she who hangs out in cemeteries!

The grocery bags grew heavier by the moment. You tried to shift the weight onto your hip, leaving one hand free to pat around your pockets. 

‘For fuck’s sake,’ you muttered under your breath as you felt nothing but old receipts and chapstick. You could only hope for your purse as a last resort. Putting the groceries down, you delved into the bag's compartments. The collection of everyday junk rattled around while your frustrations grew with each next item. You were ready to cry when you caught a glimpse of something. 

A scrap of pink fabric that could only be one of your many keychains. With an exclamation, you yanked it out from the bottom of your bag.

With some of the weight of the day slipping off your shoulders, you bent over to grab your abandoned groceries and were ready to put the key in the lock of your apartment building when everything went black.

…

Next thing you know, you awoke with a start on a couch that wasn’t yours.

How the hell did you get here?

▣ 20 minutes earlier ▣

Peter sat at his desk. Notebooks were splayed out all around him; crossed-out and rewritten formulas filled the pages, followed by diagrams and design sketches. On the screens in front of him was a mix of interests. He clicked away from a YouTube page to view his personal police radio. It’s been fairly quiet the last few hours, which only made him more fidgety. 

He entered a new formula, and the computer immediately started running trials, but Peter could already tell the result would come out suboptimal. 

‘Hey, E.V., let’s run that again, but could you—’

Then, his spell of concentration was broken with a knock on the door. 

His head shot up, eyes glaring in the direction of the door as if he was ready for it to burst open and off its hinges. The knock returned. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was soft with no sense of hurry, panic or anger. Still, Peter walked apprehensively across the room. It was moments like these that he cursed himself for not having a peephole. The only thing he could do was open the door and come face to face with whoever was standing on the other side.

He took off the chain lock and opened the door. To his surprise, the person standing in front of him was… a neighbour. A young woman he recognised from chance meetings in the elevator. From what he could remember, she lived on the 3rd floor… in other words, nowhere near his attic asbestos-filled bachelor pad. 

‘Hi,’ she chirped. ‘I was just wondering if you had some milk you’d be willing to lend out?’ It was only then that Peter noticed the measuring cup in her hands. 

‘Oh, uhm…’ That was about the last thing he expected. He didn’t even know people actually borrowed products from their neighbours like that. He just thought it was something that happened in really cheap porn. 

Yet, here she was. Standing at his door, smiling sheepishly, waiting for his response. 

‘I’ll have to check.’ He pointed back at his fridge. ‘Just a sec.’ He left the door ajar and walked to his “kitchen area”, which did not really consist of much more than a fridge, a microwave, a sink and a shelf of various protein powders and pre-workouts. In all honesty, he knew he had a carton of milk in the fridge. The question was only how many months it had been since it went bad. 

He sniffed the milk and, again, to his surprise, it actually did not smell too bad. Had he actually remembered to throw out the old milk and buy a new carton for once? 

‘How much do you need?’ He called out, turning to face the door, only to be met with yet another surprise: his neighbour was standing only a few steps away from him in his apartment. 

‘Just a cup should be enough,’ she said. ‘I wanted to make some pancakes but seemed to just run out—sorry, by the way, I hope you didn’t mind I kind of let myself in. I’ve just always been so curious as to how other people in the building… live.’ She said the last word a bit hesitantly. Was it the lack of furniture around them? The cobwebs and layers of dust? The boxes of stuff Peter hadn’t touched since he moved in months ago? Or was it his “murder wall” where he tracked his enemies? Either way, he could not imagine this was what she was expecting when she knocked on Peter’s door. 

He quickly glanced around to make sure his suit was nowhere in direct sight. Luck would have it, he had remembered to store it away after last night’s patrol. 

‘You’re still settling in, I suppose?’ She was kind enough to say after seeing the mess he was calling a home. 

‘Erm, you could say that, yeah.’ He said awkwardly, milk in hand. Remembering he still had it, he offered her the carton. She extended her arm out towards him, providing the measuring cup for him to fill. Once full, she smiled. 

‘Wow,’ but something had shifted, compared to how she looked when Peter had opened the door. The smile was now completely gone; it was replaced with a smirk. Her eyes were devoid of any pleasantness. ‘I can’t believe how easy that was.’

▣

‘Seriously, Peter? Are you just letting anyone in here?’ Jean chuckled. ‘I could have probably knocked on the door myself, and you’d welcome me with arms wide open.’

‘Jean.’ Peter stumbled back. Bewilderment spread over his face, colliding with features taken over by anger. Poor Spidey, must be so confused as to how she got hold of his neighbour. How she even knew where he lived. 

It probably would have been harder to steal candy from a baby. For someone being so paranoid over his secret identity, Peter Parker was incredibly easy to track. By just keeping her (and every person walking down the street) eyes up at the sky, Jean watched Peter around. Just to be sure, she took a few days to ensure he was returning to the same spot each time. Clever little spider, used different entry points. Sometimes through his window, sometimes the roof. Other times he would go into the little alley behind the building and change, before casually walking through the front door. 

By taking over the minds of people in the building directly opposite, Jean figured out where he lived in no time. And then when she saw that woman just standing at the door with her groceries, taking forever to get her damn keys, well, the opportunity presented itself so deliciously. Just a few quick jumps and she was in. 

All Jean wanted was to have a key into the building. A way to get to Peter Parker. Never had she expected the woman she chose to be so perfect for this role. Her attention was immediately drawn to a part of her brain that just YELLED “Peter”. 

No, not “Peter”. Just his face, for she did not actually know his name, did she? Poor Spidey was too afraid to make friends after all. He wouldn’t dare to talk to a pretty girl like that in the elevator. But it was enough for her to catch a little crush. Oh yes, teenie tiny feelings were developing in this woman’s mind, and well, Jean just couldn’t help herself. It had been so long since she had so much fun.

▣

Peter watched Jean stroll around his apartment.

Well, it wasn’t Jean, exactly. He had to remind himself of that. This was the body of his 3rd-floor neighbour, and she was still in there somewhere, only momentarily suppressed by this pesky girl. 

He watched her (them?) walk around, with no idea what to do. He wanted to fight, kick her out of his apartment, do something, but at any minute, Jean could jump back out. He wouldn’t ever let himself live it down if he hurt an innocent person. It had already come too close too many times. He just could not let it happen again. 

‘Get out of her, Jean,’ he practically growled, anger seeping into every part of his body. The people in this building had nothing to do with him. He had specifically done his best to keep it that way. He had moved into the god-forsaken attic to avoid small talk. He didn’t make eye contact in the elevator. And still, somehow, Jean managed to wrap someone up in this fucked up web of a mess. 

And it had to be her… 

It was pure chance that they used the elevator at the same time as often as they did. In the mornings, she was usually in her workout gear, going down to hit the gym while Peter was returning from a night of crime fighting. She would smile politely, and it was a smile that was hard to ignore. No matter how hard he tried.

‘You know,’ “Jean” spoke, completely ignoring Peter’s demand, ‘it’s always so funny to go into someone’s mind. You truly never know what you will find in there.’ She looked out the window, pointing a finger at the building on the opposite side of the street. ‘Like that guy, for example. You’d think he had it all, beautiful apartment, with a gorgeous wife and lovely kids, but no, he goes out every Friday to hook up with a girl on the other side of town.’ 

‘Or that guy,’ she pointed a little higher, to the apartment a few floors up, ‘is sooo totally a furry, even if he doesn’t dare to admit it, even to himself—’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Peter could not understand what the point of all of this was. Why was she here in his room, only to… what? Gossip about strangers?

‘Don’t you get it, Peter?’ She finally turned to look at him, a grin of disbelief stretching at her lips. ‘It’s just so fun to watch you get all railed up.’ She laughed lightly. ‘And I’m not the only one who thinks so.’ 

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ This girl wasn’t making any sense. One day she tries to kill him by possessing his enemies, the next she sits down for a casual chat as his neighbour. Just when he didn’t think his head could hurt more, she made it pound in agony, just from her mere presence.

She left the window and walked up to him. Peter took a few steps back until his back hit the wall. 

‘For a smart kid, you can be so stupid.’ She said in a soft voice, hand trailing over his cheek. Maybe it was because it had been so long since he had talked to someone, touched someone. It had been so long since someone touched him that the simple stroke made his knees go weak. His mind rushed to all those times he saw her– his actual neighbour, not Jean– in the elevator. How often he had wanted to say something, but just never had the guts to. It wouldn’t be wise. He couldn’t even keep people safe that he barely knew, let alone those who knew him better, who knew what he did and the dangers behind it. He was looking into the eyes of a possessed woman, who had no idea what was happening to her body.

Just then, she came closer. Peter didn’t dare to move an inch. 

‘Let this be a lesson, Spidey.’ She whispered in his ear. The anger he felt for “Jean” was being subdued by the sweet sound of the voice with which she spoke. ‘Live a little.’ He could feel her body press against his. Coming closer and closer. 

This could not be happening. Absolutely not. 

Ever since Peter had gotten his powers, he had grown cautious of his movements, as the strength that the spider-bite gave him intensified everything he did. That meant that even the tiniest push, if he did not have enough self-control, could send someone across the room. It had taken him a long time to perfect his everyday movements to avoid accidents, to remember to stay gentle and in control.

Now was not a time for control.

He pushed the woman back with a force that practically hurled her through the room. However, what he did not notice was that another force pushed her body back even further and let her fall onto the couch.

▣

You woke up with a start.

Woke up... Is that right? You couldn’t remember ever falling asleep. The last thing you remembered was… was… was walking down the street. Yes, that’s right: you were walking back home. 

No, you had come home. You were getting the keys to the front door when— nothing.

You must have fallen asleep on the couch, blacking out from exhaustion.

Except, this wasn’t your couch. Or your apartment. You were sitting in a dingy old attic room, and ahead of you was a man. He was breathing heavily. Chest inflating widely with each inhale. His eyes were dark with… no, that was not normal pupil dilation. His entire eye sockets were devoid of colour. Pitch black. But as you were ready to scream, they turned back to normal. Like a switch in the man’s body had been turned, he physically turned smaller, less formidable. In fact, he looked scared himself. 

‘I know you,’ you managed to say. Your voice felt hoarse, weak. 

‘Yes, we live in the same building. We’ve met, in the elevator, a few times actually.’ He started stuttering. ‘I’m Peter.’ He leapt forward to extend his hand, but stopped when he noticed you cringed back in your seat. 

You had, in fact, met before. You had tried to start a polite conversation a few times. Still, he never seemed interested, or was far too shy to say anything, which, in all honesty, had added to his charm, in your opinion, but now you were questioning your judgement, because what in the fuck were you doing on his couch? 

He must have seen the panic-stricken look on your face, as he quickly started talking again: ‘I can explain— I mean, I can, but I don’t know how to explain it to make you believe me because this is crazy, but I don’t want you to think that I’m crazy.’ It might have been a bit too late for that, though.

‘Did you touch me?’ you dared to ask the question that was on your mind ever since you “woke up”. The colour left Peter’s face. 

‘No, god, no. I promise you, I did not do anything. No, no.’ But what could he possibly say or do to make you believe him? It was his word against a complete blackout of your memories of the last… how long has it been? Either way, it was best to stay calm. 

You could see him panicking, looking around until his eyes landed on his computer. ‘I can prove it actually.’ He walked towards his desk and leaned over the keyboard to type something in. From where you sat, you could just about see a new window pop up on the screen that seemed to be a live feed from a camera angled right at the centre of the room. 

‘You got security cameras in your own house?’ You asked as you got up to have a better look at what he was going to show you.

‘Uhm yeah… you know, for insurance purposes. In case an Avenger throws a car through the window or something.’ Perhaps a bit excessive, you understood the sentiment. A friend of yours was still looking for a new car since her old one got completely flattened by a loon in a rhinoceros costume. 

‘So… what happened to me?’ You pulled your jacket over yourself, feeling a shiver run up your body.

‘Well, to keep it short,’ Peter ran a hand through his hair, the other one placing the cursor on the feed timeline to a few minutes back, until he stopped at a shot of him sitting at his desk. You watched him walk to his door and open it, only to reveal yourself standing there. ‘You were, kind of, possessed?’

‘Possessed?’ If you had a drink, you would have spat it out in his face, but even if you had, maybe you would have been too focused staring at the recording of yourself. The quality of the camera wasn’t great, but the figure at the door was unmistakably you. You were smiling, looking perfectly normal. From the timestamp on the screen, this had only happened a few minutes ago, but you could not remember a thing about it. Possessed?! 

‘By a telepath.’ Peter explained as you watched on. ‘She can do this thing where she, like, jumps from body to body. Takes over for a bit before she dips and picks someone else to control.’ 

A telepath possessed your body? The information came at you like a freightcar. It was absolutely ridiculous. But the worst of all was that you were actually quite eager to believe Peter. Not only because you were actively watching yourself walk through his living room with no memory of ever doing so, but because this was New York City after all, where alien invasions were just another Wednesday afternoon, and you could casually bump into superheroes on your morning coffee run. So, yeah, a mind-controlling psycho wasn’t totally out of the question. Still, there was so much more you did not understand about all of this.

‘Why me?’ You asked, dumbfounded. You could now see yourself more clearly as “you” moved into the room. It was unmistakably your body, but seeing yourself from this angle, something felt off. The way “you” moved, it didn’t feel natural to you. It truly was like someone took over your limbs. The puzzle pieces were coming into place and, perhaps foolishly, as it did not change the situation at all, you felt your fear subsiding. It helped to see that Peter had calmed down as well. His grip on the mouse loosened. Though understandably freaked out like you, he still managed to explain the situation somewhat cohesively.

‘Jean, the telepath, she has it against me. She was trying to get into the building, to get to me.’

‘The last thing I can remember before this was putting my key in the front door.’ You remembered clearly now. The groceries, how you couldn’t find your keys—next thing you know, you’re in Peter’s apartment.

‘She must have seen it and just took the opportunity.’ Peter confirmed. You watched on as he narrated, ‘So, yeah, she knocked on the door asking to borrow a cup of milk.’

‘People actually do that?’ you raised a brow, thinking that was just something people did in cheap porno’s, but on the security feed, you did notice the empty measuring cup in your hands, and when you looked around, it was standing abandoned on the counter, now full of milk, just as Peter had poured it on the screen in front of you. 

‘I was confused,’ He smiled awkwardly, most likely having the same thought. ‘But, you know, I wanted to do the neighbourly thing. Then she walked in and revealed herself— her identity, that is!’ His eyes bulged at his wrong choice of words. ‘But yeah, she’s been provoking me for the past few weeks, and I think now she is just doing it for the fun of it,  and there isn’t much I can do about it.’

‘Damn, getting bullied by a telepath is a whole new level of bad luck.’ You couldn’t imagine the hell that must be, never knowing when someone you were talking to was actually themselves. 

Peter laughed slightly. ‘Yeah, I’m just sorry to get you involved in all of this. What she does is seriously messed up, I can’t imagine what it must be like to get your mind taken over like that.’

‘She’s never done it to you?’ That sparked another wave of interest inside you.

‘N-no, I’m kind of immune to it, I think, which is probably why she keeps doing this.’ He waved around to allude to the entire situation you found yourself in.

‘Try to get into your head in a different way…’ you thought out loud. There was a moment where your eyes met. He still had that nervous smile across his face, and you annoyed yourself that in a moment such as this you still could not help but think of how cute that smile was.

‘Ye- yeah. Basically.’ He replied before turning towards the computer screen and turning it off. You had seen enough, and one could only handle seeing themselves be possessed for so long. 

▣ 

‘I’m y/n, by the way.’ She cut the momentary silence and extended her hand for Peter to shake. He looked up, not exactly confused, but more so surprised. ‘I realised I hadn’t introduced myself yet,’ she clarified. 

‘Peter.’ He replied as he took her hand, only then realising that he had already told her his name before, but if she had noticed, she didn’t mention it. ‘Again, I’m really sorry about all of this.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she shrugged, which to Peter felt like a downplaying of the whole thing. She seemed so nonchalant about the whole mind-control thing. He was still making a conscious effort to get his heart rate to drop. What probably wasn’t helping his cause was the fact that she was standing so close to him that he could smell her perfume. Realising he started to grip the mouse tighter again, he dropped it. 

Another moment of silence arose, only to be broken again by her. ‘Well, I should be going, probably.’ 

‘Right. Yeah. Of course.’ Peter got up from his chair quickly. They walked side by side to the door. During those few short steps, all he wanted to do was apologise again, profusely, for everything that happened. A part of him also wanted to apologise for his thoughts. How he felt when she, well, Jean, touched him, and how he focused on her perfume when she was witnessing her own possession on his computer screen. It all felt incredibly wrong, and if he didn’t know better, he would wish to erase everything of the last half hour.

He opened the door, its hinges creaking only a little bit. She was about to walk out when Peter called out.

‘Don’t forget the milk.’ He then turned around to swiftly pick up the measuring cup for her. ‘For the pancakes.’ He presented it, somewhat proudly, but her face fell slightly glum.

‘Oh, that was all Jean. I’m actually lactose intolerant.’ 

‘Ah, right.’ Peter put the cup down. ‘I’ll clean that out for you then and bring it over later’ 

‘Thanks.’ She took the first few steps out of the corridor, and as if pulled in with some invisible force, Peter found himself following her up until the threshold. He watched her make her way through the corridor, some words at the tip of his tongue, but they were supposed to be, even he didn’t know.

Just before turning towards the elevator, she instead turned to face him again. ‘It was nice to finally meet you, Peter.’ And all of a sudden, Peter felt as if he was possessed himself, as if his whole body was frozen. A dozen different responses fought to escape his mouth, but none made it out. All he could manage to do was to wave her way with a tight-lipped smile. Only once she disappeared into the elevator did Peter let himself slump his head against the doorframe. 

‘Stupid.’

▣ 3 weeks later ▣ 

‘Shit,’ Peter cursed as he looked for the right key. The rain was pouring down hard on him, soaking through all the layers of clothing. He stood underneath the small roof ahead of the entrance, but droplets kept falling from the curls on his forehead directly into his eyes. The water kept blurring his vision, making it almost impossible to distinguish the individual keys from one another. He was about to say screw it and zip himself up to his floor and slide through the window that he, stupidly, but luckily, left open, when a familiar voice came from behind him.

‘Here, let me.’

He turned his head to be met with a red umbrella. Underneath was y/n. She had her keys in her hand and excused herself to get past Peter towards the lock. 

‘Thanks.’ In return, he held the door open so she could enter first. As she walked by him, Peter could smell her perfume, even with the rain dulling all the senses. The sweet scent was as strong as when she had been leaning over him at his desk. 

He had been doing his best to forget all that happened when she appeared at his front door. Thinking of it made him want to kick himself for having been so sloppy. He had made it so easy for Jean, then still on her vengeful road, to find him. He had put everyone in this building at risk, and let y/n be taken advantage of. This couldn’t happen again.

While she stayed at the door to shake the water off the umbrella, Peter shook out all the thoughts the perfume brought up and walked over to the elevator to call it down. Luck would have it that the doors immediately opened.

The two of them walked inside and pressed their respective floor numbers.

‘Did you resolve your telepath problem?’ Her voice nearly made Peter jump.

‘Y-yeah,’ he looked down at the keys in his hands, fidgeting with them between his fingers. ‘We talked it out.’

‘That’s good to hear.’ She looked his way, most likely expecting to hear something more about it, or anything, really, but Peter’s throat dried out, and he had no idea what to say. With the silence taking over, they both looked at the numbers above the elevator door as it hit 3. The door opened, and she got out, but not before saying: 

‘See you around, Peter.’ 

‘See ya,’ he smiled. She walked away. Was that disappointment that he saw on her profile as she walked?

Suddenly, a whole new sense was taking over his body. As if, out of nowhere, he knew exactly what to do. The elevator was about to close when Peter quickly put his hand in between to stop it. He jumped out, making her slightly jump in the process.

‘You alright?’ She looked at him with a hint of concern, but Peter didn’t respond to this. He knew exactly what to say, and he had the feeling that if he strayed from the script, that it would all be a lost cause. 

He took a deep breath. 

Jean, as annoying and extremely irresponsible as she was in her methods, did make him realise something. All this time he had been so busy thinking about the what-ifs, the worst-case scenarios, that he completely forgot to actually pay attention to the real world. He had been so blind to the people around him, but also to his own feelings. He had spent so much time saving lives that he started missing out on actually living. 

‘Would you like to grab a coffee together sometime?’ 

Her face lit up at the sound of the question. 

‘I’d really like that.’ 

‘Okay, cool. How about this Saturday?’ Peter finally felt like his words were coming naturally to him. 

‘Sounds great. I’ll see you then.’ They slowly started separating into their own directions, she to her apartment, Peter back to the elevator. He was about to press the button to recall the lift when she called out to him from across the hallway:

‘And don’t forget to give me my measuring cup back!’

‘Right. Sorry!’ 

The End.

Thank you so much for reading <3

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“Oh thanks,” you smile politely, tucking it firmly into the back cover. You turn back to your book and Tom’s smile falters slightly at your lack of interest. Call him narcissistic, but he’d expected more of a reaction, maybe a squeal or a request for a photo. Finding himself determined not to let the interaction end there, he slides himself across, filling the seat that had sat in between you two. You blink at his sudden movement, and he mentally curses realising you might be uncomfortable with a random stranger getting so close on the tube. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologises quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can move back, if you want.”

You shake your head. 

“Oh no, you’re fine! It’s totally okay.”

Tom smiles awkwardly and gestures towards your book. Apparently he had completely blanked on how to make conversation with another human. 

“What’re you reading?” he asks. 

“Uh, it’s the Time Traveler’s Wife,” you answer. “I’ve only just started but I’m already in love with two of the characters. Kinda trippy though.”

Tom made a mental note to Google it when he got home. 

“That sounds…cool,” he says unsurely. Why couldn’t he form a coherent sentence around you? “Do you read often?” he questions. You shrug. 

“Yeah, I guess I do. Books are super comforting for me. You?” 

Tom blinks for a second, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

“Erm, not really much of a reader, if I’m being honest. Can’t really find the time.”

“Oh.” you nod. “Busy man then?”

Tom looks at you in slight disbelief. Did you really not know who he was? He found this somewhat endearing and found a burst of confidence. He held out his hand. 

“I’m Tom.” 

You reach over and shake it, stomach flipping slightly at his strong grip. 

“Nice to meet you, Tom.”

He looks at you expectantly for a moment. 

“I’d love to be able to put a name to a face as pretty as yours…” he tries to be smooth and flirty, trailing off when he hears how serial killer-y it comes off. He groans. “I’m sorry, that was so bad. To be completely honest with you, you make me super nervous. In a good way!” he adds quickly, looking at the ground just in case a sinkhole has helpfully appeared for him to jump into. 

You giggle, closing your book as the train nears your stop. 

“You make me a little nervous too, Tom. In a good way. I’d love to stay and finish this riveting conversation, but this is me.” you say, standing up as the doors open. 

Tom sighs, giving you a dejected wave. 

“Goodnight, Mystery Train Girl.”

✧

Much to Tom’s dismay, he didn’t see you on the train in the following days. Each evening he hopefully scanned up and down the train, sighing when he caught no sight of you. A full week later on Thursday night when he was just about ready to give up and admit defeat, you appeared. There you sat, nose buried in another book. Tom took a deep breath and prayed he could come across as ‘chill’ as he plopped down in the seat next to you. 

“Long time no see, Mystery Train Girl.”

“Oh, Tom! Hey.” You jumped. 

Tom grins. 

“She remembers me! I take that as a win.”

You shrug. 

“How could I forget the nervous boy who doesn’t read?"

“Well, actually darling,” Tom smirks as he digs into his duffle bag. “I think you’ll find that you are mistaken.” he pulls out a brand new copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife, grinning proudly as he holds it up. His smile falters when he realises it’s in fact not the book you’re reading. “Did you finish it already?” he pouts. 

You laugh at his puppy-like expression. 

“Yeah, I finished a couple days ago. Have you actually started reading?”

Tom looks down at his feet. 

“I actually bought it ‘cause I thought it would be super cute if we read it together.” he admits. “I don’t usually read otherwise, I’m dyslexic and I sometimes use that as an excuse to avoid books altogether. But I wanted to find something in common with you.” He doesn’t look up, too embarrassed and so he misses the reaction on your face. You lean over, knocking your shoulder into his. 

“You’re actually adorable, you know that?”

He perks up, leaning back in his seat as he shrugs. 

“I believe I’ve been told that before.” he says cheekily, and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Humble, too.”

Tom’s desperate not to let the conversation dwindle out, now that he’s got you smiling. He’s got to find out more. 

“So, now that I’ve basically bared my soul to you,” he starts. “Don’t you think it’s fair I learn something about you?”

You close your book, pretending to contemplate his question. 

“Well what do you want to know, Tom?”

“Your name,” he says simply. “Mystery Train Girl is cool but it doesn’t really flow off the tongue, you know?”

“Y/N,” you giggle. “My name is Y/N.”

Tom grins widely, and your stomach flutters at the crinkles around his eyes. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Y/N.” he says. “So. I can tell you’re not from around here. What brings you to London?”

“Is it that obvious?” you sigh. “I thought I was doing a good job at blending in, being unfriendly and all.”

Tom chuckles, shaking his head. 

“You’re far too kind to an awkward stranger to be from around here. If you had socked me in the nose the second I got close to you, then I’d have believed you.” he joked. 

You subconsciously lean into his side as you laugh, put at ease by his relaxed body language. 

“I moved down here a couple months ago for work,” you explain. “I’m still getting the hang of the big city. Give me a few months and then I’ll be walking around thwacking anyone who breathes near me.”

“In that case, I’m glad to have met you now.” he laughs. 

You smile at each other, simply enjoying each other’s company and the quiet of the evening. Tom recognizes that the train is almost at the stop you got off at last week and he takes a deep breath, putting his hand on your shoulder. 

“Have you been on the London Eye yet?” he asks.

You shake your head. 

“I haven’t really gotten to do all the touristy things yet. Plus I’m not a big fan of heights, so that thing is definitely a no from me.”

Tom gasps. 

“That thing is a classic! I absolutely can’t have my new friend Y/N missing out on an experience. Please let me take you?” 

You shake your head again. 

“Absolutely not.”

Tom pouts, batting his eyelashes. 

“Please? I’ll hold your hand when we go up.” he suggests and you can’t help but laugh at his expression. You’d usually never say yes, but something about this stranger is so inviting, you find yourself relenting. 

“Only if you stop making that face. You look like some kind of troll hooker.”

Tom punches the air in an exaggerated celebration. 

“You won’t regret it, love.” he assures you. “Can I have your number so we can meet up and set a time?”

He hands over his phone and you tap into the contacts app, typing in your name and number and handing it back. 

“You know what?” he says. “I think this phone just became my most valued possession.”

✧

You jump a little as the capsule begins to rise over London. Tom looks over at you and grins. 

“Is it okay if I-” he gestures to your hand shyly, sticking to his word.

You oblige and allow him to take your hand. His grip is firm but gentle and you silently wish he’d never let go. 

“So how’s the view?” he asks, squeezing your hand. 

“It’s gorgeous,” you gush. “You can literally see everything from up here. Look at all the little tiny cars!” you squeal. 

“I have an even more gorgeous view over here,” says Tom. 

You frown, looking at him quizzically. 

“What? But we’re literally looking at the same thing?”

Tom sighs, playfully hiding his face on your shoulder. 

“I meant you, lovie.” he explains quietly and you giggle, wiggling your shoulder to get him to look up at you. 

“Oh,” you laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous and I think it’s stopping neurons from firing in my brain.” 

Tom laughs at your wording. 

“It’s okay. I’m nervous too.”

You look at each other for a minute, enjoying each other’s company. Tom steps slightly closer to you, bringing your connected hands to your waist to pull you in slightly. Is he going to-

“Uh, is it okay if I- do you want me to-” Tom gestures to your lips, flushing as he stumbles over his words. You nod shyly, and Tom brings his free hand up to cup your cheek, pressing his lips to yours gently, all the while never letting go of your hand. You hum slightly, leaning in closer to deepen the kiss. Just as you both start to relax, there’s a flash of light. You frown as Tom sighs, seeming annoyed but unsurprised at the interruption. He pulls away and spots the source, two teenage girls holding up their phones. 

“I’m so sorry love,” he whispers to your puzzled expression as one steps forward. 

“Don’t mean to interrupt, Tom, but do you think we could have a photo?” the girl asks boldly. 

He nods and makes to step towards them, fixing a smile on his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. A few more people move towards you, forming a small group. What is he, you think, some kind of celebrity? It’s when someone pulls a marker out of their bag and waves it along with a piece of paper in front of his face that you breathe in sharply and drop his hand. 

“I’m sorry,” you say as the London Eye capsule comes to a stop. “I have to- I just have to go.” 

You walk out of the capsule quickly, thankful to be on solid ground again. 

“Wait, lovie!” you hear Tom call out after you but you don’t turn around, only focusing on getting away. You come to a stop at a bench in a relatively secluded area and sit down to collect your thoughts. You felt tricked. Who even was this stranger? You thought you were getting to know Tom Holland, the boy from Kingston who caught the tube on a Thursday night, but had he been lying all along?

Pulling out your phone, you opened Google. Time for some serious internet stalking. You type in ‘Tom Ho’ and the search bar auto fills in the rest. Tom Holland. You scroll down slowly, eyes widening at picture after picture of Tom on red carpets, at events and premieres. You quickly shut off your phone, staring at the ground. This whole time, Spider-Man had been flirting with you? 

The bench creaks slightly as someone sits down next to you. You’ve only met a couple of times, but you can already sense it’s Tom. You don’t say a word as he sighs, fiddling with his hands. 

“I’m sorry.” he says quietly. 

You sniff, looking up at him and his heart sinks at your red eyes. 

“Why did you lie to me, Tom?” you ask. “I feel used, and tricked. It’s awful.”

He sighs again, taking your hand in his and you let him. 

“I didn’t mean to, not at first. I just really liked you, and when you didn’t know who I was, it made me feel normal for a minute. You saw me as someone I haven’t felt like for a long time. Just Tom from Kingston. I wanted it to be just us, without any of the noise that comes with my life now but it backfired. I felt awful lying to you. I mean it when I say I hate being dishonest and it hurt me to lie to you.”

You don’t even know how to reply. 

“I know this is cheeky to ask,” he tries. “But I really like you, Y/N. Do you think we could start over?” he reaches out, offering his hand to shake. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Tom Holland. I’m Spider-Man, and I really like this girl called Y/N.” 

You giggle, taking his hand and shaking it softly. 

“Hi,” you reply. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N, and I really like this dork called Tom.”

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

The kisses were fervent and much of a rush, your nails raking through the strands of Tom’s head. His mouth opened, tongue entering your mouth as he pushed your back against the wooden surface of the door leading into the LA home you owned. Tom had come down for a few weeks for work-related tasks, but that wasn’t stopping him from getting his fair share of you. 

You see, what Hollywood didn’t know – was that you and Tom were much more than just ‘friends’. While you weren’t in an exclusive relationship that was exploited with bouts of PDA and cute little dinner dates on the pier, you two were hot and heavy lovers who could hardly keep their hands to themselves. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for the two of you to find the other in your territory, ready to snatch one another’s clothes off. Tom had been a close friend of yours for years, and one thing led to another, and well…

You were friends with enticing benefits. 

Tom ripped his shirt away, making you moan. “Ugh, you’re so hot,” You groaned, reaching out to caress his abs. Tom mustered a laugh, his lips connecting to your neck as he drew moans out of your sweet mouth that would soon be stuffed full of his cock if he had his way. 

“Speak for yourself, Love,” He laughed, his accent thick and sexy in your ear as you cupped his cheeks, kissing him harder. The two of you fell onto your couch, his body pinning yours underneath as his hands roamed across your warm flesh. He was practically ripping away the shirt you wore, desperate to touch you. “Your tits are the best,” He groaned when his eyes were greeted with them. “So pretty and perky,” His head dipped low to capture your nipple in his mouth.

A cry broke free from your throat as he pushed the sensitive bud into the roof of his mouth, his warm lips wrapped around your breast to suck as you curled your fingers through his hair, your hands inching to reach the clasp to his jeans. “Come on, Tom, I need you,” You growled under your breath as he laughed, moving his mouth back up to kiss you deeper. 

In a tangled mess of limbs, you both were panting for every breath as you worked to take off each other’s clothes, the desperation evident in your ghostly touches over your skin. Your phone was tossed out of your pocket and laying on the table. Hips straddling Tom’s as you worked to grind your center against him, you were releasing wanton moans that had his length tightening harder behind the fabric of his black boxers. 

“Hurry up and get outta these,” Tom fumbled with the lace covering your hips. “Wanna feel how soaking wet and tight you are around me,” He growled, bringing you to sweetly moan as you rocked further into him. Soon, you were bouncing wildly on top of him, every care in the world thrown out the window as you focused on the intense pleasure Tom provided you. His hands curving around your back, he helped push you back and forth as you swiveled your pretty hips in circles, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips as he worked to try not to burst within you at that very moment. 

“Your tits–” He panted. “So perfect,” He moaned, leaning forward to bury his head in between and resume his mouth skills on your sensitive nipples. Your fingers were raking and curling around the strands of his hair as you cried out in ecstasy, feeling the pulsations growing in between your thighs, your high on the verge of peaking. The two of you were soon coming together in unison, bodies pressed together in a tight embrace, the sweat collecting as beads on your foreheads. 

“W-Whoa,” You stammered, laughing quietly as the waves of your orgasm washed over you, your body slouching against Tom. He smiled wickedly and hurried to attack your face with kisses – sloppy ones but with a sweet intent. As you buried your face into the crook of his neck, your phone started to ring. Groaning, you picked it up, only to see your mother’s name flash across the screen.

“Shhh!” You erupted, pressing your index finger to Tom’s lips. His eyes widened and eyebrows knitted in confusion as you swiped to answer it. 

“Mom!” You erupted, watching as Tom’s eyes grew to the size of plates. His entire body stiffened underneath you as you hissed. “Oh, you’re coming in the next five minutes? Y-yeah, sorry! I just… I got tied up,” You blinked. “Yeah, I’m home,” You answered. Tom was glancing between you and his discarded clothes. Pushing yourself off your lover, he bit back the groan as you pressed into his abdomen. You were scurrying around for your clothes, your anxiety through the roof. 

“See you soon! Love you!” You squeaked. Hanging up, you tossed your phone to the side and started to pick up.

“GET DRESSED!” You screamed at Tom who was staring back at you. He hurried to his feet and started to grab at his clothes, but you threw them directly into his face. He was stumbling. 

“What do I need to do?! LEAVE?!” He asked. Your mother had no idea you were doing this type of business. Biting your lip nervous, you needed to brush your hair and appear presentable and not as if you had just had your guts rearranged by Holland. 

“N-no, you idiot!” You hissed. “if my mom comes in, tell her you're my boyfriend!” You hurried out of the living room and toward your bedroom.

“WHAT?!” Tom screamed back. He turned his head back over to the door that could open within the next ten seconds. Mothers were quick. He was looking around frantically, picking up any trash he saw and hurrying it to the kitchen. He was not expecting to have a run-in with your mother of all people today when he came to do business with you. He thought today was going to be completely chill, with you two nestled in the sheets as you screamed each other’s names. Not screaming because your mother was arriving and he had to play the decoy boyfriend. 

You were hurrying around the bedroom, gathering up the items your mother was stopping by to grab when you heard the sound of her voice ring out as she entered your home. You two had an open-door policy like that. 

“I’m here, sweetie – oh,” She stopped in her tracks as she saw Tom coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water in his hand. He was an actor for a reason. 

“Hi, there! You must be Y/N’s mom… She’s back there,” He pointed toward the hallway where he knew your bedroom was. Your mother furrowed her brows. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met?” She asked, stepping forward and extending her hand.

Tom walked over and grabbed your mother’s hand and kissed her hand. “Tom Holland,” He answered. “I’m Y/N’s boyfriend… My, now I see where she gets her beauty from,” He beamed, sending her a wink. Your mother blushed as she stood there, soaking in the sight of your supposed boyfriend. 

“Boyfriend?” Your mother repeated. “Y/N hasn’t mentioned anything about seeing someone… But maybe I’d keep you under wraps too,” She teased. 

Tom flushed a rosy shade of pink. 

“We’ve been together less than a month. I believe Y/N just wanted to make sure everything was smooth sailing before telling people about us,” He smiled.

Just then, you appeared.

“Hi, mom!” You smiled, rushing over with the container of items she needed. She pulled you into a hug and pressed a whisper to your ear.

“You didn’t tell me you scored the big leagues, sweetheart… I love him already,” She giggled quietly. Your eyes popped open, unsure of what Tom had told her. 

You pulled back as she took the container off your hands. “Well, I’ll let you two kids have your fun… Tom, it was a joy to meet you, sweetheart,” She beamed at the British lad. He offered her a kind smile. 

“You too,” He nodded. 

Your mother flashed you a smile and flirty wink. “I’ll plan an extra seat at our family get-together next month,” She smiled happily and turned to leave. You walked her to the door, thankful when she got into her car and left. Turning back around, you faced Tom who crossed his arms over his chest. 

“She seems lovely,” He sighed. 

You glared at him.

“What on earth did you tell her?” You asked him.

Tom slowly walked over, the look in his eye unreadable. Your heart quickened as the man reached out and grabbed you by your hips. Locking your front door as he pressed your back to the door, he lowered his head until his lips were on your neck.

Kissing a trail down the length of your skin, he hovered over your collarbone where he nipped your flesh. A soft moan unfolded from your lips as your eyes rolled, your hands reaching out to brace on his chest. 

“We may need to renegotiate those terms… I think I like you, baby,” He chuckled in a husky manner, a way that sent chills racing down your spine.

tagging:

@la-undercover-latina 

The moment Tom's through the door, his bags are on the floor and you’ve got him pressed against the wall. Your lips meet in a hurried, needy kiss as his hands find your waist, pulling you as close as possible. It’s hard to kiss him, both of you smiling too widely for your mouths to fit correctly, but you try your best and savour every second of it. You run your hands through his curls, a deep feeling of content happiness sweeping through your body as you cling to your boyfriend.

“I missed you so much,” Tom mumbles against your lips. His hands slip beneath your shirt, caressing over the soft skin of your back as you sigh into his mouth. “I love you, darling.”

You let your hands roam over his torso, falling beneath his shirt just as he’d done with you, and you enjoy the feeling of muscles flexing beneath your touch for the first time in two months. Tom’s press tour had spanned the whole world, and whilst he’d had an incredible experience, he’d completed it away from you, and that’d been hard on you both. Now he’s back, you’re determined to make the most of every second.

“I love you,” you say, slightly breathless. Your lips tingle numbly as you pull back from him, your eyes seizing the opportunity to trail across his beautiful, familiar face. Your smile softens as you take in the shape of his crooked nose, the friendly smile lines carved around his mouth, and the depths of love swirling around in his golden eyes. “I missed you, too,” you say, pausing to kiss him deeply. “I haven’t seen you in so long.” You catch your lower lip between your teeth, eyeing him carefully. “I need you.”

Tom raises an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with a familiar dark lust as one of his hands spreads your thighs and goes to cup your heat. “You need me,” he repeats, smirking as you grind your hips down to meet his touch. “I need you, too, darling.”

“Then let’s take this to the bedroom.”

He’s got you naked and lying between his arms in no time, his lips trailing over your chest as he reminds himself of every curve and bump of your body. You can feel his hard length pressing into your leg, but you lay back and let him take his time, enjoying the feeling of his sweet lips on your body as he breezes them over your breasts, your nipples, your hips, your stomach. He gradually trails lower, his kisses growing a little hotter and quicker as he settles between your parted legs, glancing up to meet your gaze with hooded eyes.

“I want you, Tom,” you whine, grabbing a fistful of his hair and trying to bring him back up. But he shakes his head slowly, a glint in his eye.

“Just a little taste,” he asks, voice soft. “Been dreaming of tasting your pussy again, darling.”

And you can’t really argue with that.

You moan as his mouth closes around your bud, his tongue tracing over your slit lightly as he laps up your wetness. He hums happily, and you cry out as he pushes two of his fingers into your entrance, quickly working you open. Pleasure arcs through your centre as he remembers exactly how to curl his fingers and lick your bud, and you bask in the feeling of your boyfriend between your legs before you start to feel a high approach.

“Stop, Tom. I wanna cum with you inside me.”

Tom presses a final, sweet kiss to your clit, and it makes you quiver. His hands pull back, leaving you cold and shivering until he shifts up, positioning himself on top of you again, his hard cock tracing through your slit as he kisses you messily. You feel your tangy taste on his tongue and moan into his mouth as the head of his flushed cock presses to your sensitive clit.

“Can I..?” He asks, his voice strained.

“Please.”

Your gasps mix with his as you feel him enter you slowly. The stretch of your walls as you adjust to him is a blissful ache, and you catch his lips between yours in a slow, passionate kiss as your bodies slot together finally. He bottoms out with a grunt, and for a moment you just lay there together, your breathing falling in sync, the feeling of being so close again after so long apart filling you up with such a sense of peace and love that it takes your breath away.

Tom scatters a few soft kisses around your face until you nod and tell him he can move, and then his pace is slow and tender. He takes his time, his cock gradually picking up speed as you moan together, your hands wrapping around his back as you bring him in close.

“Fuck, I missed your pussy,” Tom mumbles, his forehead breaking into a slight sweat. “Missed seeing you underneath me, and hearing your sweet, dirty moans.” His words make you groan, and then his thin lips stretch into a smirk. “Missed you, darling.”

You grind your hips down to meet him, urging him on and whimpering as the tip of his cock brushes against your g-spot. You bring one hand down and settle it between your legs, finding your clit easily, and you time your rubs with his thrusts.

“Love your big cock, baby,” you tell him, words falling over each other. “Missed your mouth, too, and your hands. Used to think about them every night.”

“Mmm, really?”

You sigh into his ear as he rolls his hips just right. “I love it,” you say. “Love you.”

Tom’s thrusts grow more eager, and you pick up your fingers on your clit to match it. You know he’s getting close. He never lasts long after you’ve been apart for a while, but neither do you, and as you watch his face flush and pull together in a tight, pleasured grimace, you feel yourself inch closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, baby,” he whines, voice broken and breathy. His eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide with a desperate heat. “I love your pussy so much. I’m gonna cum in you.” His lips bump against your face, kissing sloppily at the corner of your mouth as you feel the muscles in his back tense. His words fall together, slurring slightly as he cums with a low, “Fuck, taking me so well, darling, makes me feel so good.”

The action of him shooting his load inside your pulsing walls is enough to push you over the edge, and you cling to him as you cum just after him. You clit tingles, and it mixes with the pleasure coming from your g-spot as your eyes roll back and you spasm beneath him. There’s something so affirming to have him moving above you, caging you in with his arms, holding you close as you fall apart for the first time in forever, and it makes your orgasm last for several long, mind-blowing seconds.

As you both begin to calm down, Tom’s thrusts grow slower. When you pull your hand away from your clit, he slowly pulls out, leaving a trail of leaking cum in your pussy as he moves back to your face and steals your lips in a flushed, hot kiss. One of his hands cups your cheek, and he holds you close.

“I love you,” Tom says, punctuating each word with a kiss. Your heart pulses in your chest as you grin up at him.

“And I love you too,” you return, curling your arms around him. “I’m glad you’re home.”