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weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years

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The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions.

What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you.

You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

“So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

“Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~ That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time.

That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled.

That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you.

And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero.

Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically.

But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

(Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~ You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc.

She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday.

Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

“What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold.

MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman.

“Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

“Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see. Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

“Do you remember what I told you that day?”

MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

“That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on.

“You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

“Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

“I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

“A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

“A liar-”

“MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

“I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

“I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

“Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!”

“And why would we-”

“Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead.

He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

“Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,”

MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

“Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

“So, you didn’t-”

“Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

“Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~ Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.

MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

“Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

“Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

“Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

“What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

“I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

“I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you. “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

“(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

“Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend?

“(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

“No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

“Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from?

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it.

“(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house.

The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

“Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house.

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

“(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?” It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

“Who was she?”

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hotsterfield · 7 years

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What happens in Vegas.. pt. 2- Tom Holland

Word count: 2672

Summery: You wake up after a night in Las Vegas, only to discover you married the one and only Tom Holland

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, so you guys really liked part 1, so here’s part 2! I also made a tag list! I really hope I remembered everyone! If not, just send me a message, and I’ll add you (or just comment, or send it to my inbox). I really like hearing what you guys think, and if you guys have any ideas for what could happen, please let me know! Hope you enjoy! (Oh!, and there’s a song mentioned! I feel like it kinda sets the mood, if you want to listen to it!)

When you walked out of your bedroom the next morning, you found Tom sitting on the couch. He was watching some random celebrity news channel, and when you looked at the screen they were showing several pictures of you and him together, mostly from last night.

“I would’ve left, but there’s a ton of paparazzies outside. Apparently, we are the new hot couple” He said, with raised eyebrows. “We are even trending on Twitter and Tumblr”

“So, I guess I have to spend the day with you. Just perfect” You mumbled to yourself, but he heard you. Or at least his eyeroll indicated that he did. “Maybe the whole moving in together, might not be such a bad idea? We are going to be stuck together for a while. Might as well have to bedrooms, so we don’t have to breathe the same air all of the time” You sat down on the other side of the couch, while looking at him.

“My apartment already have two large bedrooms, so why don’t we just move there? Then we won’t have to actually look at new apartments” He put his feet in your lap, and you instantly pushed them back down.

“Well that was easy. Where is this apartment of yours? We could just move today? That would definitely give them something to talk about” You pulled your legs up under you, and smiled kindly to him. Maybe, just maybe, you could actually become friends. If you were going to spend that much time together, maybe it could actually be enjoyable.

“Well, it might take a little time to move. I live in London. As in England. But yeah, it would definitely be something for them to talk about” He returned your smile, but yours quickly dropped. Was he joking? London?!

“Excuse me, what? You didn’t think to mention that? That your apartment is on another continent?” Did he seriously expect you to move to England? Just like that? How on earth could that be a good idea, even in his head?

“Is that a problem?” He asked, in your opinion stupidly. “Yes, that’s a problem! It’s in Europe! My life is here! Hell, my career is here! We start filming next week, and you want me to move to England? Were you dropped as kid, or something? You can’t possibly be that stupid” You accidently hit the back of the couch. You had a tendency to use your arms a lot, when you spoke. Especially if you were getting emotional.

“Well, my life is in London! If it wasn’t for you, I would be there right now! I can’t just give up my family, because you were so stupid to get married while you were drunk!” His voice was raised.

“I was so stupid to get married? Do you need a fucking mirror? As far as I know, you got married as well! It’s kinda a two-person thing, so don’t you dare blame it on me! Oh, and for the record. If you hadn’t sent out that tweet, we wouldn’t even be married right now!” Your voice was getting louder too.

“Oh right. It’s all my fault! It’s not because I’m the reason you even got that role! It’s not because I’m the best bloody thing that has happened to your career!” Now he was yelling. You started to regret thinking you could be friends. He was back to being the arrogant asshole.

“Right, sorry. I forgot how big your pedestal was. I’m just a simple peasant in your presence!” You said sarcastically. You got up, and walked to the fridge. Good thing you always had a bottle of liquor in it, you had feeling you were going to need it.

“Like you’re so perfect yourself!” He huffed, as you pulled out a glass, and just a bit of food. If you were going to survive this day with Tom, you couldn’t drink on an empty stomach. You had learned the hard way, never to do that.

“No, I’m human! But I guess, that since you’re play a superhero, you got the idea that you’re also better than everyone else! Hate to break it to you, but you’re not! I honestly don’t understand how so many people love you” You started to eat, as you sat on the counter. He just made you so mad! He didn’t even know you that well, but he sure knew what buttons to press.

“You’re pretty, but not pretty enough to compensate for your shitty personality. No wonder you’re single! Or you’re not, thanks to me. If I’m going to keep being around you, I might need to get paid for it. Pretending to be in love with you, is the hardest acting, I’ve ever done!” He threw his head back onto the pillow, and you rolled your eyes. Since you were done eating, you took a big sip of the cold bottle.

“It was your manager who wanted us to stay married, to save your reputation, so really, I think I should be the one getting paid! You’re not exactly a peach to be around” Another sip, another burning feeling.

“Why did you even take the glass out, if you’re not going to drink from it? If you’re not going to use it, could you at least pour me a glass? I think I might end up being here the whole day, so I need a drink a too” He looked at you, and you jumped of the counter, opened the fridge, and threw a bottle of tequila his way. “This works too” He smiled, as he opened the bottle.

“At least there’s one thing we can agree on” You sighed. These months were going to be so long, if you could only agree on drinking.

“We agree on a lot of things. Grass is green, water is wet. Do you need me to continue?” He asked, laughing to himself. The alcohol was already starting to affect you, as you took another swing at the bottle.

“Would it really be so bad, if we were just honest? I just find it so hard to believe, that it would damage your entire reputation, if people knew your got married while drunk. All PR is good PR, or something like that” You asked seriously. You wouldn’t survive several months with him, let alone a year.

“Since we are in the United States, and since I’m not 21 yet, it maybe wouldn’t be that good. And since a lot of people describe me as an innocent cinnamon roll, I think the term is, it would definitely change that. I don’t want that to change” He said, and you looked at him a bit surprised. He wasn’t 21?

“How old are you exactly? And you got nothing in common with a cinnamon roll. I love cinnamon rolls, but I don’t even have positive feelings about you” You took another sip, as you waited for his answer.

“I’m 20. Almost 21, so don’t worry. And you aren’t exactly the definition of sweet yourself. You’re closer to the dead sea. Extremely salty” Now it was his turn to take a sip.

“Do you. Do you even know the meaning of salty? It means being pissed or upset. Don’t use slang you don’t understand. It just makes you look more unintelligent” You shook your head at him. Stupid brit.

“Excuse me, for thinking you’re pissed off all the time, but you are. So yes, you are salty” His voice was slowly getting a bit deeper, along with every sip he took. The alcohol was starting to really hit you, and you knew that you were close to reaching the drunk stage. You passed tipsy a while ago.

“Maybe I’m pissed, because you’re a moron” You started connecting your phone to the speakers. Maybe if you played some music, you could stop the conversation. Without thinking you put MAX on the speakers. At the moment, he was one of your favourites, but you didn’t exactly take into consideration how sexy some of the songs were.

“Yeah, great. Turn on music. Then I won’t have to actually listen to your voice” He huffed, before taking another sip. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over the music” You smiled, even though you heard him perfectly.

“You know, it’s really not loud enough, for you not to hear me. So I guess you’re stuck listing to me” He smiled cockily, and without hesitation you turned the music up. He left the couch, and walked towards you. “And now you can still hear me”

You wanted to smack that stupid smile of his face, and in an attempt to control yourself, you took another sip. You put the bottle down, and hopped off the counter, and walked to the couch he had just left. Why was he this annoying? Was it a drunk thing? It couldn’t be, unless he was an alcoholic. He walked back to the couch, and sat down on top of your legs.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I annoying you?” He tilted his head, as he looked at you. “Yes, you are. Now if you could move that heavy body of yours, I could actually get away from you” You snapped at him.

“Oh, but I’m actually kinda enjoying this. I just really love it, when you’re really pissed” He winked at you. The fucking idiot winked. What the hell did he expect to get from that? It was definitely attractive, but you would never admit that.

“Could you just for once be decent human being, and not a complete idiot” Your voice was raised again.

“And we’re back to me being an idiot. I really thought we were having a nice moment, but of course you have to be a bitch and ruin it” He rolled his eyes at you, and you felt yourself getting angrier. You hadn’t even been close to having a moment.

“Don’t you dare call me a bitch! You can call me everything you want, but don’t you dare call me a bitch!” You hissed at him. You tried to wiggle your legs free from under him. Nothing really happened, but you kept trying.

“Oh, so I managed to find something that really pisses you off? This is just great! The bloody bitch, hate being called a bitch!” As he continued calling you a bitch, one of your legs got free, and you kicked him in the side, till your other legs was free.

“I am not a bitch! Why do you have to be such an arrogant asshole? You just walk around thinking you’re so much better than everyone else, because you’re some goddamn movie star!” You yelled at him, while he carefully touched where you had kicked.

“You know, I worked hard to get where I am! Unlike you, who just marries someone more famous than you, and then have everything handed to you!” He was angry again, and you felt satisfied knowing it was all your doing.

“Oh, you worked for it? So you didn’t just go to Brit school, and had everything handed to you? Because, you know, I worked my ass off to get where I am! I didn’t go to some fancy school, I had to actually do it the hard way!” Did he really think he had a hard time? Because he didn’t.

“Right! So because I worked hard to get into a school, for talented kids, I got everything handed to me? If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have a role right now!” He was yelling too. He was running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“I didn’t want to be married to you! You wanted this! Or did you already forget? I can’t believe I actually agreed to staying married to you. You’re the most entitled prick I have ever met!” Angrily you tied your hair up in loose bun, in an attempt to get it away from your face.

“Could you just shut up?! I’m so sick of you bringing that up all of the time!” He kept yelling, taking a sip of the bottle still in his hand. The song changed, and “Wrong” started playing, changing the mood along with it, but none of you had really noticed yet.

“Oh, you don’t like hearing the truth? That’s too bad, because you’re the reason for this! You wanted this marriage, I didn’t!” He found you buttons, and you just found his.

“Just shut up!” He yelled once again, leaning forward towards you. You didn’t move back. You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of you moving back.

“Make me” You challenged. He was still leaning forward in an almost threatening way. You kept your calm, knowing that if he actually hit you, it would ruin his entire reputation, and possibly also his career.

“Are you sure about that?” He asked in a dark voice. You were starting to feel a little nervous, but you kept a stone face.

“Make me” You repeated. You were expecting him to blow up, get angry, hit you, curse at you, something! Instead he put his lips on yours. In surprise, your lips parted, and he took the chance.

“Oh, that girl, she want it”

You slowly started to join his movements, the alcohol and music taking over. A small moan left his lips, and you grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. He pushed you down on your back, pausing the kiss. He moved himself over you, and you looked in each other’s eyes.

For at short moment, everything stopped. It was just you, and those damn brown eyes. It felt like you had looking at each other forever, but you both knew it had only been a couple of seconds, before his head went down towards yours again. This time he didn’t kiss you, but he left kisses down your neck, and now it was your turn to moan.

As his lips travelled up to your mouth, he carefully bit your lip, as your hands found their way to the back of his head. A voice in your head was trying to tell you, how much you would regret this, but you ignored it completely, because in this moment, you were more than enjoying it.

“You want to get off this couch?” he whispered in your ear, and you gave him a quick nod. His voice was still deep, but it was no longer because of the alcohol or anger. It was purely because of you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he picked you up, like you were just a feather. You took the chance, and went for his neck. Soft kisses were placed from his jawline, to the collarbone. When you got the spot just between the neck and the collarbone, he moaned, and you took as your sign to start nibbling the skin.

He put you down on the bed, without ever leaving your body. Your legs were still around his, as he laid on top of you on the bed. His hips were starting to move, as you started your make out session once again. Your lips quickly parted, when he pulled the shirt over your head. His eyes went down to your chest, and a smirk was on his face.

“As much as I like that bra on you, it would look even better on the floor”

***

When you woke up, you were way too hot. It took you some time to realize the body next to yours, with the arms wrapped around your waist. You turned around to look at Tom, and the recent events flashed into your mind. He opened his eyes, and starred at you, with an expression who you assumed you also had. Pure horror.

“This didn’t happen” You said, your eyes not leaving his.

“As much as I enjoyed it, this won’t happen again” You felt your cheeks getting hot, as you remembered just how much had both enjoyed it.

“Good. Now get out of my bed!”

Part 3

TAGLIST:

@ clairesrainbow @hoefinity @ chanandlerphalangesparkles @ girlykittycat @ treshmae @ roonilwazib @ miraisnotavailable @ melissa-roos @ biebersbizzlequeen @ vixrobs98 @all-that-glitters-is-marvel

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman #spider man #spider man imagine #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker #what happens in vegas

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agentdagonet · 7 years

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Echoes, Ch. 10

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

Eggsy stopped wearing the specs for a bit, after that. The cast came off and PT started for his arm; it was a bitch and a half but it meant he was getting better. That he'd be getting back into the field. But he kept coming back to Harry. Now that it was shoved into his face, albeit accidentally by what was basically a high-tech ghost, Eggsy couldn't help but marvel that he'd upheld Kingsman tradition entirely by accident. He'd upheld a Galahad tradition in a fit of loss and self loathing. Which in itself seemed to be a Galahad tradition. He hid the decanter in a cabinet, but it didn't really do much beside leave a hole to remind him of the realisation. A spot where shit's cleaner or something when you move what was there before.

Eggsy went through the motions of his days much as he had before, but he couldn't really pretend that nothing had changed. On some level (everything I've done has been trying to repay him) Eggsy had always known that Harry still blamed himself for his father's death. No stranger would have reacted to his record so vehemently otherwise- well meaning or not, there'd been honest anger hiding behind his pointed words. The way Harry had always mentioned his dad in passing (your father had the same look on his face) with that melancholy look... In a strange way, Eggsy was grateful that Harry'd been in a coma for such a large portion of his training. Fuck knew what other unnecessary comparisons he would have made between Eggsy and his dad. Where else Eggsy would have ended up barely more than an echo of his father in Harry's eyes. Those thoughts were driven from his head as violently and often as he could manage, often with a round or two at the firing range and a stiff drink. With the notable exception of Roxy once betting he couldn't not shoot himself if he was plastered, the two didn't mix- though he couldn't deny that watching Roxy waddle about awkwardly in a set of twenty-five centimetre platforms was totally worth it.

It took a while, but eventually Eggsy put on his big boy pants and sat himself down in front of Harry in the drawing room on a Thursday afternoon.

'What, no drink, Haz?' Holo-Harry was wearing a cardigan, some dark colour, and holding a book that he'd probably been pretending to read while waiting for Eggsy to step the fuck up and sit the fuck down with him. Not that Eggsy'd been paying attention, or anything.

'With little exception, Eggsy, relaxation does not require alcohol. Perhaps every once in a while, but if one's immediate association with relaxing is to drink... well, I'm certain we both know where that leads.' The book was closed and placed upon his lap, spine obscured by Harry's forearms resting atop it. 'No, Eggsy, this conversation requires no vice strong as that. 'My name is Harry Hart- my mother named me for her grandfather, Hawkins; luckily without actively providing me with a built in "kick me" sign. My father was not the most pleasant of men, my mother was as well-meaning as she was exasperated with the hand she believed life had dealt her, but betwixt them they had far more connections than any average family ought. Mostly due to the fact that my father's first cousin is a man by the name of Chester King.'

Eggsy gasped quietly, never having thought he'd one day vaguely regret killing the man. Very vaguely. Like a memory you're not quite sure truly happened or was just a really realistic dream. Or a blurry picture you can just barely make out.

That is to say, not very much at all, but the fact that they'd been related was an unpleasant surprise. 'We never interacted much- our differences in age and politics were a harsh divide- but the connection was there. Many a night I would come home from university to find my father in the sitting room entertaining him, a fair bit of scotch split between two glasses.' Harry sighed, one hand raising to rub at the bridge of his nose, and Eggsy suddenly noticed just how tired Harry looked. 'Contrary to what you might believe based upon this, Chester was not my sponsor into Kingsman. I'm sure you've noticed by now how uncompromising he can be when he has an opinion. And he has many. 'The day Lancelot died, Eggsy, Arthur attempted to make me see how foolish my previous choice of candidate had been. Made a disparaging comment about choosing a "more suitable candidate" and I will happily admit to wanting him to take a long walk off a short pier.' Eggsy snorted a laugh, relaxing despite himself. 'Didn't know you had it in you, Haz.' The nickname was becoming a bad habit, but it wasn't as if Harry were here to correct him. 'I resisted stating as much, but when he tried to make light of your father's sacrifice... I called him a snob, and told him that there was a reason aristocrats developed weak chins. With respect, of course.' Holo-Harry smiled, eyes glazed over as if caught in a pleasant memory, as Eggsy chuckled from behind his hand. Imagining Harry being a shit to his boss was one thing, but having evidence (or whatever the words of a technological ghost were considered) that he actually had been... Eggsy couldn't help but smile fondly at the Harry-That-Was sitting before him. 'I'd have paid to see that.' 'Merlin can likely obtain a copy of that footage- it happened in the Dining Room, certainly not exempt from surveillance. Alternatively, it's also in my personal terminal somewhere, which you have access to as we're obviously interacting at this moment.' 'You was a shit, weren't you, Haz?'

'I was not always entirely gentlemanly, no- but I knew when to push and when to leave things be. At least, that's what I tell myself when I find I'm in circumstances that could have been avoided by keeping my mouth shut. If I've put myself there, there is a reason and it is worth it. I seldom say much without meaning it.'

Eggsy was simultaneously elated and despondent, the words having brought two distinct moments to mind, unsurprisingly. I see a young man with potential. (Can't you see that everything I've done has been about trying to repay him?) And which one was the truth, then? Did he go by what Harry had said most recently? Had Harry seen potential in him at first, only for Eggsy to fuck it up by not noticing the blank? Would Harry have ever acknowledged Eggsy's accomplishments as his own, instead of some warped echo of his father's potential? 'But that's getting a bit far from the topic. Which, yes, there is in fact a purpose here, Eggsy. I came to the realisation a few days ago that, for all that I know about you, you don't know that much about me. It's something that would have been rectified with time, had I not ended up in a coma and had actually spent your candidacy conscious and present. Or after you had become Lancelot as I was rightfully sure you would.' There was a now-familiar pang in Eggsy's chest. 'Unfortunately, as we sit here having this admittedly one-sided conversation, it's plain to see that we did not get that time. So, I have decided to impart to you what I felt was worth mentioning here. Certainly an unconventional use of Merlin's technology, but not an immoral one. 'I digress, today I've sat here to tell you about my life before Kingsman- the man behind the mask, as it were.' 'I know enough, Haz- I know you from Merlin's drunken ramblin' and your fucking stuffed dog and the old footage I've been going through on your laptop. Yeah, maybe I added some shit here an' there in my head but I knew you- maybe not as much as I wanted to, or as well, but enough.' 'I met the previous Bedivere by happenstance at one of the incredibly boring functions my father expected me to attend. In retrospect he likely expected me to eventually set aside my differences with Arthur and conform to the conventions of that life- which both happened and didn't.' The hologram continued, luckily not talking through Eggsy but not acknowledging that he had spoken beyond the pause.

'I went to university to study Entomology, I've always found the process of pinning insects fascinating, and intended to look into museum work. Curating seemed to be as far from the posh life my father wished for me to enjoy, which pleased my rebellious side. It happened that my obsessive knowledge of insects saved Bedivere from something or other- I don't recall the details, it was a number of years ago- and when the Galahad position became available he named me as his candidate.' A slow smirk curled itself at the edge of Harry's mouth, and Eggsy could easily visualise him steepling his hands as he leant forward onto the table. 'You can only imagine the look on poor Arthur's- Lamorak, at the time- face when I won. Unfortunately there is no footage- as ahead of the times as Kingsman always is, there are limits.'

'I got the feeling it's the opposite of the face he made when I fucked up the last test. Like, he drank half a glass of sour milk and can't bring himself to sick it up, or something.' 'Needless to say it was the highlight of my life until that point. I could probably form a fully corporeal patronus with that alone.' 'You read the Potter books? Thought you was too old for that.' 'Eggsy, you'd be hard pressed to find something I would refuse to read. They were only a global phenomena, and there was a limit to how many "you're a wizard, Harry!" jokes I could take from James before picking the damn things up. Don't let Percival's stoic demeanour fool you- he's just as awful as his husband was. You just don't think he could be the culprit.' 'You sound like a conspiracy theorist- you gonna tell me the moon doesn't exist or something?' 'Fine. Don't believe me. I certainly won't be there to help you undo whatever he decides upon for you. And Roxy's friendship will not grant you mercy. You'll see.'

'Sure, Haz. If you say so.' Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#dagonet writes #Kingsman #kingsman: the secret service #echoes fic

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honeylikewords · 7 years

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Trailer2, Part 1: *opens on pastel-filtered, slow-mo imagery of the Jew Crew in their younger years, at a bar or at graduation with Eddie's voice over* "True friendship is a consistently undervalued thing in this world. But we've been so lucky to experience seven different kinds. And we have Michael Sussman to thank, because he was the one who brought us all together those years ago. We're beyond fortunate to share this special day with him after all this time..."

Pt2: "It is therefore my honor to decide for him a sonnet written in his hon--" "Motherfucker, if you read any of that Tolkein bullshit, I will kill you," Monty interrupts, ending the montage to reveal Eddie practicing his speech in a room with Monty, Frank, Shane, Joe, BJ, and David. Eddie, paper in hand, glares. "...My bos--"

PT.3:"I'm not kidding, if I have to wait 30 minutes to eat just because you wanna be all 'whimsical', I will kick your ass in front of small children." "... My bosom friend, carved from steadfast stone --" *Monty gets up from his seat, screaming as the others try to hold him back*

Pt.4:*Cut to text reading, "They've been friends for years", the beginning guitar riff from "The Old Switcheroo"**cuts to BJ snooping around in Mike's room and finding a high school pic of Mike, sporting a poorly-kept Jew Fro* "Oh, God, lookit this tragedy!" he cries. Meanwhile Frank is looking at it with furrowed brows, going, "I can't believe they took a picture of Mikey after he killed that poor Tribble to wear it as a hat." "Monsters." *text: "They've seen each other at their worst."*

PT.5:*Cuts to BJ trying to spin on a stripper pole in a limo* "Get your fat ass off of that," Joe says, glaring over his scotch glass. "Fat asses make it rai--" BJ's sentence goes incomplete as his heavy body causes the pole to become dislodged and break. "IM NOT GOING BACK TO JAIL FOR THIS!" Monty screams, preparing to jump out the car. *text: "But for the next few days..."*

P.6:*reuses sound clip of Joe setting those ground rules over image of Shane making it rain over an exotic dancer* *text: "They need to remember to keep it..."* *cuts to Mike freaking out because he got a tramp stamp while drunk* "IM 35, IM TOO OLD FOR TATTOOS!!" *Eddie and Monty look insulted* "Oh, shut up, Monty, you've been to jail and Eddie's a fucking Eddie!" "... Okay, rude." *text: "... Kosher."*

P.7: *cuts back to the tattoo thing with Mike bending over for the others to see* "Is it bad?" The camera focuses on an abomination of a tattoo of his fiancée's face, causing at least one of the guys to scream and the others to grimace and mutter, "Ooooohhh."

P.8: David makes the sign of the cross. "It looks like an angel," Frank utters. "But I mean, the real ones. Like, the ones that can kill you if you look at 'em directly." "Okay, Frank, I get it--" "The ones from Dante's Paradisio," Eddie mutters. "That's enough --" "The ones from God's DeviantArt page," Dave whispers. "OKAY I GET IT, THANK YOU."

P.9:*cuts to BJ driving while blasting a dubstep remix of "Hava Nagila" with the windows down. Shane is slouched in his seat, screaming about how it's too stereotypical, but BJ is scream-singing over him on purpose* "HAVAAAAA NAGILA HAVAAAAAA NAGILA HAVAAAAA NAGILA -- NOW THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE CAR -- HAVAAAAA NERUNENAH--!!!" Eddie opens his mouth to sing along but Shane punches him smack in the chest, causing a coughing fit.

P.10:*"Cake" by DNCE's chorus starts playing over the image of the guys trying on their Jew Crew jackets, Monty scowling* "What, you're scared this'll ruin your image?" Eddie goes. Shane cuts in, sarcastically: "What's not hardcore about being Jewish? David and half of Frank's people say our leader wore a crown of thorns to prove he was a ride AND die -- I'd say we're pretty fucking metal." (Also, this has, like, 3 more parts but if Tumblr messaging cuts me off, hang tight for a bit okay 😶)

P.11: "Please don't refer to Jesus in the same sentence as the 'f' word..." David glares. "Oh, I'm sorry, is that too harsh of a word to use for your liTERAL SCANDINAVIAN HEAVY METAL BASSIST-LOOKING GOD?! How not kosher of me~" David is about to have words with Shane until -- "How come HE gets to use the Jew puns?" Eddie whines. "You lost that privilege in college, you make one and it goes in the Jew Pun Jar," Frank threatens.

P.12:*cuts to clips from the first trailer of Frank putting up with his friends' BS* "You know, I kinda always thought that by now, we would've calmed down a bit," he says as he sits at a bar with Shane and Eddie. To which, Shane says, "Well, yeah, but like. That's YOUR fault for having expectations." *cuts to the film title before returning back to clips*

P.13:*cuts back to the first scene where the guys are testing out their wedding speeches with each other* *BJ stands up and just starts singing "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" by Michael Bolton* Monty glares, "Oh, don't worry, you won't be living long enough to worry about that if you keep singing." *end*(thanks for the patience!!)

mary mother of jesus, i LOVE YOU

YOU DID SO MUCH WORK AND I FREAKING LOVE IT

EVERY MOMENT OF THIS IS GOLDEN AND I LOVE IT AND IM LITERALLOY CRYING FROM ALUGHING AND I CANNOT BREATHE AND I WANT TO WATCH THIS SO BADLY BECAUSE I CAN SEE EVERY DETAIL IN LIVING, VIVID TECHINCOLOR GLORY

I CANT EVEN SAY ANYTHING I LOVE IT SO MUCH

#long post //#capslock //#fave #mega fave #SUPER DUPER MEGA FAVE #messages #multi #jew crew #GOD IM IN HYSTEICSR #Anonymous

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