stacey

❥ acts of service

you wake to the smell of pancakes and a kiss on your cheek. cracking an eye open, you find tom knelt beside your shared bed. he sets a plate down on your night table, next to a mug of coffee made just the way you like it.

“what’s all this?” you wonder, a grin pulling at your lips. tom smiles back. “g’morning, darling. i made you a little breakfast in bed,” he explains. “hope you’re hungry, hm?” he pecks your lips, you giggling. “i am. thank you, baby. ‘s sweet of you,” you beam at him, now sitting up. tom hands you your coffee.

“you’re welcome, darling. enjoy it.”

you sip the drink he so graciously prepared for you, tom joining you on the bed. he adjusts the covers so they’re around your frame and loops an arm around your middle, fingers running up and down your side. you decide to trade your coffee for the pancakes.

“ooh, let me,” he offers, retrieving the plate from you to cut your food. you watch him do so with your eyes narrowed curiously. “alright, what’s going on? what’s the occasion?” you finally question. “occasion? what’re you on about, y/n?“ tom cocks his head to the side.

he returns your breakfast to you, ready to eat.

“it’s not every day chef holland is in the kitchen. you’re up to something,” you point out, shoving a forkful of pancake in your month nevertheless. “but i’ll allow it ‘cuz these are really good,” you speak between bites.

tom chuckles, using his thumb to wipe some syrup off your upper lip.

“yeah? you like them?” he takes note.

could acts of service be your love language?

“mhm,” you mumble and bite into another piece. “where have you been hiding these culinary skills of yours?” a smirk graces tom’s features, hand shooing at you playfully. “stop it, you’re making me blush,” he jokes. you poke one of his freckled cheeks. “seriously! you should try some,” you hold out your plate to him.

“no, no. you enjoy them,” tom repeats, patting your thigh gently. “i wanted do something nice for you.”

you lean over and capture his lips in a kiss that you each smile into. tom licks the taste of maple syrup off when you pull away, humming in satisfaction.

one down, four to go.

❥ words of affirmation

“hey, love,” tom announces his presence. he’s standing in the doorway of the room designated as both of your offices. “what’re you working on?”

your fingers fly fast across your keyboard, a lengthy document displayed on your laptop screen.

“english paper. i’m trying to get ahead on assignments so i have valentine’s free,” you clarify, frowning at tom from your desk. “uni is kicking my ass, tom.”

you look like you could use a pep talk.

tom comes to stand behind you. his hands settle on your shoulders, beginning to rub them soothingly.

“i know, love. you’re doing wonderfully, though,” tom coos. “just stick with it. you can bang this out in no time.”

he peppers a couple of kisses to the back of your neck while his fingers continue to relax your tense shoulders. your head lolls back against your chair, gaze shifting up to tom.

“you think so?” you flash your best puppy eyes. “for sure. you’re a stellar student, y/n/n. i’m so proud of you,” tom praises you, kissing the top of your head. “it’s not easy, what you’re doing here. i understand there’s a lot of pressure,” he acknowledges. you nod, your head heavy.

“i mean, i never even made it to university,” tom adds to lighten the mood. “give yourself some credit, won’t you?”

his sentiment earns a laugh from you, which he considers to be a success. perhaps words of affirmation do it for you instead.

“thanks, tom. you always know just what to say,” you sigh out, placing one of your hands atop his. you bring your connected hands to your lips and kiss the back of his. “i really needed that extra motivation.” tom interlocks his pinkie with yours, his signet ring brushing your skin. “anytime, darling. i’ve got you,” he assures you.

“well, i should probably get back to work,” you complain, grip on tom’s hand tightening. “will you keep me company?”

tom grins down at you.

“absolutely.”

❥ quality time

it’s later that day when you emerge from your office. tom ventured off to the kitchen a while ago to fix you a snack, which is where you find him. he’s humming softly as he rummages through the fridge.

he sneaks tessa a piece of cheese and scratches behind her ears while she devours it.

“there we are, tess. you like that, don’t you?”

her tail wags back and forth in response, you snickering at the encounter.

tom hears this and turns around to face you, brows raised. tessa trots over to you. you squat to the floor so you can pet her, stroking at her belly.

“i was just on my way back,” tom tells you with a box in hand. “i got these chocolates you like, if you fancy them.” you scrunch your nose when tessa begins to sniff your face, tom breathing out a laugh. “sounds good. i think i’m gonna take a break, by the way,” you announce.

“mm, you’ve earned it,” tom pads over to you and tessa. “been cooped up at that desk all day.”

you rest your head on his shoulder, tom snaking an arm around your waist.

he recalls reading about another love language that’s centered around one-on-one time with your partner. now, he has an opportunity to test that out.

“how about we go for a walk?” tom suggests. “the weather’s quite nice, and some fresh air would do you good.” a tired smile appears on your lips. “sure, that would be refreshing. let’s bring tess,” you agree. his lips press to the side of your head. “i’ll grab her leash. wait right here,” tom mumbles against you.

he’s such a god send.

you munch on the chocolates and give tess more pets while tom gathers her leash. he hooks it to her collar, then the two of you throw on your coats. you’re out the door soon after.

your arm is linked in tom’s as you stroll through your neighborhood, tessa leading you both. it’s not often you’re able to share moments like this one, with your busy lives to live. you’ve missed this.

“i appreciate how much you do for me, T,” you speak quietly, nuzzling your face in tom’s neck. “i really do. you’ve been so lovely to me today, and every day. can’t thank you enough.”

you two stop on the sidewalk, tessa wanting to explore a patch of grass. tom hugs you with the hand that isn’t holding her leash.

“aw, y/n/n. you don’t have to thank me. i love you so much, you know?” tom murmurs. “i know. i love you, T,” you peck a spot on his jawline.

you continue on your walk, staying close to tom’s side.

“so, tell me more about your paper,” tom prompts you. “how’s it coming along?”

❥ gifts

“darling? have you seen my ring?” tom calls from the bedroom. he’s searching random drawers, huffing and puffing. “whereabouts is it?” he mutters under his breath.

you’ve finished your english paper at last, so your schedule is cleared for the day. you come into the room to help tom look.

“did you check your finger?” you tease, tom dramatically rolling his eyes. “haha, very funny. but i’m serious. i’ve no clue where it’s gone,” he whines. you rub his back to comfort him. “the signet ring, right?” you wonder. “that’s the one,” tom confirms, closing the drawer he had been going through.

“not again. what happened to your vow to never take it off after last time?” you shake your head. “i have my reasons!” tom defends. “just, let me…”

the ring suddenly catches his eye. lo and behold, it’s on his pinkie where it normally resides.

“never mind,” tom wiggles his fingers to show you. “oh, you div!” you gasp, pushing at his back lightly. “what did you need it for, anyway?”

tom slips the signet ring off his pinkie, shooting you a wide grin.

“actually, i wanted you to have it,” he reveals, reaching for your hand. your eyes go wide. “wait, what?”

tom read that with gifts, they should convey thoughtfulness and gratitude for your partner. it’s only fitting he gives you his signet ring. it’s special to him, and so are you.

“yeah,” tom shrugs like it’s nothing, sliding the ring onto your pinkie now. you ogle at it, your hand in his. “tom, baby. i… i can’t,” you almost whisper. “of course you can, darling,” he insists. “why couldn’t you?”

“because it belongs to your family. you should keep it,” your eyebrows knit together. “it’s yours, tom.” he grabs your other hand, bringing both to his heart. “you are family, y/n/n. it’s yours, too,” he corrects you. “it would mean a lot to me if you had it. i really do want you to.”

you meet tom’s eyes to be sure. he nods, urging you on.

the gesture is so beyond kind of him, but so out of the blue.

“okay,” you concede with a small smile. “i’ll take good care of it.”

tom places a kiss to your forehead, an arm winding around you.

“never had a doubt in my mind you would.”

❥ touch

you and tom are snuggled on the couch for a rom com marathon to end the night, in honor of valentine’s day being soon.

he’s tried out every love language to see which you respond the most to, although you seemed to have responded to all of them. there’s only one more he hasn’t yet attempted; physical touch.

“love?” tom gets your attention. “hm?” you shift your gaze from the tv to him. he spreads his legs, doing grabby hands for you. “c’mere. wanna hold you,” he requests with a dopey smile.

you giggle and climb into his lap, legs straddling him. tom cuddles your waist, letting his hands travel under the hoodie you borrowed from him. his warm palms knead at the bare flesh of your lower back. you exhale as your eyes flutter closed.

“you’ve got quite a few knots down here, love,” tom observes. “does this hurt at all?” you curl your arms around his torso. “no, feels so much better. keep going,” you encourage him.

tom carefully massages your back and kisses both your cheeks, his thumbs caressing your hipbones simultaneously. you let out noises of content, burying your face in tom’s chest. your hand moves up to his bicep and squeezes.

the reflection of the tv glints from the signet ring on your pinkie, tom biting back a smile.

“i love you,” you say against his chest. “i love you, too,” tom breathes.

that’s when it clicks.

“guess this is the one, then,” he speaks to himself. “huh?” you pop your head up, squinting at him. “what’re you talking about?” tom’s hands still in their movements, his lips pursed. “your love language. it’s physical touch, i believe,” he elaborates.

“i guess it is,” you echo. your elbow rests on tom’s shoulder, chin propped in your hand. “since when do you know about love languages?” you scoff. “since today,” tom deadpans. “i’ve been trying to figure out which one yours is. now i know.”

“i knew you were up to something!” your mouth drops open. “that’s honestly really cute, though. you’re too good to me.” you kiss tom’s shoulder. he clicks his tongue, fully enveloping you in his embrace. “come on, you deserve it.”

you feel so at home in tom’s arms, relaxing into him. his fingers glide around to your back once again.

you sit up from your current hunched over position. peter dips his head down so he’s in your line of vision.

“what do you do to make it better?” you ask him, voice quieting. “mm, easy. i go to you,” peter answers. you lay your head on his chest with a lazy smile. “what else?” you wonder. “well… it’s different for everybody, lovebug. what works for me might not work for you,” he offers a smile of his own.

“but i don’t know what works for me,” you whine and hide your face in peter’s chest. “i’m afraid i’ll do it wrong.” peter loops an arm around your shoulders, lips brushing your hair. “there is no right or wrong,” he speaks softly against the crown of your head. “whatever it is should take away the pressure, not add to it.”

peter kisses your hair, you hugging his torso.

“how about i make us some tea, and we talk for a while? that sound good?” he hums, glancing down at you. “very. thank you, pete,” you agree, your words followed by a heavy yawn. peter lets out a laugh at that. “i’ll be right back, bug,” he murmurs.

you stay in peter’s room when he heads off to the kitchen. while he’s brewing your tea, you get comfortable on his bed. it doesn’t take long before you’re settled once again.

more yawns begin to slip out of you, and your eyes are drooping shut. you soon find yourself succumbing to the sleep you desperately need, clouded mind clearing.

“hey, y/n/n? tea’s almost done. did you want honey or-“

peter enters the room and realizes you’re knocked out.

you’re sprawled across his bed on your stomach, with your head where your feet should be. your head rests on your arms for support. half your face is squished against one of your arms, the other half visible to peter.

so this is what works for you.

“that’s my girl,” peter sighs, pouting as he takes in your sleeping form.

there’s a crease in your forehead from your brows, which are firmly knitted together. your lips are pulled into a frown. peter comes closer so he can trace a finger over your forehead, helping to relax your features. you let out a noise of content.

peter doesn’t mean to disturb your slumber, but you look absolutely adorable like this. he has to capture the moment somehow.

silently, he reaches into the pocket of his jeans for his phone. he then opens up his camera. after backing up enough to fit you in the frame, peter sneaks a couple of photos of you. he swipes through them and chooses his favorite, deciding to set it as his lockscreen.

“so precious,” peter swoons, admiring the picture.

he locks his phone before approaching the bed again. grinning to himself, he gets onto his knees and places a light kiss on your forehead.

you’re sat on your bed, knee hugged up to your chest as you continue watching your newest interest, waiting for your beloved boyfriend to show his cute face at your window. and it’s not long before you hear the gentle knocks, getting up so giddily to open your window, letting him in. he’s never felt so at home to the scent of lavender and vanilla. instantly, and without a second thought (you’ve been dating long enough, it’s natural, like a routine), you gently bring peter into your arms. “missed you. how was patrol?”

“was alright. missed you, too,” he kisses the top of your head so preciously. “and your hugs. a lot” you hum softly. “have a seat on my bed, pete, i’ll go grab the usuals” you kiss his cheek before making your way into the bathroom. he makes himself at home, taking a seat on the edge of your bed, letting out a yawn in the process — it’s not late, only nine thirty at night. but the stress and pressures of putting other’s lives before his own really takes a toll on him.

ned has told him that he needs to take it easy, that he’s in dire need of some tender loving care. and he’s told ned the same thing, each and every time,

“that’s why i’m lucky to have her”

you walk back into the bedroom, his angel in human form that glows under the pale moonlight that shines in through your window. he looks up at you with only love in those soft, brown eyes of his. you sit down beside him.

“okie, i’ve got a damp facecloth and some bandaids,” you look up at your boyfriend to see him already looking at you so intently; like he’s trying to memorize a beautiful painting. “let me see your scars, babe” you scoot closer to him as he rests his hand, gently, on your leg— making sure there’s not a slight space of distance left between you two —while you take his wounded face into the palms of your hands. peter closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the way your soft hands feel against his skin; like home, his shelter away from all the mean people and things that harp on him for trying to give a little good in the city.

you finish daubing the cool facecloth, delicately, over the debris on peter’s face, smiling softly to yourself when you begin to see more of your boyfriend’s, your best friend’s, pretty, cute self again. putting the cloth down as you finish up, you gently trace your fingertips over peter’s skin, taking in all, and everything that he is — the sweetest boy with the most beautiful heart and soul you’ve ever felt. peter is your constant star, holding your hand throughout all the noise.

“you’re so beautiful” you mutter so quietly, barely above a whisper. “hm?” peter hums back, his eyelids fluttering open tiredly. his hazel eyes look so mesmerizing thanks to your other best friend, the moon. you shake your head out of your trance. “u-uhm, nothing,” you take your hands away from his face, leaving peter pouting behind your back as you gather the bandaids. “now, i have dinosaur bandaids and ones with little hearts on them,” you hold each small pack of bandaids in your hands to show peter. “take your pick, bubs”

“hmm,” the cutie in front of you hovers his pointer finger over the two, small, cartoon-designed, boxes, before tapping it on the dinosaur one with a big smile on its face. “the long neck one is speaking to me” you chuckle softly at him, opening his said choice. “ah yes, the cartoony brachiosaurus looks to be very friendly,” you place a couple of the kid-friendly healers over where the world didn’t treat him with much kindness. “and like they’ll protect your wounds from any harm” you finish off by bringing your hand back down to cup his cheek with the lightest touch, rubbing your thumb over his cheek lovingly. he kisses your palm with the same feeling. “i love you. like a lot”

“i love you all the same, petey”

“and baby girl… you’re the prettiest, ever”

♡ ♡ ♡

peter taglist; @badassbabeparker @kelieah @nocturnalms @sophi54 @wildxwidow @parkersholland

blurb taglist; @badassbabeparker @spideypeterlovebot @nocturnalms @sophi54 @wildxwidow @parkersholland

peter hasn’t shown since before he almost destroyed the universe not once, but twice, and the entire world’s memory of him was erased in the process. that included his two best friends and loving girlfriend.

he promised he’d make you remember him when all was said and done, which is what he’s here to do and what the letter is for.

it’s no secret that words aren’t peter’s strong suit. he decided to write everything down so he’d get them right for a change

once again, he attempts to read his letter.

“hi. my name is peter parker, and you don’t know me, but…”

peter finally stumbles upon the pastry shop.

this is it.

he takes one last peek down at his letter before hurrying inside, trying not to think too much of it.

swinging the door open, peter enters the shop with his eyes wide and lips slightly parted in awe of its instant familiarity. cheesy holiday decorations adorn the walls, the smell of freshly brewed coffee floating through the air.

mj is behind the counter. she chats with a customer who’s nursing a mug of coffee. the man points in peter’s direction, alerting her of his presence.

she turns around to face peter, wearing an expression that’s identical to his. he’s convinced for a split second that maybe she does remember him.

maybe you and ned do, too.

mj raises her hand and waves with a small smile, and peter is about to wave back when he realizes it’s not to him.

it’s to ned.

“hey!” he beams, skipping inside and brushing right past peter.

as thrilled as peter is to see ned and mj, his guy and girl in the chair, something is still missing; you.

he was especially hoping to reunite with you.

“‘sup, leeds,” mj greets ned as he meets her at the counter. “where’s y/n? i thought you two were coming together.”

peter is wondering the same thing.

“oh, she overslept and missed the subway,” ned reveals with a snicker, seating himself on an empty stool. “she’s on the next one over now.”

“yup, that sounds like her,” mj snorts.

peter chuckles to himself because yeah, it does.

his stomach fills with butterflies from the thought of you arriving soon, out of nerves and excitement.

mj glances at peter quizzically, then back at ned.

“one sec,” she mumbles to him before facing peter. “can i help you?”

this is their first interaction in what feels like a lifetime to him, although it’s quite unceremonious compared to what peter was expecting. he doesn’t mind much because it eases the pressure, though.

he inches closer to mj, fumbling for his letter.

“hi, um…” he puts a hand over his chest, reciting the way he rehearsed. “my name is peter parker, and i…”

he’s interrupted by a chime of the bell for the shop’s entrance.

you come dashing in, mj perking up when you approach the counter.

you’re clad in an oversized hoodie and sweats, pushing the hood off your head. with your fingers, you give your locks a quick touch up to account for it. you let out a definitive sigh once you’re satisfied.

peter watches you, his letter long forgotten about.

“morning,” you grunt and rub at your tired eyes. “someone’s in dire need of a pick-me-up,” mj observes. “i was up all night doing college apps. hit me with the good stuff, em,” you request.

“on it,” mj agrees as she grabs a cup. “room for milk and sweetened to your liking?” you snap, impressed that she has your order down. “you’re good at this.”

“i’ll have the same,” peter surprises himself by speaking up. there’s a beat before he adds, “please.”

mj gathers another cup. a smirk is playing on her lips.

“oh… ‘kay. no problem, peter parker,” she teases, heading off to start on both your drinks.

you peer over your shoulder to see who mj was talking to. he’s waiting where the line would be, smiling shyly at you.

“ooh, sorry. were you next?” you return his smile, yours apologetic. “that’s my bad. here, you go ahead of me.”

you’re already moving to step back, but peter holds out a hand to stop you.

“no, no, no. it’s fine!” he assures. “you look like could use the coffee, anyway.”

your mouth drops open in offense.

crap, peter forgot you’re not well enough acquainted yet to joke around like that.

you’re not acquainted at all anymore.

“damn, peter parker,” you laugh out, much to peter’s relief. “your bark is worse than your bite.”

he sucks his lower lip between his teeth to suppress a grin that’s far too wide.

“i’m y/n… y/n y/l/n,” you introduce yourself. “i know yours, so it’s only fair you know mine.”

“sure, fair trade,” peter affirms, gaze lingering on you. “it’s, uh, nice to meet you, y/n.”

a warm smile graces your features.

“nice to meet you, too.”

ned appears by your side suddenly with his arms open to embrace you. you bring him into a hug and give a pat on his back, peter wishing desperately to join you two.

“y/n! love the fit,” ned compliments and pulls back to admire it. “she’s totally repping!” mj chimes in while she fills yours and peter’s cups with ice.

peter is confused as to what’s so special about your usual loungewear.

then, he notices the MIT logo stretched across the front of your hoodie.

you were accepted?

“thank you, thank you,” you giggle, your hands straightening out the material. “you guys should get your own so we can match.”

“way ahead of you. mine is supposed to ship soon,” ned proudly shares and fist bumps you. “i may have done a little shopping spree myself. hoodies, crewnecks… the essentials,” mj discloses in uncharacteristically cheerful tone.

“look at you with the school spirit!” ned commends her. “tell anybody, i will deny it,” she deadpans, continuing to make the coffees.

peter pieces together that not only were you accepted to MIT, but so were ned and mj.

that was the plan, for the three of you to attend together. it’s your dream school. said plan originally included peter, although a plethora of complications unfortunately resulted in him being denied.

he’s still insanely happy for each of you, though. your acceptances into MIT were the reason peter did what he did in the first place.

as for you, peter is only disappointed because he can’t give you all the celebratory hugs and kisses you deserve. not when your memory of and therefore feelings for him have been erased.

mj slides the coffees across the counter, you eagerly retrieving yours.

“one for y/n, and one for…” she gestures to peter. “peter parker?”

peter keeps his eyes trained on you, allowing himself a moment to bask in your radiance.

you’re so content, so carefree as you discuss your college’s mascot with ned while pouring creamer into your black coffee.

it seems like you have a newfound sense of hope for your future, one you’d previously lost when you were always caught up in peter’s chaos.

“peter parker?” mj repeats, now effectively garnering his attention. “your… coffee.”

“right, thank you,” peter acknowledges, letting out an awkward chuckle.

he picks the drink up from the counter and leaves the total money due in its place. mj wordlessly puts it in the cash register, then jumps into yours and ned’s conversation.

with that, peter decides his time at the pastry shop has come to a close. he doesn’t want to bother you three anymore.

he manages to get halfway to the door when you call out to him.

“hey, where are you going?”

peter stands there like a deer in headlights.

“come sit with us.”

“i’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” peter admits, despite the voice in his head that’s screaming at him to take the seat next to you.

your lips twitch down, almost into a frown.

“c’mon, a little stranger danger never hurt anybody,” you persuade, waving around the bottle of creamer. “at least let me finish off your coffee.”

peter can’t say no to you even if he tried. it’s by far his biggest weakness.

besides, you asked him.

“is that okay? if i sit with you guys?” he checks with ned and mj.

mj shrugs, her typical couldn’t care less attitude.

“sure, dude! any friend of y/n’s is a friend of ours,” ned concurs.

that means everything to peter.

absolutely everything.

he doesn’t bite back his toothy grin this time as he pads over, choosing the seat between you and ned.

you playfully bump his shoulder with your own.

Peter moved into his apartment not too long ago and met you. When he first met you, he offered to help with your boxes and take them up to your place where he later found out was across his. He found you, and still finds you, absolutely breath-taking. He's more than happy to have you as his neighbor. Although, he was a bit surprised to find out you have a roommate, who happened to fortunately and unfortunately be your asshole of a brother. Though, you didn’t seem to mention him much so Peter never asked.

Even though you and Peter didn’t get to see each other much because you both have your own busy schedules, you both couldn’t deny the pull you feel towards each other. Anytime you each had a chance to talk, whether it be meeting each other in the hallway, by the mailbox, or trash, you both took the time to get to know each other and catch up. Neither of you ever asked each other out, simply because you both have been planning to but haven't gotten around to it, yet.

You look up quickly and look at him with eyes full of emotions that he could recognize easily. Fear. Pain. He can feel your heart racing and opens his mouth to say something until you cut him off. Your lips quiver as you barely manage to murmur out, “I’m so sorry.”

Usually, you would never do something like this, wake up your poor neighbor at such an unusual hour but you know him and trust him and at the moment you felt like he was the only person you could go to. You're starting to feel a bit guilty now when your eyes rake over his exhausted face.

“What- what? No no no, it’s okay. It's okay. Are you okay?” he asks a slight rasp to his voice for just waking up. He cringes at his stupid question because he can easily tell you’re not okay but it was a question he'd always ask out of habit.

The simple question causes everything you were holding back to crash down on you. You choke on a sob and shake your head aggressively, hesitantly holding out your arms for him to hold you. You just want him to hold you, that's all you want right now and luckily, he does.

Peter immediately complies and pulls you into his embrace. He senses another presence and glances back at your place to see your brother slamming the door before storming off. He sends a glare toward him and brings you inside of his place, closing the door.

He places a hand on your head gently and the other on your back, rubbing circles onto your sweater in an attempt to comfort you. You cry loudly into the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around him, your hands are barely being able to meet as you try to hug him tighter. Your fingers grasp the materials of his shirt while your tears stain the clothing. Your knees gradually give up on you and you begin to slip through his arms.

He naturally adjusts and slides to the floor with you, holding you in between his legs. “Hey, I got you. Let it out,” he murmurs and massages your scalp, closing his eyes. He starts to think about how he’s going to teach that fucking brother of yours a lesson. He doesn't even want or need to know what he did because the fact that you’re in this state tells him enough.

You wail out as the memories flash through your mind. You weren’t sure why everything feels so painful. Everything mentally and physically hurts. All he did was yell, and yell, and yell. It terrified you every time. You thought at first you could handle it, but it seemed you’ve had enough, obviously. You couldn’t help but feel so weak after what had happened. So fragile. You thought to yourself, why couldn’t I be stronger?

Minutes fade into an hour. Your weeping falters into soft hiccups and coughs. Peter never stopped rubbing your back and soon he pulls away to glance at you. Embarrassed enough, you hide your face in his chest.

Christ, you’ve only known the guy for a month and here you are breaking down in his arms before you were even able to ask him out. as if you were ever going to though. 

“Let me look at you,” he murmurs and tucks a hair behind your ear. You really didn’t want to. You can already imagine how you look right now. Face red, nose runny, eyes puffy, sweaty skin, hair sticking everywhere. God. “C'mon, please?” he asks in a softer voice. How could you say no?

You groan quietly and begrudgingly lift your face up toward him. Now you can see his face. His stupid, perfect face. He begins to smile and you begin to frown. Why is he smiling? Did you look that bad? Before you could look away again, he carefully holds the side of your face with his hand. “W-What?” you whisper, your voice hoarse and tired from the crying.

“You're absolutely beautiful, you know that?” he swipes a thumb underneath your eye, wiping away tears that you didn’t realize slipped out.

“No,” you reply honestly and sniffle. He chuckles quietly and continues to stare at you. You blush at his intense gaze and avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he rolls his eyes and pushes your head into his chest once again. He ruffles your hair which causes you to whine, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“But—”

“No buts. It's okay. I’m your friend. I’m here for you,” he mutters and places his chin upon your head.

You curl up closer to him and nod, placing a hand on his chest as he wraps his arms around you once again. “Thank you. Seriously. I'm here for you too..." you sigh and think back to everything that happened. You feel he at least deserves an explanation, "He—"

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” you reply, a bit shocked but thankful. You don't even know if you have enough energy to explain everything that had happened. You smile as your face smushes up against his chest and close your eyes at the warmth he provides.

“You don’t need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.”

“Are you really friend-zoning me right now?” you ask, your voice laced with sarcasm not expecting the tease to go right over his head.

Your snarky retort throws him off guard. “W-What? No- no, it’s just I-I didn’t want to—”

“I’m joking.”

“Right, right,” he exhales and chuckles.

“Is it okay if I sleep next to you... tonight?”

“Yea, of course. Couch? my bed?”

“I don't care, just want to be next to you. If that’s okay.”

“More than okay, let’s go,” he stands up and swoops you up in his arms easily. Almost too easily, but you’ll bring that up later. He decides for you and walks over to his bed. He places you down and you lie on your back on the other side of his bed. He turns off the light and finds his way next to you, also lying on his back. He pulls the blanket up to cover the two of you.

You both stare at the ceiling, a comfortable silence filling the room until you decide to break it. “Can we cuddle?” you whisper and turn your head towards him.

He turns his head towards you and smiles tiredly, nodding. He sits up a bit and holds out his arms. You shuffle closer and wrap your arms around him like before, placing your head on his chest. He lies back down and pulls you flush against him. You drape one of your legs over him and sigh with content. You hear his heartbeat pound slowly, the rhythm almost like a lullaby. His breathing and the way his chest moves up and down calm you even more. “Thank you," you whisper.

“That's what friends are for—”

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

thanks for reading! what did you think?

- nearly every morning sebastian would open the blinds before he disappeared, forcing you to wake up and get out of bed by the time he got back

- but one day your body clock is messed up after worries about a deadline so you're awake a few moments before him

- so you just sort of straddle him, pinning him down with your body and you close your eyes as you rest your head on his chest

- "mhmm, what's up baby?", his voice groggy one of the things you like about these early morning starts, hearing his groggy voice

- a complete contrast to his behaviour; sometimes pulling at your legs to make you get up

- "lets be productive today!!" was something he said too often, and you hated it

- there wasn't a lot to hate about sebastian, especially since he would change in the bedroom, thinking you were still sleeping, but at least you got a good show despite the rude awakening

- anyway , going back to you straddling him...

- "lets stay in today. please. too cold to go for a run", wapping all four limbs around him and he lets out a light laugh, almost like a koala

- "you'll have to go for a run with me clinging to you like this otherwise", you whine, gripping a little tighter

- he'd just hum, pretending to think about it. his hands would roam up and down your sides, "okay, okay. let's stay in bed then"

- you'd grin and move your head to kiss along his jaw "thank you my love", the nickname making him blush slightly

- you'd feel his hands grip a little tighter on your hips, your lashes brushing against his skin as both your breathing quickens

- "you are dangerously close to almost rubbing against my cock if you keep moving like that", he'd breath out

- and you'd just smirk, wanting a little bit of payback, so you lean back a little bit and drag your nails aimlessly against his legs, making them jerk a lil bit in reaction

- he'd just look at you with those sleepy eyes, head still nestled into his pillow

- "you gonna do something? don't care what ya do", the sentence quickly turning into a whimper as your hand slowly make their way up to the waistband of his boxers

- sebastian's the type to wear an old t-shirt to bed yturydfghjk that's literally so cute so you'd make him keep it on omg

- which was a good idea, because you had the chance to actually admire the bottom half of his body

- don't get me wrong, his abs and arms are just... no words,, but the other half? you could cry

- you would use some of his techniques, ahem, kissing up the inside of his thighs before kitten licking his tip tryedtfghjkb

- oh wow okay that is a sight to imagine

- whew, lets just say sebastian definitely changed his mind about mornings

- never again would he go for a run until you were up

- begging for a blow-job before he went

- bad idea, because each time it was so mind-blowing his legs would be shaking and he'd climb back into bed with you just to give ya a good time,, like a thank you for showing him that lazy sex-filled mornings are the best

- - - -

your thoughts of your boyfriend had lulled you into a light slumber. that was until patterned taps echoed through your bedroom. and with this pattern, you were able to discern the taps as the man in question.

after recognizing the sequence made all those years ago, you slowly pulled the covers from your body. any drowsiness was quickly muted when you saw peter, mask in hand, trembling on the fire escape just ouside your window. anxious to find out what happened, you dashed across the room and towards the window.

after opening the latch, peter practically forced himself through the small opening.

he pulled you into his arms as you murmured a soft, "peter," careful not to harm him any further, you ghosted your fingers over the tears in his suit.

"i really need you right now," he said breathlessly, "only you."

when peter needed a pause, he knew to come to you. it was something you made sure to establish months before you started dating. something, both peter and yourself, have since grown comfortable with. you gave him the space he needed when being spider-man became a little too much. it's one of the many reasons he wanted to call you his.

after a few moments of being enveloped in one another's arms, he speaks up, "i need you, baby. so bad."

pulling away slightly and locking eyes with peter, you reassure him, "you have me."

shaking his head slightly, he starts, "sometimes this is all too much. and sometimes, after a long day, all i want is you. i'm tired just of wanting you to be there."

with tears in his eyes, "i need you to be there, y/n. i need to come home to you." his voice much quieter now.

placing your hands on his chest, you let out a breath you hadn't realize you'd been holding in.

"you mean like, move in together?" you ask, not wanting to jump to conclusions.

"yeah," he chuckles, "like move in together." his hands gently squeeze your waist.

a smile forming on your face, you answer, "okay."

"okay?" he mutters, almost like he couldn't believe it.

"yeah, okay."

"i could kiss you right now." peter says softy, hand coming up to gently graze your cheek.

a slight smirk appeared on your lips as you glanced down from his eyes to lips, "go for it, parker."

maybe all those things were what caused his spidey-senses to go off just a second overdue. maybe he should have prioritized sleep, drunk enough water throughout the day, and sat down to eat before heading out to patrol. peter was a smart kid— he knew these things were important for effective daily functionality.

but he hadn’t done these things. what he had done was web up the guns of the two perpetrators, before doing the same to them. then, he had turned to the hostages, asking if everyone was okay. when they all nodded, eyes wide and grateful, he’d made his way to the nearest exit. just as he was about to swing away, however, he felt that ever-familiar tingle shoot up his spine, and the hairs on his arm and the back of his neck stood up against the fabric of his suit.

the screams of the remaining victims inside the bank weren’t enough warning for peter. he felt the bullet before he saw the gun, a horrible tearing sensation ripping through his abdomen jarring him from all thoughts of victory and the opportunity to go home and lay down.

the first thought to run through peter’s mind was oh my god oh fuck holy crap i just got shot. his hand flew to his wound, trying in vain to stop some of the bleeding. he watched as his attacker glanced between him and the other men bound by peter’s webs, before ultimately deciding he liked his chances of escaping alone better than attempting to free them. peter hated it when they were smart.

the second thought to grace peter’s dizzy head was hospital hospital hospital hospital. luckily enough for him, there was one a mere block away. all he had to do was get to the parking lot.

yeah. easier said than done, pete.

but he had done it. sort of. peter had managed to swing (well, stumble might have been a better word for it) roughly half of the way there. when he’d collapsed on the street, some kind civilians had rushed to the fallen hero, and aided in transporting him the rest of the way.

the final thought peter had before passing out in the emergency room was call them.

“karen,” he rasped, earning a “sir, you’re in the hospital, we’ve got you,” from the doctors working above him.

“yes, peter?” karen’s concerned voice rang through his ears. she’d been trying to communicate with him about his vitals and such for many minutes now, but this was the first time he’d really heard her.

“y-you have to call… call y/n. and m-may.”

“right away.”

“sir, i’m sorry but i’m going to have to remove your mask now,” peter heard a faint voice say. he laid there, allowing the doctors to push the mask up over his head as the adrenaline wore off, barely registering the bright white fluorescents that shone above him before everything faded into a black, painless bliss.

…

you were up late studying when you got the call.

your phone buzzed so loudly it made you jump from your spot beneath your covers, and you had to stifle a yelp so as not to wake your parents. quickly, you grabbed the device off your nightstand, yanking out the charger you’d plugged into it just a few minutes ago.

displayed on the screen was a picture of your favorite face. but why would peter be calling you at 12:04 on a school night?

when you answered the phone, you weren’t met with peter’s voice.

“hello, y/n, peter has asked me to call to let you know he has just been admitted to the new york-presbyterian queens hospital after a gun fight earlier this evening.”

two seconds ago, before you’d answered the goddamn phone, you were fine— you were sitting in bed, doing your homework, and you were fine. but now your stomach had dropped, your blood turned to ice. peter, hospital, gun fight.

“...karen?” you whispered, lifting your hand to lightly touch your face as you sat on your bed in shock.

“yes, y/n?”

you drew in a shuddering breath. “is… is he all right?”

there was a pause. then, “he’s been badly wounded. the doctors are taking him up to surgery now.”

you closed your eyes, hot tears falling silently down your face as you asked, “how bad is it?”

“there is substantial damage to the subcostal space, which—”

“karen,” you spoke through gritted teeth, “will he or will he not survive the surgery?”

“unclear.”

that’s all it took to get you booking it to the hospital.

…

you had experienced many hours in your lifetime that felt like days. late shifts after school where business was slow and there was no one to talk to, long lectures on unbelievably boring topics from your teachers, sleepless nights spent staring at your bedroom ceiling as your insomnia taunted you— but never something like this.

this was torture. that was a word you threw around a lot, you realized. long car rides with your parents were torture, homework was torture, yada yada. but as you sat in the ER’s waiting room after a painfully slow cab ride, you decided there was nothing that could be worse than waiting to hear the news on your superhero boyfriend.

though you knew it was a bad idea, you let your mind wander to the possibilities. what if peter’s rapid-healing abilities weren’t enough to get him out of this? what if he suffered permanent physical damage and couldn’t be spider-man anymore?

what if he died?

shaking your head, you tried to clear your mind, fingers busying themselves by untangling your hair from the buttons of your coat. they’d probably gotten caught there as you hurriedly pulled it on earlier.

but it was hard not to think about what should happen if peter didn’t make it. and you, ever the realist, knew there was a chance that might happen. you allowed yourself to revisit the conversation you’d had with pete about if a scenario like this were to occur.

…

a gentle hand on your shoulder caused you to glance up from your spot in the novel you held, and you would have gotten upset at the disrupter if not for the soft eyes that met yours as you did.

“what’s goin’ on, pete? this was just getting good.”

peter laughed at your pout, kissing it away quickly before his features hardened slightly. not in a stern way, but more so a this-is-important-and-i-need-you-to-take-it-seriously way.

“can i talk to you about something?”

after noticing you visibly tense, he moved his hand from your shoulder down your arm to hold your own hand.

“…sure, what’s… what’s going on?” you asked more hesitantly this time, peter’s clear attempt to soothe your nerves barely doing so.

your mattress dipped as he took a seat in front of you, releasing a deep sigh, one leg hanging off the side of the bed as his grip tightened on your smaller hand.

“okay, so…,” he scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “i’m spider-man.”

at this, you let out a laugh. “yeah, pete, we’ve had this conversation before. i know all about your little ‘stark internship,’ remember?”

hearing your laugh made him let out a breathy chuckle of his own. “yeah…. listen, that was just the first conversation that comes with this gig. there’s… well, we’ve also got to talk about what happens if i… get hurt.”

the smile on your face faded almost instantly, and you let your hand slip from his palm before he could catch your fingers with his own. you tried not to let the disheartened look on his face affect you too much as you attempted to find a way out of having this discussion.

“peter….”

“y/n, look, i know it’s a difficult topic, but we really have to talk about it.”

you shook your head, looking down at your lap. “you know what? no, we don’t, and do you wanna know why?”

“y/n—”

“because you’re gonna be fine. stark made you a badass suit— two, actually— with an A.I. to help you and everything. you’ll be fine, we so we don’t need to talk about this at all.”

peter stayed silent for a moment, gazing at you with a pained, knowing look. then he spoke. “listen, babe. i know it’s hard, but this is important to me. i need you to hear this, okay? can you let me say this, please?”

when he got no response, he asked again. “please, y/n?”

“fine.”

another sigh. “okay. there’s not a lot to say, really. just that if i get hurt, like, badly… or worse, if i die, i need you to know that it’s okay for you to move on.”

you stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation at hand, but made an effort to swallow that discomfort to allow peter to get through what he needed to say to you.

“when my uncle died, may had a really hard time for a while. she didn’t let herself live the way she should’ve been able to. i watched her turn down men for years, distance herself from ben’s side of our family…. she grieved for so long, and she held on too tightly to a person who i know for a fact would’ve wanted her to be happy. and i don’t want that life for you, y/n. i don’t want it to be years before you can move on. it’s okay to be sad for a while, and it’s okay if you miss me for the rest of your life. that’s normal. but it’s not okay for you to let the grief consume you, okay? that’s the last thing i could ever want for you.”

there might’ve been tears in your eyes at this point if it weren’t for the fact that you thought this discussion was absolutely ridiculous. peter was going to live a long, happy life, not die young at the hands of some villain. regardless, you let his words sink in just enough that they didn’t quite cause you pain yet, but that you’d remember them later.

“okay,” you exhaled, finally looking him in the eye again. “all right, i’ll… all right.”

that seemed to be enough for peter, who pulled you into his arms, effectively crinkling your book between your bodies during the tight embrace.

“thank you,” he whispered. “do you wanna go watch a movie now, or should i let you keep reading?”

…

you were literally shaken from your thoughts as a tall woman in a surgical cap (you recognized her as dr. conklin, the one who’d come to update you on peter’s condition roughly an hour into his surgery) jostled you lightly, her hand resting on the same shoulder as peter’s did that day of your talk.

“miss y/l/n?”

suddenly fully alert, you jumped up from your seat in the somber waiting room to face her and her colleagues who stood behind her with their hands clasped behind their backs.

“yes? is he okay? is peter out of surgery?”

with a small smile, the woman spoke. “there were a few minor complications, and we’re monitoring him very closely, but yes, peter is out of surgery.”

your hands flew to your face, cupping over your mouth and shutting your eyes as you muttered an “oh, thank god,” to yourself.

“there’s more,” dr. conklin said, and your heart stopped for a moment. “we’re letting peter rest now and recover from this operation, but he’s going to need another to repair residual damage done to the nerves in the thoracic wall. you can see him in the meantime, but he’ll need this second surgery within a few hours beforethe nerve damage becomes permanent.”

you swallowed. “okay, that’s okay. just, uh, take me to him, please?”

“of course, right this way.”

…

the two and a half hours you spent at peter’s bedside were worse than the four you spent in the waiting room. it was morning time now, almost six thirty. people all around new york were getting up for school, work, life, not knowing that their beloved hero was sitting in a hospital bed between surgeries, and it angered you. you were upset that anyone had the audacity to go on with life like normal while peter laid here hooked up to all sorts of machinery tracking his vitals, managing his pain, and keeping him hydrated.

people would likely be finding out soon, though. you hadn’t been there, but you knew there was no way spider-man could get shot and not have it make the news within a few hours.

there was no time to dwell on the inevitable, though, because you heard a groan and the ruffling of bedsheets, and your heart raced because peter was waking up.

quietly moving your (rather uncomfortable) chair closer to his side, you whispered, “heeeyyy, petey. how ya feelin‘?”

your hand came to rest on the top of his head, brushing back his hair as he struggled to open his eyes. though the doctors reassured you he wouldn’t be in a world of pain upon his waking, you couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable he must’ve been in this moment.

“y/n?”

“yeah, peter, it’s me, i’m here. you’re okay, okay? you were in an accident, but you’re okay now.”

he shuffled around a bit more, eyebrows furrowing and eyes clenching shut again. were the lights too bright? did he want you to turn them off? should you call a nurse or something?

“is may coming?”

though his eyes were still closed, you offered him a small smile. “we talked on the phone while i was in the waiting room. she booked a flight but it doesn’t depart for another few hours. she wasn’t able to get anything sooner, ’m sorry, bub.”

opening his eyes and seemingly adjusting to the light better now, peter let out a tired chuckle. “worst timing for a business trip, i’m telling you.”

“yeah, i guess you’re right.” there were tears in your eyes now, threatening to spill over at any second.

“hey,” he cooed, reaching up to brush the side of your face. “don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“’m sorry,” you sniffed. “’s just… a lot.”

“yeah, but… i lived, didn’t i?” he flashed you a bright grin, and you reciprocated it to the best of your ability.

“thank god for that. you have another surgery in a little bit, though. something about repairing nerve damage.”

you noticed a change in his demeanor. his shoulders slumped further into the mattress, and his features fell considerably, to the point where his grin was merely a shadow of what it was before.

biting your lip, you asked a somewhat stupid question. “you okay, pete?” he just nodded, sighing. so, you asked another stupid question. “are you scared?”

eyes softening dramatically, he gazed upwards at you. “i’m not scared. but if you are, you can hold my hand.”

once again offering him a tiny smile, you let your hand slide into his open palm, relaxing just a little as you felt his fingers close around you. you didn’t outwardly tell peter you were scared, but he knew. even if you hadn’t just insinuated it by taking his hand, he could tell.

“could be worse, right?”

you blinked. “hm?”

peter shifted a bit, and you noticed he seemed to be having a hard time getting comfortable, making a mental note to ask a nurse for another pillow for him if possible.

“it could be worse. i mean, for one thing, i could’ve died. that’d suck, not gonna lie.” that last statement pulled a giggle out of you, and your fingertips of your free hand dampened as they came up to wipe at the drying tears on your face. “not to mention i get all the hospital jell-o i could eat now.”

“wow, you really know how to make the best of a bad deal, don’t you?”

“every cloud has a silver lining, babe.”

…

you were expecting the good news soon. after all, the doctors told you that the second surgery should only last a few hours, and it’d already been three and a half— the first two of which you spent running home to take a shower (thanking god your parents slept through you being gone and left for work, probably assuming you were still asleep, as it was your tendency to wake up as late as possible without making yourself tardy) and then grabbing some breakfast from the hospital cafeteria.

but from the look on the surgeon’s face as he walked towards you, you knew something went wrong. standing up from your seat next to peter’s now-empty bed, you asked, “what is it? what’s wrong? has something happened?”

“miss, there’s been a complication. peter’s thrown a blood clot which resulted in a pulmonary embolism. we’re doing everything we can to fix it.”

you couldn’t breathe. right now, there was only one thing you needed to hear— that this wouldn’t kill him.

hands shaking at your side, and doing your best to hold back tears, you asked, “will he survive?”

“like i said, we’re doing everything we can to make sure he does. but you may need to prepare yourself for the worst case scenario, ma’am.”

nodding, eyes unfocused, and stomach churning, you slowly sat back down in your seat, allowing the doctor to return to his job, which at the moment was to do everything in his power to keep the love of your life alive.

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. this isn’t real. maybe if you thought it enough times, i’d become the truth. you’d wake up from this horrible nightmare next to peter’s bedside, waiting with him for the doctors to take him up to his next surgery, which would go smoothly, perfectly.

if there was no peter, who would you talk to? who would you rant to when your parents got on your nerves? who would you burden with all your secrets, swearing them to silence even though you know they can barely keep their own secrets hidden? who would you tell your deepest desires to, hoping they have a part in making them come true?

if there was no peter, what were you supposed to do?

hating yourself for making this all about you, you threw yours head into your hands. how could you be so selfish? what mattered now was peter’s life, not how yours would end up if he didn’t make it through this.

then a thought came to mind. if there was absolutely nothing you could physically do to help peter, maybe you could help him through prayer. you hadn’t spoken to any higher power in a long, long time, but… desperate people tend to find faith.

oh, jesus, please please please help peter get though this. i know i don’t ever talk to you, and i definitely seem like a jerk calling on you now just because i’m in need, but please. peter’s the kindest, most selfless human being your dad ever created. he saves lives on a daily basis. please let him live.

eventually, you wrapped up your conversation with jesus, too tired to sleep and too stressed to want to be awake. it was another few hours of you panicking alone in a hospital room, occasionally taking calls from your friends who were wondering where you and peter were today.

“sorry, ned. me and peter aren’t coming in for the spanish quiz today. yeah, i’ll tell you about it later.”

“actually, peter and i are going to be out for the day, mj. can you tell mr. harrington we’re gonna miss decathlon practice? thanks.”

you were never an incredibly patient person, but this really was torture.

…

you felt like you could finally breathe again when the doctors told you they expected peter to make a full recovery. you almost dropped to your knees sobbing then and there, beyond grateful and admittedly a little religiously conflicted, but ultimately, you just felt relief.

as you waited for peter to wake up from his second surgery (you were told it would take considerably longer this time), you spoke to may over the phone, updating her on her nephew’s condition and asking her about her flight. after the call, you opted for take-out to satiate your hunger, letting your parents know you’d be home late tonight. ‘i’m at mj’s house’ was the best excuse the universe ever graced you with, and it didn’t seem to have an expiration. as far as they were concerned, you were at mj’s a lot.

it was well into the night when peter did awake. you came to know there was no better feeling than the one you experienced when you heard the sharp inhale of his breath and the shifting of hospital bedsheets. it didn’t quite fit into the description of ‘relief.’ this was much, much more than that. if felt deeper and far more personal than that.

while the doctors were all incredibly amazed to learn about peter’s rapid healing abilities (it was okay for them to know about it now that they knew his identity), this was something you’d expected. you figured he’d wake up stronger than the average person would. he could breathe on his own, speak without difficulty, and you were glad for it all.

but he was still in pain. getting shot by a semi-automatic rifle isn’t something that even peter parker, new york’s very own spider-man, could make go away quickly— it would be a long recovery. so there you sat, once again next to him at his bedside, playing with his fingers in a comfortable silence.

peter was the one to break said silence with a gentle tug of your hand and a whispered, “c’mere.” he made some room for you on the bed (they really needed to get comfier mattresses, you thought), and you snuggled up next to him, head resting against his shoulder as he hugged you as close as he could to him at his current strength.

you released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, and finally spoke. “i know this is gonna be hard, pete. but i’m here for you. soon you’ll get better, i promise.”

“yeah, i sure hope so.”

“you will. you have to— you have people to save out there.”

peter chuckled, turning his head to look at you as best he could. “how ’bout i just worry about taking care of you for now?”

you rolled your eyes dramatically. “no, peter. i’m not the one with a bullet wound right now. it’s my job to take care of you for a while, okay? can you let me do that?”

“of course, but… are you okay, y/n? i know this day can’t have been easy on you, and i just want to make sure you’re all right before you make it your job to make sure everyone else is.

a ghost of a smile appeared on your lips. of course he’d prioritize you while you tried to prioritize him. “i’m okay. i wouldn’t have been if things had turned out differently, but we got lucky, and i’m just glad you’re alive.”

“the guy that did it escaped, though,” peter said, and his hold on you tightened once more, but in what felt like a protective way this time.

“’s okay, babe,” you tried to reassure, “ you’ll get him, i know you will.”

“mhm.” and then it was back to silence.

“but if you ever scare me like that again, parker, i’ll kill you myself.”