He looked so peaceful in his sleep. His chest was rising and falling slowly, mouth open ajar, and curls tousled on his head. The sunlight peaking from the curtains hit him in the best way possible. I didn’t mind mornings as much if it meant waking up next to him.
“Eth, babe, it’s time to get up,” I whispered, softly tracing a line from his bottom lip, down the middle of his chest. He stirred slightly but remained in his slumber.
In reality, it couldn’t have been any later than 7:30 and we didn’t have any plans till noon. That didn’t stop me from attempting to wake him up.
I climbed on top of him to get into a straddling position. I pressed gentle kisses along his jawline, slowly making my way down to his neck. A small noise came from the back of his throat causing me to smile against his skin. His breathing had become much harder. My hands roamed his body, his skin was warm and soft. His abdomen was solid and smooth, I was very thankful that Ethan was used to sleeping shirtless. I paused once I got to his happy trail, his breathing hitched. My fingers toyed with the waistband of his boxers causing a needy whine from him.
I stroked him through the thin material, scooting down so that I was between his legs, he hissed when I pressed a small kiss on him through the fabric.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” his eyes were shut and his jaw was tightly clenched.
“Good morning, Ethan,” I smirked. I loved that those were the first words he’d said to me.
“Good morning baby,” he whispered, his morning voice was the sexiest thing I had ever heard, it was raspy and husky.
His eyes fluttered opened and my gaze was met with those bright eyes I loved. He gave me a sleepy smile. That smile always killed me, it gave me butterflies and made my heart skip beats. He was perfect. His beauty distracted me from what I was midst doing and I was only brought back from my trance by his erection growing even larger.
I dipped back down and pulled his boxers down, his erection sprang out, slapping against his stomach. He sharply inhaled when I took him in my hand and pumped him a few times. His mouth formed a perfect “O” shape, watching him react to my hand alone made me feel good.
Groans escaped his lips, God how I loved those lips. Those full, pink lips drove me insane. I placed a soft kiss on his tip before wrapping my lips around his cock, sucking gently at him till the vein on the underside grew prominent as he got harder and pre-come bubbled on the tip.
His eyes were screwed shut, his hands were fisting the sheets, small moans were coming from the back of his throat.
I dragged my tongue up the vein, then slowly slicked over his slit. His hips bucked up and
I lightly pushed them back down, holding him with down one hand. I took him in inch by inch, Ethan threw his head back and mustered out all the profanities he could.
When the tip of his cock touched the back of my throat, it brought the loudest moan from Ethan. I looked at him through my eyelashes, as if he could sense it, he looked down at me. His eyes were dazed, a bead of sweat ran down the side of his face. I loved seeing him in this state.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he panted, re-shutting his eyes and letting his head fall back again.
I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed my head faster, feeling his pulse against my tongue. I knew he was close. My hand curved around him following against my mouth, I felt him twitch in my mouth, whines and whispers came from Ethan as he released in my mouth. I pulled off slowly and place a small kiss on his cock’s head.
His cheeks were flushed, breath was hard, curls damp sticking to his face and eyes wild. I laid back down, giving him a few minutes to come down from his high and nuzzled my face into his neck, my fingers running up and down his chest.
“Babe?” he broke the comfortable silence moments later.
“Hmmm?” I hummed pulling away to look at him.
“Thank you,” he breathlessly chuckled.
“Anytime,” I grinned up at him and pushed a few curls out of his face. He carefully gripped my wrist then reached for my other one, he pinned them above each side of my head. In a quick swift motion he was in between my legs.
He pressed kisses along my jawline, then brought his mouth next to my ear, “Hmm you know what that means though, right?”.
“Tell me,” his lips were traveling down my neck, making their way down on my collarbone. He pressed his groin against mine causing the much needed friction. The only thing separating us was the thin material of my panties. I could feel the wetness beginning to collect between my thighs.
He pulled away, causing me to whimper. He pressed his lips on top of mine and mumbled against my lips, “Your turn”.
HI GUYS. I’m sorry if this is bad and cringy!! IT’S MY FIRST TIME WRITING SOMETHING LIKE THIS, but stay with me. I pinky promise I’ll get better. Anyways, please leave me suggestions and give me feedback!! again, I’m sorry- M💚
Hi can you write newt × reader where they are in fight,like newt doesn’t have enough time for reader and she is sad?Thanks💖
♥Hope you enjoy, dear Anon!
It had been weeks since the last time you and Newt had done anything remotely romantic. You understood he was busy writing his new book and tending to his creatures, but lately, you felt rather forgotten. He barely spoke to you in-between writing, taking care of the creatures and getting supplies. Most days you either wandered around wherever you were in your journey and poke around in little shops.
Summary: Going into sophomore year of High School, you still hate Richie Tozier for what he had done in sixth grade.
A/N: Hi! This is my first time posting or writing an Imagine so please be nice to me and give me feedback, too! The summary section of this imagine is not really clear because this imagine is not completed yet. I am stuck right now in writing the imagine and I need suggestions on how to continue. So please leave me some feedback and suggestions!! :)
Richie Tozier, Derry’s own atrocious trash mouth. You absolutely hated this kid, always trying to pick up girls in the most ungentlemanly ways. It was disgusting. Well, that was until sophomore year of High School.
On the first day of sophomore year, you walked into school to the dull face of Richie at his friend, Eddie’s, locker blabbering his shit out. You rolled your eyes and headed for your locker. Placing items into your locker, you see someone come up to you by the side.
“Hey beautiful” Richie said as you looked up.
“What do you want?”
“Anything wrong with saying hi?”
“No, but it is when it comes from the person who wanted to sacrifice you to a demonic clown.” you walked away.
The truth is, you used to be friends with Richie and all his other friends back in middle school. He was slightly less of a trash mouth, but he was still one. You didn’t mind back then, though. Because he was one of your best friends. Like how Bill and Eddie and Stan and Mike and Ben and Beverly were all your best friends. Until the summer of sixth grade changed everything.
The summer of 1983 was a life changing one, one where Derry was forced to face It again. Bill brought you and your friends into the investigation of the loss of his younger brother when you discovered the main reason was the clown, It. You experienced blooded bathrooms, stained wall messages and It’s home. When Beverly was kidnapped by It, it became the second time you guys entered It’s home. At that time, you and Richie were paired up in case the group got separated. Which it did. And when it did it was you and Richie left alone to face It.
“So, which one of you should I take first” It said.
And almost immediately, Richie spat, “Take her first, not me.”
You stopped then and glared at Richie with anger in your eyes, who couldn’t believe what he had just said.
“I’m sorry” he murmured as It started laughing hysterically. You didn’t say anything, but your eyes said everything. Instead of yelling at him, you grabbed his hand and ran with him away from the clown. You ran until It disappeared and you saw your friends again.
“What happened?! Are you okay!!?” your friends asked when they finally found you and Richie. You guys reassured them, but you didn’t look at each other and carried on to fight It. After the incident with It, you decided that you didn’t want to be around Richie and his friends anymore, mainly due to Richie. So you drifted away from the group and found new friends.
It was a cold winter evening when Tom rushed down the streets of London. The wind was biting on to his skin, some snowflakes found their way to his hair, settling down. It was a long day for him.
Everyone was going crazy at the news paper since Kennedy‘s death, which was the reason he had to stay two hours longer than usual, causing his mood changing to annoyed, stressed and even mad.
The streets were busy, just like every other day. He crossed the street heading to a grey house which was surrounded by more colorful ones. Y/N didn’t want one of the outstanding ones, she rather had a house which looked cold on the outside and is cozy on the inside, than the other way around. He didn’t mind, the fact that he gets to live with her was enough. The moment he was about to get his keys, the door opened, revealing his wife standing there with a wide smile on her face.
„Darlin‘, I’m so sorry for being late,“ , he said while entering the house, pressing a kiss on her forehead „ everyone is going crazy. They wanted everyone to write an article and choose the best one, which sounds kind of weird to me. They could’ve just tell one person to write it, it would‘ve been fine.“
„But you’re home now, so forget about them!“
Yes, you’re lovely, with your smile so warm
And your cheeks so soft
There is nothing for me but to love you
And the way you look tonight
Her mouth curved into a wide smile, a smile that was only for him. No matter how bad his day was, that smile could always melt the coldness of the day, leaving him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside.
„Come here, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now.“
„You don’t have to tell me that twice!“
And with that she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him close to herself. He felt her hair tingling on his face, which made him smile even more. Breathing in her scent, he felt himself relaxing more and more. Pressing a kiss on her cheek, he pulled away, looking into her eyes.
„What’s wrong love?“, she asked with a curious look on her face.
„It’s just.. they told me I may have to change positions. They’ve got too many workers at the moment.“
She wanted to answer, but didn’t find any words who could comfort him for the moment. So they just stayed like that, standing in the kitchen holding each other, no words spoken but so many on their minds.
„We‘ll figure this out. You don’t even know if you have to leave. Don’t forget that you’re one of their best writers, most articles of your always end up in the front side! It’ll be fine, okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”
With each word your tenderness grows
Tearin’ my fear apart
And that laugh..wrinkles your nose
Touches my foolish heart
“And if you do have to leave, well then we’re going. I love Hastings, haven’t been there for some time. We would live at the beach, that’d be quite lovely.”
His heart lost it’s heaviness, confidence swelled up. No matter what, she always found the right words to say. No matter what, she always stayed with him.
“For what, I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes you did. You love me. You’re waiting for me each day, always welcoming me with happiness and a fresh meal. In the morning you wake me up by kissing me. You always have the right words to calm he down. That’s what you do, you’ve done since the moment I asked you to be mine. So that’s what I want to thank you for.”
“Thomas Holland, you’re a hopeless romantic, but you’re lucky that I am too. Also, I’m your wife, that’s my job as your wife, to keep you happy and feeling loved.”
“Oh I’ve seen many wifes who are being a total pain for their husbands, so I am very lucky to be with someone amazing like you!”
Lovely … Never, never change
Keep that breathless charm
Won’t you please arrange it? ‘Cause I love you
Just the way you look tonight
And that laugh that wrinkles your nose
It touches my foolish heart
“What a great husband you are, I’m a lucky woman.”
“You know what my mum used to say all the time, behind a lucky woman, there’s always a luckier man.”
Leaning forward, she pressed her lips onto his, but pulling apart after a few seconds, earning a pout from him.
“Dinner should be ready now, I can still give you as much kisses as you want afterwards.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
They headed into the kitchen, where a big meal was waiting for them. He helped her getting everything done, before they sat down to eat.
“So, anything new at work today?”
“Besides that Henry is getting a divorce for the third time, I don’t think so.”
“Poor thing, Rora was such a lovely doll.”
“Yes, at first sight maybe, but as soon he came back later than usual she made his life a living hell on earth! She even thought that he cheated on her with Samantha.”
“Samantha?? Her husband died about two months ago, she dearly loved him. How could she even think about that?”
“Well I guess not every wife is as supportive as you are. Most of them could be better at being a witch than a wife.”
His words caused her to burst out a loud laughter, that you usually wouldn’t expect from a lady in the 60s, but she didn’t care. She never did and he thinks she never will. It’s one of the things he loves so much about her.
Lovely … Don’t you ever change
Keep that breathless charm
Won’t you please arrange it? ‘Cause I love you
a-just the way you look tonight
After they finished eating, they got ready for bed, him fooling around the whole time. He would use any kind of way to make her happy and see her beautiful smile as much as possible.
“Oh can I brush your hair??”, he asked with such excitement, his cheeks would turn slightly pink. She laughed but handed him her brush. Carefully, he started brushing it, starting from the bottom, slowly making his way to the top.
“You don’t have to be so careful, I’ll tell you if it hurts.”
“Just don’t wanna risk hurting my princess.”
After he finished, they headed to their bedroom, both dropping exhausted into the bed. The sheets were cold, but not an uncomfortable kind of cold. He pulled her into his chest, her arms lightly hugging him.
„I love you.“
„I love you too, Tom.“
Just the way you look tonight
He watched her body rise and fall. Her lips were slightly apart, turned into a small smile. She looked so beautiful, he couldn’t believe she was actually his. His mother told him from the beginning on, that if he wouldn’t marry her, he would regret it for the rest of his life. Even if she wouldn’t have told him, he still would have married her. Everything about her was simply perfect, mainly because she had flaws, but these flaws were actually one of the things he loved about her so much. Without her, he wouldn’t be the man he is right now, and he’ll always be thankful for everything she has done for him. Maybe life wasn’t easy all the time, but it surely was easier with her.
Please leave some feeback/suggestions. Also please tell me if you would like more of Tom in the 50s, 60s & 70s!!
i love the way your hair falls perfectly around your face in soft waves. and how your nose crinkles up a little when you laugh. i love laying next to you and looking into your big green eyes. you are my whole world, and i am so grateful for you.
I Want To Save You--Spider-Man: Homecoming Imagine
Hi guys! It’s been a really long time since I’ve been active on here, my life is crazy and I haven’t really had the urge to write anything. However, I’m back with this little number and I’m so happy with it. I absolutely adore this movie and Tom Holland and I’ve wanted to write something for this universe for a while and I finally got the inspiration to do so last night. I’ve seen this movie three times already and I love it more and more each time I see. A disclaimer, I have nothing against Zendaya as Michelle, I just didn’t particularly like her character and I’m not sure if it was the way she was portrayed, but I’m hoping they give her more character development in the next one. If you guys have any suggestions, please feel free to leave me a message! (:
“Peter, it literally says right here, insert part A into—“
“—okay and I’m telling you, Y/N, that it doesn’t look right—“
Batting the instructions you were waving in front of his face away with a frustrated scowl, Peter snatched the halfway completed section of the Lego Death Star you were building, a piece that you spent almost a half hour carefully piecing together in order to ensure that you were putting it together correctly. However, Peter’s grip wasn’t all that delicate and the section snapped into the thirty tiny pieces it started as, bringing you right back to square one.
“Way to go, Parker,” You huffed, annoyed, picking up the pieces and beginning to reassemble them, again, but not before shooting him a disgruntled look.
Peter at least had the decency to look sheepish, his brown eyes wide and apologetic. You sighed, rolling your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the corners of your lips from twitching into a small smile, your annoyance with him immediately melting away.
However, you weren’t gonna tell him that
It only took you a few minutes to assemble all thirty pieces, before you handed it back to Peter, who handled it with a bit more care than the last time. You watched as he attempted to place it where he thought it should go, despite the carefully detailed instructions that were now crumpled up and tossed into the corner of his messy room. The tip of his tongue peeked out from the corner of his lips in concentration, his furrowed brows quickly melting back into frustration scowl when when it still wouldn’t fit.
You sighed, “Peter, they gave us instructions for a reason, not for them to be balled up and tossed aside like an old candy bar wrapper. If it belonged there, it would fit and you wouldn’t have to—“
He cut you off with a shout of victory as the small section snapped onto the not even half way finished Death Star with a small click and Peter shot you a smug grin.
You simply rolled your eyes, “Of course, only Peter Parker could correct a toy company that has been around for decades and has been selling this particular set for years—“
Peter laughed, “Oh c’mon, Y/N, when you’ve been building these things as long as Ned and I have, you learn that the instructions are merely suggestions and should be treated as such.”
“You say that like it’s something to brag about,” You teased, “seriously how many times have you guys built this thing?”
Now it was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes, “Oh please, Y/N, this isn’t just a Lego Death Star,” he said with a level of seriousness that was both sad and adorable, “it’s the Limited Edition Lego Death Star set that comes with Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker and two different sets of Light Sabers—“
His voice had become more animated the more he spoke, his excitement on the subject turning his normal talking speed into more of his familiar rambling quality he got when he was passionate about something. His eyes were almost shining from the amount of enthusiasm and passion he had about this half way built contraption and all of this just from legos.
As usual, you found his level of dorkiness cute and one of the many things you loved about Peter. He was completely and wholeheartedly himself, from his closet filled with varying amounts of t-shirts with math and science puns on them, to his Star Wars posters in his room and in his locker at school and his love for comic books and graphic novels and school and random knowledge that he absorbed like a sponge. He never hid his interests from the outside world and he never pretended to be someone he wasn’t simply to fit in. He was brave and pure and just so inconceivably and inherently good, in a way that you wished you could be.
The blank look on your face must’ve put a damper on his enthusiasm, because he simply sighed, like he couldn’t understand why he was still friends with you.
You gave him an apologetic smile and he rolled his eyes again, “I knew I should’ve asked Michelle to do this with me, she at least understands what I’m talking about.”
It was meant to be teasing, but his words stung in a way that you knew he didn’t mean for them to. While, admittedly, the amount time you knew Peter paled in comparison to that of Michelle and Ned, you still thought that you were closer to Peter than Michelle was. You had nothing against her, at all, you liked Michelle. She was witty with her dry humor and wicked smart and seemed to always know when someone needed something, with that observant way of hers. She saw people, almost to the point of it being uncomfortable if you weren’t used to it and she had a quiet passion about things, from politics to books.
But Michelle kept people at a guarded distance and sometimes, you didn’t like the way she treated Peter and Ned. Some of her jokes you thought came off a bit harsh and unnecessary and while they seemed not to faze Peter or Ned, they did bother you.
Maybe you didn’t understand their relationship and maybe it was because you liked Peter and you knew, deep down, you weren’t good enough for him the way Michelle was. For all of her rough edges and scathing remarks, she was just as smart as Peter, her GPA almost neck and neck with his. She had the same interests and while they had a relationship that you didn’t exactly understand, you could see why they would fit together, opposites attract and all that.
And you? Well, the only reason you got into Mid-Town was because your father wasTony Stark, billionaire, genius, Iron Man and a founding member of the Avengers. You learned from a young age that people only ever cared about your last name and who your father was and while you weren’t by any means stupid, you weren’t the science prodigy your father was. And if it wasn’t for Peter, your B in Chemistry and Physics would be nonexistent. He tutored you almost every day after school in either the library at school or his cramped kitchen table in his equally cramped apartment in Queens.
You’d never asked him to come over to the Tower in your years of friendship, not out of embarrassment or lack of trust in him, but because you were embarrassed by the wealth that oozed from the place. You never wanted Peter to see you as some rich snob who lived off of her father’s seemingly endless fortune and status. You loved your father more than anyone on the planet, but the amount of gifts he showered you with were borderline ridiculous and you never wanted Peter to see that side of your life. Peter’s aunt worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table after uncle Ben died. Peter struggled for everything and you wanted for nothing.
“Oh,” you mumbled, “I see.”
Peter’s eyes widened in horror, guilt flooding his dark irises and he groaned in embarrassment, “Oh god, Y/N, I didn’t meant it like that,” he rushed to explain, “I just meant that you’re not interested in this stuff and that’s completely cool, you know and Michelle really isn’t either, but she just gets it, not that makes her better or anything—“
“It’s okay, Peter, I get it,” you said with a strained smile, not meeting his eyes and instead, you gathered your things and made to get up from the hardwood floor, your back giving a twinge of discomfort from sitting for so long, but it was overshadowed by the amount of hurt that was squeezing your heart in a vice like grip.
“Wait, Y/N, don’t go—“ Peter said, hurrying to get up, his hand reaching out to grab your elbow but you pulled away, shrugging your backpack on to your shoulders.
“It’s late, Peter,” you said softly, glancing down at your StarkWatch—the first of it’s kind and not even available on the market yet—and to your utter humiliation, you couldn’t even read the numbers from the tears blurring your vision, “my dad’s probably wondering where I am.”
“It’s only eight and besides, your dad’s in Sokovia for the meeting about the Acco—“ Peter protested, following you out of his room and into the small kitchen.
He stopped short when you spared him a glance over your shoulder, your hand reaching blindly for the door knob, blinking through your tears in order to see him clearly and you gave him small smile, but by the look of complete guilt on his face, it came out as more of a grimace.
“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.” You said, completely disregarding his previous statement, trying for a light tone but it came out flat and before your tears could fall, you opened the door and ran down the hallway.
You ignored his voice carrying down the hallway and just ran, not even bothering with the elevator and taking the stairs instead, which, probably wasn’t the greatest idea you’ve ever had, considering your tears were coming in full force now and you could barely see an inch in front of your face let alone to be able to see wether or not your feet were even landing on the stairs.
You made it somehow without tripping and breaking your neck and you burst through the apartment doors and out into the quiet streets of Queens. You ran until you couldn’t see Peter’s apartment building anymore and you slowed your pace to a walk, the chilly December air making you wish you remembered your jacket.
You weren’t sure how long you walked for or even where you were going. you contemplated calling Happy to come get you, but when you looked up, you didn’t even recognize where you were. A inkling of anxiety began to settle into your stomach, but you ignored it, trying to keep calm. Patting your pockets, you tried to find your phone, so you could GPS your way to someplace familiar and more open, but you were coming up empty.
Forcing down the anxiety that was beginning to feel more like panic, you reached around and unzipped your backpack, digging around inside of it, hoping that maybe you had put it in there in your haste to get out of Peter’s apartment. A chill ran down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold New York air and you felt a prickling sensation make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your fingers brushed against something smooth and familiar, but before you could figure out what it was, you saw a flash out of the corner of your eye and then a hand settled on your shoulder, making you jump, your backpack falling out of your grip.
“Well what do we have here?” A gruff voice whispered menacingly, spinning you around and slamming you up against a nearby alley wall.
You winced when your head bounced off of the frozen brick wall, a small whimper leaving your suddenly dry lips.
It was a man, looking to be in about his late thirties, early forties, wearing a ratty old sweatshirt and jeans with holes in the knees. His dark hair was covered by a black beanie, his pale face red from the cold, his eyes a glacier blue and they were frigid cold as they looked you up and down suggestively. He was tall and well muscled and panic rose in your stomach when his grip on your shoulders tightened.
“What’s baby Stark doing in this part of town?” He asked rhetorically, his breath reeking of stale alcohol and cigarettes.
He ran chilled fingers down your cheek in a twisted caress, “What’s with tears sweetheart?” he cooed and you jerked your head away with a grunt, glaring at him out of the corner of your eye.
“Get off of me.” You said through clenched teeth.
He chuckled, “Oh, you’re a feisty one,” he crooned as you struggled against his hold, his voice sickeningly sweet and bile rose in your throat when his hand traveled down to the hollow your throat, where he squeezed.
“What are you gonna do sweetheart? Scream for your daddy?” He grinned maliciously, “go right a head, he’ll never hear you all the way in Sokovia.”
With a growl, you raised your knee in a move Natasha had taught you in her many training sessions and you knew you connected when your attacker let out a grunt of pain. His grip slackened from around your throat and you used that to your advantage, shoving out of his hold and trying to run, but you didn’t get very far. You had spared a look over your shoulder, to see your attacker clutching between his legs with a face twisted in a mixture of rage and pain.
“You little bitch!” he snapped and you couldn’t help but grin in triumph.
Your victory, however, was cut short when you collided with a solid chest, hands wrapping around your forearms as if to steady you. You gasped, an apology on your lips but when you looked into dark eyes glinting with same amount of malice as the man currently writhing on the ground, that’s when all the previous pride left your body and panic settled like lead into your stomach, your blood running cold.
“Not so fast, sweetheart,” the man, shorter than the other one, but equally as built, if not more so, said with a cackle, “we’re just getting started with you.”
A scream built up in your throat and you tried to run around him, but he caught you around the waist and picked you up, kicking and screaming.
He threw you to the ground and on instinct, you threw your hands out to catch your fall. Most of your weight landed on your right hand and you heard a sickening pop and your wrist flared with pain almost immediately and you collapsed against the dirty alley floor with a grunt of pain. Your head swam when it collided, once again, with something hard and frozen and when you tried to sit up, your vision blurred in front of you, the man standing in front you became four and the man behind you, who had recovered from your blow, took advantage of your disillusioned state and grabbed you roughly by the hair, yanking you backwards.
You gripped his wrist with both hands and ignoring the flare of pain in your right hand, you yanked and twisted and with a smirk of satisfaction, you heard his wrist crunch and heard him curse loudly, letting go of you immediately.
Your head felt heavy and you had to blink several times and by the time you’d gathered yourself, the other guy was standing over you and once again grabbing you by the throat, shoving you back onto the ground, settling his weight on top of you, his knees trapping your legs down, pinning you and you were unable to break free.
You wiggled, trying desperately to break out of his hold and his hold lessened enough for you to twist your neck and sink your teeth into the meat of his hand.
He pulled back with a yelp, his eyes blazing with fury. Before you had time to react, his hand came back and pain exploded in a multitude of colors around your left eye, the sting of the slap made worse from the cold and the sound echoed around the empty alley.
A desperate cry broke free of your lips and tears welled, the fear spreading like a viscous poison in your veins and you wished more for anything to be back in Peter’s warm apartment, building the stupid Death Star with Alt J playing in the background, all the hurt and jealousy forgotten as you bantered playfully with your best friend.
“Maybe that’ll teach you to behave,” the man said harshly, panting heavily and you heard the clink of a belt buckle and suddenly time slowed down. You jerked and wiggled and struggled, trying hopelessly to escape his harsh hold.
You screamed out in fear and desperation and you were rewarded with another slap for your efforts.
“Shut her up, dumbass, she’s gonna wake the whole neighborhood.” The other guy demanded harshly.
“I’m trying, but maybe if you’d help me—“
He didn’t get to finish his sentence.
A blur of red and blue came flying from the building on the right, knocking him into the brick wall harshly, his head making a grotesque crack against the frozen brick.
“Now, is this any way to treat a lady, fellas?” Spider-Man asked lightly, but you could hear the barely concealed anger. He grabbed the guy up by his throat, throwing him into his buddy, who was trying to make a run for it. They spilled over each other like an odd form of bowling pins and you watched as they both stood up and raised their fists up defensively.
“Two against one? Now how is that fair?” Spider-Man goaded as the taller of the two charged and swung, Spider-Man dodging it easily and you watched, with blurry vision as Spider-Man ducked and dived and dodged their weak attempts at fighting.
Your vision swam and the left side of your face throbbed in a dull ache in time with your wrist. You feel yourself slipping, a fog rolled over your senses and suddenly, you felt the fatigue settle into your bones as the adrenalin and the panic left your body.
The red and blue blur webbed the two men up and you heard him murmuring into his phone and a giggle fell from your lips when you realized that Spider-Man carried a cellphone. You wondered if he called it a Spidey-phone, if it had web access—
Spider-Man suddenly appeared in your line of vision, hovering over you and despite the mask, you could feel the panic and concern rolling off of him in waves. His sudden appearance startled you, fear rising once again like bile in your throat.
He moved back, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, “Whoa, hey, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” His voice was soft and warm and filled with so much concern that it made tears spring to your eyes.
“Hey,” he whispered, “you’re gonna be okay, I promise. Those…creeps,” he spat the word like a curse, “will never hurt you again.”
Your vision was getting dark around the edges and you felt tired, the fight leaving your body and leaving you a shivering mess in its wake.
“Thank you,” you whispered hoarsely, your throat raw and flaming from all the screaming. You winced, raising a shaky hand to feel it, wondering if it was as swollen as it felt.
A gloved hand stopped you, gently grabbing your hand and wrapping it in his warm grip.
“Best not touch anything until medical comes, okay?” he said nervously, his thumb brushing over the back of your freezing hand.
“Will you stay with me?” You asked, your trepidation making your voice sound small and almost childlike, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your eyelids fluttered, the drowsiness becoming too much to bear.
Spider-Man’s voice was soft when he answered you, “I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”
How do you know my name?
The question was fleeting, but it lingered, even when the exhaustion became too much and the world became quiet.
Bright light danced before your closed eyes and your eyelids felt like they had fifty pound weights strapped to them. You could hear rushing footsteps and someone was yelling, demanding to know what happened. It sounded like your father, but you weren’t sure. The sounds were muffled, like they were coming through a badly tuned radio, like the one in uncle Steve’s room that looked like it came out of the ice with him.
“—left my apartment upset and she left her phone—“
“—why was she upset? What’d you do to her Parker?!”
“—I found her in the alley with those two men they were going to—“
The voice was the same one that said they wouldn’t leave you and you saw the flash of red and blue and the smell of Tom Ford cologne your dad was fond of was overwhelming and your muddled brain pieced together that your dad was talking to Spider-Man.
“—if it wasn’t for you kid, my daughter would be dead or worse and I—thank you.”
“It’s not a problem Mr. Stark, Y/N is very important to me and I would never let anything happen to her.”
For the first time that night, you felt warm.
The second time you woke up, the room was darker and bathed in the light of the moon. You glanced around the room and the first thing that came to your mind was white. White walls, white floors, white curtains, white sheets.
The door to the room was propped open and you could hear the voices from earlier floating in from the hallway, tones hushed and soft, something about a suit and—
A flash of red and blue
“What’d you do to her Parker?!”
You heard footsteps and your father appeared in doorway, dressed in old jeans and a ratty AC/DC T-shirt. His hair was rumpled and he looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes more pronounced than ever and when his gaze landed on you, he smiled.
“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teased, the bed shifting when he sat down on the edge, reaching out to brush your hair out of your face, “how do you feel?”
His dark eyes were concerned, worry creeping at the edges and you felt guilt swell in your gut for putting that there.
“Tired,” you said softly, voice still hoarse, “confused, sore,” you added, “but I’m okay.”
Your dad smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You swallowed heavily, flicking your gaze down to the sheets, spotting a loose thread and your nervous fingers began to fiddle with it, “Dad, I—“
You could feel tears welling in your eyes and you choked back a sob. You didn’t even know where to begin, how to even apologize for being so reckless and so stupid.
A calloused hand settled on yours and pulled you gently into a hard chest, wrapping you into strong arms and you felt safe.
“Hey now,” your dad murmured into your hair, “it’s not your fault, kiddo. Peter told me what happened and while I agree that you could’ve handled it differently, you’re here and you’re safe and that’s what matters the most to me right now.” He whispered, brushing a kiss over the top of your head.
You squeezed your eyes shut, cuddling closer to his warm chest. He smelled like coffee and motor oil and a hint of the Tom Ford cologne, his scent comforting and familiar, grounding you and warming the chill that had settled into your veins. You knew something like this would never happen again, that your dad would do everything in his power to put those assholes in prison to never see the light of day again and the thought calmed you.
He placed another kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, smoothing your hair back from your face, cupping your cheek.
“I love you, kid,” he whispered, a serious look settling over his features, “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”
You gave him a small smile, “I love you, too, dad.”
He ruffled your hair, smiling genuinely for the first time since you woke up. You knew this attack had aged him and added to the growing list of concerns and stress he had going on at the moment and the guilt from earlier rose back up again.
Something flickered in the doorway and you glanced up, seeing a familiar face gazing in anxiously.
Your dad followed your gaze, and a soft chuckle fell from his lips, “It’s cool kid, you can come in and say hi, no need to hover all awkwardly in the doorway, that’s Vision’s job.”
Peter smiled, but his eyes were on you, his gaze filled with so much concern and worry that you felt the guilt rise in you even more.
Your dad flickered his gaze back and forth between the two of you before letting out a slow whistle, “Wow, you could cut the awkward tension in here with a knife.”
You leveled him with a glare and he smirked in return, “I’ll just go talk to Dr. Cho see what she has to say about your progress.”
He kissed your head, before standing and waltzing out of the room, patting Peter on the shoulder as he went. The door shut softly behind him and silence settled around you, Peter fiddling with the hem of his grey Stark Industries t-shirt, shuffling awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“How do you feel?” He asked softly, glancing up at you through his lashes and you didn’t have the heart to be mad at him anymore. It was stupid to begin with, looking back on it and it almost cost you your life.
You shrugged, wincing when even that hurt, “I’m okay, sore. Tired. Confused.”
He nodded, looking back down at the floor.
You sighed heavily, “Peter, look, I’m sorry for…storming out the way I did. It was childish and stupid and I know you were only joking about Michelle—“
“Do you know why I asked you to build the Lego Death Star with me?” he asked, cutting you off. He raised his gaze to yours and you could see a determination in those chocolate depths and you fell silent, shaking your head to answer his question.
“I asked you, because I like spending time with you,” He said quietly, voice unsure, “don’t get me wrong, I like spending time with Ned and Michelle, I do, but you’re…different,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing, “you don’t ask questions that I don’t have answers to and I know you know that something’s been off with me lately, has been since around the time uncle Ben—“ he cut himself off, voice shaking, “I—I’ve never met anyone like you before. Most people would revel in the fact that their dad is Tony Stark, billionaire and Iron Man, of all people, but you…you hide from it.”
He looked lost in thought, and it was like you weren’t even in the room anymore, “You could be the most popular girl in school and yet you chose to hang out with me and Ned, probably the most unpopular people in the entire school,” the confusion in his voice made your heart throb painfully, wishing more than anything that Peter could see himself the way you did, “I mean, c’mon, we spend our time playing with legos and watching documentaries and building tech out of stuff we get out of a dumpster,” he snorted derisively, shaking his head, “you could be homecoming queen and go to all the cool parties and—“
“Peter,” you said softly, reaching out to grab his hand, squeezing it gently between yours. He looked up at you, seemingly at a loss for words. This was the question that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t know the answer to and you couldn’t help the small laugh that escape your lips if you tried, “none of those things matter to me.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but you shook your head, “I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by people who only want to get close to me because of who my father is, to use me for my dad’s money or his status or his ideas. I don’t want a fan club, I want actual friends,” you explained gently, looking down at the soft white sheets that were beyond hospital regulation and tried to ignore the threat of tears pricking behind your eyes, “my dad almost died twice because someone I thought of as family tried to gain control of his tech and his money and that’s the scary part about all of this,” you said, flicking your gaze up to his, “I never know who’s in this for me, not my name and my connections and not my dad’s money, but for me. To see me as my own person and not as the daughter of someone with more money than ten countries put together, with the power to change the world with his ideas and the ability to protect it with his Iron Man suits and what’s left of the Avengers.”
“But you,” you continued, squeezing his warm hand, “you’ve never once seen me as Tony Stark’s daughter. You’ve never questioned why I wanted to study in the library or go to your apartment and never here, at the Tower. You’re not afraid to joke with me or tease me and you’ve never once pretended to be something you’re not in order to impress me or get me to notice you,” you couldn’t help but smile, “you’re so good, Peter. You just, you care so much about everyone and everything and I’ve never met someone, besides my dad, who just wants to be there for people. You’re so smart and kind to everyone and yet you still think that somehow, people deserve better than you, when in reality, some people don’t deserve you.”
Peter’s cheeks flushed bright red and your heart warmed at the sight, “I’m not good like you and the only reason I got into Mid-Town was because of my dad and his ‘anonymous’ donation the science department,” you said with a snort, “if it wasn’t for you tutoring me, I’d be flunking chemistry and physics.”
“I’m not smart like you,” you finished, your voice wavering, “or Michelle.” you added as an afterthought, “you deserve way better than someone like me.”
Peter was silent for a long time and when you braved a look up, he was staring at you, opened mouth, his brown eyes shining in disbelief, “Y/N,” he stammered, “You’re…everything,” he breathed, “You’re so smart and kind and you care so much about the people in your life. You spent years of your life trapped in this tower in order to protect your dad from getting hurt again and you don’t ask anyone for anything. You’re determined to make something of yourself without your dad’s help and you have the power— every reason to not be nice to someone like me, to be friends with someone like me,” he gave a breathy laugh, “I’ll never understand it, but as long as you know that I’ll never take advantage of you or hurt you in a way and I’m so sorry for what I said last night,” his cheeks flushed and he gave you a sheepish smile, “besides, I like Michelle, but I like hanging out with you more.”
You laughed, “Your secret is safe with me, I promise.”
He laughed, but it faded as soon as it came and something like guilt flickered in his eyes and he let go of your hand, standing up from his spot on the bed and you furrowed your eyebrows, confused.
“Peter?” You asked softly and you were unable to hide the worry in your tone. You could hear your heart rate pick up on the monitor beside you, but you ignored, focusing on the tense set of Peter’s shoulders as he turned his back to you.
“You need to rest,” he whispered, “I should probably go.”
Fear gripped your heart at the thought of being alone, at the thought of sleeping in this huge room by yourself and you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“W-Will you stay with me? Please?” You asked, borderline begging him not to leave.
“Hey, hey,” he whispered softly, his voice gentle and warm and something pulled at your memory. He turned around and sat back down on the bed next to you. He gripped your hand tightly, his other hand reach up and brushing the tears that had escaped your eyes off your cheek with gentle gentle fingers, “it’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m not gonna leave, I’ll never leave you, Y/N.” he said fiercely, his eyes burning with his promise.
His voice was familiar, like you’d heard it before
“Will you stay with me?”
“I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”
How does he know my name?
A flash of red and blue
Your dad’s angry voice
“What’d you do to her, Parker?!”
“It was you.” You whispered, eyes wide as the dawn realization hit you like a slap to the face. And suddenly, everything made sense. His unexplained absences, the bruises, why he was tired all the time, why Spider-Man got to you so quickly, why he seemed to know your dad.
Peter was Spider-Man
Peter was silent, eyes wide with panic and guilt and you could see the million excuses in his eyes, trying to find one that would cover all the coincidence that weren’t just coincidences. He opened his mouth to explain, but no sound came out and it only confirmed every suspicion you had.
“You’re the one that saved me,” You said, disbelief coloring your tone, “you-you’re Spider-Man.”
You could see Peter wanted to deny it immediately, make up an excuse, deflect all the attention off of himself, but after a minute of stone cold silence, he finally, slowly, nodded his head.
A million things flashed through your mind, all at once and you weren’t sure what to say, what was appropriate to say at a time like this. You just found out your best friend, who you happened to be very much in love with, was a superhero and just happened to save you from god only knows what last night and well, what do you say at a time like this?
“Look, I know it’s shocking and weird, but please don’t say anything, okay? Ned knows, your dad knows and that’s it, I can’t let anyone else find out. This information could land in the wrong hands can be dangerous and—“
You weren’t sure what possessed you do it, but didn’t know how else you were supposed to say thank you and Peter’s nervous rambling was one of the cutest things about him and his lips were just there and so, you kissed him.
His lips were soft and warm and slightly chapped and frozen underneath yours.
You pulled away with an embarrassed smile, your cheeks flushing, “Peter, I—thank you.” You breathed sincere, squeezing his hand tightly, “thank you for saving me.”
He blushed, a bashful smile dancing on his pink lips, “You don’t need to thank me, Y/N,” he said humbly, “I’ll always be there to protect you.”
He squeezed your hand, a sad smile dancing on his lips, “Don’t feel like you have to, y’know, like me now or anything. I don’t expect you to return my feelings and I hope you don’t feel, like, obligated to—“
You cut him off with another kiss and this time, he returned it. His lips were hesitant and you could feel his inexperience in his movements, but you could only smile, your heart fluttering as he brushed his fingers through your hair, his hand tightening around yours as he shifted closer to you, cupping your cheek gently in his strong hand and you felt the familiar safety wash over you as you were pulled into his arms.
“Peter,” you murmured, running your fingers through his messy hair, “I liked you long before you saved my life, so don’t even start the self-sacrificing bullshit, okay?”
He smiled, his cheeks flushing, eyes bright, but there was a lurking insecurity that made your heart squeeze, “This could be dangerous, you know,” he began softly, “If anyone ever found out about me, they could use you to hurt me and I can’t do that to you—“
You understood the concern, but you couldn’t help the eye roll if you tried, ignoring the soreness in the left side of your face where you were sure you had a black eye, “My dad’s Iron Man and my god-father is War Machine, I almost feel sorry for the person that tries to do anything to me.”
He pouted, “Hey, I think I proved that more than capable of saving you, too,” but his eyes became serious, “I never want anything to happen to you and I’ll do everything I can to protect you from anything that comes your way.”
You smiled and he kissed you again, a quick peck before he untangled himself from you, ignoring your protests, “It’s late, Y/N, and you need to rest, those guys,” his face was grim, “they did a number on you.”
Your heart hammered against your chest at the thought of falling asleep, of closing your eyes and leaving yourself vulnerable to the nightmares you knew were sure to greet you when you did finally close your eyes.
Peter could read your anxiety and he squeezed your hand, “Hey, I’ll be here the entire time, nothing’s gonna hurt you, I promise.”
He sat down in the chair next to your bed to prove his point, and when you finally settled down, laying your head on the fluffy white pillow and closed your eyes, his hand still tightly grasped in yours, he brushed a kiss over your forehead.
“I’ll never leave you, Y/N.”
I really hope you guys liked this and a side note, I don’t know much about Star Wars or if such a thing even exists lol. Feel free to let me know what you thought and if you have any prompts or suggestions for me, don’t hesitate to ask me (:
aelin : party animal. lost her clothes halfway through the night and started to strut around in rowan’s shirt. rowan had to follow her and snarl every time fenrys gawked at aelin’s bare legs. bare goddess™ legs. will dance to any music or no music at all. drunk™ my g od she is so drunk™ 3…2…1 “hAPPY NEW YEARS MY BUZZIE BUZZARD” giving rowan the sloppiest kiss ever, then goes back to dancing on the table.
rowan : sighing, sighing, sighing. babysitter™ everyone is drunk™, but he has to keep following aelin around. snarls every time fenrys stares at her backside. really testing his luck, that one. go d he thought christmas was bad, he hates new years more. and believe me, he hated christmas. 3…2..1 “happy new years, fireheart”
aedion : created the bump and grind. showing his bi™ side. “stop dancing with my cadre, aedion!” “live a little, aelin!” mr. twerk fest. even did a bit of belly dancing and body shots™ cant wait for this year to end. he’s waited long enough. 3…2…1 “lysANDR-” “oh there you are. gimme kissy”
lysandra : playing board games with evangeline. keeping her away from the booze. spiked her apple juice. smiling and watching everyone making a fool of themselves. took them to church when she danced that one time and left them all speechless. 3….2…1 “aedion i’m right here” . “happy new years, you drunk rat”
dorian : dirty dancing™ with aelin. aye, aye, aye, back it up, two shots now y’all. one thrust this time, two thrusts this time, twerk-twerk real slow. somewhere between his fifth shot and his twentieth shot, dorian ended up being the stripper. “girl i love it how you move it like dis” aye, aye, ayeee. dorian got turnt. 3…2…1 “manny!”
manon : halfway between glaring at dorian and ripping aelin to shreds, but also just shaking her head. sighing and watching dorian. low key she was kind of enjoying the show. but you cant prove anything. not a thing. 3…2…1 “don’t call me manny”
chaol : “AELIN! DORIAN! WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? Nesryn, wonderful to see you dear. Bed EMPTY! No NOTES! Booze and clothes gone! You could have died! You could have been seen! Of course, I don’t blame you, Nesryn dear” furiously rubbing his temples. he’s so embarrassed that he knows these two. “killjoy!” “yOU’RE IN YOUR BRA” 3…2..1… “where is nesryn?”
nesryn : “y'all some white trash”™ “this is so embarrassing” “calm your white self down im laughing” “i have so many white frens™ bye” “cant one of you just be normal?” @11:59 “Y'all im out bye ha” 3…2…1 [cricket noises].
fenrys : fabulous fenrys™ aka magic mike 2.0. break it down. literally. he broke the table because he was dancing on it. taught elide how to twerk. “fenrys, stop it!” “my body too bootylicious for you, babe!” did belly dancing with aedion. 3…2…1 “WILDTHING!” falls and breaks table.
asterin : she’s been ignoring fenrys since the whole “ho ho ho” fiasco on christmas. this is no different. fenrys had no warning label and everyone let her walk right into a trap. drink™ more™ talk™ less™ 3…2…1… “i’m not picking him up”
lorcan : new phone, who dis? new year, who dis? lol i know none of you™ bye™ couldnt wait to get away™ see you never losers™ tried to make his great escape but elide caught him. was perfectly content with elide testing out her new twerking skills. on him, of course. 3…2…1 “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH ELIDE”
elide : at about 11:55 a drunk fenrys had the perfect plan. he dragged elide into aelin and lysandra’s closets and dressed her up in glittering silver clothes, making her look like a ball. elide was the new year’s ball™ she looked amazing™ ball-tactic™ 3…2…1… “hIIII LORRCAAAN”. lorcan caught her of course. and gave a Hellas worthy snarl and glare to fenrys.
connall : wearing sunglasses in doors. too cool™ for these people and their straightness™. his petty side is coMING OUt. just like he did. he came out the closet™. cuddling with his gay boyfriend, vaughan. sipping champagne. 3…2…1 [curls finger] “come here, vaughan-vaughan” slightly drunk™
vaughan : “I AM STILL PRAYING FOR YOU HEATHENS!” says the fae who is cuddling with his gay boy™friend. finally got a squirt bottle full of holy water. started spraying it on everyone, hissing “let the lord reign true, glory to god in the highest, you are amazing lord”. 3…2…1 [throws squirt bottle and kisses his gay™ boy™friend on the mouth™].
gavriel : “im seriously disowning all of you” dad™ daddy™ has had enough! so tired of these hoeligans. ate all the food. might be judging™ you. 3…2…1 “gavy gimme a kiss kiss” “go away aelin” “but uncle kitty caaaaat”
bonus, evangeline : honestly just happy she has a family to spend new years with. saw their true™ colors and loved them even more. full of giggles. blushed every time the twins smothered her faces, her scars, with kisses. 3…2…1. rowan gave her a sweet kiss on her cheek and evangeline frowned “when you get a little older”
rhys : wearing those 2017 glasses where the glasses part is the 0. wearing a 2017 shirt. wearing tight black pants. did the conga line with himself, dragged azriel and cassian too. dirty danced with feyre. lied down on the bar and made cassian pour booze down his throat. 3…2…1 “feyre daarrrlinnngggg” idiot™ drunk™.
feyre : dancing with her sisters and mor. secretly thankful everyone is here to be able to do stupid stuff like that. just a bunch of smiling and laughing, and making sure rhys didn’t try to fly while drunk. wearing a crown bc boss™ 3…2…1 “hello, rhysand archeron”
cassian : too cool™ for this™ … sIKE MOVE™ OUT THE WAY™ SUCKAS™ was a real smoothie. danced with everyone. ‘accidentally’ lost his shirt somehow. no one minds. them sinnamon rolls was looking real nice™ lick™ lick™ 3…2…1 “nes-” “no”
nesta : elegantly sipping a glass of wine. eating cheese and crackers. just plain classy. watching everyone else make fools of themselves. somehow got dragged into dancing once. knew how to bump™ and grind™ like no one was watching. 3…2…1 “nes-” “no”
azriel : disappeared in his shadows on christmas day and he decided to come back. is like that guy in the gif where he comes back to a burning apartment, holding pizza. yea™. thats him. disappeared back into his shadows. 3…2..1… nope he gone™
mor : dRUNK™ kEE P T HE B o oZ e aWA Y fR Om mo R™ work it queen, work it. knows how to get a party started and keep it going. work mama work. got that tight dress on, i see™ you. 3….2….1..ended up making out with a wall, thinking it was azriel.
lucien : no, no, no, no, did i mention…nO! “ugh fine, one dance elain, ONE DANCE” one dance turned into many dances. sure knows how too woo a woman via™ the flick of his hips™. 3…2…1 [longest yeah boi ever]
elain : had one sip of alcohol and somehow?? end?? up?? drunk??™ no one knows. almost lost her shirt, but lucien to the rescue. a lot of giggles and sweet dances with her mate. 3…2….1 “hAPPY NEW YE-” yeah boi™
amren : couples. couples everywhere. rolling her eyes but secretly™ happy for them. takes a shot every time someone does something stupid. somehow didn’t die™ of alcohol poisoning™ magic, true magic. 3…2…1. takes another shot