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Love Is Only For The Brave

Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Summary: After her husband died, Wanda’s forced to start a new life. Luckily, her new neighbour is always there to help.

Warnings: mentions of death and the grieving process, this is an AU so no powers no avengers etc, discovery of sexuality, some internalised homophobia, and some mentions of homophobic comments

Word Count: 6.6k words

Estimated Reading Time: 28 minutes

A/N: NO DS:MOM SPOILERS PLS I STILL HAVEN’T SEEN IT. Happy pride month everyone! This fic was inspired by a coming-out story I read somewhere I couple of years ago and never quite forgot, as well as Louis Tomlinson’s song Only The Brave (hence the title). I hope you all like it!

Here's a playlist for this if you want

Masterlist

Wanda took a deep breath, stepped forward, reached her hand towards the doorknob-

“I can’t do this.”

She stepped back, walking all the way to the house’s gate and stepped out. She took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her pounding heart.

“It’s just a fucking apartment, why are you being such a baby about this?”

She sat down on the sidewalk, hugging her knees to her chest. A few tears started slipping out, but she was powerless to stop them.

“Hey, are you okay?”

She looked up just in time to see a girl about her age set a basket of laundry on the floor before kneeling down. Her eyes were running over Wanda’s form as if searching for what the matter was.

Wanda wiped at her cheeks, embarrassed.

“Yeah, sorry, I just- Sorry, I’m alright.”

The woman’s face softened.

“You don’t have to lie to me, poppet, I’m not judging. But I am here to help if you’ll let me.”

She wanted to say no, I’m not okay, please help me, save me, take care of me. She didn’t.

“Here, wanna come inside for a few minutes? I made cake earlier today, and I’m a firm believer that a good slice of cake can fix all woes, at least a little bit.”

She hesitates, but nods.

“Alright, sweetheart, come on.”

The woman picked her basket back up and rested it against her hip, the soft blue dress she was wearing moving delicately with her steps, then walked towards the house right next to Wanda’s.

“I’m (Y/n), by the way. What’s your name?”

She unlocked the door, opening it wide.

“Wanda.”

She walked through the door, immediately taking off her shoes and placing them neatly against the wall. She closed the door behind her as the woman–(Y/n), watched.

“You’re not American, are you?”

Wanda bristled a bit.

“Not, I’m not.”

(Y/n) just smiled.

“European, then. Your accent’s faint, but I can still hear it. Romanian, maybe? Or Russian?”

“Sokovian.”

She nodded.

“Beautiful country. I’ve only been there once or twice before, but it was always one of my favourite holiday destinations.”

Her home was beautifully decorated. A healthy amount of antiquities filled the space, although it still managed to look modern. Everything was incredibly bright, though, all whites, creams, and pastels.

“You visit Europe a lot?”

She laughed.

“I know it may not sound like it, but I actually grew up in France. French mother, American father. I only moved here about eight years ago.”

Oh. She doesn’t sound French at all.

“Is that how you knew I wasn’t American?”

“Kind of. You left your shoes at the entrance. Americans come in with their outdoor shoes. It’s refreshing to see someone with the same customs.”

She frowned, still slightly disgusted at that particular custom and followed (Y/n) to the kitchen.

“What kind of tea would you like?”

She shrugged and hugged her arms to her chest.

“Any’s fine.”

“Is apple-cinnamon okay?”

She nodded.

“Great. Take a seat, then, darling, I’ll be done in a minute.”

She sat at the breakfast nook, taking everything in. The booth’s seats were a light blue leather colour, but everything else was white wood. The windows overlooked the garden, and she could see beautiful rose bushes as well as an outdoor couch swing.

“So, are you new here in Westview?”

(Y/n) asked from the kitchen, pulling out all the necessary items for their afternoon snack.

“Uh, yeah. Just moved.”

She smiled.

“Nice, I’ve been here for a few years myself, so if you need anyone to show you around, I’m happy to help.”

She brought over a beautiful chocolate cake, cutlery, and plates then returned for their tea.

“Here you go, darling, have at it.”

She cut them each a piece of cake and Wanda wasted no time in trying it, always having been a sucker for sweets.

“Oh, my God.”

It was like Heaven in food form.

(Y/n) laughed brightly.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

She took a sip of her tea, and Wanda found herself slightly mesmerised by her sharp eyes. It felt as if she was looking right through her.

“Wanna talk?”

No.

“I don’t really do the whole talking thing. It makes me cry and I don’t like crying. I don’t much care for emotions in general.”

She smiled sadly and took out a box of tissues from-

Where did those come from?

“We have time and I won’t judge. Besides, you can never move forward if you don’t deal with your past.”

Well, guess she’ll be getting therapy after all.

“My godfather got me that house. He knew I needed a change, and even though he wasn’t a huge fan of having me away from New York, it was better than me returning to Sokovia.”

She held her cup of tea in both her hands, feeling the warmth spread through her body.

“You used to live in New York?”

She nodded.

“My godfather’s Tony Stark. I lived at the Tower with him and his wife, Pepper.”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it.

“Is he the only family you have left?”

She shook her head and smiled a bit sadly.

“I have a twin, Pietro, he’s a professional athlete. Track and field. He travels all over the world for competitions.”

She furrowed her brows.

“Wait, Pietro as in Pietro Maximoff?”

She nodded.

“Oh, I saw him in the Olympics a couple of years back! He’s like lightning on legs, I swear!”

Thinking about her brother always made her smile. Even though she didn’t see him nearly as often as she wanted.

“Has it been a while since you last saw him?”

“No, I saw him just a few days ago. He stayed with me for a while cause-”

Her face dropped.

Right.

Her hand went to her ring subconsciously.

(Y/n)’s eyes followed.

“What happened?”

Her throat was tight and she felt her eyes brim with tears.

“He was a police officer. Got in front of a little girl in a shooting.”

He died a hero, is what everyone kept saying. You should be proud.

“It’s never easy to be on the other side of that. People like to romanticise it but the truth is that every time you see them could be the last time. It feels like your worst nightmare.”

Oh. That’s a new one.

“I… Yeah, that’s it.”

She nodded.

“Is that why you didn’t want to go into the house? Cause it feels wrong to take that step without him?”

Exactly.

“It feels like the moment I open that door, I start a new life, and I don’t know if I’m ready to leave him behind.”

(Y/n) takes her hand, gently squeezing it and rubbing her thumb across her knuckles.

“And that’s perfectly understandable. Grief is a process that’s different for everyone and no one, least of all me, should judge you for it or force you into something you aren’t ready for.”

She felt a warm tear slide down her face, but (Y/n) was quick to wipe it away. The rings on her hand felt like a welcoming chill on her cheek.

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you spend the night here? We have sweets, I’ll make you some grilled cheese and tomato soup ‘cause they’re my favourite comfort food, and we can have a movie night. I’ll get my mattresses, pillows, and blankets and we can build a nice place to rest in front of the TV, how’s that?”

She nodded.

“That sounds nice.”

The answering smile was nothing short of blinding.

—

When she woke up the next day after a night of watching the entire Pirates of the Caribbean franchise and eating more than her fair share of chocolate cake, it was to an armful of sleepy girl and the sun shining right in her face.

Apparently, she and (Y/n) had drifted closer in the night, and they were now spooning in the middle of the makeshift bed. Wanda’s never found herself to be the big spoon in these situations. Truthfully, she’s only shared a bed with her parents, brother, and Vision, and in those situations, she was either smushed between two larger humans, waking up with a foot in her chest, or the little spoon.

It felt kind of nice.

The ringing of a phone did a better job of fully waking her up than the sun did.

“No, not again.”

(Y/n) groaned, burrowing her face deeper into the nearest pillow. The phone kept ringing, One Direction’s She’s Not Afraid mixed in with the rhythmic vibrations against the wooden coffee table.

Wanda took matters into her own hands, sitting up and crawling to the edge of the mattress until she could reach the phone and turn off the alarm. (Y/n)’s phone pinged with a warning for low battery.

“Your phone’s running out of battery. Also, it’s seven-thirty.”

(Y/n) sighed, but sat up still, rubbing at her eyes.

“Do you think it’ll charge enough between now and eight-fifteen that it won’t die on me until I get back home?”

She shrugged.

“Every second counts.”

(Y/n) made grabby hands for her phone, then clumsily got up.

“Come on, I wanna keep talking to you while I get ready.”

It turns out Wanda’s pretty bad at saying no when (Y/n)’s the one that’s asking.

“Did you sleep alright?”

She ruffled through her drawers, picking out a fresh pair of underwear, then opened her closet and pulled out a flowy lilac dress.

“Yes, thank you.”

She smiled, still a bit sleepy, but obviously pleased.

“Good, I’m glad. Come on, you can sit on the toilet lid while I take a quick shower.”

Wanda followed her lead, awkwardly keeping her eyes on the floor so as to not watch her friend undress.

This isn’t a school locker room, okay? It’s not as easy to be nonchalant about nudity.

Or at least it isn’t when it’s been over a decade since that happened.

“Alright so, school’s out at three, but my lunch break’s from twelve to one. Wanna have lunch together?”

Well, it’s not like she has anything better to do.

“Sure. Should I just meet you at the school?”

She heard the snick of the shower gel’s cap opening, then closing again.

“Yeah, I’ll text you directions to my classroom, and then we can just eat there. It’s pretty peaceful when you don’t have two dozen seven-year-olds running around and screaming.”

She laughed along with (Y/n), toeing at the rug in front of the toilet with her toe.

“I gave you the Wifi password yesterday, right?”

“Yeah, all good, don’t worry.”

She chanced a glance at the frosted shower doors and could see (Y/n)’s form step under the shower head, rinsing off her body.

“Good, wouldn’t want you to get bored waiting for me. Do you like Caesar salads? I have some leftover chicken to use so I was thinking I’d just get that ready for lunch.”

Well, she’s not just gonna sit around and do nothing either.

“I can do that if you want. That way you don’t have to hurry.”

The shower turned off and she came out, grabbing the towel from the bar on the outside of the shower.

“Really? You’re the best, darling, I’d really appreciate that.”

She opened the cabinet under the double vanity and riffled through it before pulling out a brand new red toothbrush.

“Here you go, doll.”

Brushing their teeth side by side made for a comforting activity, and Wanda immediately felt much better after that. Cleaner.

She took off her shower cap and started styling her hair for the day.

“Do you have a lot of work to do today?”

Wanda shook her head.

“My latest book got published a couple of months ago, so I should be working on a new one, but I haven’t found the inspiration yet. I’m not really in a hurry, though.”

She nodded, finishing up her hair and moving to her makeup shelf, getting out her primer first.

“Your last one was a fantasy book, right?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of writing more about the human aspect of things for my next one. I’m always so focused on the world-building and adventure aspect of it, sometimes I forget about emotions, I’ve been wanting to work more on that.”

She took her sponge and started dabbing at the concealer, humming in agreement.

“I think that’d be nice, yeah. Always good to try new things in life.”

Mascara came next, followed by blood-red lips. It was the boldest aspect of her makeup, and one she’d said had become her staple.

With a little help from Wanda, she got ready to go just in time, purse in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“So we’ll meet at twelve in my classroom, yeah?”

She pulled on her shoes as she spoke, looking at Wanda from under her lashes.

“I’ll bring the food.”

“And you’ll text me if you can’t make it?”

“Yes, I promise.”

She smiled brightly and pulled Wanda into a crushing hug that made her sigh happily. Hugs are nice. Physical contact’s nice.

“Have a nice morning, darling, I’ll see you soon.”

And with a kiss to Wanda’s cheek that left a near-perfect red imprint, she was out the door.

Wanda looked to her left, seeing the spare key attached to a keychain shaped like an anchor, and found herself smiling subconsciously.

Time to get to work.

—

By the time she left for lunch, Wanda had tidied up the living room, throwing away empty cartons and folding the blankets on the living room mattresses as she would for a normal bed. She had sat at the breakfast nook for a good while, brainstorming ideas but coming up mostly empty, and eventually gave up in favour of preparing their salads and putting them into two matching round Tupperware.

Finding the school wasn’t too hard. Westview wasn’t exactly big, which is why Tony thought it’d be a good idea for her to move here. Finding her classroom was easy as well, and Wanda waited for a couple of minutes as the children got out and made their way to the cafeteria, then made sure to close the door behind her.

“Hey, pretty girl! I’m just gonna clean the tables up before I forget and I’ll be right there, okay? You can get settled at my desk, there’s another adult-sized chair in the corner there.”

She made her way to the desk and brought everything out of her bag. A water bottle each, the big Tupperware containers with the salads, the small ones with the sauce, forks to eat, and some napkins to keep clean.

She poured the sauce into the containers and then closed the lid again, shaking them until she was sure that every bit of the salad was properly soaked and ready for consumption.

“I swear, I love these kids and how excited they get about painting, but I just wish they’d learn to keep the paint on the sheet and not… everywhere else.”

There was a speckle of green paint on her neck and a small blue handprint just a little above her knee, some of it having gotten on her dress.

“I can see how that could become problematic.”

She looked down and groaned.

“Exhibit A of why painting is really not my favourite activity. I think we’re gonna stick to reading and talking about our favourite animals this afternoon.”

Wanda couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“Come on, I’m sure the paintings are cute.”

She popped a forkful of salad into her mouth and widened her eyes a fraction.

“Well, I can tell you that they surely agree on one thing and that is that the sun is always happy and you should always draw it in the corner. After that, it gets torn up between animals, houses, and flowers.”

Wow, did everyone have the same exact childhood? Wanda remembers that from her kindergarten days as well.

“Is there no one breaking out from the mould?”

She hummed.

“Well, there was one drawing of me. I was still standing in a field of flowers with a happy sun in the corner, though.”

Yeah, she could see how someone would want to paint (Y/n).

—

Two months later, Wanda still hadn’t stepped foot into her house.

They’d settled into an easy routine: wake up, talk while (Y/n) showered, have lunch together in her classroom, cook dinner together, watch a movie, and sleep.

After that first week, they moved the mattresses back to their rightful place, although that didn’t stop the sleepovers from happening. Laying next to (Y/n) made falling asleep child’s play, and waking up next to her was always a comforting scene.

The problem was… it started feeling a bit less… friendly and more… more.

You see, Wanda never actually had the chance to do the whole “questioning your sexuality” thing. She’d met Vis in high school after first moving to New York and it was love at first sight, anyone else had seemed dull in comparison to him.

Except that now he’s gone, and (Y/n)’s here, and Wanda’s questioning alright.

She can’t help but let her eyes linger sometimes, or want to touch more and more when alcohol has lowered her inhibitions enough that pulling (Y/n) into her lap seems like a good idea. She can’t help but think of how it felt like to fall asleep next to her husband and realise that it’s not far off from how she feels falling asleep with (Y/n) in her arms.

It’s confusing, for one. But the guilt is what’s worse.

“You’re sure you’ll be fine?”

(Y/n) fussed over her coat again, pulling it tight.

“I’m sure.”

“And you’ll stop as many times as you need?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’ll call me as soon as you get there?”

(Y/n) worries. A lot.

“I promise, I’m gonna be fine, it’s barely thirty minutes to get there.”

She sighed and stopped her fussing, but kept her hands on Wanda’s shoulders.

“Just be safe, okay?”

Wanda pulled her into a hug, burying her head into (Y/n)’s neck and taking in the comforting smell of caramel and apples.

“I’ll see you in a few days. Happy Thanksgiving.”

The kiss (Y/n) left on her cheek reverberated through her entire body.

“Happy Thanksgiving, darling.”

—

Wanda parked her car and took a deep breath, both hands on the wheel. The bouquet of yellow chrysanthemums sat on the passenger’s seat and she took it with shaky hands.

The walk toward the headstone was the hardest part.

“Hey, Vis.”

There was no answer, obviously, but she liked to think he was listening all the same.

Now that she was here, she didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t really know what to say. I thought the hardest part would be getting here and everything would just come spilling out after but… I don’t know.”

She sighed, then sat down on the ground, leaning against the headstone. She didn’t care that her clothes were probably getting dirty or that the chill was made much more evident now that her back was resting against the marble.

“You know, it’s not fair. It’s not fair that I met you that soon… before I had the chance to find out who I am, and that you just… you just left. It’s not fair that I’ve been an us all my life and now you’ve forced me to be me. I don’t even know who I am.

“I mean look at me, I’m ranting to my dead husband ‘cause I’m hung up on a girl, and I didn’t even know I was attracted to women. And this isn’t even a rant, I feel like I’m just throwing words together, picking up on conversations that should be halfway through, not giving information enough, but that’s just how it is. I’m supposed to be good at this shit, at words. Fuck, I get paid to be good at words. What the hell is this?”

She bit back a sob as tears made their way down her face. It felt like, within seconds, her carefully constructed facade had come crashing down.

“I don’t know what to do. She just… She makes me happy. And she gives me strength. And it just feels right but so wrong at the same time cause I- cause you- and we-”

It feels like she’s cheating on him.

“You’ve been gone for eight months. Eight months. Not even a whole year, and I’m already talking about moving on.”

She played with the ring still on her finger.

“It’s not fair that I feel like this. It’s just not fair. This is not what I signed up for. I know we said until death do us part but it wasn’t supposed to come that quickly.”

She wiped at her nose with her sleeve, inwardly cringing at how gross it was. There was a stain on her coat now.

“I don’t know what to do.”

The headstone offered her no answer.

She set the flowers down and walked away.

—

“Hey, Little Witch!”

“Hi, Tony.”

She hugged her godfather tight, feeling all remaining tension from her visit to the cemetery drain out of her. She could always count on him to make her feel safe.

“You look like you need a drink.”

She laughed wetly.

“I might need more than one.”

She could also always count on him to have drunken heart-to-hearts with.

“Well, come on. Natasha just got in and she brought back another bottle. I had one whiff of that and concluded that it’s strong, most likely illegal, and will definitely do the trick.”

And well, that was just a treat.

“Nat made it?”

Her cousin had a demanding job, what with being in one of those Black Ops divisions that Tony and Wanda knew absolutely nothing about cause she’s just an accountant in DC whoopsie.

Anyway, her accounting job had her jetting around the country (and world) all the time, making it so that she sometimes had trouble getting back in time for family gatherings. It was always a treat when she managed to show up.

“You two gonna make it into the living room any time soon? That bottle’s not gonna drink itself.”

Yes, a treat indeed.

One hour later, she was well past tipsy, curled up in the corner of the couch with a cashmere blanket and her tumbler of authentic Russian vodka (read: an illegal homemade beverage that Natasha somehow smuggled into the country) in hand.

“...Steve wasn’t very happy about that, but when is he ever?”

Tony nodded.

“You’ve been working together for what? Three years now? He should be used to the fact that you never follow plans by now.”

Wanda squinted her eyes.

“What I don’t get is how he genuinely thinks we believe he’s an accountant. Oh, I just work out a lot, I handle paperwork, it’s heavy, like please, the guy’s arms are bigger than my head.”

Natasha looked a bit pained.

“Yeah, he’s simultaneously one of the smartest and dumbest people I’ve ever met.”

They stayed silent for all of five seconds.

“But anyway, Wanda, love, you didn’t tell me how you liked the house! Pepper thought the bathroom was a bit overkill, but that design just looked so nice, I couldn’t say no!”

Wanda smacked her lips together and sipped at her drink.

“Um, I actually…haven’t…even seen the inside of it… Yeah.”

Tony looked more confused than she’d ever seen him, probably.

“Huh?”

She cleared her throat.

This probably isn’t the best time to hash everything out, so better be vague and short.

“Yeah, uh, I kind of had a panic attack on that first day at the thought of starting a new life without Vis, so I couldn’t go in. But then (Y/n), my next-door neighbour, was just coming back from doing laundry and she saw me outside and came to help. Turns out we have similar interests, and she’s french, and she likes baking so she invited me inside and then we had a sleepover and watched Pirates of the Caribbean and had lunch together the next day and then I just ended up staying there, and we’ve been living together for about two months and she’s really pretty and I feel all these feelings whenever I’m with her and it’s just making me all messed up but so, yeah, I haven’t even stepped foot inside the house.”

Well, so much for being vague and short.

She took a deep breath in after her rant and drained her glass. Natasha refilled it wordlessly, mouth slightly open in shock. It says a lot that Wanda managed to stun Natasha Romanoff into silence.

Tony wasn’t faring much better.

“Alright, so let’s take this little by little, yeah? Uh, first off, who’s the girl?”

Wanda scrunched her nose.

“(Y/n), I just told you that.”

“Full name.”

“No.”

“Got it! Next door neighbour’s name is (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/l/n).”

“Tony! No, Natasha! Stop that!”

What is it with these two and wanting to run background checks on everyone she knows?

“Here you go, (Y/n) (Y/m/n) (Y/l/n), born on December 25th 1995, aw, a Christmas baby! She was born in America, lived here until she was two, and then moved to France where she did most of her schooling. Moved back to America for college, went to NYU, and then moved to Westview where she’s been a first-grade teacher for three years.

“Her mother’s an art consultant in Paris, father’s a pilot for British Airways, but her grandfather owns a pretty large chain of restaurants in the Texas area so she’s always lived pretty comfortably. No criminal record, although plenty of accounts of her at various protests including but not limited to: Pride Parades, March for our Lives, Black Lives Matter, and so forth.

“Yeah, she seems like a decent kid.”

Natasha nodded in approval and Tony seemed to be following along.

“Alright, now, are you messed up because you’re having romantic feelings or because you’re having romantic feels towards a woman?”

She curled down further into her safe little cashmere cocoon, throat starting to close up.

“Um, I don’t know? Both? Mostly the first one. A little bit the second.”

Tony nodded.

“Alright, I can do sexuality crisis a bit easier so let’s start with that yeah… You seriously never thought about it before?”

She shrugged.

“I always had Vis. Everyone else didn’t hold a candle to him, male or female.”

He whistled lowly.

“Well, then, off we go. Just tell me what’s on your mind, yeah? Don’t worry about having to make sense or filtering yourself, we’ll make sense of it together.”

She took a deep breath.

“It’s just- You know what my parents were like. They loved us, but they were… not very modern. I grew up listening to their opinions on coming out, and it was always something like it’s just a phase, it’s the newest fashion, I just think it’s wrong. And it took me so long to be able to see past it, but I did. Except I never actually thought it would happen to me, you know?

“When I imagined my forever, it was always with a man, and afterwards, it was with Vis. It was always- It feels like- I just-”

She sighed.

“So many things have changed. I lost my husband. I had to move. I went in a completely different direction with this book… But the one thing I didn’t think would change, could change, was myself. But this is a pretty big change.”

Tony settled in next to her and hugged her close. Natasha refilled her glass.

“I think you’re freaking out about this cause all the change you had has been tainted by one bad experience. Besides, change in and of itself is uncertain, it’s a gamble no matter what you tell yourself and you, missy, are a bit of a control freak.”

He bopped her nose and she chuckled wetly, sighing into his hold as his hands then moved to her hair.

“But change can be such a good thing. You and Pietro left Sokovia to come live with me at thirteen and that was a good change. Pietro stopped trying to force himself to follow medicine and went on to follow his passion, which was a good change. Losing Vis was a bad change. Moving was a necessary one. But this…

“You’re turning into an even better person than you were before. You got back to writing and went in a different direction that allows you to be more in touch with your emotions instead of ignoring them, you started cooking again, you’re happy, you made a friend… So what if that friend is a girl? So what if she turns into something more? No matter how much you change, you’re still the same wonderful little girl inside.”

Alright, sexuality crisis fixed. Or at least mostly there. It’s a start.

“Now drink up 'cause we still have to tackle the whole survivor’s guilt thing.”

Natasha ruffled in her bag, resting just next to the couch on the ground, and pulled out another bottle.

“What? That one’s almost over.”

—

She sat down next to the grave and took a deep breath, then opened the envelope that she hadn’t dared to even look at.

My dearest Wanda,

If you’re reading this, then I’m sorry, because it means that I’m no longer with you. I don’t know when you’ll read this, I don’t know if it’ll be soon, or if you’ll be reading the words of your twenty-year-old lover at ninety. But I know that I need to put this in writing.

I’m starting my training in the police academy in a few weeks, and even though it’s a job that I know I’ll love, it’s dangerous, and you deserve some closure should anything happen to me.

It’s not your fault, first of all, regardless of the circumstances. I know you like to think you control everything, but death is just one of those things that is out of your reach. You couldn’t have stopped it. If it was meant to be, it would be, so don’t feel guilty.

From this moment on, you’ll have to go through life without me. I’m sorry, my love, but our life together is over. I don’t know if we ever got that house, if we filled it with children, if we lived happily ever after until our age caught up to us, but if we didn’t, it was still a nice dream.

This chapter of your life is over, but that doesn’t mean your story has to be. I know it may be hard, but you need to move on. I shouldn’t get a say in what you do after leaving you so cruelly, but I want you to move on with your life. I want you to be happy, whether that be by yourself or with someone who can pick up where I left off, trying to make you the happiest woman in the world.

I love you, Wanda, and I know that you’ll always love me too. We will always be a part of each other, but one part isn’t a whole.

Be happy, I beg of you.

Love, Vis.

By the time she finished the letter, sobs were wracking her body, and the paper was wet with tears.

She took off the chain around her neck, a locket with a picture of her parents, Pietro, and her, back when they were young.

“Alright…”

Taking off her ring was painful, it felt strange, she had worn it every day for the past seven years, that doesn’t go away that easily. She slipped it onto her chain.

“I’ll do my best.”

—

When she got home, it was almost ten. (Y/n) had a cup of tea ready for her already. The bags under her eyes matched Wanda’s.

“I just can’t sleep as well without you.”

Yeah, same.

—

“Are you going home for Christmas?”

Today’s lunch was roasted sausages with broccoli, mashed potatoes, and a mushroom sauce. Wanda’s glad she made more food than usual, because (Y/n) was eating it up like it was the best thing she’d ever had.

“No, Tony and Pepper are going to her parents’, Natasha’s… somewhere saving the world, and Pietro’s with his girlfriend in Australia so I’m not going there. What about you?”

She shrugged.

“Parents are on a cruise, don’t particularly feel like going down to Texas to my grandparents’. We can just spend Christmas together?”

She nodded.

“Alright.”

—

Wanda carefully slipped out of bed on Christmas day, ignoring the slight pounding of her head from the many drinks they’d had last night.

Turns out watching a Hallmark movie and drinking every time something cliché happens is a great way to get smashed.

Hopefully, (Y/n) would stay asleep for a little while longer, she needed to prepare.

She closed the door behind her and padded to the kitchen, taking out all the ingredients necessary for some crepes.

Nothing much had changed since she’d gone back to New York for Thanksgiving. Wanda mostly just let herself feel and do things without feeling guilty for them. She let herself hold (Y/n) close at night and bask in her warmth, she let herself smile softly in her direction without worrying about what it might mean, she let herself write up a character that resembled (Y/n) more and more as she wrote a love story between two young girls.

They still acted the same, she just felt less guilty about it.

Some powdered sugar, a bit of Nutella cause she loves chocolate, a cup of tea, and a rose she hid away just for this occasion.

She put everything on a tray and brought it to their room, smiling softly at the way (Y/n) had unconsciously curled around the pillow Wanda slept with. She set the tray down at the foot of the bed and carefully sat down.

“(Y/n)… Wake up, come on, it’s your birthday!”

She whined in protest and shoved her head deeper into the pillow.

“Come on, rise and shine birthday girl, you’re officially twenty-seven!”

A longer, drawn-out whine.

“Baby, please don’t remind me of how old I am, I’m actively trying to forget it.”

She giggled.

“You’re not old.”

“Older than you.”

“By barely more than a year.”

“You’re twenty-five.”

“For another month and a half.”

“Sh, silence, baby, let mommy sleep.”

Alright, we’re gonna ignore how she reacted to that, it’s not relevant.

“If you don’t get up now I’m gonna eat all your crepes.”

Her eyes opened almost immediately.

“I’m up! Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

They shared breakfast sitting against the headboard and playfully bumping shoulders. Their day was spent opening presents (there were a lot), trying out the karaoke machine Tony sent her for Christmas (until they got worried they would get a noise complaint), and watching more cheesy Christmas movies than Wanda ever thought existed (why do they keep making those?).

It wasn’t until almost midnight, halfway through Home Alone 2 and after three bottles of a delicious Pinot Noir were finished that it all came to a head.

“Thank you for today, darling.”

She was curled up on the couch next to Wanda, head resting against the back, head lolled to the side.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?”

She copied the position, well-aware of how close they were.

“Mm-hm. Best birthday ever.”

She smiled and looked down, biting her lip proudly, until (Y/n) brought her fingers under her chin, lifting her head back up.

“Don’t do that, baby, I like looking at you.”

She couldn’t help the way her breath hitched at that.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

More silence, Wanda’s cheeks started to heat up. She never was good with getting stared at.

“I, um… I liked it when you said that.”

She quirked a brow, an amused smile on her lips.

“Said what?”

“When you called me…it.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say it. It was too… Ugh.

“What it?”

“Mm-mm.”

“Come on, baby, what is it?”

Her eyes squinted as Wanda’s cheeks heated up again.

“Oh, is that it, then? Baby? You like it when I call you baby?”

Fuck her, honestly.

“Aw, look at that, baby’s shy! Look at that pretty blush!”

Fuck. Her.

So they kissed.

Or more like Wanda attacked (Y/n) with her mouth cause it felt like the only way to shut her up and stop the taunts.

(Y/n)’s the one that turned it into a real kiss, tangling her fingers in Wanda’s hair, moving her head into the best angle, just overall taking control-

Yeah, that’s nice.

“Best. Birthday. Ever.”

—

In the end, nothing really changed, per se.

They still slept in the same bed, had lunch together, and spent the last hour of the day watching a show together, curled up on the couch. But now they kissed. And more. Loads more.

Now, when Wanda introduced her to Tony and Natasha, it wasn’t “(Y/n), my roommate”, but “(Y/n), my girlfriend”. Now, when (Y/n) cuddled up close on the couch, Wanda only pulled her closer, more often than not having it end in a giggly make-out session, no guilt in sight.

So yeah, in the end, nothing changed, apart from the things she didn’t like.

“Baby, have you seen my shoes? I’ve looked everywhere for them but I can’t find them.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and grabbed them from their place near the door, thin black heeled sandals that (Y/n) would probably start complaining about in an hour.

“Yeah, they’re right…”

The here died in her throat when (Y/n) came in, just having finished putting on her earrings.

“Oh, thanks love.”

There were no coherent thoughts running through her head, only an endless loop of (Y/n) in a red dress. And like, sure, she’d seen her in red dressed before, but never one of these. Never one that fit her so well, made Wanda want to tear it off her, forget the launch party, just have their own party…

“Good enough to be your arm candy for the night?”

“Fuck me.”

—

It was to the sound of thundering applause that Wanda took the stage, smiling at the people gathered, some that she’d seen at previous launch parties, some new faces, but all equally as excited to hear her speak. (Y/n) was sitting with Tony and Pepper at the very back of the room, and Wanda knew that she was recording everything to send to Natasha later.

“Good evening, everyone, and thank you so much for being here tonight. As you may be aware, before this book, I wrote mainly within the fantasy genre, focusing on transporting you to different worlds, and having you live an adventure through the character’s eyes. I was never much for emotions, preferred to ignore their very existence, even.

“It wasn’t until I was forced to face my own feelings, my fears and insecurities along with the joy, that I realised how important those are. This book is unlike anything I’ve ever written before. You won’t be reading about a hero needing to save his land or a peasant learning to ride a dragon. The only adventure here is an emotional one, it’s in the way the characters feel, evolve, discover themselves and learn to accept what they were faced with.

“In some ways, this is the story of us all, written on paper. Humanity’s challenges, feats, and shortcomings, all wrapped up into one little romance novel. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

“I present to you, Love Is Only For The Brave.”

Happy pride month everyone

-Love, Miah <3

#libby writes #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #pride month

230 notes · View notes

libbywrites · 2 years

Text

i remember

i remember when i thought

that it'd be me and you forever

but i guess for you forever

only meant a couple months

i remember when i thought

life couldn't get any better

but if good can become better

bad can also turn to worse

i remember when i thought

we couldn't be temporary

cause if this was temporary

i just wanted time to stop

i remember when i thought

that it's only others that were doomed

but we were always just as doomed

who knows which one was at fault

i remember when i thought

only lovers made your heart break

but the worst of all the heartbreaks

was the heartbreak that you brought

i remember when i thought

friends forever until the end

then the end turned into our end

now i'm finished on my own

i remember when i thought

that i'd live life out with a smile

but i haven't really smiled

since the moment you've been gone

i remember when i thought

i'd never have to live without you

but it's been so long here without you

i don't know how to carry on

i remember when you said

that nothing could come between us

until life got in between us

i guess you were wrong as well

#libby writes #poetry

9 notes · View notes

libbywrites · 2 years

Text

I'M NOT DOING THIS ON PURPOSE I'M SORRY

Might As Well Do It Right

TASM!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Peter Parker, a reporter for the New York Times is sent to interview (Y/n) (Y/l/n), the newly appointed CEO of Venus Industries.

Warnings: mentions of the men in charge of big companies being dumbasses.

Word Count: 4k words

Estimated Reading Time: 18 minutes

A/N: Inspired by Lena Luthor from Supergirl and that one Taylor Swift speech.

Masterlist

Peter looked up at Venus Tower. From down here, it looked like it went on forever. And he’d be going up to the top floor. It was a lot less intimidating when he was looking at it from the top of the Empire State.

Alright, deep breaths. You’re a professional, you can do this.

He entered the building and walked toward the front desk with a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi there, sweetheart, how can I help you?”

The woman at the desk sounded southern and very welcoming. She had a bright smile on her face and her hair was kept away from her face by a claw clip. He smiled at the blue glittery pen she was holding.

“I’m Peter Parker with the New York Times, I have an interview scheduled with Dr (Y/l/n) at three?”

Even after a year, saying his title never failed to make him smile. It was years of work leading up to his position, but it was so incredibly worth it.

“Oh, yes! Mr Parker! You can go right on up to the top floor, Debbie’ll let the boss know you’re here. Good luck!”

She handed him a white badge and he smiled awkwardly.

Good luck? Why would he need luck for a normal interview?

This was a normal interview, right?

Right?

The ride to the ninetieth floor took an eternity, or at least that’s what it felt like. He fidgeted with his shirt, questioning his idea of wearing the navy blue button-up that May got him for his birthday. Maybe it was too dressed up? He wiped his clammy hands on his black jeans, then froze. Or maybe it’s not dressed up enough? Should he have worn a suit?

The elevator doors opened before he had time to finish his mental breakdown and he made his way to the young woman sitting at the only desk there, getting together some papers, putting them in a folder, adding them to a pile, then again-

“Uh, good afternoon.”

She looked up from her desk and smiled at him.

“Mr Parker from the NYT, right?”

At his nod, she got up from the desk, took the pile of folders, and motioned for him to follow.

“It’s right through this door. I should remind you that your phone has to be in a visible place, the camera covered at all times. We don’t allow pictures in her office because of the sensitive material, so you’ll have to put that away.”

She stopped in front of a large oak door and pointed at the camera around his neck. He put it and his phone in his messenger bag without hesitation. She smiled and knocked on the door, opening it after a few seconds.

“Miss (Y/l/n), your three o’clock’s here.”

“Oh, right, Mr Parker. Let him in.”

He entered the office after the assistant, taking a look around. Floor to ceiling windows, white furniture with grey accents, lots of plants and books, the usual for a CEO. What was special was the wall next to the door, completely covered in child-like drawings, photographs, and different protest flags. His eyes lingered on the trans rights are human rights sticker and he smiled.

“I have the reports from R&D about the bandages and the solar-powered cellphones. Everything seems to be going well so far, but they could use some oversight on the bandages, they’re close to stumping.”

She nodded.

“Check my calendar and get me the earliest afternoon free to go down there, reschedule some things if need be. Thank you, Deborah, you can go.”

The girl nodded and left the room quietly. (Y/n) rifted through a few pages on the folder and then closed it. He stood awkwardly near the door. She leaned back in her chair and stared him down. He fidgeted in place.

“You’re nervous.”

Well, obviously. Who wouldn’t be nervous when faced with the youngest woman in New York history to run a multi-million dollar empire?

“A little.”

She smiled brightly and got up, showcasing her light grey suit and lavender silk shirt. Her heels clicked on the floor.

“Don’t be. I don’t bite unless asked to. Come sit, we’ll be more comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”

He sat down on one of the two leather couches facing each other and separated by a glass coffee table.

“Um, I’ll take a cup of tea, thank you.”

He took out his recorder from his messenger bag, followed by his notebook with the questions he prepared. Belatedly, he remembered the phone rule and took it out as well, placing it face-up on the table with a ripped piece of paper covering the front camera.

(Y/n) came back with two cups of tea, a bowl of sugar, and some milk in a chilled glass pitcher.

“I’ll let you make it to your taste.”

He nodded and put two cubes of sugar in his cup. She only put a splash of milk. Maybe a habit she picked up at boarding school?

“It’s Yorkshire, by the way. We used to drink it all the time back in England and it’s a pleasure I’ve never quite been able to give up.”

Point for Peter, then.

“Thank you for following the rules, then. Most reporters put up a much longer fight.”

He shrugged.

“I was lucky enough to be granted an interview with you, I shouldn’t disrespect you or put that in jeopardy by not following some simple guidelines.”

It seemed obvious to him. She smiled and took a sip from her cup, crossing her legs.

“We can start whenever, I have the rest of the day free.”

He nodded.

“So, Dr (Y/l/n)-”

“Shouldn’t you turn on that fancy recorder of yours before starting? Also, you can just call me (Y/n), I don’t mind.”

Right. Recorder. He forgot about that. He pressed the start button.

“Right, um, (Y/n), then. Let’s just go over your upbringing first, if that’s alright with you, so I can make sure I have all my facts right.”

He flipped to the first page of his notebook.

“You were born in America, daughter to Venus Industries founder Edward (Y/l/n) and environmental lawyer Venus (Y/l/n), who the company was named after. You have an older brother, Michael, who took over your mother’s firm last fall, and with whom you’re reportedly very close.

“You attended a boarding school in London, the same one your mother did before you and graduated from Oxford University at 21 with a Double Bachelor’s Degree in biochemistry and mechanical engineering. Then you got your Master’s and Doctorate’s at MIT, before taking over your father’s company three months ago at only 25 years old. Not only that, but you’ve been preparing for the spot of CEO for the last two years, juggling your studies along with more and more responsibilities, and most projects from last year were credited in some way or another to you, and those who weren’t, have your oversight stamp.”

He looked up from his notebook to see her smile proudly at her own accomplishments.

“I guess my first question would be, are you absolutely positive that you’re human?”

She laughed brightly and he was instantly more at ease. Making jokes, discussing important topics, this he could do.

“Well, I am as far as I know, but I suppose there’s no concrete proof, so who knows?”

He smiled and moved on to the next question.

“What pushed you to your father’s company as opposed to your mother’s firm? Did you always know you wanted to take this path or was it influenced by your brother’s choice to follow law?”

She smacked her lips.

“I was always interested in both. My brother’s four years older than me, but he was much more drawn to law, much to my Dad’s dismay. As a result, I got all the lab time with my Dad, along with some law talk switch my Mum. I love what she does, but I wanted to find some other way to help her cause while still doing my science projects cause I really did love them.

“So when I was thirteen and on summer holiday, my Dad and I spent the entire two months coming up with a water filtration system made from biodegradable products, but that could still be durable and affordable. Looking back on it, I can see the flaws in the system clear as day, but it’s the ancestor to the Bio Water Filter that came out three years later, and I’m pretty happy to have been a part of it. I think I realised it was really what I wanted to do when I travelled to Africa and saw all the good my creation was doing.”

He nodded, a bit in awe. Those filters had come out when he was in his first year of college, and he remembers spending hours picking them apart and putting them back together, impressed at the craftsmanship and genius that went into them.

“And now, more than eighty per cent of your company is dedicated to environment-friendly creations and gadgets, while the other twenty per cent is making astronomical progress in the medical field.”

He couldn’t help but let the excitement bleed into his voice.

“And speaking of medical progress, Venus Industries recently released a new prototype for prosthetic limbs, and according to a statement released through the company’s official Twitter account, it will soon be available to the general public. Could you tell me more about that?”

She nodded.

“Yes, we’re almost done with the test trial. Almost fifty veterans volunteered to take part in it. We wanted to make sure that the prosthetics are durable, comfortable, and that the mobility is satisfying before releasing them to the public. We’re working closely with the military on this, and if no major problems appear, it could be out as soon as next year.”

He wrote down questions as they came up, not wanting to interrupt her.

“But that’s obviously only part of what we’re doing. Well, here’s a scoop for you. We’re working on a lighter, more flexible, and more durable kind of bandage inspired by Spider-Man’s webs.”

That set him off into a coughing fit. He was not aware of that.

“Sorry, just caught me by surprise a little. Webs, you say?”

What the fuck?

“The idea was actually inspired by one of Spider-Man’s rescues. There was a blog entry I found made by the woman he saved. She had been stabbed in the thigh, quite deeply at that, and Spider-Man used his webs as a makeshift bandage. I figured that was a good starting point, and it all escalated from there.”

He remembered that woman. Rebekah, twenty-seven, manager at Blue’s Brew, mugged, fought off the attacker, and got stabbed in the process. He’d bandaged her up and carried her to the nearest hospital.

“Obviously, it would be much easier if we could work with the actual Spider-Man, but unfortunately, I don’t have his number. I also don’t know how I’d feel about seeing his webs actually come out of him. I mean, how does his body even make that?”

Wait, wait, wait… She thinks the webs come out of him?”

“Well, are we even sure his body naturally produces the webs? Maybe he also makes the webs himself?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“That would mean he’d have to be exceptionally smart as well as have access to high-end components. And he’d need somewhere to store them.”

Fuck, is she getting suspicious?

“I think I prefer that answer. I mean, if the webs come out of his body, does that mean they come out of like… everywhere?”

She snorted into her tea and he internally cheered. Disaster avoided.

“What are your thoughts on companies who refuse to cut down on their CO2 emission and plastic waste, speaking as the CEO of a company nearly completely off the grid and with the lowest environmental impact in all New Yorkian companies?”

She scoffed.

“It’s ridiculous, to be honest. They often claim that to simply not be a possibility for them, but we’ve proved time and time again, theoretically as well as concretely, that it’s possible. The real problem here is that it would be time-consuming and expensive, and the rich don’t really enjoy it when their money flow is slowed.”

There’s a decent chance that he might be in love with her.

“Are there any companies that you know have followed in your footsteps?”

She nodded.

“I know of one, off the top of my head. Lack Tech’s working towards getting their company to be more environment-friendly. I’m actually good friends and business partners with Gianna Lackson, the future CEO. She’s taking over the company as soon as her father retires, and this is a project she wanted to be a part of, so we’re often in contact. We have similar life paths as well, so we’ve bonded over it. It’s always nice to have a friend, especially in this industry.”

“When you say in this industry-”

“An industry that’s mainly comprised of cisgender, heterosexual, middle-aged, prejudiced, and highly narcissistic white males.”

Well, that’s that. But that ties in nicely with his next line of questioning.

“What would you say are the main difficulties that come with being a young woman in charge of a scientific research and development company?”

She sipped her tea.

“There are many. It’s hard to be respected, for one. When I walk into a room, the only thing going through their heads is she’s young, probably inexperienced, she’s a woman. I suppose it’s not something they’re used to seeing. Many times they try to undermine me. They even used to do it in my own company, and that leads to me having to constantly prove myself.

“It’s even in the vocabulary used. If a man starts something new, he’s a visionary, while a woman is crazy or naive. If a man takes a risk, he’s brave, but when a woman does, she shouldn’t have been put in charge. If a man changes someone’s opinion on a subject, he’s convincing. A woman can only be manipulative. If a man has a revolving door of women in his life, he’s searching for The One. If a woman dates more than one man every decade, she’s a bitch.

“The blatant sexism in not only this industry, but the entire world, is the reason there are so few good people in positions of power.”

He nodded.

“So the mere fact that you’re a woman puts you at a huge disadvantage.”

“Exactly.”

He couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, claiming what bullshit that is, which made her snort into her tea.

“So, now that you’ve taken over as CEO, you’re less involved in the inventing and developing and more in the general upkeep of the company…”

He saw her tense up almost imperceptibly, probably expecting her abilities to be questioned.

“Do you miss it? Being in the lab all day, not having to worry about anything other than your creation?”

She laughed brightly, then sighed.

“Oh, you have no idea! Paperwork is incredibly boring and it goes me major FOMO sometimes to read about my team’s progress but not be able to see or participate in it constantly. I know that what I do as a CEO has a bigger impact, and I trust my employees implicitly, but I still miss it. I go down to the labs whenever I can, but it’s nothing like the uninterrupted grinding you can get lost in when it’s your sole responsibility.”

His eyes strayed to the wall, decorated with all sorts of drawings. He noticed that most names were different, an age written next to them.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I’m going totally off-script here, but who are all those drawings from?”

She seemed to light up, eyes shining like fireworks.

“Oh, those are precious, aren’t they? Some of our inventions, like the water filtration system, have been distributed cost-free to communities who need them and can’t afford them. I take some time out to check up on them whenever I can, see that everything’s running smoothly, and ask if there’s anything else they need. The kids like to make me drawings as a thank you, so I hang them on my wall to remind myself of why I’m doing this.”

Well, that’s absolutely adorable.

“You also have several protest signs, flags, photographs…”

“Yes, most of the signs are from protests I attended, although the little progress flag up there’s been in my possession since uni. I believe in always creating a safe space, as well as fighting for what I believe in. It isn’t something I should hide, so I make sure to always keep it in full view. It also has the added effect of making homophobes and such uncomfortable and that’s something I absolutely love.”

He smiled.

“They squirm so prettily, right?”

She grinned mischievously and leaned forward in her seat a bit.

“And when they try to defend themselves? Deny it? Oh, delicious!”

They laughed together and he felt himself blush a little. It was bound to happen to be fair. Beautiful girl, smart, kind, and loyal to a fault? How could he not develop a bit of a crush?

“I suppose I only have one question left for you, then. Is there something you’d like the world to know? About you or your company?”

Her brows furrowed in thought, worrying her lip between her teeth. Peter had to stare at the succulents behind her lest he get…distracted.

“I think I’d want people to know we care. It may sound like a lie, but we really do spend ages talking to people, visiting places, and reading things, so we know where and how to help. If you go on our website, there’s a list of shelters, hospitals, and more, all funded by us for people in need to go cost-free, but it all seems to be overshadowed. I think I’d just want the world to know we’re here to help, all they have to do is ask.”

He finished his notes, making sure he’d put a link to the list of offered help in the article, before clicking his pen and shutting his notebook. He reached forward and turned off the recorder.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, (Y/n). It was honestly an honour to be allowed to interview you.”

She smiled at him.

“I don’t usually allow for written interviews. Too many unknown variables, my words could be twisted much too easily. But I like you. You write well, clearly, and respectfully. You seem to always stick to the truth, no matter the circumstances, and I admire that.”

He felt heat rise up from his neck to the very tips of his ears. He still wasn’t too used to compliments.

“I’m just doing my job. Might as well do it right.”

She smiled.

“Besides, Gwen vouched for you and I trust my COO with my life.”

Ah, yes, Gwen’s recent promotion.

“By the way, do you know why she took the job here? She refuses to tell me, but being best friends with Harry Osborn since childhood, I’d think she’d go work for him.”

He winced.

“Yeah, he thought so too. He pouted and moped for a full week until Gwen told him she wanted to work with you cause you were the smartest and bravest woman she’s ever met. She admired you and your work, still does, and she knew she’d be able to help more people if she worked for you.”

“And how did Mr Osborn react to that?”

To be honest, that’s not something he wants to remember.

“He was sad, she kissed him to make up for it, then they slept together but I avoid the retelling of that like the plague.”

Her jaw dropped.

“They’re together? Why didn’t she tell me this? She told me she was single!”

He snorted. Time to spill some tea.

“Oh, no. Apparently, they’re just friends and the sex is purely platonic. Notice how I said is cause it’s still fucking happening.”

It was honestly quite annoying and he was tired of seeing them skirt around each other instead of being disgustingly adorable.

“So what you’re saying is that we need to play Cupid and get them together?”

He didn’t say that. Hadn’t even thought of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

Playing Cupid implies spending more time together. He’s in.

She took out her phone from her back pocket.

“Here, put your number in, that way we can talk.”

Jackpot!

When he left the building, he’d managed to invite (Y/n) to come for drinks with them on Friday. She hugged him goodbye.

—

He kept repeating to himself that this was probably the worst idea he’s ever had.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from swinging all the way to the Venus Industries Tower, it just made him anxious the whole way.

The article he wrote came out this morning, three days after the interview, and it’s been getting a lot of praise so far. He managed the web-inspired bandages, which the public and medical field seemed very excited about, and figured that maybe he could swing by and help her out a little. Give her his web formula and one of his cartridges.

To be honest, he just really missed her. Friday was nice, but now he hadn’t seen her in two days and he just missed her.

He’s pathetic.

And this is the worst idea in the history of ideas.

He dropped down to the balcony and knocked on the glass. (Y/n) looked up from the reports she was reading through and furrowed her brows in confusion, but still got up and opened the glass door.

“Hello, Dr (Y/l/n).”

“There’s a superhero on my balcony.”

She seemed to still be processing things.

“There’s a spider-themed superhero on my balcony.”

She blinked at him.

He blinked back.

“Did you know I’m deathly afraid of spiders?”

“Oh yeah, me too.”

She burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me that Spider-Man is afraid of spiders?”

He crossed his arms petulantly.

“You try getting bit by one and being on the verge of death for a week, then tell me you’re not scared.”

She kept laughing, despite his explanation. He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Alright, Spidey, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Right! There’s supposed to be a reason why he’s here.

“I read your article. I mean, the article that came out about you. The web bandages.”

Amazing, such a great speech, he’s so good at speaking.

“Oh, right, I mentioned those, didn’t I? Did you come here to copyright it?”

There was a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Actually, I came to give you these.”

He handed her one of his spare web shooters, cartridge already installed, along with a small notebook detailing how they were made, how they worked, and the web formula.

“Oh, my God, are you serious?”

Her eyes were wide as they skimmed over the writings.

“Of course. What you’re doing is amazing and I wanna do anything I can to help.”

She smiled up at him, gratitude making her eyes shine.

“Thank you so much.”

He shrugged.

“I’m just doing my job. Might as well do it right.”

It almost seemed like she recognised him for a moment, but the look was gone from her face before he could be sure.

“Well, you’re pretty good at it.”

A few blocks over, there was a bottle shattering on the floor, followed by a scream. His head turned towards the sound on instinct.

“Go, you have people to save, remember?”

What a terrible thing it is to have to let go of someone you love to save the world.

Whoops, too much.

“Um, just… I’ll be back if you need something.”

She smiled.

“Sure. I’ll call you on your Spider-Mobile.”

He stood up on the railing…

“Bye, Dr (Y/l/n).”

…and swung away.

He still heard her though.

“Stay safe, Peter Parker.”

Now, how the fuck-

167 notes · View notes

libbywrites · 2 years

Text

Might As Well Do It Right

TASM!Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Summary: Peter Parker, a reporter for the New York Times is sent to interview (Y/n) (Y/l/n), the newly appointed CEO of Venus Industries.

Warnings: mentions of the men in charge of big companies being dumbasses.

Word Count: 4k words

Estimated Reading Time: 18 minutes

A/N: Inspired by Lena Luthor from Supergirl and that one Taylor Swift speech.

Masterlist

Alright, deep breaths. You’re a professional, you can do this.

He entered the building and walked toward the front desk with a nervous smile on his face.

“Hi there, sweetheart, how can I help you?”

“I’m Peter Parker with the New York Times, I have an interview scheduled with Dr (Y/l/n) at three?”

Even after a year, saying his title never failed to make him smile. It was years of work leading up to his position, but it was so incredibly worth it.

“Oh, yes! Mr Parker! You can go right on up to the top floor, Debbie’ll let the boss know you’re here. Good luck!”

She handed him a white badge and he smiled awkwardly.

Good luck? Why would he need luck for a normal interview?

This was a normal interview, right?

Right?

“Uh, good afternoon.”

She looked up from her desk and smiled at him.

“Mr Parker from the NYT, right?”

At his nod, she got up from the desk, took the pile of folders, and motioned for him to follow.

“Miss (Y/l/n), your three o’clock’s here.”

“Oh, right, Mr Parker. Let him in.”

She nodded.

“Check my calendar and get me the earliest afternoon free to go down there, reschedule some things if need be. Thank you, Deborah, you can go.”

“You’re nervous.”

Well, obviously. Who wouldn’t be nervous when faced with the youngest woman in New York history to run a multi-million dollar empire?

“A little.”

She smiled brightly and got up, showcasing her light grey suit and lavender silk shirt. Her heels clicked on the floor.

“Don’t be. I don’t bite unless asked to. Come sit, we’ll be more comfortable. Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, water?”

He sat down on one of the two leather couches facing each other and separated by a glass coffee table.

“Um, I’ll take a cup of tea, thank you.”

(Y/n) came back with two cups of tea, a bowl of sugar, and some milk in a chilled glass pitcher.

“I’ll let you make it to your taste.”

He nodded and put two cubes of sugar in his cup. She only put a splash of milk. Maybe a habit she picked up at boarding school?

“It’s Yorkshire, by the way. We used to drink it all the time back in England and it’s a pleasure I’ve never quite been able to give up.”

Point for Peter, then.

“Thank you for following the rules, then. Most reporters put up a much longer fight.”

He shrugged.

“I was lucky enough to be granted an interview with you, I shouldn’t disrespect you or put that in jeopardy by not following some simple guidelines.”

It seemed obvious to him. She smiled and took a sip from her cup, crossing her legs.

“We can start whenever, I have the rest of the day free.”

He nodded.

“So, Dr (Y/l/n)-”

“Shouldn’t you turn on that fancy recorder of yours before starting? Also, you can just call me (Y/n), I don’t mind.”

Right. Recorder. He forgot about that. He pressed the start button.

“Right, um, (Y/n), then. Let’s just go over your upbringing first, if that’s alright with you, so I can make sure I have all my facts right.”

He flipped to the first page of his notebook.

He looked up from his notebook to see her smile proudly at her own accomplishments.

“I guess my first question would be, are you absolutely positive that you’re human?”

She laughed brightly and he was instantly more at ease. Making jokes, discussing important topics, this he could do.

“Well, I am as far as I know, but I suppose there’s no concrete proof, so who knows?”

He smiled and moved on to the next question.

“What pushed you to your father’s company as opposed to your mother’s firm? Did you always know you wanted to take this path or was it influenced by your brother’s choice to follow law?”

She smacked her lips.

He couldn’t help but let the excitement bleed into his voice.

She nodded.

He wrote down questions as they came up, not wanting to interrupt her.

That set him off into a coughing fit. He was not aware of that.

“Sorry, just caught me by surprise a little. Webs, you say?”

What the fuck?

Wait, wait, wait… She thinks the webs come out of him?”

“Well, are we even sure his body naturally produces the webs? Maybe he also makes the webs himself?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“That would mean he’d have to be exceptionally smart as well as have access to high-end components. And he’d need somewhere to store them.”

Fuck, is she getting suspicious?

“I think I prefer that answer. I mean, if the webs come out of his body, does that mean they come out of like… everywhere?”

She snorted into her tea and he internally cheered. Disaster avoided.

She scoffed.

There’s a decent chance that he might be in love with her.

“Are there any companies that you know have followed in your footsteps?”

She nodded.

“When you say in this industry-”

“An industry that’s mainly comprised of cisgender, heterosexual, middle-aged, prejudiced, and highly narcissistic white males.”

Well, that’s that. But that ties in nicely with his next line of questioning.

“What would you say are the main difficulties that come with being a young woman in charge of a scientific research and development company?”

She sipped her tea.

“The blatant sexism in not only this industry, but the entire world, is the reason there are so few good people in positions of power.”

He nodded.

“So the mere fact that you’re a woman puts you at a huge disadvantage.”

“Exactly.”

He couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, claiming what bullshit that is, which made her snort into her tea.

“So, now that you’ve taken over as CEO, you’re less involved in the inventing and developing and more in the general upkeep of the company…”

He saw her tense up almost imperceptibly, probably expecting her abilities to be questioned.

“Do you miss it? Being in the lab all day, not having to worry about anything other than your creation?”

She laughed brightly, then sighed.

His eyes strayed to the wall, decorated with all sorts of drawings. He noticed that most names were different, an age written next to them.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I’m going totally off-script here, but who are all those drawings from?”

She seemed to light up, eyes shining like fireworks.

Well, that’s absolutely adorable.

“You also have several protest signs, flags, photographs…”

He smiled.

“They squirm so prettily, right?”

She grinned mischievously and leaned forward in her seat a bit.

“And when they try to defend themselves? Deny it? Oh, delicious!”

They laughed together and he felt himself blush a little. It was bound to happen to be fair. Beautiful girl, smart, kind, and loyal to a fault? How could he not develop a bit of a crush?

“I suppose I only have one question left for you, then. Is there something you’d like the world to know? About you or your company?”

Her brows furrowed in thought, worrying her lip between her teeth. Peter had to stare at the succulents behind her lest he get…distracted.

He finished his notes, making sure he’d put a link to the list of offered help in the article, before clicking his pen and shutting his notebook. He reached forward and turned off the recorder.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity, (Y/n). It was honestly an honour to be allowed to interview you.”

She smiled at him.

He felt heat rise up from his neck to the very tips of his ears. He still wasn’t too used to compliments.

“I’m just doing my job. Might as well do it right.”

She smiled.

“Besides, Gwen vouched for you and I trust my COO with my life.”

Ah, yes, Gwen’s recent promotion.

“By the way, do you know why she took the job here? She refuses to tell me, but being best friends with Harry Osborn since childhood, I’d think she’d go work for him.”

He winced.

“And how did Mr Osborn react to that?”

To be honest, that’s not something he wants to remember.

“He was sad, she kissed him to make up for it, then they slept together but I avoid the retelling of that like the plague.”

Her jaw dropped.

“They’re together? Why didn’t she tell me this? She told me she was single!”

He snorted. Time to spill some tea.

“Oh, no. Apparently, they’re just friends and the sex is purely platonic. Notice how I said is cause it’s still fucking happening.”

It was honestly quite annoying and he was tired of seeing them skirt around each other instead of being disgustingly adorable.

“So what you’re saying is that we need to play Cupid and get them together?”

He didn’t say that. Hadn’t even thought of it.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

Playing Cupid implies spending more time together. He’s in.

She took out her phone from her back pocket.

“Here, put your number in, that way we can talk.”

Jackpot!

When he left the building, he’d managed to invite (Y/n) to come for drinks with them on Friday. She hugged him goodbye.

—

He kept repeating to himself that this was probably the worst idea he’s ever had.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him from swinging all the way to the Venus Industries Tower, it just made him anxious the whole way.

To be honest, he just really missed her. Friday was nice, but now he hadn’t seen her in two days and he just missed her.

He’s pathetic.

And this is the worst idea in the history of ideas.

He dropped down to the balcony and knocked on the glass. (Y/n) looked up from the reports she was reading through and furrowed her brows in confusion, but still got up and opened the glass door.

“Hello, Dr (Y/l/n).”

“There’s a superhero on my balcony.”

She seemed to still be processing things.

“There’s a spider-themed superhero on my balcony.”

She blinked at him.

He blinked back.

“Did you know I’m deathly afraid of spiders?”

“Oh yeah, me too.”

She burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me that Spider-Man is afraid of spiders?”

He crossed his arms petulantly.

“You try getting bit by one and being on the verge of death for a week, then tell me you’re not scared.”

She kept laughing, despite his explanation. He couldn’t find it in himself to be mad.

“Alright, Spidey, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Right! There’s supposed to be a reason why he’s here.

“I read your article. I mean, the article that came out about you. The web bandages.”

Amazing, such a great speech, he’s so good at speaking.

“Oh, right, I mentioned those, didn’t I? Did you come here to copyright it?”

There was a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Actually, I came to give you these.”

He handed her one of his spare web shooters, cartridge already installed, along with a small notebook detailing how they were made, how they worked, and the web formula.

“Oh, my God, are you serious?”

Her eyes were wide as they skimmed over the writings.

“Of course. What you’re doing is amazing and I wanna do anything I can to help.”

She smiled up at him, gratitude making her eyes shine.

“Thank you so much.”

He shrugged.

“I’m just doing my job. Might as well do it right.”

It almost seemed like she recognised him for a moment, but the look was gone from her face before he could be sure.

“Well, you’re pretty good at it.”

A few blocks over, there was a bottle shattering on the floor, followed by a scream. His head turned towards the sound on instinct.

“Go, you have people to save, remember?”

What a terrible thing it is to have to let go of someone you love to save the world.

Whoops, too much.

“Um, just… I’ll be back if you need something.”

She smiled.

“Sure. I’ll call you on your Spider-Mobile.”

He stood up on the railing…

“Bye, Dr (Y/l/n).”

…and swung away.

He still heard her though.

“Stay safe, Peter Parker.”

Now, how the fuck-

#libby writes #tasm!peter parker x reader

167 notes · View notes

libbywrites · 2 years

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And They Lived Happily Ever After

Epilogue of the (Y/n) Lively-Reynolds series

Tom Holland x Singer/Actress!Lively-Reynolds!Reader

Summary: (Y/n) Lively-Reynolds and Tom Holland get their happily ever after. It goes about as well as you can imagine it.

Warnings: uuh the end there got a bit on the steamy side so just some nice like snogging and plenty mentions of honeymoon sex and nudity, but otherwise you’re good, switching POVs so you’ll get to see everyone appreciating their love, and you’ll get to see the ceremony from so many people’s eyes, including some you haven’t seen yet ;)

Word Count: 3.4k words

Estimated Reading Time: 15 minutes

A/N: I’m not crying, you’re crying, shut up. This is a really emotional moment for me. My second series is finally over!! I started this accidentally, and it took me ages to finish, but I don’t regret a single second of it. It brought me so much happiness, and I loved reading your thoughts and comments as time went on. I only hope you guys enjoyed it as much as I did <3 Just wanna send a million thank you’s to @the-girl-in-the-chair for being my test person and the one I could always talk to when it comes to this series, I love you so much Lana, you’re the beeest

I was picturing this dress (mostly cause it has pocketssss) so if you want a visual, here you go)

Also very important: the vows in this were inspired by the PA Series on AO3 and honestly check it out cause it’s just awesome and those are my relationship goals right there

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Alright, sweetheart, deep breaths, everything’s gonna be alright.”

She follows her mother’s instructions, taking in shaky gulps of air.

Breathe in, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Breathe out, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

“Feeling better?”

She nods slowly, then immediately shakes her head.

“No, this is a disaster!”

Blake finally gives up on keeping her dress unwrinkled, sitting down on the floor next to her.

“Angel, everything’s gonna be alright, I don’t even know why you’re freaking out so much. You’re marrying your best friend. You two love each other so much, and you’re gonna be so happy, there’s nothing to worry about.”

She sniffles.

“But there are so many people, Mommy. And they’re all gonna be looking at me. You know I’m not good at the mushy stuff when I have eyes on me, they make me nervous. This is supposed to be perfect, and instead, we had to invite a hoard of insignificant Suits and entitled bitches, all for business. We already give them so much, why couldn’t we just keep this to ourselves?”

She sighs, and brings her daughter closer to her body, crushing her in a hug.

“Cause the world sucks, and it’s all part of the business. You and Tom have been on a break from acting for three months now, and you’ll stay there for another year at the very least. These Suits like to feel like they’re important, and inviting them to events like these keeps up a good relationship for when you come back.

“Besides, who cares about them? You’ll have to shake their hands once at the reception when you’re making your rounds and then it’s over. Don’t let a handful of idiots ruin the best day of your life.”

(Y/n) nods, gently wiping at her eyes, then crawls until she’s in front of the mirror.

“Well, at least we know the waterproof makeup works.”

Blake just smiles.

—

When Ryan first sees (Y/n) he has to pinch his thigh to keep himself from outright sobbing.

“Hey, no! No, no, no, you’re not allowed to cry, because if you cry, I cry, and if I cry, I’ll trip on my dress. These heels are tall, keep yourself together for both our sakes.”

It’s hard, it’s very hard, that’s his little girl, his sweet little daffodil, and she’s gonna sail off into the sunset with the love of her life.

“Alright, let’s do this shit. Try not to fall.”

He’s glad to see that Tom starts crying the second he sees her, so really it isn’t emotional weakness as much as it is the (Y/n) In A Wedding Dress Effect™.

(Y/n) manages to stay composed the whole walk, although her eyes are shining quite a lot.

“Thomas, if you hurt her, I will do something so unspeakably cruel to you that Satan himself will shudder.”

Tom looks at him with a face full of betrayal.

“What if she hurts me?”

“Oh, she most certainly will, you’re much more emotionally fragile than she is. That’s why I know that if you hurt her, it’ll be over something big, and therefore I’m legally allowed to fuck you up.”

(Y/n) kisses his cheek happily.

“Thank you, Daddy, the shovel talk was long overdue.”

It was actually part two of the shovel talk: wedding edition, but she doesn’t need to know that.

—

Taylor reaches into her purse and passes Harry a tissue, eyes still focused on the happy couple in the front.

This is it, right here.

The way (Y/n)’s looking at Tom like he’s the second coming of Christ. Tom rubbing his thumbs on her hands cause he just can’t stop touching her. The way they keep tapping each other three times, an endless loop of I love you I love you I love you.

This is what she’s been trying so hard to describe her whole life.

It gets her a little emotional…to remember the little girl who used to gape at her, and who’s now a badass independent woman marrying the person of her dreams.

It’s a lot.

And if she feels like she’s one strong gust of wind away from an emotional breakdown, she can’t even imagine how Blake and Ryan are faring.

“I understand that you’ve written your own vows. Tom, if you’d like to go first…”

He nods and clears his throat, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before grabbing (Y/n)’s again.

“Do you remember the night we met? When you were crying over a movie and I took you to Burger King to cheer you up?”

She rolls her eyes and Taylor can relate, honestly. The whole world knows that story at this point.

“Vividly.”

He smiles so softly that Taylor’s itching to pull out her notebook and start writing.

“I’ve never told you how I fell in love with you. I always told myself I’d tell you the story in our wedding vows, so here it is. From the moment we left the afterparty, you kept ranting about the movie, about how it’s gonna end, about your theories… And I loved listening to them. There was one moment though, where you just took a huge bite out of your cheeseburger, while mid-rant… and on everyone else, that would’ve looked disgusting, but your eyes were shining so bright, and you were giving me your full attention and that…that was when I knew I loved you. And I would keep loving you for the rest of my life, 'cause there’s no one else in the world who could pull me in as completely as you do, even though there was ketchup dripping down your chin.”

(Y/n) blinks back tears, eyes wide.

“Oh, you fucker.”

That’s love, Taylor’s sure of it.

—

Now, to be perfectly honest, Harrison thinks those vows were shit.

Seriously?

You looked disgusting but I still thought you were hot?

That’s his big wedding speech?

As the good Best Man he is, he’s considering smacking Tom upside the head and making him start over.

He’s not expecting (Y/n) to like it to the point of tears, though.

Like, I’m sorry, but what the fuck?

He’s lucky he’s an actor cause no ordinary person would’ve been able to keep the confusion out of their face, and you don’t want a hoard of confused people on your wedding pictures.

(Y/n)’s turn now, and hopefully, she’ll do better.

“I promise that your ability to cook, clean, and remind me to eat only make up sixty per cent of why I’m marrying you.”

Harrison has to fight back the urge to sigh and facepalm.

“I wasn’t planning on liking you, let alone falling as deeply in love with you as I did. My plan was to hate you, make all my fans hate you, and do it fast enough that Marvel would have no choice but to replace you with Andrew again.”

From the audience, Andrew laughs.

“But unfortunately for me, you’re not easy to hate, and let me tell you, I tried really hard. You slithered your way into my heart like a particularly stubborn snake and I had no choice but to let you carve out your home within me and prepare myself for the inevitable heartbreak.

“That still hasn’t happened. For some reason, you’ve chosen to ignore the fact that I’m a barely-functioning sarcastic bitch whose favourite way of showing love is through insults and slaps on the ass.

“I don’t know why you chose me, and I expect I’ll be thanking every deity out there for the rest of eternity for putting you in my life, but I know that I couldn’t have chosen a better partner if I had tried.”

She pauses, and Harrison thinks that maybe, just maybe, at least one of them will have said nice vows.

“Also there’s no way I’m gonna live in a world where I can’t bite your ass on the daily, so you better say I do or I’ll end you.”

And he spoke too soon.

Tom still reaches behind him to grab the tissues Harrison was told to bring. Maybe his best friend was dropped on the head as a child, so now everything makes him emotional.

—

Nikki keeps her eyes firmly on her son and daughter-in-law as they flit around the room greeting their guests. She and Blake have made it into a game of sorts.

Every time (Y/n) wipes her hands on her dress after shaking hands with a Suit, Tom pulls her back by the waist, or the happy couple are asked to kiss, they take a sip of the very expensive and very tasty red wine provided for them.

The sound of clinking glasses feels the air once again and Blake tilts her glass.

“Bottoms up!”

And that’s one more glass finished. How far along are they now? Five? Six? She looks around at the empty bottles. Maybe a little bit more.

“Oh, my God, I’m so glad it’s over if I had to deal with another second of that, this wedding would have turned into a remake of Saw!”

(Y/n) slumps down heavily onto the chair, toeing off her heels until she can bring her knees to her chest and lean on the backrest.

“Why did we have to have a wedding? We should’ve just eloped. It would just be us, maybe I’d fly us out to Iceland and we could get married in a hot spring, I’m sure the water would do wonders to relax us, no?”

Nikki fills up her glass and hands it to (Y/n), who immediately downs it.

“Look on the bright side, tomorrow morning, you’ll be on a flight to Syros and one step closer to a full month spent only with your husband and the inordinate amount of cats on that island.”

Nikki’s been there. It’s amazing. They should plan a family holiday there.

“I agree.”

Oh, she’s talking out loud now.

“Yes, you are. But Nikki!”

(Y/n)’s eyes brighten, and she feels her arm get grabbed and pulled towards her brand new daughter-in-law.

“You said husband. I have a husband, I’m married!”

Yes, if someone had to marry her sweet little boy, she’s glad it was someone like (Y/n).

—

“And now, please gather around to watch Mr and Mrs Holland have their first dance as a married couple.”

While they get into place, Harry shares a look with his own husband, sitting primly at the piano, staring back at him.

When (Y/n) and Tom first came to them, shily asking them to sing If I Could Fly as their wedding song, Harry burst into tears. He just loves love, and to be a part of something as monumental as a first dance-

He really should have said no cause Louis just started playing and Harry’s already having a hard time holding back tears.

But the way Tom and (Y/n) stare at each other- that’s how he stares at Louis. And it’s the look he sees reflected back in his husband’s eyes every second of the day.

Love is just such a beautiful thing.

For your eyes only I’ll show you my heartFor when you’re lonely and forget who you areI’m missing half of me when we’re apartNow you know me, for your eyes only

He feels privileged to even be in the same room as them. It’s no secret that (Y/n)’s fiercely private. She loves, deeply and wholeheartedly, but not for others to see. She loves each person in their own special way, pieces of her heart are cut, shaped, and fitted to fit her feelings for everyone around her. But her love for Tom as it’s shown today is a sight to behold.

It’s the sun after long dreary weeks. It’s the first flower bloom after months of cold, harsh weather. It’s seeing the stars out in the countryside after a life spent in the city.

It’s fragile. It’s new. It’s special. It’s lovely.

Harry loves love, but he thinks that right now, he may love their love the most.

—

Georgia takes yet another sip of the very expensive but very tasty champagne offered.

To be honest, she didn’t want to come. Weddings are boring, if not for the open bar, and knowing that she isn’t really welcomed here isn’t making her feel particularly better. I mean, she’s met (Y/n) all of once and they mostly trash-talked the Kardashians, she can’t have made an important enough impression to be an esteemed guest.

But, the Lighthavens are an important family in the film industry, earning them an invite to the most awaited event of the year, and it would look bad if someone didn’t show up to represent them.

Still, being twenty-seven and single, there are many things she’d rather do than sit by the open bar getting smothered by other couples’ happiness while she wallows in her own misery.

“Whiskey sour, please.”

He turns towards her.

“And refill the kind lady’s glass.”

Oh, goodie.

She barely spares him a glance, eyes still focused on (Y/n), flitting around the room.

“Enjoying the wedding?”

She shrugs.

“It’s entertaining.”

He puts a hand on his heart in fake offence.

“Ouch. As the Best Man, it’s my job to ensure everyone’s having the time of their lives, so tell me, what can I do to make this night more enjoyable for you?”

She turns towards him, taking in the ruffled blonde hair, white shirt sleeves folded up to his forearms, vest and tie discarded somewhere.

“Actually, your job is to stop any upcoming crisis so the groom doesn’t get blamed and inevitably murdered by his newly-aquired wife.”

She steals the whiskey from his hand and starts drinking it. He blinks dazedly but dutifully orders another.

“Your unhappiness could quickly become a crisis, though. As much as she hates to admit it, (Y/n) doesn’t like it when people are miserable, especially when she’s having so much fun.”

She sighs.

“Do you know who I am?”

Panic shoots through Harrison’s eyes. It’s fleeting, and it’s subtle, but it’s real.

“Am I supposed to?”

Interesting.

“You’re telling the truth.”

He shrugs.

“(Y/n)’s motivated me to be more honest, although I can’t quite see the benefits she’s always raved about as of yet.”

She smirks into her glass.

“You genuinely have no idea who I am.”

A single mention of him from her lips and his acting career would shoot through the roof.

“I’m sorry. Although from how happy you look, maybe I’m not?”

“What’s it gonna be?”

He’s saved by the bell.

“All the unmarried people out on the floor I wanna see which unlucky bastard will have all grandmas pinching their cheeks and cooing cause they're next.”

A collective groan was heard throughout the crowd.

“If it helps, there’s a hundred-dollar bill in the bouquet that you can keep.”

That got people moving.

Harrison takes a look at her ring finger.

“Not gonna join?”

“If you out me as single, I’ll end you, there’s no way I’m doing this.”

He shrugs.

“Suit yourself. I’ll be back as soon as I’ve broken whatever fight will undoubtedly come from this bouquet tossing.”

He stands on the sideline, ready to stop things from escalating.

The bouquet lands in his hands.

(Y/n) squeals.

“Oh, fuck yeah! Even with my back turned my aim is impeccable.”

Tom pushes him forward when Harrison’s reluctant to move and whispers something in his ear.

Georgia doesn’t break eye contact while he walks towards her and takes a lavender rose out of the bouquet.

“Here. It matches your dress.”

Alright so maybe weddings aren’t that bad.

—

It’s a testament to his patience that Tom waited until the hotel door is closed before pressing (Y/n) up against the wall and getting started on his Wedding Night Ravishing.

“Fuck, I can’t believe we actually pulled it off.”

She mumbles through their kisses and to be fair, he kind of can’t either.

“I swear to God- we got him the perfect fucking girl- if he doesn’t invite Georgia on a date- fuck, baby- I’ll kill him myself.”

He starts trailing kisses down her neck, slowly unzipping her wedding dress.

It’s pretty, and it’s special, and it has pockets, he’s not gonna rip it, thank you very much, he wants to have ‘just got married’ sex tonight.

“Georgia’s a tough one to get to, you said it yourself. He’ll have to work for it.”

She pulls his hair harshly until they’re eye to eye and he moans. His pupils are probably about as blown as hers right about now.

“You had to work for me.”

He licks his lips and her eyes trail on the movement, mouth falling open unconsciously.

“And what a good fucking decision that was.”

And if there’s one thing that never fails to get her going, it’s that.

“How loud do you think you can make me scream before the other residents complain?”

Challenge fucking accepted.

—

(Y/n) lowers her sunglasses a tad, wanting to take in her husband in all his blazing glory, no filter in between them.

Whoever invented honeymoons was a fucking saint. One month of a near-constantly naked Tom more than eager to fuck her into the nearest solid surface made for a very happy (Y/n).

Currently, she’s sunbathing on a pool chair with a mimosa while Tom is swimming laps in the pool. Or was. Now he’s getting out and the water’s trailing down every single inch of him and suddenly she’s not as thirsty for champagne and orange juice-

“Princess, are you listening?”

Her eyes flit back up to his face.

“Don’t ask me the colour of anything, this isn’t fair, you’re distracting.”

He chuckles and climbs over her, tasting the mimosas right out of her mouth.

“I’m distracting? You’re distracting! Do you know how hard it was to swim my usual laps while you’re just laying here, happy and calm and naked and mine?”

She grins smugly.

“I can feel how hard it was, yeah. I’d ask if you’re up for it, but I kind of already got that answer, so you should just hurry and get it in.”

For a few more glorious seconds, she gets lost in the kiss and in his hands moving along her body, getting so close, so close-

“No, but actually I did get out of the pool for a reason.”

In the back of her mind, she remembers Harry in that one concert saying this is called edging after stopping Kiwi for the millionth time, and the way Tom grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him, smiling in interest.

If she weren’t such a good person, she would have kicked him in the balls for that.

Unfortunately, she needs those, so.

“Haz got a date with Georgia.”

Her jaw drops open and she slaps his arm happily.

“What the fuck, are you serious? Tom! This means it worked! We got them together! We’re the best fucking matchmakers in the world!”

Tom chuckles and flips them over until she’s straddling him, running his hands from her knees to her waist, where they dig in just a little.

Great idea, if you ask her.

“Calm down, darling, it’s just one date.”

She hums.

“That’s what I said about you, and now look at where we are. We’re married and on our honeymoon.”

His eyes all but sparkle at that.

“We are. We’re married. I’m your husband, and you’re my wife, and we’re married.”

She leans down, can’t stop herself from snogging his face off when he looks so sweet and happy at the prospect of spending eternity by her side.

“And we’re gonna live happily ever after, right?”

“And we’re gonna live happily ever after, princess.”

#libby writes #the (y/n) lively reynolds series #tynlrs

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