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sunrisespidey · 5 years

Text

ceo!tom

pairing: tom holland x reader

summary: ceo!tom falls in love with smoothie-loving intern, y/n

word count: 5.9k im sorry

a/n: i’m literally never writing shit like this again wtf?? the ending is so rushed and i’m rlly sorry but i got so bored of this i just wanted it out and done with. it was 14 pages on google docs bye

it’s a different style that i usually write in, but i wanted to branch out so idk let me know what you thought about it?

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP! I WORKED ON THIS FOR LIKE A WEEK

warnings: swearing, long read, and unedited

masterlist ♡

Y/N’s made a mistake.

Or at least, that’s what she thinks, staring up at the daunting skyscraper that towered before her, with the large Holland and Co. sign glinting under the bright glare of the sun. How had she ended up here? Her, a struggling college student, and yet here she was, interning at one of the biggest business firms in England. It really didn’t add up. It’s all been a blur. She remembers getting the phone call, being told to arrive at, and she quotes, “7AM on the dot, tardiness will not be tolerated”, and it’s almost as though she’s reliving high school all over again, only this time around, her future is actually on the line.

Which is probably why she’d dragged herself out of bed at 4 in the morning, and then proceeded to spend an hour pep talking herself in the mirror. Was it too late to back out now? She figures if she turns back and leaves, she can probably make it back to her apartment in 20 minutes flat, and then she can call in faking an illness or whatnot. After that, she can stay in, snuggled up to her cat, Dusty, and stay curled up in front of her tv with a warm mug of hot cocoa in her hands and an episode of The Office playing quietly in the background. (This, she decides, smiling internally, is her ideal day.) She’s almost ready to give in, leaning back to book it, the idea of leaving almost too enticing. Instead, she finds herself placing one foot in front of the other. Y/N doesn’t even know what motivates her to take that step forward, the step that began to lead her to those terrifying glass doors, but she’s managed to take a second step, then a third, a fourth, and—

A rush of warmth surrounds her, sending a shiver through her body, and she immediately misses the cold outdoor winds that previously nipped at her ears. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever wanted to venture back out into the cold winter as much as she does at this moment. Her eyes stay trained on the ground, and she dreads the moment she’ll have to inevitably look up, so she doesn’t. Instead, she studies the marble floors (they’re really nice, she should consider investing in something similar, she thinks), until she hears a voice, practically coated with sugar, pipe up.

“Excuse me, Miss?” Her head whips up, swallowing nervously, and she’s greeted by a lady who looks to be in her mid-twenties with a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face (fake, no doubt, but really, who was she to judge?), head tilted in concern. “Are you lost?”

She considers saying no just to turn back around rather than face the fire, but she steels her nerves and sends her an abashed smile. “Yeah, I am. Would you mind helping me?” And Y/N nearly cringes at her attempts to be polite but continues anyways. “I’m an intern, Y/N Y/L/N?”

She isn’t really listening when the receptionist lady answers, and she knows she should’ve, but she listens to the lady drone on, the same smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes glued to her face, and Y/N wonders what kind of toothpaste she uses to whiten. Somehow, Y/N finds herself being whisked away and up into the elevator, where she finally starts paying attention long enough to meet a kind woman who she remembers is named Nadine and would be her shadow for her time at Holland and Co.

She listens attentively (or at least she tries), as Nadine gives her a tour of the floor, and she can’t help but wish that she brought along a strawberry smoothie. She ends up so lost in thought that she nearly stumbles into Nadine after she stops abruptly, and Y/N peeks around her to see what’s happened. She’s startled when the noise reaches her ears, and she realizes that it’s a grown man backing away slowly from an office, pleading for someone to rethink their decision.

“Please, Mr. Holland, I’ll do better next time, please—” Y/N hears the slam before she sees it, yelping quietly at the shock of it, the noise still reverberating through the office. Her eyes blow wide, mouth gaping. She hopes she never comes in contact with this Mr. Holland.

Y/N finds that the tour ends quickly after that.

It’s not that Tom’s a cruel person.

He doesn’t jerk off to the thought of firing employees — he’s most certainly not a masochist — it’s just that he works with absolute morons. So really, what’s he supposed to do when some twat from accounting screws up some simple numbers that cost his company 10,000 pounds? (it’s not like his company can’t afford it, but the thought still makes a scowl form on his face) The only reasonable choice he can make is to fire the man, and it certainly isn’t his fault if the twit stumbles out of his office blubbering about how he’ll do better. And it definitely isn’t his fault if a cute, smoothie-loving intern witnesses the whole thing, because why does it matter if a bloody intern is afraid of him? (at least, that’s what he tries to convince himself)

(spoiler alert: it doesn’t work)

It’s day two, and Y/N thinks she’s made some friends.

She’s promised to bring each of them a smoothie (“They’re the light of my life,” she’d said, “can’t live without ‘em.”), which explains why she’s currently juggling four smoothies, one for herself and each of her new friends and, Sarah, Jacqueline, and Mike, while arriving at work at 6:50 in the morning. She’s so focused on carrying the drinks, eyeing each one with a careful precision that she fails to see the man donning a crisp suit (expensive. Gucci, maybe?), and a stern expression on his face, walking in front of her. She doesn’t realize that he’s been eyeing her the entire time, face softened into an unusual smile, rarely seen around the office. And she definitely doesn’t notice when he stops walking — at least, not until it was too late.

It all happens in slow motion to Y/N. She watches, helpless, as the smoothies in her hand tipped, and as Tom Holland, CEO of Holland and Co., turned around to be met with not one, nor two, nor three, but four strawberry smoothies. His mouth gapes, and hers does too, a quiet but sharp “oh fuck,” spilling from her lips. She stands, motionless, for less than a second before she’s sprung in motion, leaping for the nearest towels, endless apologies spewing from her lips.

This is it. Months of effort to even be considered for this position, and she’s fucked it up on the second day.

Y/N waits, eyes closed, preparing for the inevitable blow of being fired, the humiliation she’d face (god knows the entire floor was already staring at them wide-eyed), but to her surprise, it never comes. Instead, the towels are plucked from her hands, and her eyes snap open to be met with the prettiest face she thinks she’s ever come across, amusement flitting through their eyes.

“Don’t do that again, yeah, love?” And he’s gone, strolling away from her stunned form, so casually that Y/N wonders how he can ignore the smoothie dripping off his suit so easily. The rest of the floor stare after him as well, each of them with eyes blown wide and mouths hanging open.

Tom has no idea what just happened.

He’s got smoothie dripping from his suit that — mind you — was quite possibly one of his most expensive clothing investments, and he’s not even that angry about it. He isn’t really sure what had happened. He remembers looking over at the intern, Y/N, he remembers (and god, was she adorable), and then suddenly being drenched in a thick, gooey substance that suspiciously smelled like strawberries. Had it been anybody else, Tom’s sure they’d be out of his company faster than they could blink. But there was something about Y/N that captivated him, and he isn’t sure he’d be able to handle firing her over such a trivial mistake (of course, he’s fired employees over less, but he dismisses that thought). So instead, he’d strolled away as casually and as quickly as he possibly could force himself to act, trying to disguise the red blush that would’ve surely risen to his cheeks and turned his ears a bright, piercing red. His heart had pounded in his chest, so loud he wonders if Y/N had heard it, and as soon as he was out of sight, he’d darted into his office and shut the door.

His heart is still pounding in his chest, and he has no idea how some intern he’s never even said more than three sentences to can have such an impact on him. (Tom almost considers turning to Harrison for advice, but he would prefer not to be called a sap for the rest of his life) So, he strips himself of his smoothie-soaked suit jacket and prays to avoid any future interaction with Y/N.

Of course, Tom’s wish refused to come true, because the next morning, walking into the building, he bumps into her again.

Well, not literally. He’s strolling leisurely into the warm building, shooting a tight-lipped smile to the receptionist who always seemed to be showing a ridiculous amount of cleavage whenever he came around when he hears his name being called and the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning around, he crosses his fingers desperately, hoping that it was some other employee — preferably one that didn’t make his heart skip a beat at the mere thought of them.

But he’s still met with the sight of Y/N running through the doors of the building, regardless of his desperate wishes. It only takes a few seconds for her to catch up to his still figure, and when she does, she bends over, panting with her hands resting on her knees.

“Holy fu— sorry, language. M’so out of shape,” Y/N heaves, straightening up and wiping at her head, “you’re so fast, wow—” Tom finds himself unable to respond, head dizzy from her presence. He’s pretty sure if she knew he was taking such deep breaths because she smelled so oddly intoxicating, she’d call him a creep and run away and never speak to him ever again. He thinks she smells like vanilla, which is so common that he wonders how she can make it work so well, and—

“Mr. Holland?” Y/N’s hand waves in front of his face, and Tom snaps out of his daydream to muster up a charming smile for her. “Were you listening?”

Tom hums, nodding his head to show he was interested — a common courtesy. She shot him a suspicious glance but returned his smile nonetheless. “Well,” she started, clapping her hands together, “I brought you something — to say sorry for spilling my smoothies on you yesterday.” Tom doesn’t really know what to expect, but as she reaches into her purse, he’s definitely not expecting her to pull out a small pastry wrapped in a Greggs wrapper, neatly folded into a small rectangle.

“It’s a sausage roll,” Y/N explains, pushing it into his hands, “from Greggs. I just love their sausage rolls, and I just passed one as I was pulling into work, so I thought I’d buy you one as an apology.” At this point, he’s working overtime to not consciously drool over the sausage roll in his hands, because he’s sure that Y/N would run for the hills if she saw him so unprofessional.

So, he musters up a polite nod, a smile, and a: “Thank you, love.” And she takes that as her cue to scurry off, with a wave to the receptionist who’s not so inconspicuously scowling at her, and she’s out of Tom’s sight.

He stares after her until she’s completely out of his sight, and when she’s gone, he breathes a sigh of relief.

He’s got an issue on his hands.

---

When Y/N tells her new friends about the traumatic incident that had occurred the previous day, she finds that they’ve taken to staring at her in awe, because holy shit, you’ve spilt four smoothies on the most temperamental CEO in the business and yet you’re still here. (how reassuring. mind the sarcasm.)

“Are you joking?” Mike stares at Y/N, mouth open so wide that Y/N’s curious if his jaw is achy yet. “If that were me, I would’ve been fired quicker than I could’ve said sorry. And he called you ‘love’ too? Man, you’ve got him wrapped around your little pinky finger.” (Y/N’s sure they’re just saying this to make her feel better — after all, it’s not every day you spill four smoothies on a multi-millionaire CEO)

“I bet Mr. Holland’s got the hots for you,” Sarah whispers, turning her head to make sure nobody important is in earshot (because anything can set Mr. Holland off, really), “you could probably bust up all of his cars and he’d smile at you, babe.”

“Yeah,” Jacqueline butts in, and Y/N sends her a frown because this entire time they’d been talking, Jacqueline had been quietly filing papers (or at least that’s what Y/N thought), only to realize she’d actually been listening in the entire time, “Mr. Holland likes you— like, like likes you.”

Y/N snorts, sending Jacqueline an unamused stare. “What is this, middle school? M’sure he’s just being nice, s’all.”

Sarah scoffs, raising her eyebrows disbelievingly. “Yeah, right, and I’m a millionaire,” she jokes sarcastically, glancing at Y/N with a lopsided grin on her face. “Trust me. Mr. Holland is anything but nice.”

But Y/N can’t seem to believe that. Surely, he wasn’t that horrible, right?

Days pass and Tom hasn’t seen Y/N in a while, and although he has to admit that popping out a stiffy in the middle of a business proposal at the thought of her isn’t the most enticing, he’s starting to miss her. (of course, the only interaction he’s truly had with her is the disaster that cost him a fortune at the dry cleaners, but he still admires her from afar in the least stalker-y way possible)

Most employees would find it beneficial to have the least contact with Tom as possible. It’s been a bit of a known fact that when called into his office, chances are, they’d be leaving with their belongings in a box. So when Nadine, her supervisor, tells Y/N that he’d like to see her in his office, (and in a very loud tone, at that, so now she’s got the whole office staring after her as she shamefully trudges to Tom’s office) she’s quite terrified. She’d only heard horror stories about what went on in his office, and she’s really come to love the company and crosses her fingers and toes that he isn’t going to terminate her internship. (maybe, Y/N thinks, Tom changed his mind about the smoothie incident. Or even worse, he hated the sausage rolls)

So needless to say, Y/N is just about ready to piss herself pushing open the door to his office, because she remembers what happened on her first day and she has no desire to receive the same treatment. As soon as she sees Tom, sitting in his office chair sorting a few papers, she’s already immediately blurting out a plea.

“If you’re going to fire me, please just make it quick.” Tom’s face twists into one of confusion, and he chuckles. (my god, was she dense.)

“Fire you?” He laughed, placing the papers to the side. “The opposite, actually. When your internship finishes, I was going to offer you a permanent job here at Holland and Co. Unless you don’t want it?” The grin that he offers her is so cheeky that Y/N considers saying no just to wipe the smile off his face for scaring the shit out of her like that, but she isn’t nearly rich or petty enough to refuse such a huge proposal. So instead, she nods eagerly, holding in a squeal that threatens to burst out of her throat, and thanks him profusely. What Tom doesn’t expect is for her to pull him into a tight hug, and he’s floored. (he realizes that he really enjoys her hugs.) When she’s pulled back, her face has contorted into one of embarrassment, and she mumbles an awkward apology before she escorts herself out of the door.

(Tom’s grateful, because maybe then, she wouldn’t have seen the blush that tinted his tan cheeks a rosy red.)

Tom has a problem.

He’s found that he’s got a crush on one of his company’s interns, Y/N. A real, massive, red-faced, crush on her. In fact, he’s found himself looking forward to seeing her when he can — even though he only sees her a handful of times in a month — and yet, he feels an oddly joyful twisting in his gut when she directs that brilliant smile of hers towards him. He’s realized that she’s weaseled her way into his heart and life, and truth be told, he really has no problem with it. Even embraces it, at that.

So yes, he’s got a problem.

Tom is absolutely fucking exhausted.

He’s just about ready to go home, make himself a cuppa, and crash in his obnoxiously soft bed. He’s sure that the company is empty by now because it’s well over the time they get dismissed, so he stumbles out of his office before closing and locking the door. Tom scans the room a final time, ready to leave, but his eyes catch a dim light left on in the back, and he rolls his eyes to go check, annoyed at whichever wanker decided to leave the lights on before they left. So he’s certainly caught off guard when he comes across Y/N tapping away at her computer, sat in her little cubicle.

“Y/N?” Tom asks cautiously, brows furrowed. He has no idea what she’s still doing here, especially since she was supposed to leave at five and the sky outside has already darkened drastically.

“Holy fucking shit—” she screeches, her arms jerking up to cover her mouth, “oh my God, Mr. Holland, you scared the shit outta me.” He finds it quite adorable that she’s sitting there, eyes wide, a hand placed on her heaving chest.

“What’re you still doing here?” Tom questions, because he hasn’t known a single person who would stay past the time they were supposed to return home, and he wasn’t expecting an intern of all people to do so at all.

“I was gonna leave soon, promise, s’just that I almost had this done, so I just wanted to stay to finish it.” Tom nods thoughtfully, switching his briefcase from his right hand to his left, and beckons her to follow him to the parking garage.

“Well come on then, I’ll walk you to your car.” And although Y/N appreciates the thought, (a foolish one, to be honest, because what university student can afford a bloody car?) she shakes her head.

“Well, I was just planning on walking home, because it’s not too far, y’know, and—“

“No way you’re walking home at — 9 at night!” Tom scoffs, checking his watch. He’s gotten way too attached to her to let her put herself in any sort of danger, so he proposes the only idea he could think of in the spur of the moment— “I’ll drive you home, darling.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, Mr. Holland,” she protests, shaking her head wildly, “besides, I’m sure it’s not even on the route, so—“ He interrupts her yet again, (a repeating occurrence, she realizes) shaking his head.

“Nonsense. Come on, now. The sooner we get you back, the better.” And with that, Y/N watches him turn around, followed by her trailing behind him like some sort of lost puppy.

It’s not long until they arrive in the parking garage, but Y/N sees a stunning Rolls Royce and gushes over it internally. She’s ready to pass it by, wave goodbye at it, (call her dramatic, but it isn’t every day you can admire a sleek red Rolls Royce in person) but instead, they stop in front of it.

Y/N, who experiences an odd sense of deja vu, crashes into his sturdy back in response. Tom raises an eyebrow, amused, and shoots his hand out to steady her. “Thank god you didn’t have any smoothies this time, hm?” Y/N watches as he moves to the driver’s seat, opening the door, but pauses when he catches sight of her frozen figure.

“What’s the matter, love?” He grins, his hand resting lazily on the open door. Y/N stays where she stood, too terrified to even approach the vehicle (because let’s be real, if she fucked anything up, she’d have to sell every single one of her internal organs to pay it back).

“Oh—Oh fuck— sorry, but shit, Mr. Holland, there’s no way you can expect me to get in that car,” she swallows, backing up slightly, “that’s gotta cost more than I would if I sold myself on the black market.”

Tom simply chuckles, and Y/N’s heart sort of bursts at the sound since it’d been her first time hearing the joyous sound. He ducks his head to crawl into the luxurious car with a simple, “Alright, doll, just get in,” and she practically scrambles to the passenger seat. (as reluctant as she was, she wasn’t thrilled to walk the long trek home in the slightest.)

She’s barely halfway inside the car before she’s already cramping herself to occupy a smaller area of space despite the spacious interior. Tom notices at the same time, tilting his head as he watches her cautiously press the seatbelt into its buckle as if she’d shatter the buckle with too much pressure.

“You look like I‘ve just forced you into an airtight box, love.” He mutters casually, placing a hand on the back of her seat to reverse out of the garage, “Loosen up for me, alright? Where am I dropping you off?”

She gives him an address, and he programs it into his phone. “Well, look at that, darling, you’re right on my route home.” (he’s lying, but she really doesn’t need to know that they essentially live on opposing sides of London, because the last thing he wants her to do is to leave and walk home) He can see her exhale a sigh of relief and grin, and that alone is enough for Tom not to feel an ounce of regret about his choice.

In hindsight, this was a great idea.

Now, Tom’s not too sure, because she’s got the radio on now, and she’s singing like nobody’s there and it makes Tom’s heart grow three sizes too big. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s starting to fall for her, further than any point of return, and if anyone saw them in that car in that very moment, they’d see him staring at her with the softest gaze anyone had ever seen on the seemingly apathetic CEO in a long time.

It’s when they approach Y/N’s apartment building that something happens. Y/N whispers out a thank you, and she’s almost out of his car, that Tom catches a glimpse of her phone wedged in the cup holders, and he reaches out for her wrist, calling out for her to wait. He doesn’t expect her to unceremoniously tumble back into his car and lap with a squawk from the sudden tug on her wrist.

“S—Sorry!” Tom yelps, a flush crawling up his neck, and it’s then that he realizes how close their faces were. If he were to lean down in the slightest, their lips would meet and— “Your phone! You forgot your phone!”

Y/N never really had the ability to think rationally in unforeseen situations. Which is maybe why she can’t help but lean up and press a quick kiss to his lips, stunning into silence, but it’s not even her fault, truthfully! (it is, but she tries to give herself the benefit of the doubt) She’d never seen him so uncomposed and flustered, and it was honestly the most adorable thing she’d ever seen.

Her eyes blink at her sudden bold attitude, and then she’s scrambling out the car, maneuvering herself in a way that she wouldn’t headbutt Tom, and she’s gone, running into the building with a loud stuttered “sorry!” Tom loses sight of her, still staring after her, dazed, one singular thought running through his head.

Holy fuck.

Tom calls Harrison as soon as he gets home. Harrison arrives in ten minutes flat. (“God, you’re such a drama queen. I’m on my way.”)

“C’mon, mate, don’t just stand there and call me a sap, what do I do?” Tom groans, throwing a toy to Tessa who lay on the couch beside his body, staring at him with a peculiarly knowing look, and Tom groans again because even his damn dog knew about his dilemma.

“She probably likes you, you div,” Harrison grins, raising his voice to imitate Y/N. “Mr. Holland is just… so hot! I dream about kissing him every night!”

“Oi, come off it, you dickhead, she doesn’t even sound like that,” Tom mutters, shoving Harrison to the side. “Probably didn’t even mean shit to her, just like, a friendly kiss or summat.” Tom knows it was more than that. If the amorous gazes and gestures were anything to go by, it would be easy to mistake them as head over heels for one other (unfortunately for them, it’s not exactly a mistake to assume they’re goners for each other, because it’s absolutely true).

Harrison shoots him a look. “Yeah, mate, I kiss all my friends too. S’just a normal friend thing, innit? Now c’mon, gimme a nice smooch.” Harrison teases, puckering his lips to make obnoxious smacking noises towards Tom. He’s met with a pillow to the face, and he laughs, throwing his head back. “You’re so whipped, mate.”

Maybe just a little, Tom thinks.

The next morning, Tom’s prepared to man up and do something about his hopeless crush on Y/N. He’s got his entire speech planned out, in fact.

He’ll start it off by handing her a muffin. Chocolate chip, to be specific. And then, he’ll woo her with a romantic speech, as follows: “Y/N, I think I’ve liked you ever since you spilled those drinks on me. I’ve been wanting to ask you to dinner for a while now, and the kiss we shared last night was amazing. So, will you go out with me?” (it sounds better in his head, it really does)

But none of that happens, because when he catches her eye, he beelines for her and they both let out a rush of words at once.

“I brought you something—“

“Last night was a mistake—“

Tom stops, mouth drying at her words. “Sorry, what?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Holland, that was so unprofessional of me to kiss you. We can just forget it ever happened if that’s alright.” And Tom’s mouth snaps shut, his hopeful words dying on his tongue before they could escape. Y/N stood in front of him, wringing her hands, a smoothie by her side. “I brought you a smoothie to apologize — you seemed like a Berry Blast kind of guy. Hope that’s alright.” She hands him the smoothie, unaware of Tom’s internal battle because damn it all to hell, he so desperately wanted that kiss to mean something to her and no, he never wanted to forget about it. He sends her a pained, restrained smile, accepting the smoothie she holds as a peace offering and tries to retreat to his office.

“Wait, Mr. Holland!” Y/N cries out, running to tap his shoulder, “What were you saying? I cut you off earlier.”

Tom carefully hides the chocolate chip muffin behind his back, shaking his head. “It was nothing, you took the words right out of my mouth.” Tom laughs, and yet the sound is so forced it almost makes him wince. Y/N’s smile drops for the slightest moment before it’s up on her face again.

“Oh, alright then!” She smiles, waving her hand towards him, “Have a nice day then!”

Tom decides he most certainly will not.

“You guys are such bloody wankers!” Y/N cries as soon as she reaches her cubicle, “Y’said he liked me! And just now, he told me that he wanted to forget about the kiss too. God, I’m so humiliated! I might as well just go on and die from humiliation now—“

“Okay, babe, chill,” Sarah tries, but to no avail.

“—I can see the headlines already! ‘Intern kisses boss, gets rejected and dies.’ Fuckin’ hell—“ Y/N’s mini-rant is cut off by Sarah’s hand coming to clamp over her mouth, muffling any sound, but quickly yanks her hand back at the feeling of Y/N’s tongue licking a stripe across her palm.

“I’m sure everything’ll be fine, no harm done. He’ll forget about it in two days flat, promise.” Sarah reassures her, patting her back awkwardly.

“For fuck’s sake, mate,” Tom grumbles, head in his hands, “you said she was into me!” Tom’s in shambles because as far as he knows, he’s just humiliated himself in front of the girl he’s taken a liking to.

Harrison laughs at his distressed state teasingly, tossing a pen in the air and catching it to cease his boredom. “M’sure she was just doing what she thought you’d want — hope you realize you aren’t the most approachable guy.”

“Fuck off, you div,” Tom mutters, tossing a highlighter at Harrison’s head, “I resent that, mate.”

The next time Tom interacts with her, it’s not for at least a month. (he needed the time to shake off his humiliation.)

It’s so similar to the previous time that it makes Tom’s heart clench at the memory of her soft lips on his. This time though, it’s because the weather outside was pouring buckets that flooded the streets and soaked everything in contact. So it’s not even a question of ‘maybe’ before Tom’s already insisting on driving her home.

“Love, there’s no way in hell that I’m letting you walk through that rain,” Tom tells her, already pulling on his jacket. “Now c’mon, what kind of boss would I be if I didn’t drive you home?”

Y/N reluctantly agrees, shutting down her computer and picking her purse up from under her desk. “Alright. But you’ve got to promise me that I’m not a bother, Mr. Holland.”

“Never,” Tom promises, placing a hand on her arm to gently guide her to the exit. “D’you want me to pull the car up? I know it’s raining pretty hard out there, don’t want you to get wet or summat.” He picks up on his unintentional innuendo too late, his cheeks and ears flushing a thorough red blush. “Not—not like that, I mean like—”

“No, no, it’s alright, I can survive a little rain.” Tom’s never been more grateful for Y/N ignoring his slip-up, because he’s sure that if she’d acknowledged it, Tom would’ve stayed red for the next century or so. (get it together, he tells himself, she’s just a girl, and you’re not a virgin, you moron,)

The drive to her place is quiet apart from her loud singing, but the real dilemma comes when they pull up to the door.

“For fuck’s sake, I—ugh.” Y/N groans, hand leaving her purse dejectedly. “I’ve locked myself out. Don’t even have a spare key.” Tom’s headgears are already turning before she can finish her sentence. “S’alright, I’ll just call my landlord and sleep with a neighbour or something.”

“Why don’t you come sleep at my house?” Tom offers, and Y/N is quick to refuse, insisting that she’s already a bother, and she wouldn’t force him to deal with her presence any longer. “I already promised you weren’t a bother, darling.”

When Y/N buckles up her seatbelt again, she’s expecting Tom to just continue down the road, but instead he makes a swift u-turn and drives back down the same road the came from.

“Mr. Holland! You told me my apartment was on route to yours — why’ve we turned ‘round?” She gapes, head spinning to look back through the window towards her flat. Tom gives her a cheeky shrug, flicking his windshield wipers to a higher speed as the rain came down harder and obstructed his view of the road.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” he mutters, sending her a smile. “Plus, that’s Tom to you outside of work — Mr. Holland is my dad, love.”

Tom doesn’t know how he’s gotten into this position.

He’s got Y/N in his arms, sound asleep, wearing his shirt, sleeping on his bare chest, and his mind is still hazy from the kisses they shared that night. He remembers how they walked into his penthouse, and Y/N had gushed over everything inside, (“holy shit, Mr—Tom, you have a fucking fluffy bath mat? I’ve always wanted one!”) and awed over his dog Tessa, (“ohmigod, you have a bloody dog too? You’re like… the perfect man!” and Tom has to admit that he took this in a different way, because he would love to be Y/N’s perfect man.) Tom had set up his Netflix for her to browse as he prepared them both a warm cuppa, and he’d returned to see Y/N and Tessa cuddled up in a blanket he’d brought for her. The sight tightened his chest, and really, everything from there is a blur.

The main part that he remembers is that they kissed. (and oh, did they kiss)

“You’ve driven me bloody insane, darling,” Tom admitted, pulling her in for a kiss that frazzled her nerves and curled her toes. Y/N’d pulled away, gasping for air, and Tom trailed light kisses down the length of her neck, his arms wrapping themselves around her waist.

“What’re we doing, Tom?” She’d asked between kisses that he’d pressed to her face.

“What I’ve been wanting for a long while, love.”

And here he was, her head heavy on his chest, nose tucked into the crook of his neck, and Tom’s never felt more at peace. Y/N blinks awake, yawning softly and blinking blearily before she readjusts herself, pulling her body to lay on top of his.

“You’re my… my pillow now, m’kay?” She murmurs, reaching up to press a kiss to his jaw.

Tom smiles, tightening his hold on the sleepy girl, humming. He’s pushing her hair back to kiss her forehead, and Tom decides that he’s never been happier.

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#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #marvel fanfiction #ceo!tom #tom holland au #tom holland x reader insert #tom holland x you #tom holland reader #tom holland imagine

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my-lazy-genius · 7 years

Text

Stardust

Fandom: Hetalia: Axis Powers

Characters: APH Belarus (Natalya Arlovskaya), APH South Korea (Im Yong Soo). Mentions of: APH America (Alfred F. Jones)

Pairing: KorBela [South Korea x Belarus]

Summary: In which new doors open - literally.

Author’s Note: Me, dragging myself out of a ditch: I’m……. alive…….. aka this was for @weekofhetalia‘s hetalia extravaganza last month but that just…. didn’t happen. Anyways this is really long. One of these days I’ll redo this and make it longer and less rushed.

Natalya’s fingers skim comfortingly over the switchblade in her pocket. Her shoes click against the concrete as she hurries down the road, eager to get back home. She’s not particularly afraid of the things that lurk in the dead of night, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t paranoid. Still, she knows this route backwards and forwards.

So generally, it’s a surprise when she sees a doorway that she’s never seen before, light filtering beneath it.

That, she concludes, is odd. The building has always been there, but the doorway is new, and despite the light beneath it, the building itself is entirely dark. As though responding to her attention, the door clicks and swings open, briefly blinding her. Suddenly, she feels as though she’s being tugged, half dragged, towards it.

And then she’s falling.

–

Natalya wakes with a start. Her gaze fixes on the sky, dark and smoke filled. This isn’t her town, she immediately knows. Machinery whirs all around her and distantly, she can hear voices. Her head is spinning and it takes her a moment to gather her bearings, staggering to her feet and leaning heavily against the wall of what appears to be an alley. It’s rundown and foggy, criss-crossed with wires and gray skies overhead.

Where the hell am I?

More importantly, what the hell is she wearing? Natalya is suddenly conscious that she’s not only in heeled boots, but a corset and skirt. It looks distinctively steampunk, now that she thinks about it. She’s not too familiar with the fashion - she’s only seen some at costume parties back home. Her gaze darts up, watching people pass the alleyway - and sure enough, they’re all dressed in similar fashion, tailcoats and machine cogs.

Well, it explains all the machinery and factories looming on the skyline.

She moves to step into the street, but fingers curl tight around her arm and yank. Natalya hisses and instinctively goes for her blade, only to abruptly remember that she’s not wearing the same clothing and not only is her switchblade gone, but her phone is missing, along with her messenger bag. So she has no idea where she is, no way to contact anyone, and she’s staring into the eyes of a viciously grinning man with a death grip on her forearm.

“Where’re you headed, sweetheart?” He drawls. “Stick around a while.”

Natalya promptly stomps on his foot, hard, digging her heel in. The man snarls and releases her, and she whirls around and darts out of the alley, all too glad that she’s accustomed to moving fast in heels. Only briefly, she hears the man giving chase, but she’s already darting into the crowds of moving people, blending in.

–

When she’s sure she’s lost her pursuer, Natalya decides to ask around.

“I’m not from around here,” she tells people, “could you help me?”

People only give her odd looks and move on. An older man, crow’s feet around his eyes, is sitting outside of a hat shop. He gestures her closer and Natalya hesitates, just for a moment, but she doesn’t have many options and ultimately goes forward.

“At the edge of town, you’ll find a mechanic shop - ask for Im Yong Soo. He’ll be able to help you.”

She hesitates again. “You’re helping a perfect stranger. Why?”

“You remind me of my daughter,” he tells her, and says no more.

Natalya thanks the man quietly and slips back into the crowd.

–

The place takes time to find. It’s a hole in the wall, half hidden on the corner and crushed between what seems to be a bakery and a place full of leather clothing. At least, Natalya hopes this is the place. Putting her pride aside, she strides up into the open building. The noise is louder here, the whirring of machinery echoing in the space. Despite hearing the obvious presence of a person, she can’t see anyone.

The sound stops.

“You’re new,” says a voice, “I wouldn’t forget a pretty face like yours.”

Her gaze finds the source of the voice quickly; a tall, wiry boy, pushing goggles up from his soot stained face. He smirks at her and Natalya narrows her eyes, once again questioning her decision as she watches him sweep up a rag and wipe his hands off.

“I’m looking for someone named Im Yong Soo. I was told I would find him here.”

The man’s grin seems to widen. “Well, sweetheart, you’re in luck. Im Yong Soo, at your service.”

Figures.

Natalya promptly decides that she doesn’t like this guy. Unfortunately, he’s the only lead she has.

“Right,” she says instead, shoving her pride as far down as she can manage, “I need your assistance. I’m not from here - actually, I haven’t the slightest idea where here is.”

He scrutinizes her. “Don’t get many outsiders around here,” he replies, slowly, “where do you come from?”

“A city called Seattle.”

His dark eyes fix on her, hard. “Oh. You’re from the other side. How-?”

“Look,” she cuts him off, “can you help me, or not?” “‘Course,” says Yong Soo, “but only under one condition.”

Briefly, excitement swells in her chest at the idea of getting home. She nods, urging Yong Soo to state his condition - if it’ll get her home, she doesn’t care.

He sets the rag aside. “You have to take me with you.”

Natalya audibly sighs.

–

“Of all the places - why a flea market?”

Yong Soo beams back at her, fixing his goggles back in their place over his hair. “Flea markets are always the first places to know about anything. People share gossip, vendors pick it up. Now listen, there’s only two ways to travel between our two words - being summoned through an old and mostly forgotten ritual, or the Stardust crystals.”

“Long time, no see, Yong Soo,” greets a vendor, waving him over.

She watches as Yong Soo puts on an easy smile and strides on over, following after a moment of deliberation. He’s chatting cheerfully, but Natalya notices the way he’s subtly digging for information, nodding along to keep the vendor talking.

“-and there was this group of guards earlier, talkin’ about how supposedly that lost princess had returned,” the man is saying, gesturing vaguely.

In the crowd, there seems to be some commotion. Natalya turns her head, watching suited men with weapons pushing through. Yong Soo isn’t turning, so Natalya reaches forward and yanks his arm sharply. He turns, finally, following her gaze. He spots the men the same time as they spot Natalya and Yong Soo.

“There!”

“Well,” Yong Soo drawls, “that’s our cue to get out of here.”

–

Yong Soo leads the way, weaving through alleys and sprinting down city streets.

“What did you do?” Natalya demands, having foregone her heels long ago and now just carrying them.

“Sorry, princess, this one is all on you,” Yong Soo informs her, huffing as he darts into another alley and make a running leap, dragging down a rusty ladder, “now climb!”

Natalya doesn’t even hesitate, hurrying onto the ladder and climbing up towards the building’s roof. Yong Soo follows just behind her, dragging the ladder back up just as the men round into the alley. Yong Soo scrambles onto the roof behind her and sprints on, clearing the jump between the roof and the next one easier. Natalya thinks he’s insane, but she leaps after him, chest heaving and hair flying behind her.

Yong Soo comes to a tower structure on top of the building and starts up the ladder quickly. Up here, the smoke is strong enough to smell and Natalya coughs as she climbs up after him slowly. The men have made it onto the roof across and are running towards them.

Yong Soo is grinning. He holds out a hand to her. “Do you trust me?”

Natalya scowls. “No,” she says, but reaches out regardless.

His grin just widens, and he takes her hand, pulling her up and to him. “Smart girl.”

“Why are we up here?” Natalya demands, watching the men make a running leap to the roof. “We’re cornered!”

“Here,” says Yong Soo, thrusting a pair of goggles into her hands and yanking his down over his eyes, “wipe your goggles, hitch up your skirts, and try not to breath too deep. Also,” he grins as she yanks her goggles down over her eyes, “you might wanna hold on tight.”

There’s a distinct sound, something cutting through the air, and Yong Soo raises his hand the same moment a rope appears through the smoke and clouds, dangling down towards them. Natalya gapes, but Yong Soo’s arm is around her waist, and all she can do is cling tight to him as he grips the rope and both of their feet leave the ground.

Natalya holds her breath.

–

The people above pull the rope up onto the deck of the airship. Natalya’s seen images of what they were imagined to be like, but seeing one - being in one is an entirely different story. It’s wide and supported by sails and balloons, dark fabric casting massive shadows.

Yong Soo helps her up over the railing first and she promptly slumps, catching her breath. He rolls onto the deck with a whoop, back pressed against the hot wood and chest heaving, sweat glistening at the curve of his throat- Natalya immediately halts her thoughts. Oh, God. Am I attracted to him? Gross! Ovaries, she reminds herself, sharply, tearing her gaze away, we don’t like him, remember?!

Yong Soo is getting up, still laughing a breathy laugh. He gestures vaguely to the ship and then sweeps his arms in a mocking bow. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“You’re a pirate,” Natalya replies, gaze darting.

He laughs, reaching out to pull her up. “Yeah, more or less. Sky pirates are pretty different from what you call pirates, though. I’ve read about yours - sea dwellers, yeah?”

She only manages a nod. Yong Soo greets and jostles shoulders with the crew members as he tows her up towards the sails and balloons, releasing her arm only to climb the ropes and hang there by one hand, grinning as the air rakes through his hair.

“You’re insane!” She calls up to him, wind whipping her hair around her face.

“Not insane,” he retorts, “just fun! Sky pirate code says we shall not give way; the air is our domain and it is free! Listen, girl-”

“Natalya,” she tells him, “my name is Natalya.”

She catches herself debating if Yong Soo is a beacon of light, just for a moment, when his grin lights up his expression.

“Alright then, Nat,” he laughs, “you’ve got spunk! I like that; let me tell you something. People here, anywhere - they’re going to try to take away your anger. Don’t let them.”

At the helm, one of the crew members shouts, “Take what you can!”

Yong Soo’s voice crows with the rest, “And give nothing back!”

–

Natalya wonders how the passage of time works here in comparison to home. She thinks about her friends, wonders if they’ve realized she’s gone.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

As the days go on, she learns that Yong Soo isn’t so bad. Eccentric maybe, but not terrible. He’s trying to help her - that much is obvious. There are nights when she can’t sleep - she’ll stand out on the deck, feeling the chill of the night air, and he’ll come and sit with her. They don’t speak, most of those times, but she’s grateful.

–

“There’s two crystals, see,” Yong Soo explains to her, muscles flexing as his arms work hand over hand to adjust the sail, “and when they’re together, they produce the ability to jump between worlds. Or rumor say so, anyways, but I’ve got a habit of believing those around here.”

“So they’re separated?” Natalya asks, watching him, silently learning the jobs around here.

It’s odd; they don’t seem to have a specific leader. Sure, there are people that most of them seem to look to - one of them being Yong Soo - but nobody seems to be a designated captain. She half expects that sort of situation to end in chaos, but these people seem to work well together.

“‘Course,” says Yong Soo, interrupting her thoughts, “otherwise there would be a constant portal open, and who knows how that would end. I’ve got location on both, though - it’s just a matter of beating the royal guard there. Speaking of which, what’s this business about you being a princess? The princess in this kingdom went missing nearly twenty-one years ago, a year after I was born.”

It occurs, very briefly to Natalya, that she’s the right age to be this so-called princess, but it’s a ridiculous thought and she shakes her head. “I’m no princess.”

“Hm,” Yong Soo muses, tying down the ropes.

–

The light from Yong Soo’s lantern flickers ominously against the walls of the cave as he takes the lead in, leaving Natalya to fall into step with another one of the crew members - a blond boy with a bandana tied around his forehead.

“So,” he starts, “you’re from the other side?”

Natalya eyes him. “I suppose. That’s what everyone keeps calling it.”

“Alfred, Natalya,” Yong Soo calls, gesturing them forward and ducking into an offshoot of the cave.

The room lights up brilliantly - the source seems to be a pale crystal, golden and gray specks floating and glittering within. Natalya steps forward, circling it as Yong Soo approaches.

“Is that-?” Alfred starts.

“Yeah,” says Yong Soo, “one of the Stardust crystals.”

The cave rumbles as Yong Soo wrenches it from its place, and later, Natalya watches the entire thing collapse as they soar away.

–

“Do you have a family back home, Natalya?”

Yong Soo’s voice startles her - it’s the first time he’s called her by her whole name, not Nat. She lifts her gaze as he crosses silently towards her and sits down. The deck is quiet, save for the few people who are making sure they stay the course. She sighs softly, turning her gaze back to the stars.

“Yeah,” she tells him, “I do.”

“Do you miss them?”

She tries not to think about that.

“Every day,” she tells him, dropping her head onto his shoulder, “my brother and sister are very dear to me. Do you have family, Yong Soo?”

He doesn’t answer.

–

They don’t quite beat the guard to the second crystal. In the midst of fighting, howling voices and bloody blades, Yong Soo pulls Natalya aside and shoves a firearm and his satchel into her hands. For just a moment, his hands linger on hers and the shouts fade.

“Go,” he tells her, holding her gaze with a rare intensity, “the first crystal is in that bag. Get the second one and go home to your family.”

He leans forward, then, and it only clicks that he kissed her once he’s disappearing into the throng. She whirls around and sprints into the rundown factory where the crystal should be. They’re running on rumors, but the rumors place it here.

She can only hope they’re right.

~*~

Yong Soo keeps thinking about the time Natalya asked him if he had a family. He didn’t answer then, but he knows the answer.

“Take what you can!” He howls.

This crew is his family.

Voices rise around him. “And leave nothing in return!”

Distantly, he’s aware of a firearm going off, a blade catching his sleeve, Alfred fighting back to back with him, the memory of Natalya’s lips against his. His eyes feel too heavy, threatening to slide shut, and his body feels like stone, sluggish and dragging. But he fights on.

~*~

When Natalya steps back out, she’s hyper aware of the power in her hands. She’s not expecting the carnage outside of the building - there’s nobody left standing. Her stomach wrenches as she picks past the red clad bodies of the guards, mingled with the mix-matched colors of the pirates. She finds Yong Soo in the center of the slaughter, slumped and pale. It looks as though he’d tried to stop the bloodflow of a bullet wound in his side.

Yong Soo groans softly when she hooks his arm over her shoulder and carefully hauls him to his feet.

“You came back,” he manages, looking at her through glazed eyes.

“I made a promise,” she tells him, jaw set and eyes forward.

“Someone like you shouldn’t bother with the likes of me.”

“Why not?” She asks. “My life needs some unpredictability and you may just be what I need.”

When she sets the crystals together, they hum and glow until the world goes white. Home feels like such a distant idea, suddenly - but she can’t leave him here. Somehow, he’s snuck into her life, become a part of it that she can’t leave behind.

And she’s falling again.

Natalya holds tight to Yong Soo’s hand.

#korbela #hetalia #aph south korea #aph belarus #my writing #hetaliaextravaganza2k17 #future writing

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jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets · 7 years

Text

Avengers: Storm

Summary: The avengers have just defeated Ultron, a much needed victory for the weary team, but another storm is coming their way. A new member joins the team and has some very unexpected effects on everyone, especially the Captain himself, Steve Rogers. Secrets are revealed, scars revisited, and new wounds formed as they battle one of their toughest and most personal battles yet. All they can do is hope this wont be their breaking point...

characters: Steve Rogers/Captain America, Tony Stark/Iron Man, Widow, Hawkeye, Banner, Thor, All the Avengers, and a few original characters

Rating: Mature (just in case, still havent fully decided yet)

Note: So yay, im finally posting this after i said i would do thisa week ago... opps! And this is my first Avengers fic so be nice :) But before you read, just a little tidbit about my writting. I love to add in new characters and it usually involves some sort of romance of some kind, so if you dont like OC’s then this might not be the fic for you, and thats ok! I also love making everything into series which this will probably end up being, so be prepared for that. But for those of you who do read it i hope you enjoy it!! And be sure to let me know what you think! ok, here it goes...

Chapter 1:

Stark Tower

“Stark!” a familiar voice carried across the loud dance floor to the ears of the billionaire walking casually towards the bar. “You’ll throw a party for anything won’t you.”

Tony reached the bar with one last step, a powerful hand landing on his shoulder giving him the extra push to make it there without falling.

“Well, Captain, I hardly think defeating Ultron is any reason not to party,” he began, raising his hand to get the bar tenders attention, “we have saved the world twice, once from an alien invasion lead by Thor’s overly jealous not God adoptive brother, and once from a robot invasion initiated, not intentionally, by yours truly. A few drinks and a dance or two,” he said as he raised a glass to his friend, “is well deserved.”

The two of them downed both of their drinks in one go, Tony ordering another round.

“Stark, Cap, good to see you again.”

“Doctor Banner,” Steve reached forward shaking Bruce's hand.

Tony turned handing yet another drink to Steve then looking to Bruce, “Ah, another arrival. A drink Doctor Banner? Come on, on the house.”

Hesitantly he declined, “No thanks. I’d better not, you know…just in case.”

Tony pointed his drink at Bruce with wide eyes. “Fun, Banner, you’re allowed to have some.”

“Best to be on the safe side I think.”

“Well as much as I admire your extremely boring sense of responsibility and lack of adventure,” Tony said as he took three more drinks from the bar, “I'm going to party like the eccentric genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist I am.”

With that stark left the two men at the bar and wiggled his way through the bouncing dance floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five hours later the party was just as thriving as it was when it first started. The group of Avengers had assembled in a quieter corner of the room, Tony with one girl on each arm, both of them hanging off of every word.

Between the laughs and slurred sentences shared amongst the Avengers, Jarvis's faint cries could be heard, “Sir, Sir!”

Tony stopped laughing. “Yes Jarvis, what is it?”

“Sir, there is a lady caller at the front desk for you. She stresses it is very important.”

“Was she invited to the party, Jarvis?” Tony continued to flirt with the two blondes beside him on the couch.

“No Sir,” Jarvis continued sounding strained, “you must see to her, Sir, she asked specifically for you.”

“She's probably some corporate solicitor trying to get a meeting,” he sighed and with a wave of his hand continued, “just…tell her I'm in a meeting or…just make something up Jarvis, isn’t that what I invented you for.”

Sounding quite annoyed now Jarvis persisted, “No, Sir, you invented me as an aid to yourself and your work, not a butler nor a liar. Now, Sir, I wish you to see to this young lady immediately. If it helps any she has a two toned hair colour, almost a silver blonde on top with a dark grey on the bottom, pale skin, no older then 28 I would guess. She says it’s an emergency, sir.”

“Silver and grey hair?” with that Tony ran with a speed a man as drunk as him should not have been able to reach and within minutes was in the nearest elevator heading to the lobby, quickly followed by the rest of the Avengers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please! You don’t understand I must see Mr. Stark right away!”

The secretary behind the desk looked more then angry as she scowled at the girl over the rim of her glasses, “Miss, I have told you, Mr. Stark is a very busy man and has no time for children to come barging into his office demanding to speak with him. If you don’t leave now I will be forced to contact the proper authorities.”

“Busy,” the young girl laughed, “he’s probably having a party right now isn’t he?”

The secretary didn’t say anything confirming her theory.

“Well you tell him party’s over!” the girl said with shaking hands as she whispered desperately, “I need to see him, I need his help.”

With an exaggerated sigh the secretary gave her a stern look, “Miss, either make an appointment,” she lifted the phone, “or I'm calling the police.”

The young girl didn’t know what to do as she ran shaking hands through her long hair.

“You give me no choice,” the secretary said to her.

With no one else to go to and no other options what was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t get arrested.

“Leeanna?!”

Both the young girl and the secretary’s heads turned in the direction of the voice.

“Uncle Tony!” the young blonde ran past the secretary’s desk and into the waiting arms of Tony Stark.

“Uncle?” all the Avengers questioned in unison.

Ignoring them all he focused on soothing the panicked girl in his arms as he ran gentle hands through her hair, “Calm down, stop shaking, you’re with me now.”

With a concentrated breath she pulled back from his chest looking up to him. “I'm sorry, Uncle Tony, I had no where else to go. Then your secretary wouldn’t let me in, I was seconds away from getting arrested, I have no one else to turn to.”

Tears welled in her eyes as her hands began to shake again. Pulling her in, Tony looked to his staff and ordered, “Any time this girl comes looking for me she gets a free pass. I don’t care if I am in the most important meeting of my life, I don’t care if I'm saving the queen of England, this girl comes first! Are we clear?!”

His staff remained silent, heads down, he muttered a quick “good” before turning to his friends behind him and saying, “Out. Get everyone out of my tower, now.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the guests now gone and the party with them, Tony sat the young girl down before placing himself across from her. Taking both her hands in his, looking to her down cast eyes, he said softly, “Now, tell me what happened?”

The girl gave no answer.

“Did your parents send you here again?”

Looking to him she answered, “No. I came on my own this time.”

“Do your parents even know you’re here?!” With a shake of her head Tony let go a knowing sigh, “Jarvis, please call Leeanna's parents and let them know she's safe with me and will probably be staying here for a while. Their number is in my data base under Richard and Marina Burke.”

“Right away, Sir.”

“Leeanna,” he caught her smoky grey eyes in his, one last attempt at the truth, “what did you do?”

Without looking away she pulled her hands from his, reaching into a pocket on the side of her pants. She brought a closed fist to his hands, placing a cold solid object in his palm, and gently closing his fingers over it before bringing her hands back to rest in her lap. Hesitantly, Tony opened his closed hand revealing a single piece of white stone, rough on some edges smooth on others.

With a raised brow he asked, “Leeanna, what is this?”

“It might be a piece of the White House that I may or may not have accidentally shattered the side of while visiting Washington with my family.” She said all in one breath, squeezing her eyes tight as she finished.

Tony stood and walked to the back of his chair, clutching the stone in his right hand against his forehead, his other hand resting on his hip. “Oh, Lee…” was all he could manage.

“I'm sorry!” her voice cracked as the tears returned, “This is why I never go outside, all it takes is for one thing to go wrong and something like this happens! But my parents insisted on taking me with them. I begged them to send me to you but they wouldn’t listen. Now every cop, agent, and news reporter in the country is hunting down the maniac that blew up the White House!”

“Hold on,” Clint came closer, a confused look on his face, “you blew up the White House? How do you blow up the White House? There are secret service agents scattered every two feet, trained assassins can’t get in.”

She looked to her uncle in pure desperation, searching for some kind of understanding. “Uncle Tony, I'm so sorry. I really didn’t mean it, you know I can’t control it!”

Tony turned to her, looking to her balled fists in her lap. In one leap he was on his knees in front of her, holding both her wrists in his hands. “Leeanna! Leeanna, stop shaking!”

“Stark…” Steve slowly stepped closer to the two, Tony completely ignoring him.

“Lee,” he said begging her to look at him, “Lee, look at me, stop…shaking.”

She met his eyes once more before choking out in defeat, “I can’t.”

Tony let her hands go, standing to say to everyone, “Get back! Now!”

Before anyone could register what was happening they were hit by a powerful wind. It escaped from the young blonde in the center of the room and shot in all directions with a force so strong the room was destroyed in mere seconds. The wind twirled around her, cocooning her inside its wall of protection, shattering glass, tables, chairs, anything it could. The Avengers were thrown across the room, holding on to what they could to keep themselves grounded. Opening her eyes and seeing just what she had done only made the wind worse, stronger as she further lost control. Tony tried desperately to get to her, to shout to her, trying to calm the girl but nothing worked as the wind raged on around her.

She sat with her face buried in her shaking hands, curled in on herself, trying with all of her strength to take hold of the situation but she could feel her emotions gripping her tighter and tighter not letting go.

Her eyes shot open as warm hands gripped her wrists, pulling them away from her face. “Stop! I’ll only hurt you!” The panic worsened the wind even more as she tried to pull away from Steve.

He held her arms, keeping himself calm. “Hey, it’s ok. Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and concentrate on my voice.”

With no other choice she did as he said, taking a deep breath and releasing it as she closed her eyes.

“Now relax, don’t think of anything else, void all thoughts.” Steve's smooth voice echoed in her head and she could feel him taking hold, finally subduing the storm inside. She could feel as her hands slowly stopped shaking, as he gently placed them back in her lap.

Placing one hand on either side of her face he whispered, “You can open your eyes now.”

She peeked her eyes open, afraid to see the damage she had done, but her eyes remained fixed on one thing. “I…I didn’t hurt you.” She whispered.

Steve continued to kneel in front of her, allowing her attention to dwell on him and away from the destruction she had just caused. Cautiously she reached both hands forward, brushing her finger tips up his arms, over his shoulders, across every crevice of his face.

“How did I not hurt you?” she whispered.

“I don’t know,” he whispered back, eyes fixed on her, “maybe my strength helped, the fact that I am a super soldier.”

A crash from behind brought the two of them out of their daze. Tony emerged from a pile of broken chairs and tables, half suited up, shaking splinters from every nook.

“I hate to ruin this, oh so tender moment,” the sarcasm dripping from him, “but…my house is ruined and you broke the Avengers. Congratulations.”

Finally looking around her she began to panic again. She had destroyed everything. There was not one item that remained untouched. The Avengers were scattered around the room, most with some form of broken bone, bleeding from various places, moaning as they thanked God it was over.

A hand came up to land on her cheek, “Hey, Leeanna, just relax.” Steve could feel her hands beginning to shake again under his but his touch instantly calmed her, her hand coming up to hold his as she let out a shaky breath as she tried to understand what had just happened. She did not know this man, she knew he was the famous Cap but that was it. so after only minutes of knowing him, how could he have such a strong hold on her already.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, thats chapter 1, I hope you all liked it ^^

#avengers #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #the avengers #black widow #natasha romanoff #hawkeye #clint barton #bruce banner #the hulk #thor #original character #Avengers: Storm #chapter 1

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