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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

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vettelsvee · 14 days

Text

YOU CAN STAND UNDER MY UMBRELLA | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist

ferrari sebastian vettel x fem oc (she's diana, the main character of history series!), max verstappen x fem oc

word count: 2670

warnings: smut. oral (female receiving and male receiving), fingering, p in v), seb getting horny af over her fiancee dancing tom holland's umbrella performance (or at least trying to huh). seb here has a sister named lara, who's dating max :)

you can send your one shots requests here!

"Come on, it's easier than you think! You just have to raise your arms like this, as if you were holding an umbrella."

To say Lara was obsessed with Tom Holland was an understatement, and that included the dance she had done on Lip Sync Battle with one of Rihanna's most iconic songs.

While Sebastian and Max were busy, the German with his daughter, Emily, and the Dutchman preparing a barbecue, the sisters-in-law decided to goof around near the pool that occupied most of one of the patios of the house Sebastian and Diana shared in Switzerland.

"Like this?" the redhead asked as she imitated the gesture that the German had told her.

"Yes! You're nailing it, Di!" the girl shouted, jumping with excitement. "Now you just have to lean your body to one side and make movements with your torso like you're a wave in the sea." Wagner laughed at the girl's comparison, though she tried to follow her steps. "Hey, don't laugh, you dickhead!"

Diana, despite being comfortable with everyone present, always had a certain shyness about doing something she wasn't used to. However, as she began to let herself go, her movements became increasingly fluid, growing her enthusiasm for the choreography that had initially seemed so difficult to her.

"It seems like they're having fun, huh?" the Dutchman commented to Vettel.

"I can see that yes," the elder of the drivers replied as he cradled his daughter to try to get her to sleep. "Knowing both of them, I have no idea what might come out of whatever they're doing."

As the night progressed, the steps became more fluid and perfect, impressing the girls themselves. They couldn't stop laughing, and they even decided to improvise some moves to add their personal touch. At the same time, the drivers continued grilling the meat they had bought, and it wasn't until they started arguing about who had made a better hamburger that the girls ran to their rescue.

"Guys, calm down. We've been doing something you might like!"

Lara ran out, in a bikini, and stood between her brother and her boyfriend, stopping the senseless argument they were having before it escalated. After all, it wasn't the first time Vettel and Verstappen had faced off off the track over silly things like that.

"Is it related to that little dance you're doing from that Spider-Man kid?" Max wanted to know.

The raven-haired girl raised an eyebrow and shot her boyfriend a look, although she was dying of laughter inside at the silly jealousy attack he was having over an actor she would never meet.

Diana approached Sebastian and planted a kiss on his lips as he held her waist and squeezed her, tickling her and causing her to burst into laughter.

"Seb, stop it!" she exclaimed, pulling away from her fiancé and earning a puppy-dog pout from him.

Lara quickly took advantage of the moment and grabbed the woman by her wrist, leading her to a slightly more secluded spot from their partners, positioning her perfectly for her boyfriend to have a perfect view of her, and giving her a knowing look before playing the song on her phone.

As the first notes began to play, so did they. Although a bit shy at first, especially Diana, both gained confidence as the song progressed. Their bodies moved in perfect synchrony, as if they had been rehearsing for months. The chemistry between the sisters-in-law was undeniable, something that left the men speechless.

The Dutchman watched his girlfriend's performance with wide eyes, unable to look away from the German woman who had stolen so many sighs from him. His lip, as if by reflex, began to be bitten by his own teeth. Lara noticed it, and made an effort to show her sensual side even more.

Vettel, on the other hand, couldn't understand how, in almost five years of relationship, he had never seen this side of Diana Wagner. As the German watched her girlfriend move, he couldn't help but be aroused. His eyes began to roam over her entire body, focusing especially on her breasts, waist, and buttocks. Although the movements the Austrian was making were not intended to be sensual, she did them in such a natural way that Sebastian was starting to get very horny to the point of having to try to calm down the erection that was forming in his pants.

He tried to divert his thoughts to his daughter, asleep in her stroller while tightly hugging a cloud-shaped plush toy, beside him, and to the barbecue fire, whose embers were slowly dying out. But no matter how much Vettel tried to put his thoughts in order, all he wanted in those moments was to passionately make love to his future wife.

As the performance came to an end both drivers stood up, cheering and applauding enthusiastically. The youngest Vettel bowed, but Diana simply remained still, her cheeks turning the same color as her hair.

The rest of the night went by among laughter, games and the karaoke session with the music playing from a local radio station. Around one in the morning, Lara and Max decided to retire, leaving Sebastian and Diana alone in the patio's chill-out area.

After the younger couple left, Sebastian got up and carried his daughter in his arms to take her to her room to rest and not interfere with the plans he had prepared for him and his girlfriend. Upon his return, he found the engineer settled on one of the sofas, letting her hair down, previously tied.

For the future marriage, the night had just started.

"Di, I had no idea you danced so well," he said, approaching her with a slightly mischievous smile, "especially not in that kind of dance."

Diana shifted on the sofa and stared directly at her boyfriend, who had sat down beside her. Slowly, and as she spoke to him, she proceeded to remove the beach dress that covered her body, leaving herself in the swimsuit she was wearing.

"Well, wait until we get married, love: then you'll see me dance well, especially at night."

Quickly, the redhead positioned herself over Vettel, noticing how his penis was rapidly becoming erect and pressing firmly against her intimacy, covered by the piece of fabric. Diana noticed the surprise even on Sebastian's face. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and as quickly as she could, she started to kiss him with desperation. All Seb could do was moan as his girl, the only thing she did, was getting him more turned on and herself as she began to direct her lips down his neck, ignoring the tickles his beard was giving her.

"Di... sit down."

The mentioned followed Sebastian's orders and positioned herself on the couch with her legs open as he continued to kiss her only to end up moving down to her intimate area, kneeling in front of her, opening her lower extremities even more.

Carefully, she began to massage her pussy over the swimsuit, earning nothing but sighs and pleas from Diana.

"Seb, please," demanded the redhead.

Sebastian lifted his gaze and smirked mischievously. Then, he pushed aside the lower part of the woman's garment, still on, exposing her intimacy and already running his hands between her labia slowly, torturing her.

"Do you like it like this, Di?" the driver announced with a hoarse voice. "My fingers in your pussy, slowly as fuck, is it enough for you, or do you want more?"

"I don't know why you're asking me: you know I always want more."

He knew, of course he knew. He just wanted to hear it from her lips.

Sebastian knew the future Mrs. Vettel more than she knew herself.

Without saying or doing anything else, he began to eagerly eat out Diana. There was nothing the German liked more than making his girlfriend enjoy. He went from more to less, and teased her with surprise rhythm changes and adding a finger in ocasional moments. That day, however, they had to hurry because he knew his sister and brother-in-law could show up at any moment.

So, he dedicated himself solely to move his lips and tongue as quickly as possible all over her pussy, focusing especially on doing it against the girl's clit. Diana's excitement was such that, with both hands, she pulled Sebastian's hair strongly while forcing his head closer to her intimacy, urging him to eat her even more eagerly. He seemed to catch the hint: his hands grabbed the redhead's hips and held her even tighter to his mouth, now focusing on playing with his tongue at her entrance.

"Sebastian Vettel, oh my god," moaned the redhead arching her back when she felt Sebastian's palms now grabbing her buttocks. "One day you're going to kill me and you'll be left without sex."

He realized that not having had sex for a while due to lack of intimacy was causing her climax to come faster than usual. Quickly, while not stopping giving small bites to Diana's bundle of nerves, he began to take off his swimsuit, leaving his penis completely exposed, erect as it hadn't been in a long time.

Diana was on the verge of the orgasm, she knew it, and that's why Seb decided to stop, leaving her with desire and a scream about to come out of her.

"No, no, no," she began to say in desperation, "don't you dare do this to me, Seb."

"Who said we're done, princess?"

As soon as his words escaped his lips, he took Diana by the waist and switched positions with her. Now, he was the one sitting down, and the woman on top of him, rubbing against his member to see if she could finally reach her orgasm. Sebastian took a moment to begin lowering the upper part of her swimsuit and started massaging her breasts, leaving a kiss in every place, and taking her nipples between his lips.

"Are you tired?" the German asked in the midst of excitement. "If you want, I can let you be on the bottom, lying down."

"No way, Seb," the girl replied, wanting to take control with her boyfriend. She kept rubbing against him, her hands against his chest. "Let me be on top. It's been a while since I set the pace."

"I'm serious, Di. You've been having trouble with sleeping for several nights with Emily being sick. I don't mind, really. Even if you want to stop, really" he added. "If you don't feel comfortable to continue, we can stop and go back to what we were doing before. Just us lying here on the sofa, I really don't mind."

Diana snorted. She couldn't believe Sebastian was thinking about her well-being at that moment rather than the fact that they were about to fuck after almost a month without doing it.

She absolutely and completely hated that her future husband was so good to her on occasions like this. Well, not only good in this occasions, in every occasion.

"I just want to take care of you," he let her know, looking at her decisively.

"Then let me be on control today."

With that, Diana masturbated her partner as best she could, and immediately she sat on his penis and the rhythm of her hips began.

Wagner focused on doing it as slowly as he could, trying to keep a steady pace and enjoy the intimate moment she was having with Seb, who just smiled when he realized the girl's intentions. With more care than usual, considering what they were doing, he took her chin and kiss her to silence her moans, which were increasing in frequency and volume.

As they progressed, so did the speed of her hips guided by Sebastian's hands, which rested on her waist. When he noticed an increase in her excitement, he buried his face in the German's neck, who took the opportunity to leave, carefully, bites, kisses and small marks on her neck that would possibly turn into darker ones in the next few hours.

"I love you so much, Sebastian," Diana tried to say, breathless from the effort she was making, "you have no idea how much."

"Whose are you?" he suddenly blurted out, surprising the girl.

Without a plan, but noticing how Diana's walls began to contract around his cock, Sebastian tried to reach the girl's clitoris to start massaging it and make her release come once and for all.

He received no response. Only continuous moans as the engineer threw her head back, seeming not to want to end until he did.

"Diana Vettel, I want you to answer me: whose are you?"

"I'm not Diana Vettel," she replied, slowing her pace to torture the man. Obviously, she succeeded eagerly. Vettel, at the same time, matched her level by removing contact with her intimacy. "So call me by my name and I'll answer you."

"No, you're not" he refused, knowing perfectly well that he was testing her patience, "but you will be in a year. So now, answer me: whose are you, Diana Vettel?" he emphasized her last name with a too husky voice.

"Yours," she replied, giving up with a choked moan. "I'm yours, Sebastian. I have always been yours, and I'll always be yours."

With that, the speed of the index finger, the same one that the Ferrari driver used a lot to celebrate his victories in public, returned to where it was before, although this time increasing along with his thrusts against Diana. In a matter of seconds, the girl was already trembling on top of him, clinging tightly to his neck to avoid falling while admiring the scene she was starring in with her future husband.

Sebastian felt that his release was also imminent, and he let her know.

"Love, I'm going to cum. I don't think it's the best option to do it inside you, but if you want..."

No more was needed because Diana, in the heat of the moment, didn't hesitate to get off her boyfriend's lap to kneel in front of him. Immediately, she took his penis in her hands and didn't hesitate to put it in her mouth. Sucking as hard as she could, and making use of her deep throat while massaging his testicles and what didn't fit, she noticed how her opening, seconds later, was gradually filled with a salty taste that wasn't much to her liking, but she swallowed without protest.

After finishing and regaining composure, Wagner fell back on the couch, next to Sebastian, and kissed him again with affection, both enjoying their own fluids in each other's mouths. They didn't spend much time embraced until Sebastian noticed that Diana seemed to be increasingly weighed down by her eyes, possibly because drowsiness was setting in on her.

"Are you falling asleep, love?" the drive asked in a soft voice, still appearing excited.

The redhead murmured something unintelligible, confirming the suspicions that were running through Vettel's mind.

Therefore, without much thought, he took Diana in his arms. She offered no resistance, and all she did was snuggle into Seb's chest, trying to find the perfect position as he headed towards the bedroom they shared.

When they arrived, Sebastian made sure to make as little noise as possible so as not to wake little Emily. Next, he laid Diana on the bed and began to undress her, removing her still damp swimsuit slowly, replacing it with the nightgown she occasionally wore to sleep. Afterwards, he simply lifted the girl, now seemingly fast asleep, to tuck her in between the thin sheets.

The German laid down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her as if he might lose her at any moment. He kissed her tenderly on her forehead before sleep consumed him too, something that became a night routine for the couple.

"Rest well, my love," he said yawning, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Thank you for being with me another day."

#formula 1 #sebastian vettel #formula 1 imagine #sv5 #ferrari #sebastian vettel smut #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel one shots #sebastian vettel fluff #fluff #smut #sebastian vettel x oc #sebastian vettel x fem oc #max verstappen #max verstappen x fem oc #max verstappen x oc #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel x reader

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voguescapes · 2 years

Text

t. holland | wired

pairings. tom holland x fem!reader

about. tom and (y/n) have been invited to 'wired' for an autocomplete interview.

warnings. not edited, cursing, jealous tom close to the end, inspired by on wattpad (i’ll link them when i find it), not my gif, reader seems kind of mean, clingy tom??, lmk if i missed something!

"Hi, I'm Tom Holland." Tom grinned into the camera. "And I'm Y/N L/N, and you're watching Disney Channel." You used your pointer finger as a glitter wand and horribly sketched the iconic Mickey Mouse ear shape.

"You know I love you." He affirmed, leaning in for a kiss. You swiftly turned your head to the side before his lips could touch yours and stared into the camera.

"Let's get started!"

Tom mumbled incoherent words and picked up a board that leaned against the back of his chair.

"Alright then," he grumbled as he ripped the small piece of paper on the board and read the bold words underneath, "Does Y/N L/N do her own stunts?"

"Uh, Yeah, I do, but I have a wonderful stunt double on set named Marrissa who steps in when Marvel tells me I can't do certain stunts. She is an absolute badass. So anyways, kind of? Yes, I do do my own stunts, but there are just some I cannot do."

"You said do do." Tom immaturely teases, causing you both burst into laughter. You paid no attention to your publicist rolling her eyes at your childishness from the corner of your eye. "Next question!" Tom dramatically turns his head to the board and peels off the next strip of paper.

"Does Y/N L/N have a child?" Tom read aloud. "Um, not that I'm aware of, no." You chuckled. Tom turned to you and shook his head. "What a silly question."

"Does Y/N L/N have any tattoos?" He read. "She does actually, you got it with Mackie and Sebastian right?" He tilted his head to stare at you.

"Right. I can't show it, it's technically a spoiler!" You smirked as you apologised into the camera.

Tom shifted to look at the camera again and covered the side of his mouth, "I've seen it." He smiled cheekily as he whispered it loudly.

"It's not like it's on my ass, Holland. If my incredible makeup artists hadn't covered it so wonderfully today, it would be on camera right now, that's all i'm going to say."

"They have the tattoos on their forearms!" He whispered again, as if he was sharing a life threatening secret to the camera. You rolled your eyes sarcastically. "Tom is just really happy because Mackie and I spoke about it in an interview before him and I met on Ellen and he'd been dying to see it while we started dating."

"That's completely true." You leaned only a few inches and placed a quick kiss to his cheek, which turned a light shade of pink, similar to the shirt he was wearing.

Changing the topic, he pulled off the next piece of sticky paper. "Does Y/N L/N have a boyfriend?"

"Yes, Timothée Chalamet."

"You just said that we were dating 5 seconds ago." He whined. You placed your hand on top of his that was resting on his knee. "Things change, people change." You deadpanned.

Tom rolled his eyes and threw the board with no questions left on it behind him. "My turn!"

A member of the crew silently rushed over to you and handed you a board. You thanked them and turned back to Tom. "Those questions were pretty intense, are you ready for that kind of pressure, Tommy?" You joked. He pretended to contemplate his options and eventually nodded with a determined look smeared on his face.

"Is Tom Holland a nice person?" You read. "Yes." Tom smiled while you silently shook your head and widened your eyes mouthing "no". The actor turned to you and audibly gasped. "You are an asshole!" You giggled.

"She loves me, I promise."

"Is Tom Holland perfect?" You smiled. "Uh, no, I'm not perfect. No one's perfect." Tom responded. "Wrong. There is a perfect person on this earth. Her name is Tessa Holland." You stated matter of factuality

"Of course you think that." He scoffed. "It's the truth, love." You reached out and pushed a stray curl away from his eyes. You caressed his cheek with your thumb and grinned while he continued to pout.

You pulled your hand away from his face and ripped off the following piece of paper off the cardboard. "Is Tom Holland a good actor?" His face visibly lit up after you read the question. He'd always get this way when speaking about his music, which you admired. "Yes, I am, actually. No, I’m kidding, that’s for you to decide!”

“I think you’re an incredible actor, but I’m pretty sure that I count as biased.”

You grabbed his hand that was still around your shoulders and kissed the back of it before reading, "Is Tom Holland in Uncharted?"

Tom looked down for a second before staring into the camera again, "Uh, yeah! I play Nathan Drake, and uh, it was very fun filming it, go watch it on Netflix now!"

"Good shameless plug." You complimented and nudged his elbow. "Thank you, I try." You chuckled and shook your head. "Next!"

"Is Tom Holland a twin?" You sighed and placed your fingers on your forehead, as if you had a fever. "Could you imagine if he was?" You gushed dramatically.

He blushed and shook his head for the millionth time that interview, “I'm not a twin, but I do have twin brothers!." Y/N smiled at the memory of meeting Tom’s kind, welcoming brothers for the first time.

"That's it for this board!" You cheered and broke it against your knee in one try. Tom’s glance flickered from you to the camera and then back to you, all with a shocked expression.

"That was hot."

"Wow, my boyfriend is so charming and poetic." You snorted.

He observed that the next board had different interrogative words, unlike the last two which were all the same.

"Alright, when did... Y/N L/N audition for The Falcon and The Winter Soldier?" He read aloud. “I auditioned for the show about 2 or 3 years ago? It's hard to remember, I just know it's been a very long time since then." You answered, holding up a proud thumbs up.

"I'm proud of you, Y/N/N." Tom exclaimed honestly, looking at you with gleaming eyes. Y/S/N stans would always comment on recent interviews and make Instagram posts dedicated to the way you and Tom would look at each other as if you hung up all the stars in the sky for one another. You knew this would be the next moment they'd post about. It was sweet.

Tom began to lean in but you backed away, "PDA! We have to keep this child friendly!" Tom groaned at your annoying childlike mood and once again pulled back and straightened himself in his seat.

He peeled the next strip of paper off the board, "Why doesn't Y/N L/N drink alcohol?" Tom read out to the camera. A few months ago, a video of you rejecting alcohol and instead ordering a lemonade while having lunch in Atlanta with Sebastian, Anthony and Daniel Brühl went viral, and you had no idea how or why.

There were articles assuming you were previously addicted, your parents had problems with alcohol in the past that caused you trauma, you were pregnant. all of the sorts really, when the real reason why you declined ordering a drink with the guys was because you just never thought about drinking alcohol.

"There’s really no real reason why I don’t drink alcohol. I guess because I never really wanted to? I don’t know."

Tom sat properly in his chair again, getting ready to read the next question, "Okay, how lovely. Last one." He ripped off the piece of paper quickly. "What is Y/N L/N doing right now?" He furrowed his eyebrows. "That's such a creepy, personal question. Who would search th-" Tom began to rant before you cut him off.

"Easy answer. Thinking about Timothée Chalamet." You spoke, shrugging as if it was obvious. Tom mouth fell open as he processed your love for another actor.

In the midst of his twinging jealousy, he instinctively tilted Y/N's chin that facing the camera towards his face and pressed a powerful kiss to your lips.

"Tommy, stop. PDA!" You mumbled against his lips as you tried to back up. Tom disconnected his lips from yours and turned his face towards the camera.

"Subscribe to WIRED, big thanks for watching, goodbye!" He saluted towards the camera and shifted back towards you, covering your faces with the cardboard that was in his lap and finally pressing a real kiss to your lips.

#request #imagines #afab reader #reader insert #famous!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

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