#tom holland drabble

[bonesandchalamet]

perfect - t.holland

masterlist

requested: y- “Could you do reader and Tom or Harry with newborn !!”

pairings: dad!tom holland x mom!reader

warnings: fluff + child has been given a name

a/n: I hope I did this justice 🫡 I’m not very good with writing newborns!

you can’t figure out what you’re more obsessed with: her rolls, feet, or the fact that she looks exactly like Tom.

you haven’t been able to move from the crib. you should be asleep, but your eyes are glued to the crib where your newborn daughter, Emma, lays asleep.

you know Tom will come in any second. he’ll be concerned why you’re not in bed or pumping. he’ll ask if something’s wrong with Emma or with you. he’ll ask a series of questions you’ve heard on record since you came home from the hospital, but you don’t mind them. he’s concerned for his two loved ones.

“everything alright?” there it is. you sigh, taking a look at him for a brief second before looking back at her. she hasn’t moved, yet every rise and fall of her chest makes your heart swell.

“I just can’t decide which part I love more of her.” you carefully tap your finger against the wooden edge of the crib.

Tom exhales quite happily, it’s nothing serious to be worried about. he carefully steps into the room, his hand rests against your lower back, “why don’t you go sleep? we can worry about what we love most once we’ve rested.”

you shake your head. there’s tears welling your eyes, you know this is just hormones— or maybe you’re just so in love you can’t move from her crib.

“I just want to stay here forever.”

“we’ll have plenty of time to stay in here forever. we need some sleep.” he assures you, his palm running over your dirty hair. you can’t remember the last time you’d showered coming to think of it.

“you’re right, I’m being ridiculous.” you nod along with him finally moving from the crib. the emotions had dried allowing the exhaustion to finally settle in your body. Tom promises to take the first shift after napping and you don’t argue, just settle into the mattress.

“and you’re not ridiculous. however, I think her rolls are quite adorable.”

—

three hours.

you’d been asleep for three hours and didn’t even hear a single noise from emma or Tom. you assumed he would need your help at some point, but having not heard anything from either of them. you could trust he had it all under control.

you slowly rise out of bed and exit the bedroom, you see Tom in your living room rocking chair. he’s got a bottle in one hand, and her cradled in his other arm. she looks quite cozy and content with him.

“you’re awake.” he looks up from her with a frown. his plans were to let you sleep as long as you needed, but he knew you couldn’t leave her alone for too long without checking on her. the silence was always scary to hear.

“I know.”

“she’s been sleeping this whole time. you can go back to bed if you’d like?” he recommends rather than offering. you know the suggestion is what you should take, but you can’t get yourself to move from where you’re standing. your eyes glued to her once again.

“it’s everything. that’s what I love about her.” you say finally taking your eyes off of your sleeping newborn to look Tom in the eyes.

he nods in agreement looking back down at her in his arms, “she’s perfect.”

[hollandsangel]

WAIT WAIT I DIDNT EVEN SEE U HAD TOM REQS OPEN, BUT I'VE BEEN THINKING ABT A FAME AU SORTA THING AND TOM IS PERFECT FOR IT:

just sort of tom and reader sneaking around the pap to see each other, secret moments in crowded rooms y'know all that lovey shtick.

(this ones so vague im sorry 😭 however was inspired by 'paris' by miss ts)

this one is SILLY but i love her thank you sm for the req love!!!

⇘ ⇘ ⇘

at first it was actually quite stressful, dodging cameras and wandering eyes, rarely leaving the house just the two of you and never touching in public, but as time went on, it sort of became a bit of a game. although you might have been getting a little too bold.

 tom is definitely getting too bold, sending you glances across the room where he sits with harry and haz, something bubbly in his hand.

you sit at a different table with a few costars, trying not to get too distracted by tom’s smirk and dark brown eyes. it’s hard though, considering the perfectly tailored suit hes wearing, accompanied by shiny cufflinks and his glasses after you’d begged him to wear them tonight. you feel a strange sense of triumph knowing you’re the one to have convinced him to wear his glasses, likes its just one more secret to add to the list. his hair is a proper mess, proper in the sense it’s styled to look effortless, but it’s tom, so of course it’s effortless.

you take a sip from your glass of water and lean in a bit closer to hear the story maude is telling a bit better, something about her latest play. there’s cameras everywhere, people posting instagram stories and journalists coming in from the red carpet, big cinematic set ups for the live stream about to take place.

you swear you sense him before he even utters your name, maybe you smell his cologne or hear his voice subconsciously amongst a hundred others, but suddenly he’s at your table, greeting others before you.

he says your name, feigning surprise as if you didn’t wake up in his bed this morning.

“i didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” he says, hand on the back of your chair. hes smirking, glasses slipping down the bridge of nose. you think you see harry gag behind him.

you smile innocently up at him, licking your lips, “tom! it’s so nice to see you!” you push your chair back and stand to give him a hug, biting back a laugh when harry mutters a curse under his breath and walks away from the two of you with full commitment. tom does the same.

a camera pans around the room from a few tables away and you begin pull away but tom stops you, whispering “coat check” before you separate.

you hear him, but keep up the facade, “it’s so nice to see you,” you fake niceties.

“you as well, i’m sure i’ll see you around, just gonna do the rounds,” he moptions a circle with his finger, nodding at the rest of the table before wandering off.

“i guess you haven’t seen each other since the movie came out,” someone across from you says, “lovely man,” they tell you.

you simply agree before excusing yourself to the bathroom.

it’s so juvenile, you think, the giddy feeling you get in your stomach from sneaking around and giggling with tom in dark corners like the one you’re in now, tucked away in the coat room, sneaking kisses and little touches when no one is watching.

“tom–” you don’t know what cuts you off first, your stifled laugh or his mouth on yours, “i have to get back to my table.”

he grips your waist so you cant wiggle away, grinning at you.

“we’re gonna get caught,” you’re kissing him back, so it’s hard for him to believe you really have to go, even for a second.

“not if you stop talking,” he teases.

[thefearedashantis]

Use Your Words

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter isn’t listening

Warning: None

'Do you still love me?'

The question clangs painfully against the back of your clenched teeth when Peter mumbles ‘mhmm?’ for the fifth time throughout your story. The sudden urge to question his affections almost unbearable as you stand off to the side of his desk, still sweaty and in your outside shoes having been in a rush to tell him about your day. Heart leaping with joy over the compliment you’d received from a classmate in your poetry workshop.

“And then he bent me over and fucked me on the profs desk while everyone watched”

“Mhmm”

At least Ned and MJ were listening where they lounged about the room, albeit rosy in the cheeks. They encourage you to continue as if any of this could be remotely true.

“In fact, he asked me when we’d be able to make sweet love again.”

“Mhmm”

“Figured I could pencil a date in for next week seeing as I’ll probably be single by then”

“Yeah? That’s great junebug.”

Peter has not once lifted his gaze away from his laptop. The light of the screen reflecting off his glasses, casting a soft blue haze over his features.

Your two friends sensing the oncoming argument scuttle off silently to the kitchen with the excuse of wanting snacks.

“Petey?”

“Yes my love?”

“You know, if you want to break up all you have to do is say so.”

“Mhmm.”

You’re halfway to the door when his brows pinch inward. Shaking his head quickly, Peter struggles to rewind the conversation in between a slew of agonizingly complicated equations. His brain chugging along much slower than he’d like, than he's used to.

“Wait what?”

“I think I'll head home for the day, see you later," you mumble. You had some lectures to catch up with anyway.

He finally breaks away from the device, lowering the lid slightly “Wait bug what did you say?"

“Nothing.”

“No, you said something. Repeat it for me"

“I shouldn’t have to repeat it. You should have heard it the first time.” You spit over your shoulder, reaching for the doorknob.

Peters up, trailing behind you on long legs “Now hold on a minute, that's not fair.”

“And I wouldn’t be so bothered if this was a once in a while thing, but it's becoming an everytime thing! I come back after a good day or even a bad one, and I try telling you about it, and you sit there more focused on the performance of listening than actually listening." And what a performance it was. Leaning in, nodding with the occasional smile or eye contact or frown or gasp or laugh. All without actually having heard a word you said.

You listened to any and everything he had to share with enthusiasm and even questions to follow.

“That’s not true! I was listening.”

You cross your arms over your chest with a sceptical tic in your jaw “Ok, then what did my classmate say about my poetry?”

Peter stops in his tracks “um”

“quickly.”

“He said it was lovely?” You had used the word lovely in your story, but the questioning pitch of his voice has you fleeing all the same. He didn't know for sure if that was what you said.

Your fingers have just wrapped around the cool metal of the knob when all of a sudden your wrist is pinned to the door by a sticky white substance. A beat of silence resonates through the room before you're whirling on your boyfriend with twice as much annoyance as before.

“You did not just web me!” You yell

“Everything's happening too fast!” Peter wails, arm still extended from trapping you, pupils wide.

“Well allow me to excuse myself while the boy genius catches up,” you say, going for your keys. You'd use them to saw your way free, no matter how long it took. But as soon as you wiggle them free from your pocket, another web shoots out and sticks your free arm to the other side of the door. The keys clank uselessly to the ground. “Stop doing that!”

“Stop trying to leave!”

“If I don’t go now ill be late for my date with someone who actually cares about what I have to say!”

“I do care about what you have to say!" The wet rasp of his confession immediately extinguishs your anger. With a predatory focus, you hone in on the abrupt glossy sheen of his eyes, the rosy tint creeping up his neck. The way he starts to shift his weight from foot to foot, rubbing his plams against the abrasive material of his jeans. His lips tremble, pale with the force of his trying to keep them still. "I-" He chokes. Stops. Gaze snapping up to the ceiling before running to you. Working his jaw back and forth as if the words are fighting him, refusing to be spoken, "I've just been really fumbling with the whole juggling school and spidermanning lately.”

The sentence seems to zap what little energy he has. He stumbles in what you assume to be relief, to sit down on his bed. Removing his glasses, he tosses them without care, pressing his knuckles into his eyes and scrubbing at them cruely “…’m tired”

You watch in silence as Peter closes in on himself. He uses his hands to muffle his sniffles, but in doing so, allows a few salty drops to escape and slip along the slope of his nose. Falling from the tip, a row of tiny dark splots begins to form on his shirt. His tears only drip faster as the minutes tick by. His chest stuttering erratically with the task of inhaling and exhaling.

It makes you feel shitty but you don't try to comfort him.

You remain still and quiet as to not disturb the moment in fear that if Peter remembers you're there, he'll attempt to compose himself when all he really needs is to let it out.

When he's cried himself dry, you probe lightly “are you eyes hurting you again?”

He doesn't raise his head. You're faced with knots and tangles of brown “mhmm.”

“words please parker.”

“So much” he gasps, seemingly renewed with sorrow.

This is the boy, you realize, the one Aunt May has told you about amongst the shadows and hush of night. When you sleep over on weekends and wake up longing for a cold glass of water, slipping from bed a little while before dawn only to find her already up, never having actually gone to bed.

The boy who tries to shield his gentle soul behind humour and smarts. Who often takes on much more than he can handle to satisfy others, and is content to crush himself beneath the weight of responsibility if only to let one more person rest easy that day. The one who yearns to please above all else.

Peter often suffers from aches and pains, comes with the territory, but his facial discomfort has been a persistent problem of late. A deep soreness in his cheekbones, temples, behind his eyes, that no pain killer seemed to relieve.

“temple massage?”

“Please?”

With a final sniffle, Peters back on his feet. Swaying over, he makes quick work of freeing you. Pressing shy kisses of apology to your wrists.

No longer having it in you to be upset, you swat him back towards the bed, getting comfortable in your usual postions. Your back propped up on the pillows, Peter sprawled across your lap, face plastered against your tummy. His arms loop around your thighs, fingers playing with the stiching on your pants.

Retrieving the oil and comb from his sidetable, you set to work untangling his hair before you get to the real job of massaging his scalp and temples. A repetitive activity that allows you both time to think about what you've been truly wanting to say.

“You make me feel so invisible sometimes." You start. Peters' hair is soft despite being so uncared for. You comb back his bangs, cupping his face gently and shifting it to look up at you "like it doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. I know you're a busy person, and i accept and love that part of you. But all i ask is five minutes where we act like I'm not some annoyance.”

Insecurity was something you'd fought tooth and nail to rid yourself of over the course of your relationship. Not only a genius but a superhero , being interested in a mere arts major certainly took a toll on the psyche. Sometimes, you caught yourself slipping back into not so nice thoughts and behaviours.

A flash of hurt strikes across Peters face. When he speaks, warmth puffs under the hem of your shirt “I’m sorry. I'm not doing it on purpose. I love having you around and hearing about your day. It's the most relaxing part of my own."

“That’s why you need to tell me when you’re feeling overwhelmed so I can support you in the way you need. I never want you to feel like that.” Like there's nobody in his corner paying attention to his needs.

You accept the apology and continue with your work of destressing your boyfriend. His eyes fall shut after a time and you think he's fallen asleep, familiar with post cry exhaustion when,

“He said you write with patience, giving every word the chance to be what it wants to be” Peter whispers.

“Now, was that before or after he stuck his tongue down my throat?”

“Bug” he groans, springing up. He playfully shoves you back with an exaggerated scowl. You roll to your side, giggling at your own antics. Peter closes in. Slotting a thigh between your legs to lay his body against yours, smothering you with his elevated temperature.

“Trick question! It wasn’t his tongue he stuck down my throat.”

Another howl of disgust rips free from Peter “I hate you!”

“liar!”

Divider: @sister-lucifer

[sabrinasopposite]

💌 emails or also called ,love letters' ;

💌 emails from: clark kent

emails i can't send; 💌

✧˖° chaos;

star of the show; pt 2

don’t you want me like i want you?

game-boy ! pt 2

santa doesn’t know you like i do ⋆⁺₊❅。

you'll always find your way back home ❀

💌 emails from: charlie baker

cruelest summer ☀️

drinks or coffee? / friends or lovers? / imperfect for you / moodboard of my lovely friend @collywobblvs /moodboard ft. @alelo23

💌 emails from: tom holland

afterglow (little women version)

the end of the world

spotless mind. (concept)

💌 emails from: peter parker

number one girl;

when peter met nellie...

💌 my emails:

things you need to know about me

taglist 🏷️

these fanfics are for all my girlies all around the world- feel beautiful and in your own world with these fics! i love u girls so much ! 💌

[writerdarlin]

Five More Minutes - Peter Parker

Summary: Late night video call with Peter after he’s been gone awhile doing superhero duties. 

Peter Parker stares into the camera with a mischievous smirk, damp curls sticking to his forehead from a long day of hero work. His brown eyes glint with warmth as he tilts his head slightly, whispering, “I should probably go to bed, but I really don’t want to.”

The clock on the wall behind him reads well past midnight, and the faint sound of New York traffic hums through the cracked window of his apartment. You’re on a video call with him, your face illuminated by the glow of your laptop screen. The sight of him like this—slightly disheveled but still undeniably charming—makes your heart skip a beat.

“Peter,” you tease, leaning closer to your screen. “If you don’t sleep, you’re going to pass out during school tomorrow. Again.”

He chuckles softly, the sound muffled as he presses his chin into the palm of his hand. “Maybe, but talking to you is way more interesting than AP Chemistry.”

“Flatterer,” you say, though you can’t help but smile. “What happened to Mr. ‘I’m Going to Be a Responsible Superhero’?”

“Superheroes need breaks too,” he retorts, sitting back and stretching, his shirt riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of his toned stomach. “Besides, you’re my favorite person to unwind with.”

Your cheeks flush, and you’re thankful he can’t see the way your lips twitch as you fight back an overly giddy grin. “Fine, just five more minutes. But only because I like the sound of your voice.”

His expression softens, his smirk giving way to something more genuine. “Five minutes,” he echoes, though you both know the conversation will last far longer than that. Neither of you is ready to let go of this little slice of quiet comfort, not yet.

[deathofacupid]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 .ᐟ ────────

⭑ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 ⭑

⭑ 𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ⭑

⭑ 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧 ⭑

⭑ 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐚 ⭑

⭑ 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 ⭑

[fbfh]

TW for sexy slapping, general rough stuff, and degrading. as with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+

biiiiiiiiitch I just got the most visceral image of Peter Parker fucking begging. thrown onto the bed panting and heavy breathing and whimpering for you to do something to him. anything. ideally something rough. he probably broke into your place as spiderman late at night to come see you, but it was dark and you couldn't tell who he was so in a panic you slapped him across the face and cussed him out. you know what this motherfucker did? he moaned. you stop in your tracks because of course you recognize that sound, you've made Peter make that sound enough to pick it out of a line up. you freeze half way through calling him various mean names and turn on a light. he pulls off his mask and he looks so flushed and descheveled and his hair is all rumpled. you're about to apologize for the pink mark developing on his cheek but before you can, he starts begging you to do it again. one look down at the insane boner he's incapable of hiding in that skin tight suit brings you right up to speed.

"Please please please, you can do whatever you want to me, you- you can call me more mean names, just please, don't stop..."

suffice it to say neither of you got anymore sleep at all that night, and that was the night you discovered Peter really likes rough sex.

[smuttyfantasyrecs]

Peter Parker pt.2

*original Peter Parker post can be found here*

🦋 impact play 🦋 collaring 🦋

@psychedelic-ink

[viviennes-tears]

Discipline (Tom Hiddleston, Chris Hemsworth and Tom Holland drabble)

18+ blog: It is YOUR responsibility, as a reader, to think about the content that you consume at your own discretion. 

~

A/N: Thank you to my friend vampirequeenscourt for being so patient with me while waiting for your first of two prompts to be written. I had fun with this as I do whenever you send me prompts. 

Enjoy 😊 x

Prompt requested by vampirequeenscourt/VampireQueen666 on Tumblr/A03: Sebastian and Hemsworth are roughhousing in the pool while Tom is reading. They accidentally get water on him. Tom makes Chris get out of the pool and take off Chris's bathing suit, then proceeds to spank him over his lap in front of Sebastian. Sebastian then receives the same. They are super horny and thank Tom for the discipline.

Summary: Sebastian and Chris are messing around the pool, which lead to a chase, followed by the pair’s accidental collision and fall into the water. The water splashes over their lover and master Tom, who disciplines them for their misbehaviour. 

Warnings: M/M/M established relationship, dom/sub relationship, dominance,  punishment/disciplined by spanking, male genitalia description, oral sex - male receiving (mild), and handjob - male receiving (mild)

 ------------------------------

The hot sticky summer sun didn’t stop the tall beefy blonde and the slightly shorter teddy bear of a man from messing around the pool side, while their lover and master, a tall slender dominating god like man, sat on a lounge chair in the shade while reading. Keeping a close eye on his boys as he glanced up over his book at them every once in a while.

“Seb, you’re so dead mate.” Chris the beefy blonde playfully warned, after receiving a smack to the back of the head with the volleyball when his back was turned for just a minute.

“Come get me, Chrisy.” Sebastian the teddy bear snickers, but is quick to set off running around the pool, close to the edge as Chris pursues him in the chase. 

Their ruckus causes Tom the master to look up from his current page, an upwards curve forms on his lips, watching the pair together. Chris managed to catch up with Sebsatian with the luck of a slight slip up on a wet patch which had slowed him down considerably. Unfortunately the wet patch also made Chris slip as he caught up, or more like colliding with Sebastain, sending them both tumbling into the pool with an enormous splash. The water shot as far as Tom sat on the lounge chair, soaking him and his book instantly sodden, his enjoyment replaced with annoyance. 

As soon as Chris and Sebastian broke the surface with gasps they were greeted by the snarl on Tom’s face, as he stood on the edge of the pool wet from their misbehavior, and their playfulness wiped from their own faces.

“Get out of there right now.” Tom demeaned, pointing off to the side to the spot he expects them to fill.

Wordlessly they haul themselves out of the swimming pool. The water slid off their backs as they got up onto their feet, puddles forming at their feet, followed by footprints as they made their way towards the spot Tom wanted them to stand in. Sebastian’s head was bowed, his eyes taking on an innocent look like puppies do when they get into trouble, his hair had also fallen in front of him and dripped down his skin. Chris put on a brave face as Tom approached him. The dark glint in his eyes made a shiver run down his spine. Without warning Tom yanked Chris’ swimming shorts down swiftly around his ankles, his actions caused Chris’ breath to hitch in his throat, and Sebastain’s eyes wandered over despite keeping his head bowed. However Tom wasn’t done yet, he’d made his way over to Sebastian next, forcing him to lift his head before yanking his swimming shorts down too.

“Step out of them.” Tom orders, as he steps back and watches them both stepping out of their swimming shorts.

Both Sebastain and Chris stood there waiting for their next instruction. It felt like a small eternity stood in silence as Tom sat back down on the lounge chair, only this time he sat on the edge, with legs slightly parted and feet planted on the floor. Eventually Tom signaled for Chris to approach, again with a brave face he did what he was told, before being forced across Tom’s lap stomach first. Regardless of Chris’ muscular form he still bent over without kicking up a fuss, Tom had a power over him that made him be an obedient pet, Sebastain wasn’t immune to Tom’s powerful hold either.

“You both owe me a new copy of my book.” Tom says with a dark gravel to his voice, his fingers trailed down Chris’ spine as he spoke.

“You’ll have it…whatever you wish for, sir.” Chris replies, as his back arches up into his touch, he’d fallen for the soft touch that was then replaced with a swift smack to his ass. The pain left a tingling sensation behind, but this punishment couldn’t stop him from also feeling aroused.

Chris receives several more harsh thwacks to his backside. Each one caused an arousing pain and reddened his flesh, groans and grunts easily escaped his lips each time, his pricked up whenever Tom spoke in that deep gravelly voice that scolded him. Everything sent blood rushing down to his cock, that grew needy and hard against Tom’s thighs. Sebastian watched intently the entire time, subconsciously he began palaming his own throbbing cock, he’d never thought he’d feel a need come from a display quite like this before him.

“Stop that right now!” Tom growled, noticing Sebastain playing with himself, his warning and the darkness in his eyes piercing him was all it took. He stopped as he swallowed hard and thick. 

Proceeding with Tom pushing Chris off his lap, Chris reluctantly moved away, standing beside him as Sebastain took his place over Tom’s lap. Oddly he missed the stinging pleasure that almost split his skin, he especially missed it as Sebsatain received the same punishment for his participant in getting their master and his book wet, and for touching himself too without permission. It was almost like torture.

Once they’d been disciplined both are made to stand before Tom, their cocks equally hard and angrily red due to neglect, their bodies aching in a delicious way like a craving that needs to be fulfilled only by their master. However they knew they wouldn’t get what they wanted unless satisfying Tom and soothing that scowl still etched on his face.

“Thank you, sir.” They say in unison, their voices a little strained as they spoke, as they try to restrain from jumping Tom. 

Seemingly this pleases him and he softens up as he invites his boys onto the lounge chair with him. His actions are more attentive to each of them. Kissing and caressing their bodies in turn, before taking Chris’ cock into his hot mouth and Sebastain’s into his hand. Ensuring both are taken care of.

------------------------------

Tags:

@jennyggggrrr @foxherder @vampirequeenscourt

Join tags here

Tom Hiddleston Masterlist

Source: @viviennes-tears

[bonesandchalamet]

a Monaco Grand Prix - t.holland

masterlist

pairing: Tom holland x mercedes intern!fem!reader

warnings: some flirting + possible minor errors

a/n: inspired by the Monaco gp today! combining my love for Tom and formula 1 into this! if you like formula 1, you can find my sports masterlist on @thatsdemko 🥰

“you can’t just be nice and give him a tour?” your boss, Toto Wolff, gives you a glare that’s almost killer. one that you know will bite you in the ass, if you don’t just take the opportunity to show the famous celebrity around the paddock.

you know it’s part of your job. if you want your placement to be permanent, you’ll have to do whatever the boss says, and that being showing a famous prick around the Monaco paddock.

you nod, “I’ll do it.” you swallow the nervous jitters, as you turn out of the Mercedes hospitality to the one and only Tom holland making his way through media, other formula 1 interns, and press.

he’s headed to you with his security guards. a bright pearly white smile on his face as climbs the steps, hand extended, “ah you must be y/n! I was told you’d show me around.” his British accent brings warmth to your ears as it visibly spreads to your cheeks taking his hand in yours.

you’ve completely forgot why you didn’t want to do this in the first place. after having met the Tom holland, you’d do anything your boss asks you to do.

“right this way, Mr. Holland, let me show you our new and improved cars for this weekends race.”

—

each spot you took him to came with a variety questions and expression, god he was cute, was all you could think about. he was attentive and listened to your tidbits and nerdy jokes, he could tell you really loved your job and took formula 1 as serious as it was.

“and this is the Red Bull garage, legally I’m not allowed in there or else I’ll be reported for spying. but go on in, I’m sure Christian Horner would love to see you.” you gesture for the actor to step inside the garage and join the couple of other famous people you could see from where you stood.

as badly as he wanted to step in and have the cameras pointed on him, he didn’t mind keeping a lower profile and decline the offer to do so, “if you can’t go in then I definitely shouldn’t.” he laughs pulling out his phone to show you his Lewis Hamilton lockscreen, “I’d be murdered in there.”

“that makes two of us.” you giggle, pulling out your phone to show him the picture of you and Lewis on your first day. he’s a bit jealous as a claims, but you’re sure he’s had more opportunities to meet him than you have. considering you rarely see the drivers— except for Mick Schumacher.

“ah I’m hoping to get a picture with him like that too!” he carefully taps his finger against your screen to get another look at the picture; two of you smiling from ear to ear in Bahrain.

“I don’t have the privileges to get you to meet him, but considering your fame status? I’m sure by the end of this weekend you’ll see him more times than me.” you gesture for him to follow and he keeps up as you pass the McLaren, where Oscar piastri and lando norris are doing final placements.

“what if I want to see you more by the end of this weekend?” he asks, the words slipping off his tongue before he can filter them out. his hand flies over his lips; security guard chuckling at his intrusive thoughts winning. flirty words were easy for Tom, but he didn’t expect to find himself using a line on you this early on the tour.

you can feel the red hue quickly spread to your cheeks, it’s more noticeable than the last time he got your attention that way. he moved into your field of vision turning to face you, rather than the cars, “I mean I could always use a tour guide around Monaco?” he shrugs, hand finding the nape of his neck as he nervously plays with the hairs there.

“ask me when I’m off the clock, then legally I can answer.”

—

you thought he would’ve forgotten by now. it was hours after you gave him his own private tour of the paddock, and somehow? he was still there.

most people— fans, media, press, and other members of formula 1— had vacated the paddock following an early rise tomorrow for the big race, but not Tom. he’d stuck out waiting around, taking pictures with the few fans left, and even getting his picture with the infamous Lewis Hamilton.

“I see you finally got your picture.” you say as you make your way down those same hospitality steps to close the gap of where he stood off to the side.

“yeah, but I didn’t get that guaranteed tour of Monaco yet?”

“will I get paid by the end of the tour?” you raise an eyebrow watching his words stumble out of his mouth, words not even forming sentences you tripped him hard, “I’m joking, Tom, but I get off of work tomorrow late, so your tour will have to wait.”

he nods eager, but still slow enough to not show much of his excitement, “I can wait until then. I’ll find you here tomorrow evening?”

“deal, and I don’t take checks as a form of payment.”

[butchbetty]

spider-verse edits 4/?

Peter begins his new life in New York with an internship at Stark Industries. The only thing that helps take his mind off of everything he’s lost is the first friend he’s made, Gwen Stacy (fc: Anya-Taylor Joy). He fights his feelings for her though, since he is trying to keep his distance while still checking in on MJ. Their encounters start to seem like more than coincidences to her and she becomes determined to find out why, making it even harder for Peter to be around her without telling her everything.

[hereissomething]

just found out today that David Warner plays a Peter Vincent-alike in a movie called "My Best Friend is a Vampire" (1987) and now im desperate to watch it. he even has the same wardrobe colors, a peter gun, AND a trunk full of vampire huntin tools🫨

(thank u to @ropermike's amazing whump archives that span decades of cinema and tv series🙏)

[min-xiao13-exe]

Stay With Me

Masterlist

Stay With Me CH-1

Stay With Me CH-2

Stay With Me CH-3

Stay With Me CH-4

Stay With Me CH-5

Stay With Me CH-6

Stay With Me CH-7

[pockyyasii]

how is this sooo goooddd <333

Sometimes I like to think Peter confessed to trouble one night after randomly barging into her dorm room thru the window, bleeding in like 20 dif places, and while she’s frantic asking what the fuck happened looking for a med kit he’s high off adrenaline and is like “SPIDER-MAN. ME SPIDER-MAN.” and she’s just like “what the FUCK did you just say?!”

it makes me giggle

-🪼

😭😭😭 i could imagine this fr. like, he was on the brink of blacking out, bleeding out and dying and all he had was you because may is at minimum, thirty minutes away.

peter leaves a bloody handprint on your window when he pushes it open, then collapses to your floor while heaving for air. you nearly jump out of bed at the sound, terrified and ready to call peter because who the fuck entered your room through your window in the middle of the night?

except it’s spider-man, and you jump into action, getting to him in two steps and hitting the carpet with your knees.

grabbing his shoulder, ‘oh my god, oh my god, spider-man, are you okay?’ he’s not okay, he’s dying on your floor.

peter doesn’t have it in him to play pretend, he rips the mask off. you gasp and throw him back into the wall, peter groans.

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the-‘

‘trouble, please.’

you run around, your mom packed you a first aid kit when you moved to college, you’ve never used it. now you need it, where the fuck is it?

‘what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, peter?’

he’s clutching his side, there’s so much blood.

‘this is why you’re not allowed to do this, you promise me right now you’ll stop.’

‘you know i can’t,’ he gasps for air, ‘do that.’

‘oh what the fuck, this isn’t happening. what the fuck, this is how you told me? i mean, what the fuck?!’

‘you’re doing a great job at handling it, super stellar.’

you throw a towel at him, he holds it to his worst laceration.

‘don’t you dare get upset with me, you’re the one leading a double life showing up to my fucking window at deaths door. jesus christ, peter. what the fuck!’

‘can i please get a bandaid?’

you find the kit, you tear the plastic and open it.

‘you need a fucking trauma unit.’

peter pulls out a roll of gauze, then motions towards his suit, ‘do me a favor and get me out of this.’

‘oh my god, am i dreaming? this isn’t real life, you’re not real.’

peter’s struggling to free himself, you help while dazed. your brain is melting. ‘is this a bad time to ask for an autograph?’

he stares at you. you blink back.

peter can’t believe he has to say it. ‘yes. it’s a terrible time.’

you pull the suit down to his hips, he’s cut a million different ways. ‘so, is that a no?’

peter wraps the gauze around his arm and tears it with his teeth, the sight makes your heart thump, he looks up at you. ‘don’t you dare get turned on right now, that’s sadistic.’

‘you’re hot when you’re bloody.’

‘oh, jesus christ. fucking cauterize me and you can live out your fantasies.’

you grab a handful of bandaids and a tube of neosporin. ‘on it.’

[deathofacupid]

hair (blurb) | tom holland

you were scrolling through your phone mindlessly, waiting for tom to come out of the shower. he'd just come back from the gym when you'd rung the doorbell, so he was taking a quick rinse. 

the two of you had only been dating for a couple months, but it was one of the best decisions you'd ever made. 

you heard the door open, and you looked up, met with with an amazing sight. 

he wasn't wearing a shirt, and his toned abs were showcased, out for you to admire. and trust, you were definitely doing that. 

but beyond all that, what caught your eyes the most was his hair.

soft, wet curls fell in heaps across his head, bouncing on his forehead. you couldn't help the heat that made itself onto your cheeks, and you locked eyes with him. 

you jumped up to your feet, rushing over to him and grabbing fistfuls of his curls. he backed away in protest, yelping. 

"what on earth-!"

"your hair! you have-...!

"hair? yeah, i know."

"no, no, i mean the- curls? or did you always have them?"

"oh," he laughed, finally understanding what you meant, "yes, love, i've always had them. i just normally have them gelled back."

"okay, like, not gonna lie, you just got way hotter. and i didn't even know that was possible."

"thanks."

and after a moment, "are you done now?"

"no! none of my friends ever let me play with their curls! and, well, you kinda have to."

"what? why?" tom chuckled.

"'cause we're dating. duh. it's, like, a rule."

"ah, i see. alright, well, it's my turn to pick the movie, loser."

"nooooo. i wanna!"

"jeez, you big baby. i'm literally dating a toddler."

"hmm. that's very pedo-core."

he groaned, throwing his head back, "but you picked last time anyways!"

"yep."

"it's my turn! and don't hate me, but i really don't wanna see aladdin for the millionth time!"

"take that back!"

"no!" sticking his tongue out, he blew a raspberry.

"now who's the toddler?" you gasped, shoving him lightly.

"butthole," he muttered. then hmmping, "actually, i'll do it."

"do what?"

"say bye to the curls!"

"you wouldn't!"

"i dunno. the buzzcut calls me."

"no! over a movie?"

"exactly, it's just a movie... so let me pick!"

"noooooo. you wouldn't."

"i've done it before, and i'll do it again."

you narrowed your eyes at him, "liar."

"watch me."

"i won't be watching anything, except for aladdin!"

tom raced back into the bathroom, shuffling around in a drawer. "ah-ha!" he triumphantly held up the electric razor. 

"no, no, we can talk about this. like civil people, tom. c'mon. put it down. come on, boy."

"hey! i'm not a dog!"

"rat!"

"now i'm definitely doing it!"

he flipped the switch, and the razor buzzed in his hand, hovering dangerously close to his head.

you narrowed your eyes at him, and he did the same back, holding up a singular curl. 

it got closer. 

and closer. 

and-

"fine! okay. okay! you can pick!" you yelped. 

"ha! i win!" tom dropped it back into the drawer, closing it. 

-

you pulled your eyes away from the screen that wasn't playing one of your favorite movies, "you weren't ever going to shave it all off, were you?"

"nope. but you bought it, and that's what counts."

[unpublishediary]

Cracked Phone (part one)

PAIRING‧₊˚ Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚ Reader experiences a loss of a loved one and has Peter to help her, just like he helped her though the loss of Ben.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ talk of greif, angst

| masterlist | (requests open) |

When Peter and y/n met it had been around Ben’s passing. At the time, Peter wasn't exactly open to inviting new people into his life. Looking back at it now, he regretted the way he treated y/n the first couple times she tried to talk to him, but she understood and was patient. He eventually let her in, and since then they’ve been closer than ever.

In the silent classroom, the piercing ring of the phone room stole both of their attention, along with half of the class.

After glancing up quickly to see the teacher make her way to the sound, y/n brushed it off and resumed her work, scribbling the answer to a problem she finished, and turned to the boy next to her.

“Pete,” she whispered to the boy sitting next to her, but he didn’t respond keeping his eyes glued to the paper which caused y/n to scoff. “Peeta bread.” She tried again, but still nothing. Petty was the last option, “Spide-“

“Y/n,” Peter whispered trying to hide his smirk, “shut up.”

She raised her eyebrows, and playfully kicked his leg with her own, “what did you get for question seven?”

He looked back to his paper, scanning question eighteen. “How are you that behind-“

“Not everyone’s as fast as you,” she whispered, “just tell me.”

“I got-“

“Anya?” A new voice joined in. She looked up and made eye contact with her teacher across the room.

Peter didn’t look up, thinking they were going to get scolded for talking again.

It reminded him of the last time she got caught talking. They made eye contact, and the next minute they were straight up dying of laughter. They both got in trouble, and he knew that if he looked up they would be kicked out of class.

“Please come here for a second.”

His plan changed when he heard the tone of his teacher's voice, he watched y/n get out of her seat and followed her beeline to the front. The teacher quickly moved out of the way, holding the phone out for her to take, then turned to the class, “everyone keep on working.”

He looked down at his paper, but he wasn’t interested in the problems anymore.

Slightly looking up, so the teacher wouldn’t see him sneaking a look towards the front, he saw y/n take the phone, muttering something along the lines of a thank you.

The teacher moved to the other side of her desk, and started writing on a small pink slip. Why would she need a pass?

While the teacher was distracted, he tried to grab Anya’s attention by staring at her. It was the best he could do at that point and that’s when he saw it. The expression on her face changed completely. It was like she went through many emotions at once.

Shaking her head, she set the phone down, not even bothering to put it back on the stand. Then rushed out the room. Something was definitely wrong.

Peter hesitantly got out of his seat to follow her. He was expecting his teacher to tell him to sit down, but it didn’t come. Pushing open the door, he looked to the left to see y/n with her back facing him. Slowly making his way towards her, he saw her pulling out her phone a little too quickly. It fell out of her hands and onto the ground.

Peter, who already made his way to her, picked it up. “What’s going on?”

The only response he got was her taking the phone out his hands, and turning around so her back was facing him once again, her breathing turned shallow.

“Y/n?” He questioned, walking around so he could see her face again. She dialed a number and put the phone up to her ear. Waiting for someone to pick up, her eyes were glued to the floor.

“Who are you calling?” no response again.

Soon after, he heard a familiar voicemail, she was calling her mom. He waited to see what she did next. And what she did was call her mom again,

then again,

then again.

She was on her fourth call when Peter spoke up, “we could try her work phone? I don’t think she’ll answer her mobile.” he didn’t expect a reply, but attempted to speak to her anyway.

“No.” She said while shaking her head, tears threatening to drop, “She is this time.”

She turned out to be wrong, but it didn’t stop her from calling again. Every unanswered call raised her frustration and if Peter knew anything, he knew something was definitely wrong.

“Y/n-“

“Shit” Her phone dropped out of her hands again. She made no attempt to even look at it again and started to walk to her locker.

“Please calm down-“

“How the hell am I supposed to calm down Peter!” He didn’t reply due to him being in slight shock about the tone she used. “My mom— my mom she—” Her voice cracked into silence.

She didn’t attempt to say anything anymore, if there was anything y/n hated, it was crying. Especially in front of others and Peter knew that.

Not wanting Peter to see, she turned around then started walking down the hall. Her destination being anywhere but where he was.

————————

Peter didn’t know what her problem was. He was tempted to follow her knowing that she most likely would be leaving the school, but he already had detention two times that week. Silently cringing at the thought of how May reacted the first time, he decided against leaving school. Luckily, science was their last period of the day.

Shortly after the bell rang, he met up with Ned. They decided to get something to eat. On the way, he updated his other best friend about what went down.

After answering more questions than he was comfortable with, Ned told him not to worry about it. It didn't help him though, his mind was entirely focused on what happened. It couldn’t have been that bad. He knew y/n was known for being pretty dramatic.

“Dude, are you still thinking about this?” Ned spoke up as he held the door. “She’s just a girl who is very hard to understand, it will pass.” Peter wasn’t convinced. He turned to Ned, who was currently looking at the menu.

“You don’t get it. She looked very freaked out.”

“Listen, she’s our best friend. She would’ve called us by now if anything happe-“ Ned stopped at the sight of Peter holding up Anya’s slightly cracked phone, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Ned wasn’t trying to dismiss the situation because he didn’t care about Y/n. He didn’t want to believe that something bad happened.

“Let’s just go to my house, and talk to her.”

Ned nodded his head, “Alright.”

———————

Shortly after getting their sandwiches, they decided to eat at Peter's house. Ned had to use the bathroom so Peter was waiting for him with his back against the wall.

Nothing around the store spiked his interest, until the tiny tv caught his attention.

“Breaking news. Two hours ago, the people of New York noticed smoke coming out of the well known Trident Lab building. We have been informed of a lab accident, resulting in four casualties. Carnia L/N, A female scientist known for her work around the world, being one of them. We are waiting on more information from our officials-“

“No.” Peter didn’t notice that Ned came out of the bathroom, he couldn’t believe it. He just saw the woman this morning. She was alive and well, and now she’s gone. Y/n must be- Y/n.

He turned to Ned, “we need to go right now.”

Part two coming soon.