette boy you know too well.

“Peter?!”

“Can I come in?”, he asks through the window with ‘Sorry’ written all over his face.

You quickly lock your door and open your window to let Peter in. With feet first, he jumps into your room, almost knocking over your lamp. You can’t even react so fast to catch it, but Peter catches it easily and puts it back.

Meanwhile your mind runs on overdrive, not being able to think one thought through.

“Uh, I-I’ve brought food...from the restaurant. I hope you like it”, he stutters, holding up the bag and scratching the back of his head. With every word he speaks, you feel anger rise up more and more inside of you until you can’t hold back anymore.

“Why didn’t you tell me your freaking Spiderman?!”, you yell at him under your breath, not wanting your parents to hear you two. You start to punch Peter’s chest with all your anger.

Anger about him not telling of course, but also about not figuring it out yourself and pressuring Peter, while he was saving people. It seems so obvious to you that he’s Spiderman, now that you know. Everything hints to it.

Why didn’t you notice it before?

Peter on the other hand simply let’s his head hang down, not stopping you. Instead he just puts his mask and the bag on your desk, seeing the picture you were looking at before.

As you look at the picture yourself, you finally stop, your hands resting flat on his beating chest.

“I like to remember this day a lot”, Peter mentions, still looking at it, now with a sad smile.

“We had a lot of fun this day. For once I didn’t have to be Spiderman. I could just enjoy some time with my friends and...with you.”

As you look back at him, his cheeks turn into a bright pink and you don’t really know for sure, what he’s trying to say. Your mind’s still kind of caught up on the fact that Peter is Spiderman and that he’s standing in front of you in his suit, awkwardly looking to the side.

“I’m really sorry for what happend. I didn’t want to hurt you at all. I just...I didn’t know how to tell you. And I hoped that I could be at one dinner with you at least. I really wanted to spend more time with you. I wanted to show you that I care about you and that I can be reliable. I wanted to show you that...I...uhm...that I like you...more than a friend.”

Upon seeing your surprised face, Peter panicks and starts rambling.

“Well, I mean i-if you don’t feel the same way, that’s no problem of course. I just...thought you’d need to know. We can stay fr-”

“Pete”, you interrupt him, tapping his chest, pulling his attention back to you. You bite your lip, trying to hide the growing smile but a side smile slips through as you look at his chest, softly stroking the elastic fabric with your hands. You always wondered how it feels like.

As you look back up at him, your eyes meet and your heart’s pounding out of your chest, butterflies about to pop from your stomach.

“I like you too”, you finally admit, quickly adding, “more than a friend.”

Your heart jumps a little, seeing a big bright smile forming on his face.

“Really?”, he asks, taking your hands on his chest into his.

“Really”, you reply with a blush, trying to avoid his gaze, but his eyes keep drawing you back. These warm almost amber-colored eyes just mesmerise you.

And somehow he’s so close, his eyes a lot closer than before and his lips are so very close...

First, it is like electricity you feel running through your whole body. From everywere he touches to your fingertips down to your shivering knees and to the tip of your toes.

Then it’s like a drug, you’re getting high on. It feels like it’s healing all the wounds of every minute and hour you waited for him, erasing every doubt in your mind and lifting all the weight from your heart.

And at last there’s just love. In every inch of your body and every inch of your mind. It’s overflowing with love and with memories of him. All these memories of happiness caused by him through a simple joke, which made you laugh, through comforting words in dark times or just through holding his hand in the rollercoaster.

You have never known how much he means to you until this very moment.

Your lips part, but you share that same smile.

“So...you said you brought food?”

“Captain America? No way! I don’t believe you.” “Well, you wouldn’t have believed me that I’m Spiderman, if I hadn’t shown up in my suit.” “Okay, you’re right. But really?” “Mhm...oh and Captain America’s best friend...Bucky, I think? I could hold off his punch and I heard he’s one of the strongest of them?” “You’re such a show off”, you point out, making both of you laugh, when suddenly a knock comes from your door.

“Sweetie, you okay? Who’re you talking to?”

With big eyes you look at each other and you quickly have to come up with an excuse.

“I’m skyping with Peter and my headphones don’t work.”

“Oh, you’re cute friend from school? Tell him I said hello!”

“Mom”, you groan, looking at Peter, who just has a big old grin on his face.

“Good night, sweetie. And don’t stay up too late.” “Good night, mom.”

After she left, Peter still grins at you. “You should listen to your mother. She’s a wise woman, y’know?” “Shut up, Spiderman”, you kick Peter, making him roll off the bed laughing.

You spend the rest of the night together, talking about a lot of things you two had to catch up on and afterwards watched some Netflix, cuddling in your bed.

In the end this was better than you imagined a first date with Peter Parker, the friendly neighborhood Spiderman and your best friend...now boyfriend.

GOT ANY GOOD IDEAS FOR A PETER X READER FANFICTION? LET ME KNOW! REQUEST ARE STILL OPEN! :) CLICK HERE FOR REQUESTS!

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Your Fault

Tony Stark x Reader                  1,152 words

a/n: This is for @starksparker ‘s 10k writing challenge! Also, this is my first Tony fic, so let’s hope this goes well... lots of love from me and feedback is always appreciated!

It happened too often. You woke up-alone- in your’s and Tony’s shared bed. Whenever you thought you had convinced him to stay in bed for a night, just one night, you woke up an hour or so later. Cold and lonely.

You weren’t being selfish. A warm cuddle or good morning kiss wouldn’t hurt, but that’s not what you were worried about. Tony just wasn’t sleeping at all. You had had F.R.I.D.A.Y. record the two of you for a week, and each night without change, Tony held you until you fell asleep, and proceeded to leave the bedroom in favor of working in his lab. His health was deteriorating, and it didn’t look like he was stopping anytime soon. 

This brings us up to speed till now. You stood in the doorway of the lab, a Led Zeppelin song blaring through the speakers obscuring your arrival. Tony was hunched over a workbench working on some nanotech suit he was talking about earlier in the day. Empty coffee mugs littered the space, and you didn’t want to know how long some of them had been there. 

You huffed, tapping your bare foot against the tile, and leaning against the doorframe. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” You spoke, effectively silencing the music as the AI came into earshot. “Yes, Miss. y/l/n?” Tony had lifted his head, his focus turning from the machinery to you. “How long has it been since Tony has slept? And don’t take into account power naps, please.” You asked, your eyes locking with Tony’s. “Mr. Stark has been awake for approximately 266 hours, Miss. y/l/n. I believe he has broken a record.” You pushed off of the door frame making your way towards Tony. “Yeah, I think he has. Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” You popped up onto the workbench, your legs dangling over the edge as you snatched a discarded pen up and started to fiddle with it. Tony had turned back to his work, opting to also fiddle with something rather than address the elephant in the room. “So... are we gonna talk or just sit in silence? Because I’m not leaving this room unless you are coming with me.” You stated, trying to get anything out of him.

Tony dropped his tools with a clunk, leaning back in his swivel chair, scanning you up and down, until he seemed to have been drawn to a sound conclusion.“You know what? This is your fault.” Your eyes widened. You didn’t expect the root of Tony’s problems to be you.

“Back up, Bub. Explain what I did.” You said as Tony stood, walking to the workbench across from you. 

“All of this, everything, it’s your fault. Yours! Not mine.” He motioned to the empty space around him.

“Tony I have no clue what you’re talking about. I haven’t done shit, okay? Whats going on with you?”

Tony turned his back to you, his hands clutching the edge of the table as his head hung low, eyes closed, breathing slowly. The two of you stayed like this, silence wrapping around the both of you for what seemed like years, but if you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y. later, they would have said it was only a few seconds.

“I- You-” Tony scoffed, carding a hand through his dark disheveled hair. His head seemed to sink even lower. You slipped off the bench and began  to slowly move toward Tony. “You walk around like everything is okay. Like the world didn’t just fall to its knees. I can’t protect you from all the shit that’s happening-or is gonna happen. After Peter-”

“Peter is fine. Everyone is fine.” You murmured quietly as you wrapped your arms around his waist, your head resting against his broad shoulders. “You got everyone back. Peter’s home with May in the city; Should I call him?” A couple seconds ticked by, and Tony turned in your arms, wrapping his arms around you and leaned his back against the table. He let out a breathe he didn’t know he had been holding. “It’s not Peter I’m worried about. Y/n, I couldn’t protect him when he needed it the most, I couldn’t protect any of them, so how am I supposed to protect you? I can’t just sit around waiting for the other shoe to drop. I can keep you off missions, build you a suit- hell, lock you in a safe room for all I care- but the other shoe is going to drop. I won’t survive it when something happens to you, but I don’t know when it’s going to happen so I can’t just wait for it.” His voice shakier and quieter than when he started. He duck his head in the crook of your neck, just breathing you in. You kept him grounded by just being there, and if you weren’t there, Tony wouldn’t be able to continue on.

“If.” you said simply, bringing a hand up to play with the hairs on the nape of Tony’s neck. “What?” Tony said into the fabric of his shirt that you had borrowed before going to bed.

“You keep saying when something is going to happen. Nothing is going to happen, okay? And if it does, then we’ll deal with it and we’ll get out of it alive and well, got it? I can protect myself and I got the strongest avenger as my love so I got nothing to worry about. Besides, If-emphasis on the if, Tone- something were to happen, would you really want to waste the time we have by slaving away in your lab or in bed with your girlfriend? If I were you, I would choose the latter.” You smiled as Tony rested his forehead against yours. Tony captured your lips up in a kiss, and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, easing Tony’s strife in ways either of there words never could. She grounded him, his feet planted soundly on the ground as he brought his hands up to caress her cheeks. Your own hands rested against his chest, feeling his once erratic heartbeat slow to a calming thump, thump, thump. You separated a few moments later, lungs burning for air. “Let’s go back to bed, sweetheart.” Tony murmured as you closed your eyes, humming in approval. Tony still had a lot to figure out and work through, but you two would get through it, you always did.

You took Tony’s hand and led him back up to your bedroom and you silently got back into bed. Tony had his arms wrapped around your waist and his nose pressed into your hair as you drew imaginary designs on the bare skin of his chest. The silence this time around wasn’t tense, it wasn’t anticipating an argument or an empty side of the bed. It was comfortable-no expectations.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you actually building me a suit?”

“What do you think I’ve been working on for the last 266 hours?”