what's going on✨they/them✨

“Y/N.” Peter calls out to you. His eyes don't leave the ceiling. He waits for you to say something, but you don't. He waits, but the silence is clawing away at his heart. He breathes, “why do you...why is your hand in my hair?”

He hasn't thought about it before.

You. He hasn't thought about You. About how your fingers are tangled with his curls, nails scratching lightly at his scalp absentmindedly while you scroll through Twitter. How his head is resting on your stomach, cheek squished against the fabric of your sleep shirt, a ratty old shirt with holes in the hem, a shirt that used to be his. How it's 2:00 AM and you let him in your room through the window. How he is laying in your bed, wearing your red fuzzy socks, your shirt, and a pair of his sweatpants that he keeps at your house.

He hasn't thought about any of it before. He doesn't understand why.

He knows the question is weird. He knows he didn't word it right. He knows he didn't let himself think it through but now it is out, his words are hanging in the air and you're yet to say anything.

Your hand, the one weaved into his curls, pauses at his question.

He gulps, the courage building up to look away from the ceiling is at the verge of spilling and before he can think, he looks at you.

You are not looking at him.

Your gaze doesn't leave the screen of your phone. Your thumb hovering mid air, over the keypad of your mobile. You spare him a glance, quickly diverting your gaze back to where it originally was, snorting at his question but it holds an unnerving alarm.

“Why?” You say, lips twitching. You are teasing him. He can tell by the playful eye roll, but the curious undertone in your words isn't washed away. “You don't like it?”

A small smile appears on his lips, mirroring your own.

He sits up, knees digging into the mattress as he reaches to grab at your wrist. Peter's fingers circle around it, guiding your wrist beside your head. You hold his gaze, a little confused but you relax your fingers and the phone falls into the puffy pillow.

“I asked you a question,” he grins, “and now that I have your undivided attention…” He is hovering over you, stretched over your body to hold your wrist. A few pieces of hair covering his eyes as he looks at you with his big, curious eyes, “why are you so affectionate with me?”

You smile, “mhmm?” You reach for his hair with your hand, the one that isn't pinned down by him, to brush a stray piece of hair from his eyes, and instinctively, he leans into your tender touch. “I am an affectionate person, Pete.”

He scoffs, “no, you're not!”

You gasp playfully, “what do you mean I'm not?”

He sputters, struggling to string together a cohesive sentence and bursts into a fit of giggles. He is right. You're a person with a lot of love, but you use your words to convey your feelings. You don't need touch but when it comes to him…

It's the only way you can let him know how much you love him.

To you, the love you have for him is a little complicated. He is your best friend, but you love him in a way only a soulmate can. He doesn't know, because you don't say any of it. You convey it through kissing his cheeks in greeting, holding his hand when you're walking aimlessly around the streets of New York, pulling him in your arms when he's sad.

He is yet to catch on.

It is how it's always been, though. Maybe that's why he doesn't understand.

You have known him since you were seven. You ran into him at the park behind the elementary school you both attended. You weren't looking, and he unfortunately happened to be in the way. He started to cry when he hit the ground.

Peter's clothes were covered in dirt. He hit his elbow against the concrete, scraps littered the marred skin. His sniffles led to the build of guilt in you.

“Hey,” you sit next to him, “I'm sorry. Are you okay?”

He sniffles in response. You want to say, it isn't a big deal. He should be paying attention. It's not your fault. To stop crying. He doesn't need to cry over a scratch. Unfortunately, there he is crying, and using the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his nose while holding his injured elbow.

You reach for your handkerchief, “where are you hurt?”

You only intended to tie your handkerchief around his elbow and help him stand up, but when he looked up at you with his big brown eyes, thanking you politely, you knew you made a new friend.

“My mommy always kisses me when I get hurt. It makes the pain go away.” You say to him, waving your hands exaggeratingly to display how the hurt vanishes into thin air. “Where’s your mommy?”

He doesn't say anything, looking away as he fiddles with the handkerchief you tied around his elbow.

A pause. “I don’t have one.”

You frown, “oh.” You squeeze his shoulder, contemplating what to say next as you turn him to look at you. “I can kiss your pain away.”

“Really?” He asks, looking up at you with hopeful eyes and you nod, smiling widely.

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away, only to find a blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. He looks at you, and the colour on his cheeks grows deeper.

“Thank you,” he smiles shyly, “It...it helped.”

A splitting smile appears on your lips and you wrap your arms around his skinny frame. “I’ll always give you kisses because your mommy can’t, okay?”

You have taken it upon yourself to give him all the love you can eleven years ago. He has his Aunt May, but a little extra love doesn't hurt, does it? You've always loved him through your actions, instead of words, the hugs, the cuddles, cheek kisses and holding hands. He's curious about it, and you understand why.

“You're not!” He argues. “I-I barely see you hugging anyone.”

You puffed out a giggle, “you're literally on me!” You twirled a piece of his curl in between your fingers, arching a brow at him, “how am I not an affectionate person?”

“I'm not…I'm not talking about me, us.” He pauses, heat rushing to his cheeks, the tips of his ears turning red, growing shy under your gaze. “You're…you're only like this with me.”

He holds your gaze, hesitant to say, “it's our thing, isn't it?”

“Our thing?” Your brows furrow, and your expression morphs into a clueless one. “I am like this with everyone.” You scoff, “you're not special.”

Hurt crawls up his heart, the playfulness in his eyes diminishing until you let a giggle slip past your lips and he catches on. Eyes widening, he gasps.

“You little shit!” He hisses at you. His gaze narrows, “stop teasing me. You only kiss my cheeks! Only mine! I have never seen you…”

“I kissed MJ's cheeks on her birthday.” You say, lying through your teeth without a worry. It isn't a believable lie, and he sees straight through you.

“Liar.” He accuses you. “MJ would never.”

“You don't know her like I do.” You shrug.

“I've known her longer than you.” He rolls his eyes. “I introduced you to her!”

He holds up a finger before you could get a word in, “nuh-uh. I don't want to hear it.” You look away, scrunching your nose. And he leans in, nudging your nose with his, “you only let me in your room at night,” he holds in a breath, “don't you?”

You glance back at him.

“You're the only one allowed to be out this late!” You say. “I won't let you in if you come in through the door! You are the only one who can scale a wall and come to my window.”

“You still let me in! It’s basically my second home.”

It is, isn't it? He has been sneaking in your apartment for years. He is here when he gets hurt and you patch him up. He is here nearly every night. He shoots May a text, and stays the night with you. Talking about how slow the night has been, what bad guys he caught. How he saved yet another cat from a tree.

Peter's words are comforting, his voice a safety blanket you always rely on. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep to his voice. You wait for him at night, struggling to stay awake. And when you fall asleep while waiting for him. He doesn't wake you up, he slips in your bed, under the covers beside you.

“I won't let you freeze outside! I care about you, you idiot.” You say, exasperated. “I let you in because you're either beaten up, or bleeding out. You'd die if I don't let you in.”

He huffs. “I-I…” He deflates. He sinks his weight on you.

He doesn't say anything, letting the silence ring louder than his words. He's agitated, struggling to string a set of coherent words together. A pause, his frustrated movements come to a halt and he picks up his head, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You let me cuddle you.” He says, a proud smile on his lips. “It's me! You only allow me to be so close to you all the time. I hug you at school, I always, always have my arm around you. You let me rest my head on your shoulder. You don't let anyone else do that.”

You scrunch up your nose, squinting your eyes. “I mean…”

He scoffs in disbelief, “you can't possibly deny that.”

“It's not just you!” You giggle, twisting your wrist out of his grip to pat his cheek lovingly. “Mr. Snuggles are right there,” you say, vaguely gesturing towards the bookshelf where a plush toy is sitting on the top shelf. “You can't disrespect them like that, Peter! Apologise!”

“You…” He narrows his gaze at you. “Can you stop comparing me to a teddy bear?” He is getting frustrated, the apple of his cheeks running hot, and the tips of his ear turning pink. He's puffing out his cheeks, like a child, fiddling with the collar of your shirt as he struggles to keep his cool.

It's adorable how hard he's struggling. He gets fuzzy, agitated, and angry, like a little kid.

You love getting him all worked up.

“You know!” He grumbles. “I…I was…what I am saying is,” he pauses to study your expression, “would you let MJ sleep on top of you?”

You puff out a laugh at his words, a head shake concluding your answer instinctively, “no!” You tilt your head to the side, “why would I do that? MJ is my friend!”

He smiles slyly. “You're saying…”

You walked right into that one, didn't you?

“...you won't let MJ sleep with you because she's your friend?” He nuzzles in the crook of your neck, smiling against your collarbone. Your hand in his hair falls limp by your side in defeat, and a smile appears on your lips to mirror his, but with absolutely no cockiness, unlike him.

He lifts his head up, “what does that make me?”

You look away.

He wiggled his brows, trying to get you to look at him, “why do I get special treatment? Could it be that I am someone,” he pauses, feigning a dramatic gasp, “someone special to you? No way!”

You peek at his sly grin, “you are my best friend!”

His smile deflates, “this is not fair.” He tries to argue. “You're being mean.”

You burst into a fit of giggles.

He frowns. “Y/N.” He props himself up on his elbows, hovering over you. He is caging you in between the mattress and himself. He is frowning at you, and he looks adorable. He narrows his gaze, and purses his lips. “Is that it? A best friend?”

You smile at him coyly. A hand reaching up for the back of his head. You hold him, fingers brushing against his curls, and he's struggling to hold your gaze. “Is a friend not enough for you, Pete? Do you want to be something more?”

He doesn't say anything. His gaze drops to your lips, and he looks back up to you. He doesn't say anything, but you know exactly what he wants.

You lean up. His gaze doesn't leave yours, and he's waiting, studying what you'll do next, but his thoughts melt away when you brush your lips against his. It's barely a touch but it's enough, it's enough for him to capture your lips in a sweet, sweet kiss. You gasp against his lips, and he slows his pace, and kisses you with delicacy. He guides your head back to the pillow, without another thought, drops his weight on you. You're pinned against the bed, pressed against his chest, his knee parting your thighs to accommodate itself. He's caging you in, holding onto you with no intentions to let you out of his embrace. He doesn't want to.

It's a sweet kiss, tentative, and struggling to decipher where it can lead.

He pulls away for a breath, catching your gaze for a split second. You are breathless, struggling to catch your breath. He stares at you, blood rushes to the apples of his cheeks, dusting his skin with hues of pink. You're uncharastically shy under his gaze, but a splitting smile makes its way to your lips, and he breaks. He can't contain his own smile for long. He is smiling at you.

A breathless laugh escapes his lips and he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “Hi.” He says, and you giggle, shyly he pecks your lips.

“Hey.” You smile at him. Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses your nose.

“Hi.” He says. He's way too giddy to keep a track of his words.

“You already said that.” You tease.

His eyes widen, the words register and he grows shyer in humiliation, “right.” He is silent for a minute, contemplating what to do, what is he supposed to do? He does not know! But he knows what he wants, so he simply asks for it. “Can I get an upgrade? I would really like the boyfriend position please.”

“Let me think.” You hum, tilting your head to look deep in thought. “I don't know. I think I need to kiss you again, just to make sure you are deserving of the job. Can't hire you if you're underqualified. It would be unfair for the other applicants.”

He arches a brow at you, amused. “Other applicants?”

You shrug, “Mr. Snuggles. They give great cuddles.”

“Oh?” He challenges you. “I'll be happy to give you an idea of just how qualified I am.” His hands creep down to your waist, and you squeal as he rolls you over. He lays on his side, holding you to his chest, your legs tangled in the blanket.

He kisses your nose, leading his kisses to the corner of your mouth, to your cheeks. He peppers kisses on your lips, covering every inch of your skin with his lips. “Pete!” You protest, in a fit of giggles. He roars comically, “num, num, I'm going to eat you up.” He bites your neck playfully. “Oh my god,” you pinch his side to get him to stop, “you're a child.”

He yelps, rubbing his side, pouting at you petulantly. “You're mean.”

He lays his next next to yours on the pillow and you turn your head to look at him. Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, he asks. “Can I be yours?”

You smile at him, and nudge the tips of his nose with yours. “You have always been mine.” You brush your lips against his, “and I've always been yours.”

much to peter’s satisfaction, there’s only the dark night sky and whistle of the wind. he continues to his destination; wilson fisk’s penthouse suite. he soon reaches fisk’s main balcony that overlooks the city, scoffing at its grandeur. it sticks out like a sore thumb.

fisk, more formally known as kingpin, is new york’s most infamous crime boss. peter has a hunch the business is how he brings his money in. ever since peter slipped into the spider suit, fisk’s mobs have been causing him trouble. he’s finally fed up. by taking down their leader, he takes down all of them.

“privileged piece of shit,” peter mutters to himself, leaping onto the balcony.

he lands softly and crouches down behind the sliding glass doors so as not to be seen. curtains shield his view of the inside of the suite, but he catches a glimpse of fisk’s silhouette. it’s not only fisk that he makes out, though. there’s someone else with him.

someone who triggers his spider senses.

peter uses his advanced hearing to listen in on the conversation between wilson fisk and the mysterious figure, slowly lifting to his feet in anticipation.

“where is it, fisk?” the figure demands, their high-heeled boot kicking fisk into his desk chair. “i won’t ask you again,” they threaten. their heel digs into fisk’s chest to keep him in place. “i dunno what you’re talkin’ about, sweetheart. you’re gonna have to be more specific,” fisk plays coy.

the figure chuckles lowly. they trail a gloved finger up to fisk’s neck, their claws for nails scratching at his throat. their hand wraps around his throat, fisk gulping.

“i’m feeling generous tonight,” they hum. “one last chance. where’s the goddamn necklace?”

fisk lets out a strained laugh, refusing to answer. color rushes to his pale face as the figure’s grip around his throat tightens. although he’s far larger than them, they have him beat. he’s in a chokehold.

“what’s the matter, big boy?” the figure coos. “cat got your tongue?”

great, it’s you. black cat, another one of spider-man’s adversaries.

from what peter knows, you’re a burglar who by some miracle hasn’t been caught yet. believe him, he’s tried to catch you. the only difference between you and your average criminal is that you have combat skills and a gimmick. well, in his opinion.

peter caught fisk at just the right moment, and you’re about to step on it. it’s not often there’s a time or place where fisk isn’t accompanied by his mobsters. but, tonight happens to be one of those rare occasions. without his henchmen there to protect him, peter can sneak up on fisk and handle him once and for all. fisk might be strong, but he’s no match for spider-man.

peter has to do something before you ruin his whole operation.

“c’mon, use your words,” you mewl, dragging fisk closer by his throat. your face is inches from his. “tell me where the necklace is. that’s all you gotta do, hm, willy?”

spider-man suddenly breaks through the sliding doors. shattered glass crunches under his feet as he takes his stance, chest pumped and head held high. you gaze up at him nonchalantly through the cutout eyes of your mask. 

“we’ve got company,” you announce. fisk struggles to look over his shoulder and see. “whatcha doin’ here, kitten?” peter questions, arms crossed over his chest. you smirk at his signature nickname for you. “nice to see you too, spidey,” you greet. “we’re kind of in the middle of something, though. right, willy?” you sink your claws farther into fisk’s throat.

fisk clutches at your hand in an attempt to pry it off of him. you pout condescendingly.

“can it wait? i’ve got some dirty laundry of my own to air out,” peter informs you. “come give me a hand, then. the more the merrier,” you run your thumb along fisk’s cheek, his face redder than a tomato. “no thanks,” peter rejects. he cocks his head to the side. “i know better than to take in a stray,” he patronizes you.

“ooh, good one,” you deadpan, fisk gasping for air in your grasp. “never heard that before,” you laugh lowly. peter breathes hot air through his nose, losing his patience with you. “alright, kitten. fun’s over. we can play later, but right now i’m here for fisk,” he says sternly.

you eye spider-man over your lashes, a grin pulling at the corners of your lips. fisk thrashes around in his chair, trying to free himself from your hold.

“unfortunately for you, i’m here for fisk, too,” you say to spider-man while staring down fisk. “he has something of mine, and i’d really like it back,” you explain. “ironic, isn’t it?” fisk chokes out, you easing your grip so he can speak properly. “stealing from a thief?” he finishes.

“keep going down this road, you’re gonna end up just like your daddy,” fisk says, a wicked smile creeping onto his features.

you slam him against the back of the chair, your boot now pressing into his thigh.

“don’t talk about my father,” you warn fisk through gritted teeth. fisk snickers. “or what? what’re you gonna do about it, sweetheart?” he prompts you.

he winces as you wrap your fingers around his throat once again. your claws pierce his skin, eyes darkening and locking with his. you’re not holding back this time.

peter can tell where this is headed, and he has to intervene. he can’t just stand by and watch you strangle someone.

“hey, hey, hey. let me handle this,” peter says calmly. he makes his way over to fisk’s desk, coming up behind you. “let me handle it,” he repeats, your hand still around fisk’s neck. “i’m not leaving until i get my necklace,” you stand your ground.

your hand is starting to shake, uneven breaths escaping your lips. in all the years peter has known you, he’s never seen you like this.

“look at me,” peter wills you. you glance back at him, grip on fisk loosening. “you’ll get your necklace, okay? but first, i have to-“

spider-man is interrupted when fisk escapes from your hold completely and shoves you off of him, knocking you onto the floor with a victorious cheer. you pull yourself onto your knees and blow a piece of hair out of your face, glaring up at him.

“watch it, willy,” you warn, fisk chuckling. “stay down, kitten. it’s my turn,” peter takes over.

he webs both of fisk’s wrists before you can argue, you only watching.

“it’s about time we finally met, don’t you think? spider-man. it’s a pleasure” peter introduces himself.

spider-man yanks fisk forward by his webs and then lets go. fisk falls back in his desk chair, spider-man jumping into his lap.

“i know who you are,” fisk breathes out. “the pleasure’s all mine.”

he makes a fist and moves to punch spider-man, who dodges him easily. that doesn’t stop fisk from going in to punch him again. spider-man scoffs, catching fisk’s hand and pushing it back until you hear a pop.

“nice try, buddy. that the best you got?” spider-man taunts him. “eh, i could do better,” fisk shrugs.

he grabs both of spider-man’s arms in his other hand, effectively holding him back. spider-man grunts and wiggles around, but to no avail. he’s trapped. he twists fisk’s fingers on the hand he still has a hold of, which elicits a yelp from him. fisk is distracted enough by the pain for spider-man to hop out of his hand and off of his lap.

you stand up beside spider-man and place a claw on his shoulder. you bat your lashes at him, nails scratching lightly.

“need some backup, spidey?“ you purr, peter feeling the skin-tight leather of your suit brush up against him. “yup, and the authorities are on their way. called them a long time ago,” he replies. “i meant me,” you huff. “but i guess your boys in blue will suffice,” you sarcastically respond.

your fingers slide down spider-man’s arm, touch tingling. he attributes it to you setting off his spider senses again.

he doesn’t trust you.

“forget about me?” fisk’s voice booms. he rises from his chair, towering over both you and spider-man. “i could never, willy,” you assure him.

you hoist yourself up onto fisk’s desk so you can reach him and launch yourself at him. your legs loop around his throat, hands pushing down his shoulders. you spin your body around so you’re in a position that allows your thighs to squeeze his neck tighter. hands steadied on his shoulders, you lean over to be in fisk’s face.

“where’s my fucking necklace, huh? where is it?” you shout at him.

peter has to admit it, you’ve got moves. he’d be impressed if he didn’t absolutely loathe you.

fisk stumbles over to his desk, your legs still hooked around his throat. you won’t budge. you’re restricting his airways so much so that his face has gone from red to blue. he opens up a drawer and frantically tears through it, retrieving what you’ve been asking for all along.

your necklace.

it catches your eye when fisk dangles it above your head. you relax your legs around his neck, focus now on getting your necklace. you attempt to seize it from him, so he holds it up higher and higher.

“please, fisk. let’s end this,” you beg. fisk chuckles maniacally, swinging the necklace between his large fingers. “you want it?” he asks, you nodding in response. “here, kitty kitty. go and get it,” he concedes.

fisk tosses your necklace off the balcony. you gasp and instantly hop off of him, diving down off the balcony to catch it.

at last.

peter is glad to see you go. dealing with you is one thing he can cross off his to-do list.

now he can give fisk his full, undivided attention.

“and then there were two,” fisk mutters. peter turns his head to crack his neck, the eyes of his mask narrowing. “not for long,” he quips.

peter lunges forward and webs fisk’s feet, then kicks him hard in the stomach so he loses his balance. fisk goes tumbling back into his desk chair again. he lets out a noise of anguish, pounding a fist in peter’s face.

“uh oh, too slow!” peter ducks, tiptoeing behind fisk.

he gathers both of fisk’s arms and webs them together, then webs fisk to the chair for good measure. fisk growls and tugs at his restraints. grinning to himself, peter comes back around to stand before fisk and admires his work.

“he’s in here, boys!” peter yells out.

on cue, the authorities bust down fisk’s door and aim their guns at him.

“freeze! hands in the air!” the chief commands. peter moves aside to reveal fisk tied up. “already taken care of, chief,” peter laughs.

a couple of officers run over and surround fisk while the rest begin to collect evidence. peter steps away to speak with the chief, leaving a red-faced and whiny wilson fisk behind.

“you may have won this round… but this isn’t over, spider-man!” fisk calls after him. “tell it to the judge, fisk,” peter shoots back.

he raises his hand as if he’s saluting him, but flips him off instead.

after saying his goodbyes, peter fills the authorities in on all the information he has. fisk is officially in their custody. peter deems the officers fit to handle fisk themselves from here, so his job is done. he shows himself out the way he came, on the balcony.

peter is proud of what he accomplished here tonight. he successfully put a stop to the man who’s been tormenting him since he was a teenager, and put him behind bars where he belongs.

his stomach gurgles as he begins to climb the building. he’s starved. he’d kill for some tacos right about now, honestly. so, he decides to treat himself to dinner to celebrate his win.

peter climbs all the way to the roof and hauls himself up onto it, letting out a content sigh. he often resides on rooftops after a fight to cool down and reflect. they’re the perfect place to be alone, feel the refreshing breeze on his skin. plus, the view isn’t half bad.

“karen?” peter awakes his artificial intelligence. “open uber eats.”

“spider-man uses uber eats?” you speak up, peter whipping his head around in the direction of your voice.

he didn’t notice you up here in the darkness. he’s surprised his spider senses hadn’t alerted him.

“well, well, well. look what the cat dragged in,” peter remarks. “how original. you’re on a roll tonight, spidey,” you retort, sauntering over to him. your heels click loudly against the pavement. “what happened with fisk?” you wonder.

“what do you think? i kicked his ass, obviously,” peter gloats, a hand on his hip. you stop in front of him. “they’re taking him down to the station once my webs dissolve. his hands are tied right now… literally,” peter jokes. you let out a humorless laugh. “prison, yeah? i hope he rots there,” you say. “for once, we’re on the same page,” he agrees.

you give spider-man a once over and a small smile. peter’s lips twitch into a smile of his own, but he bites down on his bottom lip before it grows.

you’re you.

“what happened with your necklace?” peter changes the subject.

he doesn’t care all that much, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the least bit curious about it. you were hellbent on getting it.

your smile fades, whole demeanor shifting at the mention of the necklace.

“right,” you murmur. you hold out the necklace in the palm of your hand, showing it to spider-man. “broken.”

peter squints at the piece of jewelry.

it’s a gold chain with a heart locket attached to it. the locket is cracked, and the chain is split into a couple of pieces.

you close your hand after spider-man has gotten a good look at it.

“the ground caught it before i did,” you elaborate, rather solemnly. “that’s too bad,” peter clicks his tongue. “can’t you just, i dunno, steal another one, though?” he chuckles. you shake your head. “no,” you answer. “why not? that’s your thing, isn’t it?” he mocks you.

the flashing lights from the police cars illuminate your face. there’s smudged mascara that’s dripped down your cheeks, which peter assumes are the remnants of tears. you meet his gaze, your own intense as your claws fiddle around with your necklace.

“have you been crying, kitten?” peter asks, sounding almost concerned. “the necklace was from my father,” you dodge his question. “he gave it to me when i was a little girl. he… passed away not too long ago,” you speak quietly, opening up the locket.

inside is a picture of you and your father. he’s carrying you up on his shoulders, wide smiles on both your faces. it’s the only part of your necklace that stayed intact.

“he taught me everything i know. trained me,” you reminisce. “this is the last i have of him. or… had, i guess,” you correct yourself. peter peers down at the photo, frowning behind his mask. “i’m so sorry,” he genuinely apologizes, both for your loss and for poking fun at how torn up you are over the necklace.

he had no idea of its sentimental value to you.

“i, um, lost my dad, too. when i was a kid,” peter empathizes with you. “both my parents, actually. fucking sucks, doesn’t it?” he tries to lighten the mood. a fresh tear trickles down your face, although it’s accompanied by another smile. “does it ever get any easier?” you whisper.

maybe, peter misjudged you all these years. you’re hurting. he’s been through his share of heartbreak, and he knows what it can do to a person. he has to cut you some slack. he behaved similarly to you when he first got his powers and before he learned to use them for good. he’d channeled his rage into fighting, and it seems like you’re doing the same.

he understands why you do it now.

he understands you.

“you want me to be honest?” peter quirks an eyebrow. “please,” you mumble. he puffs air out of his cheeks. “not one bit,” he confesses.

the two of you burst into a fit of laughter, you wiping your tears with a clawed finger. it feels good to not be hating your guts for a change.

“thanks for keeping it real, spidey. i can always count on you for that,” you giggle. “your friendly, neighborhood spider-man is at your service,” peter responds.

you tackle spider-man into a hug with no warning, catching him off guard. he exhales an oof as your arms wind tightly around his waist.

“seriously, thank you,” you repeat, your cheek rubbing against his chest much like a cat would do. “easy there, kitten,” peter chuckles out. he hugs you back nevertheless, his fingers lightly stroking your locks. “you’re welcome,” he speaks quietly.

you two pull apart after a moment, spider-man clasping his hands behind his back awkwardly. he takes a step back to leave. you don’t want him to go just yet, though. peter doesn’t want to go either. he’s finding your presence oddly comforting, and you’ve never minded his.

spider-man gets out his phone and unlocks it, pointing at his screen. you look at it curiously.

“i was just about to order some food,” he reminds you with a grin. “you like tacos?”

-

By your last interview, you were exhausted and hungry. The most you had gotten all day was a few sips of water. You were so busy that you didn't have time to think about the fact you hadn't eaten and honestly was feeling a little lightheaded. The reason you had noticed is cause Tom was the one to mention it first.

"Hey, Love you alright?" he asked. You and he are due on stage any minute. You hadn't realized you were staring off into space, slowly swaying side to side on your feet. "Y/n, you look sick," Tom's voice is laced with concern, and he puts his arm around your waist, looking at your face.

At that moment, you realized your blood sugar was probably low. But you also knew if you told Tom, he'd freak out. "Yeah. Fine, Tommy," you smile weakly. You look next to Tom, seeing Harry and Sam talking a few feet away from him. "Sam, could you hand me my bag?" Your bag; that contained the device to check your blood sugar, plus a glucose control drink.

"Yeah, let me find it," he answered, walking away to look for it.

Before he could return, you guys get announced to stage. You don't give Tom a chance to argue before you compose yourself and turn to walk on stage. Tom frowns but isn't far behind you, planting a smile on his face when you both make it in view of the cameras. You both sit down and begin the interview.

The interview was going well. You let Tom do most of the talking, keeping a smile on your face and 'lovy' eyes anytime Tom said something cute or sweet about you. Even though it's a long couch, you and Tom are sitting close together, and at some point, he had taken your hand.

"So, guys, what's it like playing a romantic couple on screen? Was it hard or embarrassing to do such sensual or intimate scenes? Considering it could be like the audience is actually watching directly into your relationship," the interviewer asked.

"Actually, what you guys don't know is we actually set up those cameras all around our home and they’re purely real," Tom jokes, causing you and everyone to laugh. "But for real, it wasn't that bad. I mean, who can complain about getting to cuddle with your girlfriend and work at the same time," he shrugs and smiles at you.

"He says that but he's leaving out the part of us having to redo many scenes because he got so into them and forgot his lines," you say.

Tom playfully groans. "I can't help it," he laughs, making you shake your head and laugh. Tom turns his head to you, smiling, but the look his eyes said 'are you ok?' Nobody else would be able to tell, but he could see how you were slightly off, just by the fact of how quiet you were the whole interview. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, turning your head back.

A few minutes later, anyone could tell you weren't ok. "Y/n, you feeling ok?" the attention is turned to you again.

"Yeah. It's just been a long day. We're all tired," you breathlessly laugh, referring to you and the boys. You knew they were exhausted too. It's clear by the way they weren't acting in their usual 5-year-old mindset.

Even though you played it off like you were ok, your head hurt, and you felt like your body was heavy. You leaned over, putting your head on Tom's shoulder, not having much motivation to still want to even be in the interview.

"You know what, you're right. It's been a long day. I'm sure you too are ready to go, so I'll bid you both a goodbye and good rest of your day." The interviewer gives you a smile and farewell.

Even though you have the chance to leave, you don't move. You don't have the strength too. Your body only reacts when Tom gets up, and you automatically push yourself up since you were leaning on him. Tom is still holding your hand, and you use it as leverage as you push yourself up, not going unnoticed by Tom. You turn toward the side of the stage you came on, walking closely to Tom, feeling your eyes open and close longer than only a blink.

Tom removes his hand from yours, wrapping his arm around your waist instead. "Hey. Let, Love you alright you don't look good." Tom's voice is concerned and caring. He's looking directly at you, even though you're only half aware, staring ahead of you. You hum, leaning your head on him again as your eyes continue to flutter.

Ready to go, Sam and Paddy approach you both, bags and coats in hand. "Hey, you good?" Harry asks, looking at both of you, mostly you, leaning and barely conscience against Tom.

"Y/n?" Tom says your name cautiously, trying to shake you a little. By now, Sam and Paddy have moved closer, both with looks of concern, plus Harrison coming to say the car is ready. You're walking on and off the line of awake and not. You're trying to rouse yourself enough to get to the car or at least walk out of the building.

You know it's too late. You know there's probably no way to get out of this without explaining to Tom and the boys, but before you can even think to ask for your bag or tell him what's wrong, the room completely cuts to black.

Tom is already holding a lot of your weight, but then you go limp, and he feels all the extra dead weight on his arm. His other quickly wraps around you, holding you against his body. Gasps from Tom, Paddy, Sam, and Harrison fill the room. Tom lowers himself to the ground with you in his arms. He's in shock, his eyes wide and not knowing what to do or say. The first thing he thinks of is to check your pulse. His fingers go to your neck, pressing lightly. When he feels your heart beating, he lets out a sigh of relief, hanging his head down.

"Y/n," he brings his hand to your cheek, rubbing it softly, "please, what happened?" For the first time since you fainted, Tom looks up at his brothers and friend, eyes pleading for him. They're looking down with the same look of worry and complete cluelessness on what to do. "W-what are you doing?" a sudden wave of annoyance goes through him. "C-call someone! Go get help!" He says it louder and meaner than he meant to, but he doesn't care. He had so many emotions going through him that nothing else mattered at the moment.

Harrison and Sam are first to turn and run in the direction of where they thought 'help' would be. Of course, by now, a small crowd had gathered, mostly a few behind-stage works that had been passing by. Tom started shaking, and his breathing was coming out short. He holds your body close, rocking as he looks up at the sky, blinking, not wanting to let the tears fall.

Paddy drops the stuff in his hands, getting down on his knees next to you with Tom. he takes your hand in his, his eyes wide as he looks over your body, just as scared as Tom. You're close with Tom's brother as if they're your own.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of Tom's heartbreaking as he held you, you started to wake up. Your eyes fluttered open. They opened, but barely, but Tom noticed, immediately holding you tighter. "Love, hi, w-what happened?" his voice is shaking. He brings his hands up to your face again, tilting it so you can see him better.

"S-sorry, Tom." Your voice is weak, and your vision is unfocused. he shakes his head, opening his mouth to disagree, but nothing comes out, not knowing what to say or what you mean. "I think my blood sugar got too low. I have diabetes," your voice is quiet and broken, your eyes barely open as you look up at him.

Before either of you think to say anything else, Harrison and Sam run up with medics from the set. Paddy lets go of your hand when they run and kneel in front of Tom and you. "Can you explain what happened?" one of them says as they set their equipment down and check your pulse.

"She said she has diabetes. I-I didn't know," Tom stutters.

"I have a glucose control in my bag," you say as loud as your voice will allow, which is pretty quiet. Paddy looks at the bags he was holding, spotting yours and grabbing it. When he opens it, he sees the bottle, quickly giving it to you. The medics check you, and Tom removes one of his hands from you to open the bottle, slowly tipping it to your lips.

You take a few sips, snuggling closer to Tom's body and zoning out, closing your eyes and not registering what the medics are saying to Tom. The words you do catch when you zone in is when he says to Tom, "Let her rest and make sure she eats. Once she's strong enough, also make sure she stay active."

By the time you make it to the car, Harry and Tuwaine had started wondering what was taking you all so long. When Tom came out, you in his arms, they were quick to ask what happened. Tom climbs in the car, reluctantly putting you in the seat next to him inside of letting you lay on his lap, knowing it's more about your safety. He sits in the middle seat of the car and has your head on his shoulder as you close your eyes.

When you make it home, everyone is all over you. Harry and Tom help you inside while Paddy, Tuwaine, and Harry unpack the cars, and Harrison fills in Tom's parents on what happened.

Hours later, you're resting in bed with Tom. He refused to leave your side, but it didn't matter since all the guys were helping you. Tuwaine made food for you, and when you woke up, most of the guys piled into you and Tom's room, wanting to make sure you were ok.

"Why didn't you tell us, Y/n?" Sam asks what everyone is thinking.

Tom is sitting up against the headboard with you sitting against his chest. You're between his legs, slouched down so that your head is level leaning back against his shoulder, and Tom's hands around resting on your arms under the blanket covering you both. You shrug, "I didn't want you guys to worry. I was fine until now. It's just we happen to have a hectic day."

"But if he had known, we would've looked out for you. We could've taken time to slow down and made sure you had what you needed," Harrison says.

"Thanks, guys," you smile. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's alright. Just know we all really care for you," Paddy chimes in, making everyone nod in agreement.

After a beat of silence, you yawn. "Ok, mates, let's give Y/n some rest. We'll see you guys tomorrow, yeah?" Harrison asks.

"Yeah," Tom says. "Bye, mate." They all say their goodbyes and walk out of the room, leaving you and Tom in silence. "You alright?" Tom asks quietly.

"Yeah," you say, shifting your weight and turning in his lap to lay on your side, your head on his chest.

Tom readjusts his arms, moving them around your back, taking his other hand in yours and rubbing circles on the back of it with his thumb. "You really scared me." His voice is barely above a whisper. "If something is wrong, please tell me next time."

"I will." You let yourself melt into his embrace, feeling him start slowly rubbing your back, his slow heartbeat, the silence of the room, and the warmth of him and the covers lulling you to sleep. From now on, Tom and all the boys would be more attentive. They'd help you and take care of you, never wanting anything to happen to their girl.

Masterlist

“Please?” Aaand you still refused to get up. “I promise I’ll be home as soon as possible.” You look at him skeptically. “I promise.” He repeats.

“Fine, you can go.” You sigh, and he smiles, but his expression soon turns into confusion, seeing as you still hadn’t gotten up.

“Darling, I can’t move, you’re still sitting on top of me.”

“ Have you ever thought that the problem isn’t me, sitting on top of you but you sitting under me?” You expected him to laugh, or something like that, but instead he grins mischievously. That’s when he began to tickle you. His hands were tickling the sides of your waist as you laughed breathlessly. He loved your laugh, as messy as it could get, he loved it either way.

“Tom stop!” You protested in between laughs and giggles.

“Not until you get up!” And so that’s exactly what you did, scrambling off his lap and tumbling in a heap on the floor. Tom smiled in victory while you tried to catch your breath.

“Okay, well, if you’re leaving me for the day, the least you can do is give me a hug before you go.” You say, finally able to breathe.

“I’ll do you one better and give you a hug and a kiss.”

You smile.

“Well, now, that certainly makes up for it.”

a/n: lmk what you think about this one ! ( sorry its so short :( ) likes and reblogs are very much appreciated :) <3333

“Hey.” You said, making Peter jump.

“Oh. Hi.” Peter blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“May let me in. Did you still want to organize your notes?” You asked with a sweet smile. Peter didn’t know how to tell you this, but he desperately wanted you to leave. He was in no mood to socialize right now and just wanted to relax in silence.

“Yeah.” He faked a smile. “Sure.”

He took a seat on his bed across from you and took his notebook out. He was still way overstimulated so every little thing you did bothered him. The sound of your breathing, the sound of you moving the pages, even the way your pen sounded when you clicked it made Peter’s skin itch. As you flipped through his notebook, you turned a page too fast and it ripped down the middle.

“Oops.” You chuckled. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Whatever.” Peter grumbled. You noticed the way he rolled his eyes and your smile instantly fell. You began to feel uneasy around him and cleared your throat. He looked up at you when you did this and looked even more annoyed than before.

“Where’s your tape?” You asked quietly.

“In the bottom drawer.” He mumbled as you got off the bed.

“What?” You asked when you didn’t hear him. Peter stopped flipping through his notebook and flexed his hand to keep from lashing out.

“In the bottom drawer.” He repeated. “In my desk.”

“I don’t see it.” You said after opening the drawer.

“Then keep looking.” Peter sound, the annoyance in his voice sending a chill down your spine. You continued to rummage through the drawer, unaware of how loud it sounded for Peter. His enhanced hearing made it ten times louder than it sounded for you and it was driving Peter insane.

“I can’t find it.” You said after a minute, sending Peter over the edge.

“Oh my God.” He exclaimed and got off the bed. “Just stop touching things. I’ll get it. You’re being so irritating right now.”

You stopped looking through the drawer and got out of his way as he walked over to the desk. You were hurt by his words but said nothing about it, not wanting to irritate him further.

“It’s right here.” Peter said angrily when he found the tape. “Can you open your fucking eyes?”

“I didn’t see it.” You said quietly as he slammed the tape down on his desk. You jumped as the plastic cartridge shattered under his fist.

“Because you weren’t looking.” He shouted in your face. “Do you have to be so fucking helpless all the time? I can’t come rushing to your side the second you need me. I’m under enough pressure as it is without you whining and making a bunch of noise over some fucking tape. If you hadn’t ripped the god damn page in the first place, we wouldn’t have had this problem.”

You stumbled back from Peter as he finished shouting and felt tears brim in your eyes. You were both equally shocked over what had just come out of Peter’s mouth. He had never raised his voice at you before. He was never anything but sweet towards you, so to hear him scream and swear at you made your entire body feel hot in embarrassment. He slapped his hand over his mouth, stunned that he just lashed out at you like that. You took your phone out of your pocket and pretended to check it.

“My mom wants me home.” You mumbled. “I gotta go.”

You started walking towards the door but Peter quickly ran in front of you

“Wait, honey. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that.” He apologized as he tried to keep you in place.

“It’s fine.” You faked a smiled and brushed past him.

“It’s not fine.” He shook his head. “I was agitated over something else and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry. You don’t have to leave.”

“I don’t really want to be around you right now. If you’re agitated, take some time to cool off.” You avoided eye contact as you went for the door again.

“I don’t want you to go after we just fought.” Peter pleaded as he desperately tried to get you to stay.

“We didn’t fight.” You said as you walked down his hallway.

“But I yelled at you. I don’t want to leave things like that.” He followed you to his front door and stood in front of it.

“I gotta go.” You told him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Please.” Peter begged. “Please stay. I’m so sorry. Let me makes things right. We can finish the notebook. Or anything you want. Just please stay.”

“Can you move away from the door, please?” You asked, your voice shaking with anxiety.

“I don’t want you to go.” Peter said softly. “Not when you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. I just don’t want to talk to you right now. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You faked another smile and this time, he moved away from the door.

“Okay.” He nodded but wasn’t fully convinced that you weren’t mad. “Can I have a kiss?“

You looked up at Peter, almost looking scared as you looked into his eyes. You gulped and stepped forward before placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow.” You said and quickly left his apartment.

Peter let out a long sigh and went back to his room. He felt awful for yelling at you the way he did. He sat on his bed and looked at the notebook you’d been working on. You had come over to help him and all he did was scream in your face. Peter felt so guilty that he started to cry. He texted you another apology and saw that you read it, but didn’t respond. He wanted to give you some space, so he went out on patrol to clear his head. He was only out for an hour before he found himself outside your window. He couldn’t focus on anything when he knew you were mad at him. Peter noticed your window was open and knocked on your window pane.

“Can I come in?” He asked as he looked around the room. You were sitting on your bed, knees drawn to your chest and head between your legs.

“I’m sorry to just come over. I texted you a few times but you didn’t answer.” He said softly as he sat on your bed. You didn’t move from your position but he heard a tiny whimper escape your lips.

“I tried to go on patrol and cool off, like you’d said I should.” He continued. “But I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was you. I feel really bad about what happened. I didn’t mean to yell at you. You didn’t deserve that.”

You still didn’t respond and he was starting to worry. He reached forward and rubbed your arm only to find that you were shaking.

“Can we please talk?” He asked. “I feel awful.”

Finally, you looked up at him. Your eyes were completely bloodshot and you sounded like you were struggling to breathe.

“Peter.” You whimpered and reached your arms out. Peter caught you as you fell into his arms and hugged you tightly.

“Are you okay, honey? What happened?” He asked as he smoothed your hair.

“I can’t.” You whispered. “I can’t breath.”

“It’s okay. Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Peter said as he rubbed soft circles on your back. He could feel your entire body shaking in his arms and held you tighter.

“Don’t let go.” You spoke, voice muffled by Peter’s chest.

“I won’t. I won’t ever.” He promised. You pulled away after a minute and gasped for air.

“What happened? Are you all right?” He cupped your face and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

“I don’t know.” You croaked. “I feel really scared. I feel like my heads gonna explode.”

“It’s okay. That’s okay. You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here.” Peter assured you. He lifted your hair off your neck and blew on your skin to calm you down.

“I think I’m gonna die. I can’t get my heart to stop beating. I don’t think it’s ever gonna stop. I’m gonna die. It’s not gonna stop and I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not going to die. I’m right here, babygirl. Nothings gonna hurt you.” Peter said as he pulled you back into his arms.

“Somethings wrong with me. Something really bad is going to happen.” You cried against his shoulder as you gripped him.

“Shhh. Nothing bad is going to happen. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Follow me, okay? Follow my breathing. Deep breath in.”

Peter sucked in a deep breath and you did the same.

“Good job, babygirl. Now exhale. Nice and slow. Like this.” He blew out and you did the same.

“Good job. Now keep doing it.” Peter told you. He continued to breathe with you until your heart stopped racing.

“How do you feel?” Peter asked you.

“I feel really far away.”

“That’s okay. You’re not far. You’re right here. You’re with me. We’re in your bedroom.” He said slowly as he tried to ground you.

“It doesn’t feel real.” You shook your head as you looked around.

“It’s real. Feel my face. That’s real, right?” Peter asked as he put his hands on his face.

“Yes. That’s real.” You nodded as he moved your hand to his suit.

“And feel this. What does it feel like?”

“A basketball.” You said as you rubbed your hand on his suit.

“Yeah. It does.” He smiled. “Have you ever played?”

“No.” You shook your head. “ I used to play soccer.”

“Really? What position?”

“Goalie.” You cracked a smile.

“That sounds really fun.” Peter returned the smile. “How old were you when you played?”

“8 I think? I don’t really remember. I quit after a year.”

“That’s okay.” Peter shrugged. “Sports aren’t for everyone. What have you been doing tonight?”

“Just some homework.” You said quietly as you looked at the pile of books on your bed.

“Yeah, l see all your books out. What class was it for?”

“Fundamentals of design.”

“Do you like that class?”

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “It’s not that hard.”

“Probably because you’re so smart. When did you stop doing your homework?”

“When I got an alert on my phone about the explosion. And then I heard sirens. I didn’t know where you were.” Your face fell as you remembered what sent you into the panic attack in the first place. Peter had successfully distracted you enough for you to calm down, but now you were spiraling all over again.

“I was really scared. I thought something bad happened to you.” You told him as your eyes filled with tears again.

“It’s okay. Nothing bad happened to me. I wasn’t anywhere near an explosion. I didn’t even know there was one.”

“I didn’t know where you were.” You repeated with a shaky voice. “And then I started thinking about the last time we spoke and how cold I was to you.”

“I completely deserved that.” Peter assured you. “You had every right to be mad.”

“I know. It just seemed silly to get mad at you for snapping. Everybody snaps sometimes. I kept thinking about how quickly I left and how short our kiss was. Then I started to worry that that would be the last time I ever kissed you. And it wasn’t even a kiss. It was a stupid peck. And not even on the lips. All I could think about was how the last time I ever kissed my boyfriend before he died couldn’t been a peck on the cheek. Then I couldn’t breathe.”

Peter was quiet as he listened to you. He felt guilty was casing the attack, even if it was indirectly. You looked at Peter through your wet eyelashes and gave him sad smile.

“I should’ve kissed you longer.” You whispered. Peter wasted no time and pulled you into a long kiss. You kissed him back and wrapped your arms around his neck as you made up for the fight.

“Do you feel better now?” Peter asked when you pulled away.

“A little. I’m sorry I left like that. I get weird about people yelling at me.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I understand. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“I wanted to call you and tell you all of this an hour ago. It’s been weighing on me since it happened. I couldn’t focus on my work. And then I saw the news of the explosion and I just…” You trailed off and sighed in exhaustion.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Peter wondered.

“Because.” You said sheepishly without meeting his eyes.

“Because why?”

“Because you told me to stop being helpless.” You admitted. “You said I couldn’t call you every time I needed help. I don’t know. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“You’re never bothering me.” He assured you. “You can always call me, babygirl. Anytime you need me. Don’t ever hesitate to call.”

“Yeah, but were already mad and I didn’t want to be needy.”

“You’re not being needy. You’re my girlfriend and I love you. I just want you to be okay. I would’ve dropped everything for you.”

You kept your eyes down as you nervously picked at your nail polish. Peter looked at you and felt his guilt build up by the second.

“Did you really feel like you couldn’t call me?” He asked quietly. You looked up at him and nodded slowly.

“Has this ever happened before?” He asked, scared to hear your answer.

“Yeah.” You admitted. “It has.”

“And you’ve never called me? Why?”

“I can’t just pull you away from patrol everytime I have a panic attack.” You shrugged. “You have more important things to be doing.“

“There’s nothing more important to me than you. You know that, don’t you?” Peter said as he cupped your face in his hands.

“I know.” You sighed. “I don’t doubt that you love me. I guess I just feel like a burden.”

“Why would you feel like that?” Peter asked as if that was the craziest thing he had ever heard.

“How could I not?” You laughed sadly. “I’m just being honest. I need constant reassurance and attention. I’m difficult to be around sometimes. I’m not always nice and I don’t always react to things in reasonable ways. It can’t be easy to love me. I probably wouldn’t stick around that long if it wasn’t me.”

“Do you think I feel that way?” Peter wondered.

“Sometimes.” You nodded. “I assume I’m annoying you a lot. Or that you can’t wait for me to stop talking or something.”

“Oh.” Peter frowned. “That’s kinda mean. I wish you didn’t think of me like that.”

“I never thought of it like that.” You realized. “It’s not just you, though. I assume I’m a burden to everyone.”

“But that’s the thing. You’re not. You’re not a burden to anyone. You don’t have to apologize or feel bad for how you feel. You’re allowed to feel however you want. And you’re allowed to talk about those feelings. Especially with me.”

“I know. I know all of that. It doesn’t make me feel any less like a bother though.” You said as you looked down at your lap.

“You’d want me to reach out to you if I was upset, right?” Peter asked.

“Yeah, of course. I’m always here for you.”

“I know you are. Would you think I was a burden if I came to you for comfort?”

“No. Never.”

“So why would you think that about yourself?” Peter asked you.

“I don’t know. I guess I just do.”

“You can always call me. I don’t care what time it is or where I am. Even if I’m on patrol. I love you and I’m here for you. Always, okay?” Peter said as he held your hands in his.

“Okay.” You smiled softly and gave his hands a squeeze. He pulled you into his chest again and kissed the top of your head.

“We can finish my notebook tomorrow. And you can rip all the pages you want.” He said as you laid back on your bed. You smiled a little at his joke as he brushed your hair off your face.

“Thanks for calming me down.” You said as you traced the freckles on his cheeks.

“Anytime, baby girl. And I mean that.” He promised. “I’ll always be here for you. I love you.”

“I love you more.” You told him, making him sigh happily.

“I love you most.”

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor

@lavender-writer @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr @mara-twins @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ @itscaminow​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff

When the plane landed and the hatch opened, you stormed off of the ship and began to approach Peter before he held his hand up. 

He had gone missing and suddenly, from a strange sounding town in the middle of the Netherlands, he had turned up with blood covering his face. 

"Wait. How do I know that you are really Y/N?" He asked, eyes clouded with tears as he looked over at you. 

You took a deep breath, "We watched the stars together and there was this one time that you nearly fell off the balcony, and your pants got caught in the bars an-" you explained and he cut you off, cringing.

"I get it," he said. 

You rushed up to him, arms engulfing him in a hug. He buried his head in your neck, trying not to let any tears spill over. You pulled away, brushing a piece of hair away from his face, "Come on, let's get you fixed up,"

When you got into the plane, Happy greeted you both and checked on Peter before going to grab the first aid kit that was stored somewhere on the plane - and that Happy knew they would need. 

You led Peter to the seat, noting the vacant and upset look on his face as he sat down. You sat behind him, taking a deep breath as you listened to him explain about Mysterio and what he had done. 

Happy passed you the needle as you sat behind him, brushing his slightly curly locks of hair away as you began to put the stitches into his neck. He would wince every time and you'd try to help him calm down but he didn't really care. You pulled another piece of the string and he hissed through his teeth, pulling away from you. 

"Peter," you reprimanded, looking at him as he stood in front of you, not really caring about the cut on his neck anymore. 

"Why'd you care now Y/N, you left me for a month and then we come on this school trip and everything turns shitty and now what, you care?" He asked and you scoff, so that is what this is about. 

When Wanda had created the hex, she had taken you in with her and in that world you had been trapped for a month, learning of your heritage of a type of ancient witch. You couldn't talk to Peter about it, he wouldn't understand. 

"Is that what you think of me?" You asked, raising your voice slightly, watching as Happy walked away to give you two your space, "That I abandoned you? I'm in so much pain right now and you don't understand."

"I thought you were dead!" He exclaimed, tears in his eyes, "I lose everyone Y/N, and I can't lose you too,"

With that you scoffed, "My parents are dead. My brother is dead. My sister is missing. Vision is dead. Tony is dead. Steve is gone. I have nobody left," you said, holding the tears back. But Peter couldn't mistake the wobble in your lip, a telltale sign that meant you were close to breaking down. He had learnt that about you from all your years as friends. 

"You have me. You can tell me whats wrong. Instead, you ignore me and push me away," he explained, waving his hands around to try to emphasise his point to you. 

"My sister kidnapped a town!" You exclaimed and he went silent, eyes baring into your soul, "She made this ideal world where Pietro and Vision were back and it was amazing but I learnt I have this ancient power and its too much to handle or to think about," the tears had started to fall now and you couldn't hold it back, "And now I have nothing and you just don't understand because I feel like I'm drowning and, an-"

He cut you off, this time rushing towards you and pulling you into a hug. He felt you sob against his shoulder and he felt completely guilty about the way he had been treating you; he hadn't realised what you'd been going through. 

"Y/N," Peter whispered, pulling away and cupping your face with his hands. He brushed the tears away, looking at you, "I'm sorry," 

You let out a shaky breath, looking at the boy that you were completely in love with and always have been. 

It was a horrible feeling. Unrequited love. It was like every time you looked at him, your heart was bursting with misery and joy but you couldn't go over to him and tell him how you feel, because you didn't think that he could ever feel the same about you. A sokovian orphan with ghastly powers. 

"I'm here for you," he rested his forehead against yours, taking a deep breath as he prepared what to say, "I love you, I love you so much,"

You wanted to smile, you heart was bursting in too many ways and you just wanted to kiss him, to tell him that you felt the same way. But you did what you did best, push people away. 

"I'm not good enough for you," you whispered, voice low and anxious. He sensed the insecurities and instantly cut you off. 

He scoffed, "You, Y/N Maximoff, are the most amazing person I've ever met. The bravest, funniest, most caring person. And that's why I love you,"

You leaned in, lips pressing against his as you both fell into the moment. It felt like the world had stopped and that ringing in your ears had dissipated, leaving you in this ethereal state that you never wanted to leave. 

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips, a huge giddy grin on both of your faces. 

This was what you wanted, what you needed. The safety. The security. The love that you hadn't truly felt since the moment Pietro died in saving you and Clint. 

You'd never forget the. The way your parents looked as they sat on that sofa, smiles on their faces before they died. The empty look in your brothers eyes as he collapsed on the ground. The miserable looks on both Vision and Wanda's faces as they said goodbye to each other. 

But maybe, just maybe, you could put yourself first and be happy just like they would want you to be. 

"Stay there," he said before rushing outside, picking a small orange tulip from the field that they were in before handing it to you with a giddy school child grin on his face, "Will you, Y/N Maximoff, do the honour of dating me?"

You chuckled, accepting the flower with a smile that was just as wide as Peters, "Of course," you said, pulling him in for another kiss, hands lacing in his hair. 

"Well, I hate to interrupt you kids-" Happy said and you both turned to look at him. He was smiling at the two of you and your new found romance, "-but we kind of have a world to save,"

You chuckled to yourself, taking Peters hand in yours. It didn't matter if the world ended tomorrow because you would die with a smile on your face, knowing you had tried and you had gotten everything off of your chest. 

"hey y/n" tom said walking in the hallway between yours and his apartment.

"oh hey tom! you're back early today" you replied standing at the door of your apartment as an unknown lady worked on something inside.

"yeah, didn't really have much work today." he said, slightly tilting his head to get a better view of what's going on in your apartment.

"oh that's nice" you smiled

"yeah, anyway, you getting something fixed?" he asked eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

"just getting wifi set up" you replied

"oh about time now you'll stop using mine." he joked, chuckling

"oh c'mon!" you exclaimed

"uh excuse me miss y/n?" the lady working, called out

"uh i'll see you around!" you said as you rushed inside your apartment.

"yeah!" tom replied fumbling with his keys as he struggled to open his door.

"i just need you to put your password now! make sure it's good people love free wifi." the lady said as she handed you your phone back.

"yeah of course" you replied shrugging and put in the password, the lady was peeping over your phone and nodded her head in disbelief. "what" you retorted

"nothing." she replied, "my works done here, if you have any problems feel free to call"

"yeah, of course" you smiled.

"that will be thirty dollars."

"ugh yeah, yeah hang on" you spoke walking to your room.

"here" you said handing them the money, "thank you"

"of course, it's my job" she smiled.

-

"fuck" tom said finally opening his door, "stupid fucking keys" he said slamming his door shut.

"she looked so pretty today" tom whispered to himself as he walked towards the kitchen, "so pretty."

tom had liked you for awhile now. he liked how you always greeted him with a smile. he liked how you always bought him baked goods. he liked how you always asked him about his day and he liked how you hugged him. he thought you were the prettiest girl ever. he thought the way your eyes looked under the sun was simply magical. he thought the color of your lips was the most beautiful and he thought your laughter was sunshine: warm and comforting.

you know how the sun brings back not only light but also new life, and hope and freshness to man spread upon the busy, crowded city all clear and radiant glory and it just makes you feel so incredibly full of life? that was what she meant to tom, she was the source of his greatest bliss.

just how a flower can't bloom without sunshine, tom can't live without her.

smiling to himself tom got up and decided to get some work done, he picked up his laptop, started it and just for a second thought about connecting to your wifi.

he could just ask to for your password, you would have even given it to him but what's the fun in it, right?

chuckling to himself he clicked on your wifi connection which was your name.

"hmm what could the password be" he spoke to himself, eyebrows furrowed together.

he entered '1234' and your birth date but neither worked.

"what if..." he said, fingers mere inches away from his keyboard, "no way it won't work." he laughed, "of course it won't work."

he sat in silence or a moment.

"fuck it." he whispered typing his name in as the password.

"holy shit." he said in disbelief. "i am connected what the fuck!" he exclaimed, shocked.

tom was very surprised. he didn't know how to talk to you about this and just leaving the matter at hand alone seemed extremely foolish, what if you did like him? he didn't want to take any chances.

so he decided to just ask you the password as innocently as he could.

-

"oh hey tom!" you spoke as you opened your door. "why do you have your laptop with you?" you asked, confused.

"oh uhm i was hoping to use your wifi for some time? mine router's busted, i called the people they say they'll be here in an hour and i really need to send some emails." he lied smoothly

"what?" you asked, terrified. there was so fucking way you were letting tom know that your password was his name. you were in deep shit. you liked tom, yes. and you would have even told him eventually, but admitting your feelings over the fact that you kept your password his was name was pretty embarrassing.

tom was like your moon, drowning out all the brightest stars around him. he like the moon, was always there watching you, knowing you in your light and dark moments, changing forever as we all do. he changed for you, not necessarily a bad thing- more like he adapted himself for your need. sometimes weak and faint, sometimes strong and full of light. the moon understands what it's like to be simply human. alone, uncertain with imperfections. the moon will always love you, no matter what.

"your wifi, i needed it for work" tom said, a small smirk on his face completely missed by you.

"uh yeah of course, gimme your laptop i'll connect you to it" you said smiling nervously.

"you can just tell me the password babe." he said, now sitting on your couch and smiling.

"tom i-"

"oh the password's tom? hmm how weird!" tom said a smirk evident on his face as he started his laptop.

"NO" you shrieked, mortified.

"oh so the password isn't 'tom'?" he asked raising his eyebrows.

"no it's not." you said quickly, "of course it's not, why would it even be?" your heart was pounding profusely and your hands felt clammy, you heart beating so fast as if it would burst right through your ribcage.

tom noticed the shift in your behavior, how you looked more tense and nervous. how you seemed more jumpy and scared- it made him think maybe there was a possibility that you liked him back too or that you just really valued him as a best friend and was just embarrassed.

either way he needed the truth.

"so if i do enter my name i wont get connected right?' he asked nonchalantly.

there was a moment of pure silence. you didn't how to respond. he rendered you speechless, and even if you tried to say something you weren't sure if coherent words would come out- so you opted to say nothing.

silence is indeed louder than words and today you understood it.

"so, it will be connected." tom said, his face smug.

"well, yeah" you confessed, you felt your breath go a little faster and you were very embarrassed. you fiddled with the hem of you t-shirt, not meeting his eye.

"it was very easy to use someone's wifi when your own name is their password." tom joked, laughing lightly.

"you tried to steal my wifi? when you could have just asked tom what-" you said in hopes that the attention would be diverted, but he cut you off.

"ah princess now don't try to change the topic, i'm just not gonna forget about the password." he said, smiling.

"fine." you huffed and sat next to him, your knees brushed against his a faint pink tint spread on his skin. you leaned back on the couch, letting your back rest against the soft cushions, you stared up at the ceiling and left out a breath. "ask what you want, i guess."

"okay so why did you choose my name as your password?" he asked softly, hands resting on his thighs.

you leaned closer to tom, resting your head on his shoulder. you could smell his shampoo, it smelled like cinnamon and apples.

tom's face anticipated a red flush that slowly creeped up to his neck.

"maybe it's cause you're important to me tom." you said softly.

"really? i'm important to you?" he asked, unsure.

"yes tom, you're important to me. always have been." you replied, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"you're important to me too." he said gently.

"do you like me tom?" you asked earnestly.

tom could sense the change of pace in your breath and heartbeat, he could sense that you weren't calm anymore.

"of course i like you, why would you even doubt that i don't like you?" tom rambled, nervous.

"i meant not as friends tom." you said and shifted away, now sitting up right and facing him, "look at me" you whispered, your hands holding his face, making him turn towards you. "do you not like me? it's okay if you don't just say it, please." your voice was barely a whisper, at the verge of breaking. his brown eyes stared right into your anxious ones.

this was a great epiphany for tom, he leaned closer to you, his hands on your cheeks, yours still on your thighs and then he kissed you.

your eyes closed as his lips gently laid over yours, your hands found his waist and pulling him ever closer as your lips moved in harmony against his, he tasted like coffee.

he slowly pulled away, his hands still on your face, yours still on his waist.

"i hope that answers your question." he said, smiling. gently leaning closer to touch your forehead with his.

"it does" you replied smiling.

-

tom holland taglist

But in all your time as friends, he could not remember the last time he’d been in this sort of position. Maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he allowed himself to get too complacent. He allowed himself to think of you in much the same way that he thought of the other Midgardians, and he should have known better. You were not simple, not dull, not uncomplicated. You were quiet, but only because you were comfortable with silence. You were calm, but only because you didn’t feel the need to make a fuss and bring attention to yourself. You kept things tucked away, holding your tongue unless it was absolutely necessary, and perhaps he’d allowed himself to be blinded to the seriousness of that by the light, easy way you talked to him when you were alone.

In all likelihood, that was probably the thing that made him let you in so readily. The two of you were so similar. His younger self would have laughed himself to death before ever admitting that he could have anything in common with a mortal, but now that he was wiser, he knew the truth. There had been plenty of times where he’d looked at you and seen something shockingly familiar in your eyes, or in the slope of your shoulders, or in the stiffness of your spine. Somehow, despite having been raised in entirely different realms by different families and in different societal norms, the two of you were...kindred. It made it easy for him to accept your kindness even on his worst days. His pride never prevented him from listening to the gentle way you spoke to him, and it always, always made the storm within go still.

It was inexcusably stupid, then, that it took him so long to realize what was happening with you. It’d been a rough week for you. He didn’t need you to confess to that. You’d come back from a mission several days ago, filthy and covered in blood, but largely unharmed. After that, you’d spent most of your time on your own, holed up in your own room. He did see you out and about a few times: once in the kitchen, once in the gym, once creeping through the hallway at night. He confronted you there, and you spoke to him the same way that you’d been speaking to everyone else: quietly, in a dull, clipped sort of voice that made it clear you truly didn’t want to be talking at all. To be honest, it bruised his ego, hearing you speak to him the same way you spoke to everyone else. He let you slip away into the night.

Still, after too many days of too much silence from you, Loki steeled himself and went to the door of your quarters. He knew better. He knew that the moment he pushed you a little too far beyond that quiet, reluctant tone of voice, you’d start to lash out at him. You kept your feelings to yourself, you always had, and locked them behind a stony face and a nasty attitude. But he knocked on your door anyway. He looked into your face and did his best to ignore the guarded, seething sort of way that you looked at him, and he worked his way into your bedroom with you.

Because that was the thing about you: as nasty as you were feeling, and as much as you clearly wanted to be alone, you were far too kind-hearted to actually turn him away. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken advantage of that in this moment, but what other choice did he have? You were the closest thing to a friend that he’d likely ever have in this realm, and you were hurting, and nobody else was going to try.

It made him sick, to see the way you stood there across from him. You kept your arms crossed in front of you as though that was the only thing holding you together. He couldn’t help but recognize your posture and the tightness in your face, and, now, more than ever, he wanted to soothe all that away. Without speaking—without thinking—he held his arms open in invitation.

You did not step any closer.

Really, he hadn’t expected you to. He wouldn’t, after all, and, well...all of this was just so foreign to him. He cleared his throat and held your gaze, noting the narrowed, suspicious look in your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” It was you who broke the silence. He watched the way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other but—and this seemed critically important—you did not step any further away from him.

He ignored the urge to shrug. When you came to him, you always seemed to know what to do. You deserved that from him, now and always. “You’re my friend. I want to help.” He did not lower his arms.

Silence stretched between you. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some kind of struggle going on inside you. You were a hugger. You were touchy. He’d come to love that about you, actually: the freedom with which you would throw your arms around him and pull him close, or how you would take his hand in yours in the darkness of an Avengers Family Movie Night. But it was always you who initiated. He could not remember the last time he’d reached for you first, and as soon as that thought occurred to him, it immediately began to weigh him down. You deserved so much more than you got.

“You can’t help. It’s stupid. There’s nothing to help.” Bless you, you sounded like you believed what you were saying. Were you not the same creature who offered comfort to the monster who’d torn apart New York City? Were you not the same creature who’d tried, again and again, to get Odin’s cast-off second son to trust you and speak to you? Were you not the same creature who’d patiently withstood all the bitter rage that he unleashed upon you, quietly waiting until he’d worn himself out enough to go to you on his own? And now you thought that he would not rend the very fabric of space and time to help you? He might have laughed, if the air in your room hadn’t been so oppressive.

“You’re wrong.” He did allow his voice to go cold, then, and dropped his arms to his sides so that he could take a step closer to you without spooking you. He watched you press your lips together in a tight line as you took in his words. “Foolish mortal. What do you know about what I can do?” It felt like a dangerous gamble, but he was hoping that he could make you angry enough to shatter some of that outer shell you were wearing.

“I’ve seen you work,” you answered—almost too quickly. You didn’t sound angry, only determined. How could this possibly work? “Of course I know what you can do. You’re wasting your time.”

“Maybe I am.” The words surprised even him, but he did his best not to let that show. He’d always been quick on his feet, as it were, and he certainly knew better than to overcommit to a plan that would not work. “Maybe I am wasting my time. If you won’t deign to lower yourself to accept my offer, of course I must be wasting my time here. It would be foolish of me to attempt to force my company upon you when you are so clearly uninterested in it, wouldn’t it?” He tilted his head at you, quietly adoring the look in your eyes. You were angry, make no mistake about that, and he could see pain tugging at your brows, but through it all, there it was: that familiar, knowing glint that reminded him that not all mortals were dull and boring. He tried not to smirk at you. “But it would be foolish of you to try to prevent me from doing with my time exactly as I please, wouldn’t it? I’d like to see someone like you try to stop me. I’ve seen you work, darling, and it’s impressive, don’t get me wrong, but you are still, above all else, mortal.”

You said nothing. The longer you hesitated, the more uneasy he became. You shifted your weight again, looking for all the world like you were thinking about trying to bolt past him. It made him stop in his tracks. Metaphorical brute force was not going to work here. If he didn’t want to scare you off, he’d have to find another way to do all this.

“Please. Let me try?” He lifted his arms again, imploring you to close the distance between you so he could hold you. Your body was all but screaming for outside support. It looked like you were aching to feel someone wrap their arms around you and hold you close, maybe tuck your head under their chin or hold them tightly against your body. Briefly, and regretfully, he imagined tugging you in close to hold you against your will. You’d fight him, sure, but...probably you trusted him enough to let him with that fight, didn’t you? “I won’t try to make it go away, but I’m here, love.”

You tightened your arms around yourself, a perfect juxtaposition to his own, more open, pose. It looked like you attempted to scowl or glare at him, but the pain in your face was far too prominent. Norns, he wanted to fix that. “It’s stupid.” The words sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself.

“It’s not. You’re not.”

It was a stalemate. You on one side of the room, with your own private storm brewing inside you, and Loki on the other, with his own determination and desire inside himself. Though it pained him to see you struggle, he kept his eyes fixed on yours, not looking away for a second. You were trying so hard to keep the war locked away behind a blank face, but you were too gentle for that. He saw too much of it come shining through. He itched to cup your face in his palms and press your eyelids closed, if only to give you a moment of peace.

You were the one to break first. He watched you lower your arms, watched your shoulders sag forward, and then watched you lurch forward to step into his arms. His heart surged in his chest even as it shattered. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face against him without a word, and he held you as easily as though he’d done it a hundred times before.

There were words that should be said. Something in his mind was dimly aware of that. He tried to think back to all the quiet, painful conversations you’d had with him on his own worst days. He would have liked to murmur some of those things into the side of your head as he held you. It would remind you that he remembered who you were, what you’d done, and how you’d made him felt, while simultaneously providing some amount of comfort for you. But he couldn’t. He was too taken aback by the feeling of you standing there, leaning in to him as though you trusted him to support your weight.

He swallowed hard and then choked out a quiet “I’ve got you, love. It’s alright.”