Hey- I tried... Marvel & Twenty Ăne Pilots with the occasional Criminal Minds, Maze Runner, and Harry Potter One request posted per week during school year (unless I am feeling SUPER inspired) but no hard feelings I love you all Masterlist
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1Fandom: NCIS
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Additional Tags: post S07E01: Truth or Consequences, like several months post, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Trauma, Shared Trauma, Love Confessions, Kissing, Sleeping Together, Undressing, is that even a tag?, its not sexual tho, just trust me, Touching, ziva povl, lots of Introspection lots of Vibes lots of Feelings
Summary: âYouâve gotta be less predictable,â Tony says, pressing down just a little bit, like he wants to know that she can feel it. Like he wants to know that she is real.
âIâm predictable?â she asks, then laughs, just a little, thinking of every time she has surprised him, or gotten the better of him. âNo, Iâm not.â
âMaybe not,â he says, and she can tell by the look in his eyes that he is thinking the same thing. âBut, youâreââ
The timer on the oven goes off, startling both of them. He lets go of her ankle and gets up, walking to the kitchen to take the pizza out of the oven. For a moment, Ziva considers leaning over the back of the couch and asking him to finish his sentence.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1Fandom: NCIS
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Additional Tags: post S07E01: Truth or Consequences, like several months post, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Trauma, Shared Trauma, Love Confessions, Kissing, Sleeping Together, Undressing, is that even a tag?, its not sexual tho, just trust me, Touching, ziva povl, lots of Introspection lots of Vibes lots of Feelings
Summary: âYouâve gotta be less predictable,â Tony says, pressing down just a little bit, like he wants to know that she can feel it. Like he wants to know that she is real.
âIâm predictable?â she asks, then laughs, just a little, thinking of every time she has surprised him, or gotten the better of him. âNo, Iâm not.â
âMaybe not,â he says, and she can tell by the look in his eyes that he is thinking the same thing. âBut, youâreââ
The timer on the oven goes off, startling both of them. He lets go of her ankle and gets up, walking to the kitchen to take the pizza out of the oven. For a moment, Ziva considers leaning over the back of the couch and asking him to finish his sentence.
shaving the beard? Never happened. suburban dad shirts? NAH. mourning peggy who died like ten years prior instead of his best friends? FORGET IT. losing his morals and not really giving a shit? noPe. fucking the timeline & being the Absolute Worst? Goodbye !!!
........handing the mantle of captain america to sam? that can stay
summary â youâre there for peter when he breaks down after a tough fight.
CONTAINS: fluff, angst, some sadness, swearing
A/N: hello i made this bc i just needed some good comforting material. Iâm on my period and not feeling well and just stressed from school. this is my way of compartmentalizing lmaoooo,,,have some fluff and comfort. also! there should be a tutoring fic up soon! stay tuned for updates. hope you enjoy!! :)
MASTERLIST
It was a cold Friday evening. School for the day had wrapped up only a few hours prior, and you were curled up in your bed with a fresh bag of chips and a plate of brownies. You couldnât have felt more content with your lifeâespecially, with the lack of homework for the long weekend.
You were hoping for Peter to stop by before the night went pitch blackâevery time you heard a siren whistling in the distance, you thought of him and his mask and his red and blue suit. You thought of him gliding through the air with silky white webs carrying him swiftly through the atmosphere of Queens. He wasnât far. Well, he was far enough. And you missed him. Since you lived Upstate and he lived in Queens, it wasnât exactly the most practical thing for you two to visit each other. After all, he had school and his friends and patrol, and you had your own school work and your club meetings. You had your life and he had his, but you always missed him.
There was something about Peter Parker that you could never quite understand. You almost thought he was perfect. Almost, but not entirely. You didnât want to get yourself stuck too far up in the clouds; you wouldnât ever come back down.
You and Peter were friends. Nothing moreâalthough you did admit you indeed wanted something more at times. You liked the way he talked and the way he looked at you. You liked the sound of his voice, and you could never have enough of him or those eyes or his aura. He was so warm.
âHey, kiddo. Itâs starting to get late. Youâve had a rough weekâhow about you call it a night and put that show down?â your dad suggested, pushing your door open to reveal a tiresome expression.
You sighed, lips pressing into a frown. âIs Peter not coming tonight?â
âI donât know. Iâm assuming not. What? Was he supposed to?â Tony hummed, scratching the back of his neck. âWhy?â
You shrugged. âOh, um ⌠No reason. I was just curious. Never mind. Good night, Dad.â
âNight, sweetheart. Iâm just in the shop if you need me. Love you, kiddo.â
âLove you, too.â
After your father left, you turned the lights off and curled back into bed. Maybe he was right. Maybe you should just go to sleep. You could see Peter tomorrow. He was probably just busy with patrol. You could understand that.
It wasnât long after that before you heard a tap against your window, your eyelids peeling back to see a masculine silhouette plastered onto the opposing side of the thick glass. You furrowed your brows, hastily kicking the bed sheets off your legs and hurrying to open the window. Why the hell did Peter scale forty floors to your bedroom? Does he have any idea how dangerous that is? For Godâs sakeâhe couldnât just used the damn elevator!
âPeter!â you gasped, curling your fingers around the fabric of his suit. He flipped into your room, panting heavily. His masked face hung towards the floor, shoulders trembling with every shallow breath. âPeter? Hey, are you okay?â
The room went silent for a moment. All you could hear was your heart racing and the blood rushing to your head. Fear prodded sharply at your chest, and Peter would not stop hyperventilating. You had no idea what to do. You didnât know what was happening, you didnât know what was wrong. What happened?
âPeter, hey,â you spoke smoothly, trying to keep your own voice calm and leveled. You stretched an arm forward, placing your hand onto his shoulder. âTalk to me. Are you hurt?â
A pause. And then a fit of shattered, strangled sobs soon filled the void. He broke down, and you couldnât take it anymore. You quickly yanked off his mask. Your face twisted into concern at the sight of Peter and his beaten face, distinct tear tracks cutting through dried blood and grime. His lashes were clumped together, brown eyes that were once bright and radiating exuberance now leaking with horrible, horrible pain and sorrow and regret. And guilt. There was so, so much guilt, he could just drown in itâand you could drown in it. And every else could drown it in.
âY/N, I-IâHe ⌠I canât believe heâs-heâs dead. And itâs my fault! All my fault!â he cried, a grimace possessing his once delicate, soft features. He was hardened and older.
You put your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him gently towards you. Your other hand worked tirelessly, fingers running in soothing motions down the length of his matted, curly locks that were dripping with hot sweat. You tried desperately to ease him with no avail.
âI killed him! Itâs my fault! If it werenât for me, heâd still be alive, and I-I canâtâI canât believe Iâoh, Godââ he wept, his tone laced with violent anguish.
âPeter, shhh ⌠You need to calm down. You need to relax. Peter, please.â You pleaded with him.
You felt the heat of his body fanning onto yours, his gloved hands wrapped tightly around your wrists. He urged to to hold onto himâto anchor him into the ground before he lost himself. He focused on youâthe sweet sound of your voice and how smooth and beautiful it was. He could smell your hair and your body, and relished in the feeling of your fingers cupping his chin.
âTell me what happened,â you coaxed, resting your hands on his shoulders.
Peter let out a shaky breath. âO-okay. I-I was just on patrol, going through the motions, but ⌠s-something felt off about tonight. Something bad was going to happen, and it was annoying me because I couldnât know until it did happen. And-and it did. It was a kid. Younger than me. Than us. He was just minding his own business, then there was some man. I-I donât know, it all happened so fast. And I wasnât fast enough! I-I was too slow, even for me! If I wasnât such an idiot, maybe I couldâve saved him. If I thought quicker, I couldâve saved him, Y/N! And now heâs-hes âŚâ Peter felt sick. His stomach was twisting and turning with the memory of blood burned into his brain; the memory of red pooling around the body of a child young than him; this child had a mother and a father and maybe siblings and friends. And now he was gone. All because of him. It was all his fault. All his fault.
Your heart broke with his words. You couldnât even fathom baring witness to a scene as crippling is that. You couldnât ever.
And Peter was so broken. Youâd never seen him so hysterical or intense, nearly making himself sick and nauseaous with grief. You wanted to get Tonyâyou should definitely get Tony. Tony would know exactly what to do. He always knew how to help Peterâprobably better than you ever could.
But Peter was swaying and holding on to you so tightly that all you could do was hold him tighter. And you didnât let go.
âItâll be okay, Pete. Iâm so sorry. Iâm really, really sorry. But Peter, you tried. And I know it hurts to think you couldâve done more, but sometimes you do all you can and it just doesnât work out. But thatâs lifeââ
âY/N, you canât say that! T-thereâsâitâs ⌠Iâm a monster. I need to be better. Iâm not fast enough, skilled enough. Not smart enough. Not good enough!â
You held his face, using the soft pads of your thumbs to brush away the fallen tears. It broke your heart seeing him cry, wetness burning away in your own speckling irises. You swallowed thickly, releasing a trembling breath before pinching your brows together and continuously swaddling Peter with reassuring touches.
âPete, listen to meâyou are the smartest person I know. Youâre brilliant, but the books donât matter, Peter, this doesââ you paused, resting your palm firmly against his heart, caressing his sharp jaw and gazing deeply into his wet eyes with an expression so tender and loving it could make an angel cry. âPeter, your goodness is the best thing about you. Your goodness is the reason why you save everyoneâeven the bad ones. Because youâre so good. Youâre so, so good. I know that it hurts, but you have to find a way to live with the pain. You canât save everyone. Even when those people are the ones who deserve to be saved the most.â
âThatâs not fair though! Itâs not fair!â he sniffled, his face falling onto your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the wetness of his tears soak through the thin material of your cotton shirt. You rubbed his back, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head.
âNo, itâs not. But it is what it is. Life is life. You canât save everyone, but you can try. And thatâs whatâs important, Peter. And thatâs why youâre a hero.â
âI donât feel like a hero.â
âNo one ever really does,â you scoffed sadly. You were relieved to feel him relax against you, his hands dropping to your hips before curling around your back.
âIt just hurts,â he whispered, shoulderâs trembling. âAnd itâs scary. Every night I see what people are capable of and I donât think Iâll ever understand them.â
Peter pulled away from your frame, head ducked down so he could drink in your flustered appearance. You didnât hesitate to reach up, your thumb running along his flushed cheeks to rid them of their transparent tracks. You took your time, wiping away each and every crystal-esque droplet, watching therapeutically as the liquid seeped into his soft skin.
âThat I donât have an answer for. People do crazy shit, but I donât know why. Theyâre just ⌠insane.â
Peter nodded in agreement, a few more final teardrops slipping from the corners of his eyes and rolling down his rose-kissed cheeks. You smiled tenderly at him, tracing his jaw lightly while running the pads of your thumbs across his toned cheekbones again. He felt more chiseledâmore sharperâyet delicate balanced in your palms, and he leaned achingly into your docile, safe touch. You watched in admiration as his eyes batted shut and he relaxed in your warmth, his hands still sitting firmly on your hips.
The two of you stood in silence for a few more minutes, the only noises heard being the distinct hum of New York traffic and Peterâs abrupt sniffles. He reached up, wiping away the snot that had leaked onto his upper lip.
âSorry for waking you up,â he mumbled, hiding how congested he sounded (and doing a rather poor job it it).
You removed your cold hands from his face, resorting to placing your wrists on his shoulders. Your heart was racing, and never before had you felt adrenaline so profound kicking away at your core. You were burning, and you loved it, and you knew it was wrong, but all you wanted to do was kiss him.
You shook your head. âDonât be sorry. I was barely asleep,â you assured. âDo you want to talk to my dad? He might be able to help a bit. At least, heâs more experienced in this field than I am.â
Peter didnât reply. He merely stared. His dark brown eyes were swimming with constellations and in the blackness of the bedroomâonly illuminated by the picturesque glittering atmosphere of the city from beyond the glass windowsâyou could tell he was thinking of something (and consciouslyâentirely, wholely consciouslyâyou hoped it was you he was thinking of). He was pondering upon something, and this something was certainly gnawing away at his mind like nothing else had ever before. There was a pensive gleam glowing in his dilated pupils, and you felt the longer you two stared, the better he knew you and the more you wondered about him.
âPeter, hey? Are youââ
You were baffled by the sudden movement of his head dipping down to meet yours, his lips falling eloquently onto yours. Your eyes widened in pure shock for a moment. Peter was kissing you. In your room. All alone. You felt something peculiar jump in the pit of your stomach, and after a raw moment of a realization that this moment was not a scheme painted by your subconscious mind, you finally reciprocated. The lids of your eyes slipped shut, and you succumbed to the series of emotions lodging their way throughout your chest.
Peterâs arms locked around your waist as he pulled you closer, your bodies aligned in a parallel formatiom. You couldnât think fluently enough to find a substantial place for your hands, so you settled upon one curled through his chestnut locks and the other against his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your careful fingertips, and the feeling of his lips kissing yours was something you couldnât exactly find the appropriate vocabulary to explain.
You kissed for only a few seconds and time had never been more irrelevant.
âUh, w-wowââ you whispered, your voice hoarse. Anxiously, you wiped your palms against your thighs. âThat wasââ
âWas-was it okay? Iâm sorry, I-I didnât meanâI just-I couldnât take it anymore, I had to ⌠I had to kiss you,â he confessed. Even in the darkness you could tell he was a blushing disaster.
You giggled lightly, shaking your head. A dimpled smile found itâs way onto your lips. âNo, Pete. I liked it. I was just um ⌠I was surprised. I-I didnât think that you felt the same.â
âO-oh.â
âYeah.â
âWell,â he said, grabbing tightly on your hand. You blushed at the feeling of your fingers entwining. Even though the two of you had held hands before, itâd never pertained to a manner like this. Sometimes it was subconsciously when one of you felt nervous. When in doubt, Peter would always be there to keep you safe. âI-I dont know if that was really the right time to do that, but I mean, I thoughtââ
âPeter, just stop overthinking it and kiss me again,â you chuckled, shaking your head.
Peter grinned widely, and you marveled at his smile.
He leaned in once again to kiss you, this time the kiss was enveloped with a renewed passion. There was only a hint of uncertainty this time, but those feelings of doubt soon resolved with your arms looping around him. You laughed against his lips, smiling fully into the kiss as you felt him pick you up, your toes barely scraping against the floor.
âPeter!â you squealed.
âY/N, weâre going to wake up Mr. Stark!â Peter warned.
âHey, are you sure you donât want to talk to him before bed?â You hated to ruin the mood, but you didnât want Peter running away from anything that had he potentia to come back for him later.
Peter shrugged. âIâll talk to him tomorrow. Besides, I have you tonight. Thatâs more than enough for me.â
You pecked his lips, your heart fluttering at his words. âWell, then ⌠On that note, Iâd say we have a long night of catching up in front of us.â
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