"She's a secret, but some secrets are worth being told."
[ book one of assassin series]
[ daughter of hawkeye oc x peter parker ]
[ Captain America: Civil War ]
[ 🏅 voted #2 in emiliaclarke! ]
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Relyingon sleep always seemed stupid to me, that was until I decided to stay up until two o'clock in the morning binge watching movies with Peter on what seemed like the only English channel in Germany. We watched movies that ranged from cooking rats - which happened to be one of my favorites because when a man was introduced and claimed that he, "killed a man with this thumb," flaunting his left big thumb, I felt the need to prop up on my elbows and point out in excitement, "no way, I killed a man with my thumb, too. It was not easy." Peter laughed right after and when I asked what was so funny he mumbled an answer about how my stories always made him laugh, yet another thing I didn't understand - we watched another movie about boys who were best friends and dug holes in the dessert with other boys, some really old movie with people on an island with genetically modified dinosaurs. I dozed off after Peter started to rave about a movie where all the stars went to war, it seemed like it was his favorite movie. It didn't sound very good to me.
By seven twenty-two a.m., the following hours, I was dozing off against the cool door of the hotel bathroom, yet again, in the moments of warming up my shower. I could feel myself slipping back into my dream state, but rather it be the dull nightmarish images that filled my head, it was a memory. Something faint, the bark of a dog, the feeling of new comers. Nat was there, two men, one man in a red cape, the other in baggy gray clothes, and.. Steve? I remember staring up at a large man, the one in the red cape, after he stepped on my LEGO house I had spent the afternoon constructing.
The knock on the door sent me on my ass and back into reality. My feet stumbled back, like stuttering over my own words and before I knew it I was looking at the ceiling. The light flickered on and Peter looked down at me, his eyes squinting, a question on the tip of his tongue that lay beyond his parted lips. He was wearing a red, blue and blacked lined onesie, the spandex material cling to his body and shaped his muscles. I was still in my pajamas, plastered to the ground like a wet towel and staring back at him.
"What're you"-
"Wearing?" I finished his question then propped myself on his elbows, my question raised with my eyebrows, "don't give me that look, you're the one in a spandex onesie!"
"Hey! This is from Mr. Stark, it's awesome!" He defended himself, practically puffing up his chest. I should've known that Peter would gush over some simple suit, especially if that suit had been made by Tony. Peter pushed the door open, scoffing down at me once again and offering me a hand to help me off the ground. Disregarding his aid, my palms pushed my body back up with ease. "Besides, it's so much better than my old suit, I just finished filling up my web..." Peter's voice trailed off as I brushed my hands off and absentmindedly looked over my shoulder and at my reflection.
