Y'all, I'm unstoppable. I'm so tired and I started writing almost as soon as I posted the other chapter. I can't wait to share this one with you so here's a sneaky peek!💋
“Y/N.” His Majesty says.
You feel the edge of his fingertips against the small of your back and you jerk away from his touch.
He takes his hand back. A sorrowful sigh warms your side.
He’s almost curled around your back like an oversized cat, keeping his hands to himself but he’s eager to look at your face.
What he’s trying to see you’re not sure. Your angry expression? The pain in your eyes? The way you do that thing with your mouth when you’re furious?
“My sweet, I’m sorry. Please believe me.” He begs.
Once again, he tries to touch you, this time he places his whole hand on your back.
“Don’t touch me.” You say, nearly breathless. “I’m not ready for touch.”
You make it clear and pull away from him again.
He quickly takes his hand back and raises it a little so that you can see it.
“Okay, darling. Okay. I won’t touch you.” He looks like a big puppy. Large storm blue eyes giving off as much innocence as they can while you seethe.
You glare at him. “Do you have any idea what that felt like?”
He looks down at your hands, balled into fists around the sheets of your bed beside your thighs.
“I can-”
“You can’t.” You shake your head. “You can never know what it feels like to be lesser than. Inadequate. And then find the woman who makes you feel like that in your husband’s bed.”
“My husband?” Steve asks, smirking up at you.
“This is not the time to be making jokes!” You raise your voice, caring not that Peter can hear you.
The other guard switched off with him after all the screaming in the hallway.
Steve cowers. “Right, yes. You’re right. I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. A complete moron.”
You give him your back again, arms crossed over your chest as you let your anger settle.
“Am I a game to you?” You demand, agony slipping through to coat your words with ire.
“What? No. Of course not, my flower!” Steve insists.
He moves around you, sliding off the bed to squat in front of you, his hands find your wrists and you glower.
Quickly he takes his hands back and places them just beside your knees instead.
“I’ve said that I’m sorry so many times, I think the words are beginning to lose their weight.” Steve nods slowly, reading your irritation accurately.
“You’re not wrong.” You bite. “So, why don’t you stop doing things to be sorry for?”
“I’m trying.” He leans forward, nearly putting his forehead against your lap, but he doesn’t lay it down. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him. In himself. “I’m trying so hard to do right by you, but I do everything wrong.”
“Not everything.” You counter. “Your grand gestures, they're lovely but I can do without those.”
“You didn’t like the pavilion?” He worries.
“I loved it, your Majesty.” He sighs but doesn’t complain this time. “But it was unnecessary.”
Daniel’s eyes had to drag up from the floor to meet theirs. Of course he thought about it. He didn’t have any choice. But he knew they were going to be unhappy with his answer. So it clogged up in his throat, keeping him safe for just a moment longer.
They didn’t look amused. Fingers laced together on their desk, they raised a brow at him and said, “Well, Daniel?”
“I’m not giving you my show,” he said, slow and steady. God, it was like he was awaiting execution. He shouldn’t be feeling so weak. So powerless. “And that’s final.”
“Why, that’s quite the decision.”
Yeah, it sure fucking was. But he didn’t dare say that out loud. Not with that warning brimming in their eyes.
Take it back. Or else.
It only empowered him to take a stand. This was his show. They left it. They left him. And when everything seemed lost in the ashes, he found new ground to plant in. He did. Not them. They wouldn’t get the chance to burn it all again, not without a fight.
They took a deep breath and got to their feet. It was a slow walk around their desk to reach him, each step slow and calculated, heels clicking on the floor in a way that made him wince. When their hand touched his face, he flinched, not knowing what to expect. Gentleness certainly wasn’t on the list of possibilities. Or the sweep of their thumb across his cheek, almost tender and loving. It was like they were someone else. Someone from a long past dream.
“But don’t you still love me?” they asked softly as they leaned in closer. Their lips were parted, at if inviting him in for a kiss. It was like a scene from a movie.
A perfectly orchestrated scene. But they’d stolen this role from someone else. And all he could feel was bitterness.
“No,” he said in a breath that he didn’t even realize he was holding. “I don’t.”
They looked devastated. “What?”
“How can I?” Slowly, he took a step back. The space between them grew cold. But he felt warm. Scorching, even. What was making him feel this way? “Back then, I did. I loved you more than anything. But… After all you’ve done, how can you expect me to keep those feelings?”
“Daniel, we can fix this,” they pleaded and grabbed hold of his hands. “It won’t take much, just give me the show and we can be together. Like you always wanted. I promise.”
He stared down at them impassively and wrenched himself out of their grasp. Then he leaned in close and said in a low tone, “No. It’ll never happen. You’ve hollowed me out twice now, and you’re so lucky I can’t even hate you. So either live with your mistakes, or leave. I’ve picked up the pieces of my life once already, don’t think I can’t do it again.”
There was only a moment where he could see that dark look they shot him. Their hand met his cheek with a harsh sting, and he saw nothing but black for the next few seconds.
“You listen to me, Nadiva,” they muttered, grabbing his tie and pulling him down to eye level before he could even blink away the stars in his vision. “I know every little thing about you, and I’ll make sure to break more than just your pathetic little heart. I’ll ruin you, I’ll ruin your fucking show, and most of all, I’ll ruin Snail. Don’t think I won’t find a way. That little ex of theirs isn’t too hard to find, you know.”
Mike? He couldn’t let that happen. Not for anything, his show wasn’t worth more than Snail.
But a thought hit him. Almost like a train, really. And it made him feel sick, absolutely vile, like everything he’d known was a lie.
“Mike was a real asshole. And whenever I did something he didn’t like, he’d get angry.”
Whenever he did something they didn’t like, they’d get angry. They controlled him. They switched back and forth between two different people. The person he used to love, and the one he was terrified of.
They were abusing him. Like Mike abused Snail. As ridiculous as it sounded, that’s what happened. But was it? Was he really sure? Maybe he just misunderstood things.
Or maybe not.
“Think on it,” they finally said, after a long moment. Their hand went back to his cheek, not stopping even as he flinched. “In the meantime, we need to get this covered. We can’t have anyone seeing the bruise you’ll have.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the floor. “We sure can’t.”
“Hello, everyone,” he greeted once the cameras started rolling. Though for once, he didn’t use his cheery tone or his Host Smile. The storm of butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t let him. What was he doing? “Before I begin, I’d like to discuss something very important.”
A soft murmur went through the audience. Questions, confusion, curiosity.
“As you all know, someone very important has come back into my life,” he stated carefully. Script placed aside, he looked right into the camera and quickly thought through what he wanted to say. They were watching, and he couldn’t let them catch on too quick. “Without them, this show might not exist, you know.”
Heads nodded behind the bright lights. Everyone knew who he was talking about.
He bounced his leg underneath his desk. All his nervous energy began feeling too hot. “They’ve given me everything. My fame, my fans… And something a little extra.”
Abruptly, he stood, the sound of his chair rolling back almost deafening in the tense silence. Then he strolled to the front of his set, and pointed at the nearest camera. “You, come closer.”
Glancing at the screen, he kept his poise up until his face was perfectly in frame. With a snarl, he used his sleeve to wipe the heavy make-up off his cheek. And oh, the horrified gasp form his audience felt so vindicating.
“This is their latest gift,” he hissed, pointing to the disgustingly reddish-purple bruise. “But oh, maybe I should list off everything else they’ve given me too. Insomnia, anxiety, heartbreak, isolation. It goes on and on and on.”
“Sir,” the cameraman said in a soft whisper, “I’m getting orders to cut the feed.”
“Don’t,” he snapped, fists clenched at his side. “No one has any idea what they’ve done to me. But I’ll fucking tell you all! It’s a real story!”
He could see the lights of the other cameras turning off. But that didn’t matter. He just needed the one.
“I haven’t slept well in weeks,” he said. All the pent up energy made him pace back and forth, run his hands through his hair, gesture wildly as he talked. “Every single fucking day, they ask me to revise and rework scripts that are already good enough. They drag me to events, they make me say and do things I don’t want to, or else they’ll spill my deepest secrets. But guess what, fucker! You can’t do that if I tell the whole world!”
No one seemed to know what to do. The members of his audience went deathly quiet, eye firmly locked onto him.
“I used to be a slut!” It felt like a heavy weight was taken off of him. He might’ve just ruined his reputation, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to care. “It’s real fucking easy to get into my pants, but you know what? I don’t give a single flying fuck who knows it!”
All his anger suddenly left him. cold emptiness took over as he thought about Snail. They probably hated him, and he knew that. But he still wished he could go back to that night and stay. To have a second chance and not ruin the greatest thing that had happened to him.
“Since now,” he whispered after a long moment, head hung, “I’m all alone. There’s no one left I can turn to. I burned all my bridges for them. And what do I have to show for it?”
“Daniel!”
Fear froze him in place. On the screen, he could see them stalking closer, more pissed than he’d ever seen them. To save face, he quickly cut to commercial, and steeled himself for what was about to happen. Sure enough, they grabbed his arm and gave a quick apology to the audience before dragging him off to deal with his outburst.
For the second time that day, Daniel sat at his desk and gave his usual greeting. Really, he was lucky to have a second chance. Sure, he’d had outbursts on his show before, but none like that. And after their talk with him, they gave him the opportunity to make up for it.
He was just stressed. Tired. Not quite there. And unfit to take care of his show, obviously. All he had to do was get through this episode, then he wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.
Things would get better.
Lies spilled from his mouth to ensure that. Oh, yes, he used make-up to create that fake bruise. Yes, he was just a little angry at them for making him do a little extra work. No, they never threatened to reveal any of his secrets. This was all orchestrated by him. An irrational plan, a temper-tantrum. He’d had his fair share of those before. Nothing new.
Right as he was about to actually get into his script, a voice stopped him. Too familiar, coming from stage left.
“Daniel?”
Slowly, he turned, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Snail. There they were, looking like they wanted to be anywhere else. An intern stood next to them- she probably led them there- before skittering off. They stepped forward, onto his set. A spotlight shone down on them, and they squinted while raising a hand up to block it from their eyes.
“We need to talk,” they said quietly, as if they didn’t want to be heard by the cameras. “Like, now.”
“I can’t,” he practically whimpered, sinking down just a bit. They were going to be so angry at him. He couldn’t do it again. “Just go, I’m done with you, there’s no talking, get off my fucking set already!”
They stared him down, unwavering. “The only way I’m leaving is if you come with me.”
A voice from stage right spoke up, making him flinch, “I think security might disagree.”
Never before had he seen such a hateful look on Snail’s face. Their hands balled up into fists as they shouted, “Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear shit from the bitch who hurt my boyfriend!”
“Petty insults, how cute,” they said, casually checking their nails. “And surely someone as slow as you could remember that your relationship ended, oh, about a month ago? It’s over, you’re old news. He doesn’t love you anymore.”
Snail even looked at him, desperate for him to deny it. But he couldn’t speak up. It was too much, they’d hurt him. They’d hurt Snail. Everything would go terribly if he intervened.
So he kept quiet.
“Oh, how sad.” They stepped onto the set, closer and closer, until they were right next to him, hands on his shoulder, nails digging in, a silent threat looming over him. “You aren’t winning him back. So save yourself the embarrassment and leave before Daniel calls security on you.”
He was so focused on not breaking down right then and there, he didn’t notice what had happened next until the audience let out a collective gasp. A rush of air, Snail’s sudden closeness, them on the floor with a nasty red mark on their face. It happened to quickly for him to process.
Snail let out a huff and pulled him to his feet. Wordlessly, they wiped off the redone make-up on his face. He turned his head to try and hide the mark, but it was too late. They’d already seen it. And so had everyone else.
Their fingers gingerly brushed against the bruise, too soft. He couldn’t meet their eyes. What were they even thinking? How could they be so gentle with him? Shouldn’t they be angry? Livid, even? He left them out of nowhere. He hurt them more than either of them ever thought he would.
But that didn’t seem to matter to them. They took his hand anyway and started to lead him along with a soft “come on”.
Although there was one last bridge to cross.
“If you go,” they said, grabbing his attention as they shakily got to their feet. “I’ll make sure your show dies right here and now. You’ll never air again, you fucking hear me!? I’ll hunt you down wherever you fucking go and ruin you!”
His hand tightened around Snail’s. Any other time, he felt like he would’ve caved. But he couldn’t now. Not with everything out in the open. Not with Snail there next to him.
“Then start hunting,” he said, as he turned away. “Because this show is mine, and you’ll have to rip it from my cold, dead hands.”
Before they could get another word in, Snail pulled him along, brushing past anyone who tried to stop them or ask questions. Their thumb swept across the back of his hand while they asked, “My place, or yours?”
“Yours,” he whispered, voice now shaky as all confidence left him. “Please?”
“Sure thing.”
“My apartment’s a mess,” Snail warned, giving him a side-glance as they unlocked the door. “So, uh… Sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” he mumbled. A messy apartment wouldn’t be that bad. Not after what he’d already been through. “I mean, I’ve seen worse.”
One look inside made him out to be a liar. It was a disaster. Like the first time he’d walked in, only a thousand times worse. What happened? Why did they let it get this far? Was it because of him?
“Make yourself at home,” they said with a gentle nudge against his back. “I’m gonna go get dinner for us. Lock the door and stay safe, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Numb. It took up all that time to find the world for how he felt, but that was it. Had this day really happened? Was he just dreaming? Or more accurately, having a nightmare? What was going on?
He didn’t know. But once they took for the stairs, he shut the door behind himself and triple checked the lock. Just in case. As much as he wanted to get comfortable, he just couldn’t. So he had to at least make himself useful.
The trash that littered the place seemed like a good start. He easily found the garbage bags and got to work, willing himself to focus on the task. Soda cans, chip bags- each thing he picked up made his skin crawl. Especially when there were bugs on them.
And to make matters worse, there were even bits of broken glass on the floor, right next to a shelf. He carefully picked up the larger chunks with a heavy sigh. As soon as they got back, he’d tell them off for this. There were even shard on the shelf, around a knocked over picture frame. Clearly, it had to go. So he picked it up, and tossed it in with the rest of the trash.
But squashed underneath of it were two shards of a photo. He picked up both pieces and took a look. On one half, a smiling Snail. On the other half him. Just as happy, if a bit flustered.
A memory flooded back to him.
“Hey, Daniel, let’s take a picture!”
“Why? This isn’t a special occasion, you know.”
“I think it’s special because I get to be with you.”
“...You’re such a sap. Alright, fine. Let me go get dressed, then.”
“Nope! I want a picture of you in your cute pajamas!”
“Oh my god… You better not show this to anyone.”
“I won’t!”
A teardrop fell onto the picture. Then another. And three more. The harder Daniel tried to hold them back, the more they came out.
Eventually, he broke. With a sob, he held the picture close to his chest and just let himself cry. It hurt as much as it felt cathartic. He couldn’t have that again. No, he’d ruined it. He was lucky Snail saved him, even gave a damn enough to feel pity for him. After this, he’d have to go again. But he didn’t want to, why couldn’t he just stay? He’d give up everything he had if it meant they’d take him back. But that wouldn’t be an option.
He had to live with his mistakes.
“Daniel, shit, what’s wrong?”
They had barely gotten a hand on his shoulder when he turned and held onto them like they’d disappear. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, tears still rolling down his face and dropping onto their shirt. “I’m so fucking sorry, Snail. I just left you and I shouldn’t have let them convince me to, I should’ve stayed, and I’m so sorry. Please, don’t hate me, I still love you more than anything, I just…”
No more words. Only sobs, broken apologies, whimpers, pathetic cries. Snail rubbed his back in soothing circles, but it was still a good ten minutes before he even calmed down the slightest bit.
“Let’s sit down,” they said as they guided him to the couch. They handed him a sandwich from the bag in their hands. “And once you’re ready, you can tell me all about them.”
With a sniffle, he nodded and dug in, not even caring of the sandwich was from some garbage fast food place. Had he even eaten that day? Or the day before? He couldn't remember, but the answer was most likely no.
He got about halfway through before he felt full. And since Snail didn’t seem to be eating, he figured right then would be a good time to start opening up.
“So, I figured you saw my… Episode earlier,” he started off with a hesitant glance over at them.
“Yeah,” they sighed out. For a quick second, they focused on his bruise. “I did.”
“Well, there’s not much more for me to say,” he mumbled as he set his sandwich aside. “When they helped me get my start, I fell for them. And they used it. Promised me a bright future, and worked me half to death. Stressed me out, made me angry for viewership, isolated me from everyone else. Kinda like what they did to me this past month. And when I denied them full control over my show, they left. Like I didn’t even matter to them.”
Snail’s hand found his. “Fucking hell…”
“This time,” he continued and brought his hand up to his face, “they tried to pull the ‘don't you love me’ card to get my show. And it didn’t work. So they…”
“No need to explain,” they said softly. “I mean… They did that and you still stood up to them? Holy shit, Daniel, you have no fucking idea how brave that is.”
He almost wanted to laugh at that. Him? Brave? No. He was just a fucking idiot who couldn’t stop making mistakes. Speaking of…
“What now?” he asked after a long moment. “Are we… ? Officially over now?”
They looked over at him, obviously surprised. Then they shrugged. “I mean, we never actually ended it, so… No. I don’t think so.”
“But I left you,” he mumbled, now turned away. He felt sick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I-”
“Hey,” they said softly, one hand under his chin to make him look them in the eye. “You owed me one anyway. And yeah, it fucking hurt, but like… Knowing everything now, I can’t really blame you.”
“I can,” he sighed out. His shoulders shook with the sob he tried to hold back. Now was not the time to break down again. So he held their hand tight. “And I swear, I’m going to make it up to you. But… Fuck, it’s going to have to be after this fight for my show.”
“That’s okay,” they said, with a soft kiss to his face. “You’ve got plenty of time to make it up to me, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.”
For the first time in a long while, he smiled. Even if it was through a stream of tears. “And I’m not either. I promise.”
Summary: Your brother, Sebastian Stan, is taking you for a little vacation and internship scouting with him on the set of Captain America: Civil War. On the trip, interesting friendships are made, and Spider-Man doesn’t stay your least favorite superhero.
Characters: the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe cast, Anthony and Joe Russo, Stan Lee, and mentions of the other MCU movie directors
Word Count: 2.4k
A/N: thank you to every reader for making it through to the end with me and putting up with my crazy update scheduling. I hope you all enjoyed reading Winter Break as much a I loved creating/sharing it. (:
PART SEVENTEEN
Two years and six months later.
“I can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“Me neither,” Max says, standing to the side of you while she agrees with Forest. Damon has his arms around your shoulders, chin resting on the top of your head like a limp monkey as you text your brother.
“I haven’t been able to believe it since I got the internship,” you chuckle, glancing up from your phone. Damon groans, having become comfortable, and begrudgingly moves himself away to flop away onto Chris, the high school grad not Evans, curling against the already sleeping boy’s shoulder.
“Where’s Timothy?” Forest asks, looking at you in the mirror.
“You mean Tom?” you correct him.
“Spider-boy,” Forest compromises, and Max rolls her eyes at him.
“He’s with Downey and Chris Pratt,” you tell him, and Forest’s eyes go as wide as saucers.
“Chris Pratt is coming?”
“Deforest, he was in the damn movie,” Max says. “Of course he’s going to be at the premiere.”
“Okay, shut up Maxine,” Forest replies snarkily, and she smacks him in the arm for using her real name.
“Sebastian is wondering if you’re all excited to see Infinity Wars,” you say, and Forest’s jaw drops.
“Of course we’re fucking excited!” he exclaims. “Zoe Saldana is going to be within twenty feet of me the entire night!”
Max gives Forest a look that he doesn’t see, and you laugh. “That’s a yes then.”
There’s knocking on your apartment door, and you stand up, walking away from your seat at the kitchen table to the entrance of your place.
“Hey there, Director,” Chris Hemsworth grins at you, reaching to embrace you.
“Hey Hemsworth,” you reply, smiling, and hear a sharp gasp from behind you.
“Holy shit,” Max whispers, eyes as wide as Forest’s had been moments before.
“Come in,” you say, letting him step into your apartment. You’d become friends with the older man when you’d visited the set of Doctor Strange and Thor Ragnarok earlier on, and had fun adventures pranking your brother and the two other Chrises with Hemsworth between filming and co-working with the Russos, Scott Derrickson, and Taika Waititi on directing each of the up and coming movies. “These are my friends Max, Forest, Damon, and Chris Pavlone.”
You gesture to each of your four friends in turn, and Hemsworth chuckles when you point to Chris and Damon.
“Not another Chris,” Hemsworth says, and you shrug your shoulders. “How many is that now?”
“Hemsworth, Pratt, Evans, Pine, and Pavlone,” you count off on your fingers, chuckling. “Too many.”
“Well,” Hemsworth says, checking the watch on his wrist. He’s dressed in a black suit and a silver tie, his still long hair tied up in the back of his head with a few strands hanging loose. “We should get going here soon. The Toms are waiting for us.”
“I thought Holland was with Pratt and Downey,” you reply, raising an eyebrow.
Since the premiere of Captain America: Civil War, you’d comfortably adjusted to calling the Marvel cast members by their last names when there were multiples of them, just in time for Infinity War filming too, where there were at least two Chrises in the same place and two Toms running around somewhere else on set.
“He was, until Sebastian decided to go with Evans and Anthony Mackie and Rudd,” Hemsworth tells you.
You grin, upon hearing your boyfriend had escaped from Pratt and Downey at the last minute, and turn back to your friends. “Ready to go?”
“Hell yeah!” Max responds eagerly, grinning at Hemsworth. She had his autographed Thor: The Dark World poster hanging above her bed back in her dorm room in Michigan, and in addition to that, Tom Hiddleston’s signed copy of the Thor movie. Hiddleston had been a good friend as well on the set of Ragnarok while you shifted back and forth between it and Doctor Strange – when you weren’t pranking him at least.
Forest wakes Damon and Chris, who start at the sight of Hemsworth in front of them, before composing themselves and fixing their hair. You’d gotten the four of them hooked on Marvel during the last few months of your senior year, and had brought Max to the premiere of Guardians of the Galaxy: Volume Two the year before. Since then, they’d become nearly as obsessed as you were about the MCU.
“I wish Jamie could have come,” Chris sighs as you all take the elevator down to the apartment building’s lobby.
“Me too,” you respond truthfully. You’d discovered Jamie was moving to Cuba a few months ago for her association with GreatNonprofits Charity, to help out with things in Haiti. You didn’t really know the details since she didn’t share them, but she hadn’t made any real attempt to reach out to you whenever you tried. Distant as she may have been from you, you still missed her presence occasionally now that it was just the five of you.
“Jamie?” Hemsworth asks as the elevator doors open.
“An old friend,” Max tells him, seeming to have calmed herself down. She’d met a few of the celebrities over the last two, nearly three, years that you’d worked with, but her studies at Michigan State College had prevented her from visiting you more often. You started going to NYU last year in the fall, and had been able to successfully intern with the MCU directors while studying to be a director yourself. It was convenient too, since a few of the premiers and most sets were in New York.
Outside the lobby doors, you can see a long black limo pulled up, and Tom Holland standing in a black suit outside the door.
“Tom,” you grin, and walk ahead of the others. Outside, the air is warm, the summer evening perfect for the premiere later on.
“(Y/N).” He lights up when he sees you, and hugs you tightly, pressing his lips to yours in a way that had become undeniably familiar.
“Hey Tommo,” Max greets him from behind you, and he releases you, hugging your best friend and kissing her cheek before shaking hands with Forest and Chris Pavlone. Tom and Damon didn’t get along like you had wanted them to, and you had reluctantly accepted it, but they both took the high road and gave each other nods of acknowledgment.
“You’re looking more like a man tonight,” Hemsworth teases the younger actor as he gets into the limo.
“And you’re looking less like an Asgardian,” Tom replies, chuckling and placing his hand on your back before you climb into the vehicle after your friends.
Inside, Tom Hiddleston gives you the best side hug he can, smiling widely. You can see Max mentally restraining herself from fainting beside the Loki Laufeyson actor.
The drive to the venue is loud and entertaining, and even Damon laughs at a story your boyfriend tells from the filming. This is certainly not your first time at a first viewing of a Marvel movie, but every time you went, you could feel yourself becoming more and more determined to keep doing this for the rest of your life.
The laughter and thrill of it through the night combined with the pride of the crowd would fill you with just drove you further.
When the limo finally slows, and you can hear the shouts and hollers of the fans outside, you take a deep breath and kiss Tom Holland again.
“Ready for it, love?” he asks, minding the fabric of your dress as you pull away from him.
“With Spider-Man at my side? I’m ready for anything,” you joke and he pecks your lips again as it becomes his turn to get out.
His hand reaches for you as screams cry his name, and you clasp it, heart beating fast as cameras flash instantly, seeming right in your face. You move along, behind Max and Forest, who have Damon and Chris Pavlone in front of them, people screaming your name and then your brother’s when his limo pulls up after yours drives away. The Marvel cast is in front and behind you, grins all around and talent all over the red carpet.
“Hey,” Tom says, leaning down to get close to your ear so you can hear him as you approach the place where all of the paparazzi are yelling and taking photos with the sponsor billboard behind the cast. It’s your turn, and you walk with Tom in front of them, smiling and glancing up at him as he taps you again.
“I love you,” he says, and your smile widens, and a blush rushes to your cheeks as the cameras take photos of every moment.
“I love you too,” you respond, and he kisses your forehead, posing with you for the first time since you two had walked up to the wall, before moving you both along.
“Hey Little Stan!” Mackie shouts, moving towards you with his wife not far behind.
“Mackie!” you grin, and hug him tightly before doing the same with his wife.
“I’m so excited for this!” he says, putting his arm around his wife again.
“Come on Anthony,” she speaks up, bidding you and Tom goodbye before tugging her husband towards Scarlett and her husband.
“I feel like there’s more crazy people here than civilized ones,” you say to Tom as you’re spotted by a camera lady and her matching camera man.
“Who are you calling crazy?” Tom chuckles.
You don’t get the chance to reply, because the reporter has reached you and is speaking to you.
“Miss Stan, how does it feel to be attending your sixth MCU movie premiere as a working director’s intern?” the lady asks, putting the mic in your face. You glance at Tom, who squeezes your hand, before talking.
“It feels fantastic,” you say, looking between her and the camera. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to attend one of these as a part of the movie.”
“What about Sebastian? How does it feel to be out of his shadow?”
You raise an eyebrow. “Sebastian doesn’t have a shadow.”
The woman seems to catch your cold tone, because she refocuses onto Tom, who isn’t as friendly as he could have been after her comment. He answers a few questions before your brother is coming towards you, throwing his arms around you.
“Seb,” you grin, and he kisses your temple quickly before flashing a smile at the camera.
“Come on, (your first initial),” he says. “Joe and Anthony want a photo with you.”
You look back at Tom, who nods his head. “I have to find Zendaya and Downey,” he tells you. “I’ll find you before we go in.”
Your older brother takes your hand and guides you through the clumps of the cast back towards the paparazzi infested part of the red carpet where you can see the Russo Brothers laughing with each other.
“Here she is!” Sebastian calls over the loud voices, and you walk up to the brothers, and they put their arms around your waist and shoulders.
They greet you and you stand with them for a few moments, talking about the premiere and who you’ve seen and who you’ve brought along (Forest had hugged Anthony before introducing himself) before they’re walking with you towards the movie theatre entrance.
“Remember to walk up onto the stage,” Joe reminds you as you pass under an air conditioning vent. You nod before venturing away from them, looking over the heads of the famous crowd for Spider-Man.
“Tom?” you call, and Hiddleston turns around. “Not you Tom.”
He pouts, but points towards your boyfriend standing with Zendaya a few feet away.
“(Y/N)!” Zendaya grins, wrapping her arms around you.
“Hey Zen,” you smile in response, before pulling away. “You look gorgeous!”
“So do you!” she compliments. “God, I love that dress.”
“Thank you,” you beam, running your fingers through the fabric before looping your arm through Tom’s. As she walks ahead, you say to Tom, “I have to go up to the front.”
“I know,” he nods, kissing your temple. “I’m so excited. Is it going to be awesome?”
You wink at him. You’d already seen the movie last week when the editing department had finally finished and the Russos had called you to come in after hours, and it was easy to say you’d been blown away by it.
You walk around the Agents of Shield cast, waving at Chloe Bennett and Brett Dalton when they notice you looking at them, and Tom squeezes your hand.
“Are you going to be okay up there?” he asks when you both notice the crowd start to settle and the Russos take the stage.
“Hopefully,” you reply, and he holds your hand until you’re too high for him to touch on the stairs.
You join Anthony and Joe on the stage, heart pounding in your chest as you look out onto the theatre’s visitors. You can pick out your brother in the near middle, and the rest of the Team Cap sitting near him, with Team Iron Man a row or two away (yes, they still take sides). The other MCU movies and TV show attendants are clumped around, easy to pick out when you remember their faces and names.
“Good evening!” Anthony calls out, voice booming from the microphone. There’s a loud reply, and you can’t help but smile. “We’ve been waiting for this night since we heard about getting the opportunity to direct this movie.”
Joe takes the mic from his brother, and smiles at the crowd. “We spent a lot of time and hours editing and adjusting camera angles and the film itself, but it was really the gigantic cast that made it possible in the first place to have anything to make a movie with.”
He passes the mic to you, and your heart beats too fast for you to identify the start and end of a beat.
“We dedicate this movie to the people who helped to make it,” you say, voice evening out as you speak, “and to everyone who didn’t get to be in it, but still was a great part of it. Some of your characters died, and some of them had to live on, and some of you had to stand by and watch it happen. A lot of our characters have had great development, from just a thief or a lawyer or even a homeless person to one of our heroes.”
Anthony takes the mic back from you and prepares to introduce Stan Lee as the crowd applauses your three-way speech.
“We also dedicate this movie to one of the people who made our heroes in the first place – Mister Stan Lee,” Anthony says, swinging his arm out towards the old man.
You get ready to exit the stage, and Tom takes your hand as Stan Lee begins his speech.
“You were amazing,” he says, resting his forehead against yours.
“Thank you,” you grin, trying to catch your breath. He kisses you, soft and decent for the crowd behind you both, and pulls away, smiling. Chadwick Boseman winks at you when you glance around.
“You want to watch a movie?” he jokes, and you chuckle, but nod your head, going along with his joke.
“Sure,” you reply, taking his hand in yours as you walk up the aisle. “Why not?”
FUNFUNFUN! :)
Went to Husgado, listened to some lectures, *SKINNY-DIPPING* at Sta. Lucia Falls and ate ISAW! HAHAHA!
The bus ride going back to manila was the BEST! :)) PAINPAINPAIN! :P
badtrip lang dahil nabasa yung cam ko and yung cam ni nikka. :| grrr. stupid slippery rocks!
any, feel free to grab pictures. :) some pictures are from pat and eca. :) more to follow. :D
