#tom holland ff

[peeterparkr]

all roads lead to;tom holland; prologue

prologue: 'what leads?'

story summary: when your long time boyfriend breaks up with you and leaves you to find himself in Italy because you’re not spontaneous enough, you follow him to prove him wrong. Along the way you meet Tom , who recently went through a breakup himself, and might help you believe hate at first sight exists. Your trip trying to find your ex in small italian towns will become a desperate call for help, trying to help your new enemy get his relationship back by fake dating, sharing beds, getting lost and finding romance in dubious spots; all while falling in love with the country and the romance of it. Will your trip help you find your ex, yourself, your Romeo and Juliet story or finally lead you to Rome?

New series: fluff, smut, angst-ish (not really)

pairing: tom holland x writer!reader

tropes: enemies to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, road-trip, love triangle (or square), very rom com, idiots to lovers, oops-we-kissed, italian cliches from Hollywood

chapter summary: what leads to love and what leads to heartbreak? word count: 3.7

playlists: Italian vibes | y/n's breakup

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masterlist next chapter

IT'S HERE, BYE HOPE YOU LIKE THE PROLOGUE, REBLOG COMMENT EVEYRHTING

What leads to love? 

Falling in love comes easy. Very, very easily. No one really complains about the process of falling in love, though it’s different each time, there is a certain agreement that falling in love is overall a  happy process. 

Or rather than happy, it’s… simple. 

Falling in love sometimes is magical. Sometimes it’s avoided. Sometimes it can be a storm. 

But undeniably, it’s easy. 

It’s like wine. Bitter, with some sweet notes. 

Some people say the older it is, better. Love might turn better with time, into a more mature routine and more developed plans. 

The young folks usually prefer a sweeter wine. It’s about… taste, really. 

The real connoisseaurs might find disgrace in the cheap wine that people use to get drunk. Like one of those one night stands that might give you a headache the very next day. It’s the same, really. 

Love can be described in many different ways. Currently, you decided wine was the very best explanation for it. Or at least how you were drowning it. Wine worked. 

The circumstances surrounding might not be as pleasant, however, you can easily fall in love. 

You can fall in love with a gentle laugh, a stupid comment and a genuine stare. Falling in love can come from an inside joke, a shared story or a listened to song. 

Falling in love can come as a mistake. And making mistakes, well… 

It’s easy. It just… comes in so easily and you can’t help it. Though it’s very complicated to describe. 

Sometimes you can use colors. Other times you can use flowers. Or wine. 

With him, though, how will you ever be able to describe what it felt like? 

Was it strategized? Probably. From giving him certain type of smiles or making him like you for the dresses you wore. Pretending to love his favorite films or favorite songs. Learning the different conversations to be achieved through dinner with his friends. 

But it was… inevitable. And you wouldn’t change it. 

Per sempre, tutta la vita. 

That’s what he used to say, he’d heard that phrase once, he never remembered from where, and his pronunciation had probably changed along the way and it was a mere memory of it now. But he had decided to use it all the time. It was for you. 

‘Forever, all my life’. 

With the promise that he’d love you forevermore. All his life. As long as you were aware of it, he was, undoubtedly, still alive. 

How easy had it been to fall for that single phrase. Per sempre, tutta la vita. 

Falling out of love, on the other hand, isn’t easy. And that’s something universally agreed upon. 

It should’ve been as easy as losing that neck chain. Or forgetting the dialogue of a movie you haven’t watched in a while. It should be easy. 

Yet it’s not. 

Falling out of love is a forced activity when you’re broken up with. And that’s not easy. A breakup is never never easy. At least not if you’re the one being dumped. It’s like that one bitter cheap wine that you bought in a supermarket and made you sick and gave you a heartache. Falling out of love included the five stages of grief. And wine. 

Refusing to fall out of love had probably led you to where you were by now. A plane. 

Where you had a glass of wine in your hand and you were gripping to your hopes with the other one. 

The conversation was playing over, and over, and over. Like a humorless joke that you can’t help but tell again and again. 

“Really? Just like that?” You had asked, as you walked around the kitchen counter. Pouring a glass of wine as you continued cooking dinner for both of you, ignoring his suitcases by the door. “Just… years and years thrown out the window. All our plans--” 

The music was still playing the background, the music you decided to play so you could dance while cooking, what you usually did, different plans tonight.

“Y/N, Y/N, I— it’s not. It’s not like that,” Miles followed you with his dark gaze, watching your pathetic excuse for dinner. “This is as hard for me as it is for you. Look, It’s not you, it’s—“

You could not believe it. “Please, do not dare to say that,” You begged, closing your eyes as you stopped stirring the sauce. “Don’t dare saying it, don’t say it’s not you, it's me. That’s what people say when it really is the other person.” 

After years of your relationship, he was throwing it away. Just like that, by saying: ‘We need to break up’, which undoutebdly is one of the cheapest ways of breaking up with someone. 

It’s useful, though. If it ain’t broke…

“Well, it is me, not you,” he cleared out and poured a wine for himself, thought he was breaking up with you and he’d already packed, this seemed calm enough. 

You looked up. “Have you met someone else?” Your gaze was trying to decipher his. 

“No,” he took a deep breath. He wasn’t lying.  “That’s why I’m telling you this. It’s not about… us, it’s not that the love is gone or… I…” He took a deep breath. “I want to travel, I want to follow my dreams and being here with you just… stops me from it, being tied—“

“Tied? You feel like that? Trapped? Is that it?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, though. “Is this a prison? Have I not—“

“No, no, I didn’t,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, you… You have your life here, alright? And I don’t know if this is who I want to be. I want to travel…” 

“We could travel, then,” you said quickly, as you felt your chest ache. Yet, you were still calm. You took a sip of the red wine, bitter. “Yes, yes, yes, let’s travel together. We can plan a trip. We can go places, yes, yes, we can do that. Let’s… You wanted to go to San Francisco, right? Let’s go, let’s travel to San Francisco this weekend, let’s plan it.” 

“You… don’t,” he took a deep breath. “That’s the thing, y/n, I don’t want to plan, I don’t want to go… To San Francisco.” 

“Where then?” You were desperate now. You knew your voice was cracking because you knew what was going on. 

He was tired, you could tell. “I just want to travel, be free, no planning. I just—I want to go travel to without planning.” 

“How are you supposed to travel without planning?” You frowned. “However can you travel, you need money, and… and… the plane… and a hotel, or some kind of place to stay and the transportation and—“

“I’m leaving to Italy, without planning anything.” 

“Italy is literally the other side of the world—There has to be some planning, and there must have been some considering your stuff is already packed.” 

“I—” He took a deep breath. 

“Had I known you wanted to break up with me I would’ve planned—“

“This is my thing, y/n, you don’t have to plan everything,” his hands were firm against the table now, he was conflicted. “and you’re always doing it, you plan and then you never go through with it. You just… Plan and order and it’s all—It’s everything, you always have to be under control and there’s no spontaneity—You are scared of everything. You’re even scared of your own dreams.” 

“See? So it is me, it’s not the whole it’s not you, it’s me… It is not you, Miles, is it? It is me.” 

He took a deep breath. “Maybe, yeah,” he ran a hand through his face.

You gave him a bitter smile. “Yeah.” 

 “No, no, I—It’s not you. It’s the person I am today, I need—I need some spontaneity in my life. And you are perfect the way you are—I’m just… I don’t think we are the people who we fell in love with, we have changed.” 

“But… I love the person you are today,” you knew he had cracked you, finally.  “You don’t love me, then?” 

“Oh no, that I do, I do, I love you, I need—Some time, but this is about me wanting to go and be free for myself, but I love you, and I always will. Per sempre, tutta la vita.” 

You felt your heart breaking. “If you love me then, why are you leaving me?” The world was spinning. 

“It’s not about lack of love,” he explained. “I think we have enough love to give,” Miles took in a deep breath. 

He meant it, because falling in love is easy. And falling out of love can’t be as easy. 

There was love there. You knew it. He loved you; and you loved him and this would be another silly argument that comes with time, when the devils get into your thoughts. You knew you’d eventually end up with your arms wrapped around him, dancing under the moonlight, kissing him better. 

“Would you go to Italy with me?” He questioned. As if some sense had gotten to him.  “Right now? Let’s go, I need—“

“I can’t leave just like that, I have a job, I have things to take care of—I would need to plan—“

“I’ve never asked you anything, y/n,” he said. “It’s the one thing I’m asking from you. Let’s go.” 

Italy had always been a dream of his, and yours too; you’d both been saving for it, for a while now. The time would never seem to come because one thing happened or life decided to slip in and before you knew it, you were spending the holidays again watching Home Alone for who knows what time. 

You knew you both wanted this. He was an architect, you were a writer. You were supposed to go there. Learn, travel. Be a romantic and visit Verona, find Romeo or Juliet. 

Yet you never did, although you wanted to. 

“I—I don’t know Miles,” you said. “I’m—scared, alright? Yes I’m scared to—“

He watched you like he had won the race, as if he was dying to tell you he’d told you so. He only cynically chuckled to himself as his eyes couldn’t look at you. 

“Scared to follow your dream?” He questioned. “You’ve always wanted to go there, you always write about having adventures yet you never have one, y/n. Who are you? What happened to you? To us? Why are we even pretending this is working? It’s not. And—“

“It is—“

“No, we don’t work anymore.,it’s always—This conversation, y/n.” 

“I—Can we talk about this, please? You’re so suddenly breaking up with me,” you snapped for the first time. “Miles you can’t—do that.” 

He sighed. “You act like this is sudden.” 

“Well it is,” you frowned. “Something must have happened, you just—packed and you’re leaving and—please let’s—“

“We’ve been having this conversation over and over, y/n.”

You knew he was right, yes lately you had been having arguments but you didn’t think they would lead to… breaking up. It was sudden. Yes, there were arguments but not “packing bags and leaving to another country” arguments. 

“But—we can solve this, right?” You asked. 

“I can’t keep on trying to push you to follow your reams. I need to follow my own, and if you don’t have the courage to follow yours, then—You need someone else, y/n, not me.” 

He was done, and he didn’t have to say it. And it felt like your whole life shattered. Had you not known better you would have thought that every crashing sound was your house glass, or the wine bottle or anything else.  But you knew it was your heart, which he had held for so many years but dropped so easily. 

“I need someone who can just pack their stuff and leave.” Miles gave you a sympathetic sad state, long enough to see the tears bulking in. “I can’t do it, y/n.” 

He left when he saw you had no more left to say, because he had a plane to catch. And the music was still playing in the background and you were left with a pasta for two and an opened bottle of wine. 

He needed more, then. How? How could he need more, you only needed his laugh echoing through the apartment. You didn’t need anything more. 

You needed him. 

And maybe it was the bottle of wine or the playlist that played in the background, very poorly and drunkenly chosen after hearing he’d be leaving for Italy. Maybe. 

Maybe it was the fact that falling in love is so easy. But maybe it was Maybe it was the fact that this was so sudden. He had given you no signs. 

5 years of your life all thrown out the window in one night. 

Maybe it was the fact that he was right. Maybe it was that. Maybe it was because you realized how lonely the apartment looked. 

Maybe it was the fact you realized he’d probably spent the whole day packing but he’d left a lot still. Like all those pictures around the house. 

Maybe it was the fact that for the first time in two years you’d be sleeping alone. Or the fact that you realized that your bed was too big, too stupidly big. And cold. 

Maybe it had been the fact you’d finished the whole bottle of wine. Or the fact that you were going through the five stages of grief in just a few hours. 

Denial, first. You had spent 10 minutes waiting for him to show back up. You knew he couldn’t be serious. 

Anger, second. Screaming, trying to hide away every single picture. You decided to get rid off the plants he’s chosen for the apartment, very decently, moving them outside your apartment. ‘Get out, our relationship died and so will you! Remember how we said we would love you forever? And take care of you This is just a lie because one day you’re flourishing and the other day? Guess what little plant! You get kicked out of someone’s life! Because you’re not what I want! No. You’re just a stupid plant who can’t travel because you’re stuck. Or maybe you’re not and I’m kicking you out before you decide you can leave me too’ 

Dancing to Lizzo’s Good as Hell. Then Cher’s Believe. Then, Taylor Swift. 

Bargaining, third. You’d texted him. ‘Please. Let’s talk.’ ‘Can we go get breakfast and think about this?’ 

You didn’t know why Taylor made you realize how cruel you’d been to the plants. You’d gone out to get them back.‘I’m so sorry I said all that. I love you. I’m sorry, welcome back.’

Then you realized, it couldn’t be that bad. Maybe this was your chance to meet someone new? Or perhaps, 

Depression, fourth. It had started with the tear streaming down your face as you listened to Italian covers of breakup song.

First ‘without you’ by Mariah Carey was playing in the background. Not that version, though. It was in Italian. Somehow you had found the one playlist with breakup songs all sung in Italian. Nowadays there’s a playlist for anything. 

Why? Because your life had lost its sense in the—you looked down at the time, your life had lost its sense 6 hours ago. 

“Can’t live, if living is without you,” you pathetically sang along the lyrics in another language. “Can't live anymore,” you sobbed now.

5 years. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

Maybe it was all of that combined. 

Then there was no music, just the sound of your tears as you hugged the pillow that he used every night. With little to no hope. 

With pictures of him stabbing you into old reminders. 

Probably. Yes, it may have been every single thing that led you to the morning. 

That led you to your screen blinding you just enough, and that may have been what led you to drunkenly search for flights early in the morning. 

That may have led you to book a flight, pack in less than an hour and get showered as you went to the airport because your flight would be leaving in less than six hours. 

That’s what led you to it. 

Yes, that’s what led you to your current situation. A plane that would lead you to another plane to get to Verona. 

Quietly sitting on a plane. Hugging yourself. Pathetic. 

With time to think. Because you knew what Miles’ plan was, you’d practically made it. Arrive at Verona, then a road trip along the country, searching for adventures, inspiration and everything that could be put in your way. Sure, Miles didn’t like planning but without you he’d never get anywhere. Your plans completed him. 

You’d called an old friend from college, a roommate you’d had and who had always encouraged you to visit her. Serafina, who was absolutely delighted that you and Miles would finally visit. You’d decided to keep out the part that he’d broken up with you and that you’d gone on a psychotic trance and followed after him to another country in hopes of finding him and getting back together with him. 

Minor details. 

Because, it all led back to him, to Miles. Didn’t it? This was to prove him that you were what he wanted. Yes, you could travel. He was that push you needed. He loved you, you loved him. You were willing to change for him. 

That’s what mattered. Didn’t it? 

Besides Italy was leading you to a whole new possibility. An opportunity for you to understand what you would be able to do for love. You’d been broken up with 24 hours ago. Or More? Less? 

You hadn’t slept and your heart was still aching. This had to lead to him. To Miles. And you knew fate would be on your side, you’d probably see him in a few hours. Destiny would lead you to him. Because your body was still his. It was impossible to erase him. 48 hours ago you still here by his side. You were sure you could still smell his lotion on your clothes. 

You knew you’d never love someone again. Your heart could only belong to him. 

You were excited, excited and tired. So, tired. You were barely looking at anything, you were entranced by your hopes, the heartbreak and the fact your eyes had been crying for 24 hours straight without resting anything. But you wanted this to be the best decision you’d ever made. 

You tried looking for Serafina who had promised to pick you up, you walked through the crowds and accidentally bumped into someone, making him drop the three cups of coffee he was holding. 

“Bloody hell, fuck,” he murmured, angrily as he was trying to get his white t-shirt off contact with his skin. The paper he was holding had been ruined as well. “Guarda dove stai andando!” 

“I’m so, so sorry,” You quickly said. “Sorry! Uh, Mi scuso?” You said. He had sunglasses on, which gave away who he was. Having sunglasses inside a room could only mean he was a certain type. 

He was annoyed. He took a deep breath as he pulled up his glasses. “Watch where you’re going.”

“I… will.” Yes, it had proved it. He was an asshole. 

“Fucking tourists,” he muttered. Though, he was clearly not a native italian either. His accent betrayed him, and his looks.

“I’ll buy you another coffee,” you said. “I’m so sorry for your shirt.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t bother,” he hissed as he walked past you, pushing you just slightly, enough to bother you. 

You were tired and not in the mood. “It wasn’t on purpose, asshole.” 

He only turned around to give you a smirk and kept walking. Smugly. Like he owned the place. Maybe it was your lack of sleep or your broken heart but there was an urge building upon you to go hit him. 

You got a call, saving him from your…violence. 

“Fina!” You finally answered, hoping you’d see your friend soon enough. “Oh my God, hello my love! Are you here?” 

“Bellissima, y/n, have you arrived?” She asked. “Perdonami amore mio, something came up and I sent my roommate for you and Miles!” 

“Oh, er… Yes, I’m here, I… uh, you sent your roommate?” You asked. “What’s her name?” 

“Oh, his name is Tom! He’s adorable, you’re going to love him!” 

“Oh great!” 

“Yes, and he could distract Miles while you and I go out and catch up, amore mio!” She insisted on Miles. She’d always said you both would end up married

You still believed that. 

“Oh… yeah.” 

“How are you dressed, amore?” She questioned. 

Very.. chic. Pants and a hoodie that would disguise your break-up. “Uh, like everyone else.” 

“And Miles?” She asked. 

“Uh… How is your roommate dressed? How will I know it’s him?” You decided to change the subject. 

“He made a sign! I’ll tell him to meet you outside, his car is yellow!” She said. 

“Alright! I’ll search for him” You said. 

“Si si! Can’t wait to see you and Miles, ciao ciao! Baci!” She hung up. 

You waited a bit, trying to know how you would excuse yourself. How in this world would you explain that ‘Miles & y/n’ were no longer ‘Miles & y/n’. How would you explain that you were there looking for your now ex in hopes of getting back together. How the hell would you explain that it had led you to call your boss saying it was a family emergency. How on earth would you tell her that your life had completely been destroyed in less than 48 hours? 

Fina had the suspicion that you were engaged. 

You decided to face your fears and walk outside, looking for that one yellow car. And you did see him. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you said as you walked over to the guy with three new brand coffees. You saw his sign now, previously ruined. ‘Miles & Y/N’Now distorted and stirred, dripping. 

The asshole. With his stupid sunglasses on, but his shirt ruined. 

You made your way over. He only glared as he hung up the phone. Your last 24 hours were better considering that you now had to face him. 

“Are you here to knock my coffee off again?” He asked. 

“Are you Tom?” You asked, as annoyed.

He frowned, arrogantly annoyed, pulling his sunglasses up. “Who’s asking?” 

“I’m y/n.” 

And you couldn’t believe this had led to him.

next chapter

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[hlvstia]

— too late :(

pairing : peter parker x reader | peter parker x f!reader | peter parker x female!reader | peter parker x fem!reader | peter parker x y/n | peter parker x you

prompt : peter’s laptop dies while you two were doing a very important project for a class. ( from https://perchance.org/otp--prompts ) safe link! /srs

word count : 393, very short!

a/n : can be any mcu peter, but i’ll be using tom’s 🤍. also, feel free to submit me a prompt with any character! i’d love to get back in writing and fulfilling your requests. love u all!

drabble below the read more cut, enjoy loves!

as you two were doing a project for this class, it practically ended up with both of y’all arguing— only because peter wouldn’t listen to you and placed notes everywhere. they weren’t organized and it kind of ticked you off.

“no, idiot! that’s supposed to go here!” you exclaimed, pushing peter off of his seat as you took the laptop from his hands, moving the cursor to where you placed the text box to where it was supposed to be. “[y/n]!”

he scoffed, getting back up from his seat as he took his laptop back, scanning over the newly designed slides. “it looks the same as before… are you kidding me?” peter rolled his eyes, noticing how his cursor was lagging behind.

this only meant one thing.

it meant that his laptop was about to die and their slides weren’t going to backup any of the info they had worked hard on. “oh, shit!”

he began panicking, jumping off of his seat as he started to rummage through his bag, obviously worried that their process was going down the drain if he didn’t find the charger.

your face dropped into an expression as you ran to your room, going through your closet as you looked for a specific charger, throwing down some old boxes just to find the right plug.

“where is it?!” mumbling to yourself, you panicked as well, not wanting your hard work to fail only because peter forgot to charge his laptop AND turn on his backup savings.

finally, you found it! thank goodness.

“peter, i have it!” you exclaimed, having a large grin on your face as you rushed back to the area, only to see a defeated look on his face. it was too late to come to the rescue.

“no way…”

“yes way…” he sighed, shutting his laptop slowly as he placed his head down onto the cold counter. “well… you shared the slides with me, right?”

you had this burning hope that he had at least shared it with you. i mean, everyone does that when you end up in a project with your classmate, right?

peter still had a defeated look, shaking his head as he sighed out loud, even adding a groan.

it was over for you two.

“for fucks sake…” you sighed as well, throwing the charger onto the couch. “we’re totally fucked.”

[t-lostinworlds]

500 miles of fluff: peter + "this movie is really scary, but you're into it so i'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but-what is that?" and "i mean... i-i'm cool with sharing the bed if you are"

-cutetomholland (ignore this if you get a lot of requests!!)

A/N: i couldn't stop laughing while writing this help. peter's the scaredy cat in this one. a mood. bc this is basically how i am with horror movies lmao. hope you like this @cutetomholland <3 also consider this my valentine's gift to everyone! (even tho there's nothing valentine-esque about this 😭)

peter parker x avenger!fem!reader | wc: 1.2k | best friends to lovers | prompts in bold!

You and Peter had the whole compound to yourselves.

He was yet to decide if that was a good or a bad thing.

Not when you two were in the cinema room taking absolute advantage of the new screen Tony bought that took up the whole wall along with the modified 3D glasses he helped tweak himself to make it more realistic and featherlight like you weren't wearing anything at all.

It was a great upgrade.

If only it wasn't a horror movie you were watching.

Peter's body jolted when a shadow crossed the screen.

"You okay?"

"Y-Yeah, yeah, I am perfectly fine."

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," you joked as if the main character in the movie wasn't being hunted by a ghost at this very moment.

"Ha. Funny." He rolled his eyes, pressing his tongue against his cheek to stop his smile at the sweet sound of your laugh.

He flinched when the house lights in the movie flickered.

"Peter, we can stop the movie if you want," you said, sincerity coating your tone. "If it's too scary for you, we can turn it off. I don't mind."

Shaking his head, he shot you a smile. "This movie is really scary, but you're into it so I'm trying not to cover my face the whole time, but—WHAT IS THAT?!"

Peter's eyes widened when he saw something crawling toward him, a distorted body of a girl, dark, long hair, eyes white, veiny, mangled face.

Then, it lunged, Peter shrieking at the top of his lungs as he jumped away from it, heart pounding, lungs heaving as he pressed his burning forehead against the cool concrete.

He only realized how far he'd leaped when he heard your laughter, right below him.

Peter was on the goddamn ceiling.

"Glad to know you're leaving me to fend for myself if some ghost attacks us," you snorted, head on the back of the couch to meet his eyes. "I didn't even know you could jump that high."

"Stupid 3D glasses," he grumbled, truly regretting his improvement on it. He glanced at the screen, yelping as he screwed his eyes shut. "Y/N! Don't fucking pause it there!"

"Oh shit! Sorry! I'm—" You burst out laughing, rolling onto the floor with a soft thud before you clicked back to the Netflix menu screen.

Peter glared as you clutched your stomach, throwing the glasses at you.

You only laughed harder.

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

Yeah, he truly didn't.

It was quite the opposite if he was honest.

"Come back down," you said in heaps of giggles, sitting back on the couch and tapping the cushion. "Let's watch the new Puss in Boots movie, get your mind off it."

•••

Sometime in the middle of the night, hours after you'd already bid your good nights and went to your separate rooms, a storm graced New York.

He was hoping it'd help cool the grueling heat. 

Peter was sweating.

It definitely wasn't because he'd been lying still on his back with the blankets pulled up to his chin, making sure his feet weren't out the duvet let alone hanging on the edge of the bed.

He flinched at the sudden crack of thunder.

He swallowed as his eyes darted around the room, the lamp on his bedside warming the walls.

Shit.

Now he was really thirsty.

"Oh my God," he groaned, throwing the blankets off him, shivering at the cold, conditioned air. "You're fucking Spider-Man, an Avenger. You've fought aliens. You can deal with a fucking ghost."

That was his mantra as he ventured out of his room and into the kitchen, over and over as he pulled out a glass from the cupboard, filled it with water, drank it empty, refilled. He said it repeatedly as he made his way back to his room.

But then he saw it.

A shadow moving on the wall.

There was a flash of lightning, his eyes widening as his blood ran cold.

Four limbs, twitching and convulsing as its body crawled down the stairs.

Thunder boomed.

Peter fucking ran.

High-pitched screams echoed through the compound, ones he didn't even know his vocal cords could ever achieve as he bolted down the halls toward the opposite direction.

Then he bumped into something, a body.

Peter fell on his ass with the most lady-like screech as he backed away from—

"Jesus Christ, Peter! It's me!"

He blinked, only for a second before he scrambled to his feet. You squeaked when he all but threw you on his shoulder, arms around you securely and ran toward the elevator.

"What the fuck are you doing!"

"Something's crawling down the stairs! She's coming to get us! We should leave!"

"Peter, STOP!" your voice boomed, stunning him enough for you to wiggle out of his hold and get your feet on the ground. You hastily cupped his face, exhaling deeply, "Breathe."

"B-But—"

"Nothing's coming to get us," you reassured, a soft smile on your lips. "FRIDAY, turn on all the lights, please."

"Yes, miss, Y/N."

Peter squinted at the sudden brightness, barely making out the slight tug on his arm as you interlaced your fingers together.

"Come on."

"I-I don't think it's a good idea to go back there."

"I'm sure it's nothing," you said, squeezing his hand. "You trust me, right?"

He did.

Frankly, he'd probably follow you anywhere even if it led to his death—most likely strangled by a ghost.

"See?" you hummed once you reached the stairs, squeezing his hand and gesturing towards the vacuum with four mechanical arms attached to it. "It's just a hoover."

"Who the fuck thought giving that thing tentacles was a good idea?"

"Easier for it to go down the stairs. Come on."

Peter didn't question where you were taking him next, but then all of a sudden he was standing in your room, brows furrowed as he watched you settle on the bed.

"Hey," you called, patting the space next to you. "Come here."

"B-Beside you?"

"I mean…I-I'm cool with sharing the bed if you are," you said, smiling shyly.

With heated cheeks, Peter climbed onto your twin-size bed, leaving enough space in between as he lay still, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"That was so embarrassing," he grumbled, rubbing a palm over his warm face.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about. Horror movies just aren't for everyone and that's okay."

He turned to you. "You don't think I'm a coward?"

"Absolutely not," you said without hesitation, laying on your side to fully face him. "You're one of the bravest men I know, Pete."

"Except with creepy-looking ghosts."

"Yeah, except that," you giggled. "Go to sleep."

He sighed, smiling sadly. "I can't. It's stuck in my head."

You hummed, shuffling closer, the tip of your nose nudging his.

Peter held his breath, letting it out as a low hum when his lips met yours.

At last.

Fingers in his hair, your sweet sighs tickling his cheek, a taste of mint mixed with the taste of you was all that ran through his mind, rendering him dizzy, breathless.

"Does that help?" you whispered after a moment, thumb caressing his cheek tenderly.

Peter smiled. "Only when it includes cuddles."

You laughed, opening your arms wide, and he didn't even hesitate as he snuggled into them, cheek against your chest, your steady heartbeat and the warmth of your skin lulling him to sleep.

"Good night, Peter."

Who would've thought his cowardness when it came to horror films would finally get him the girl of his dreams?

⤷ still accepting asks & requests! come join and frolic with me!

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[siennafrxst]

↳ a snowy night 𖤐𓈒࣪₊˚

pairing: peter parker x female reader

word count: 0.6k words

cw: fluff, slight angst(?)

a/n: again, as I’ve said previously, this fanfic works with any of the peters (tobey, andrew, or tom) so feel free to choose whichever you want to imagine this story with.

Peter and Y/N are strolling along the path on a cold December night. The frigid atmosphere embrace them soothingly as a gush of cold wind hits them. Snowflakes fall unto their rosy cheeks along with the calming silence being filled by their snowy footsteps. They were heading back home after their fun day spent together... as friends.

"Hey, thanks for today. I had a lot of fun."

Y/N turns towards Peter, grinning at those words. "No problem, I did too."

Peter returns a similar smile as they continue to walk closer to their destination.

"I'm curious—what was your favorite part of today?"

He turns his head towards her, recalling the events of today. "Hmm... definitely eating dinner. God, the steak was heavenly."

Y/N raises an eyebrow at him accusingly. "Oh, really? I thought you'd say that it was when we played in the arcade, but if you say so."

"Excuse me?"

"What? I saw how thrilled you were every time you managed to score a point in the basketball game."

Peter sighes in defeat. "Alright, fine. But you definitely enjoyed it much more than I did. You took soooo long at the karaoke station."

She scoffs at him in disbelief. "Need I remind you that you enjoyed it as much as I did. You sang your heart out in every single song and you cannot tell me otherwise."

Rolling his eyes, he sighes exasperatingly once more. "Fine, let's just both agree that karaoke was the highlight of our day. Deal?"

She chuckles softly as she nods at his question. "Deal."

They continue to walk their way towards home, both content yet exhausted from their little date today. But unlike most days, this particular one felt... different. And they both knew it. The tension seemed more intimate. The way their eyes connected was an unexplainable euphoria. The way they acted around each other was... new. It was refreshing for either of them.

Similar thoughts were trailing through Y/N’s head, and she decided to act upon it. She suddenly stops in their tracks, catching Peter off-guard.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

Her eyes darted across his coffee-colored ones. Goddamn, since when were they so stunning? Unsure with what was going on with her, she lets herself get lost in his eyes, seeming as though they were calling out to her like an infinite abyss.

"Hey, you good over there?"

Snapping out of that 'unusual trance', she blinks multiple times in an attempt to bring herself back to reality. "Sorry, I just... sorry. Look, I think I need to tell you something."

Peter freezes. Was she going to say what he think she's going to? No, don't be ridiculous, this is just a small crush. It'll pass over time. Besides, what if he loses one of his only friends over a stupid gamble?

"What is it?"

"Do you notice the same things I do? The same feelings I've... gained?"

"You're going to have to explain a lot more than that," he says, even though he knew exactly what she was talking about.

She should've realized that the next words to fall out of her mouth may have been a ruthless mistake. "Cut the bullshit. Our relationship has changed over the past few weeks and you know it. I know it. Goddamnit, Pete, we’ve known each other for so long and yet these past few days have been messing with my head. Why can't we just-"

Cutting her off, he suddenly leaned in and attached their lips, causing her to gasp. As she loosened at his touch, she allowed herself to melt into him. It was almost as though their lips connected together perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece. Her delicate hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping onto them as though it was their last day.

fun fact: this was originally a bucky x reader fanfic, but I noticed that my peter fics were gaining more attention so I just replaced their names. 😭

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

[melancomine]

⸻

BREATHE | peter parker x lettrice

trama: sei ad un'importante cena di famiglia quando peter parker, il tuo amico d'infanzia, si siede vicino a te e la cena passa in secondo piano.

pairing: peter parker x lettrice y/n (mi riferisco a tasm ma può essere qualsiasi peter se lo desideri)

avvertenze: smut esplicito, sesso non protetto, cose in luogo pubblico

word count: 2,3k

masterlist | wattpad

⸻

"È il compleanno di Tim, devi venire. Sai quanto ci tiene." ti rimprovera tua mamma mentre si mette il rossetto, un banalissimo color rubino che svanirà al primo boccone di cibo. "Ci saranno tutti."

Le cene in famiglia. Sempre così caotiche, ti ritrovi ogni volta a dover mangiare con un falsissimo sorriso sul volto e a rispondere a domande scomode. Tim è un lontano cugino che vedi pochissimo, infatti non ricordi neanche quanti anni compie.

Sbuffi e ti dirigi in camera tua. Hai aspettato fino all'ultimo per prepararti nella speranza che potessi rimanere a casa. Il vestito nero delle occasioni lo trovi in fondo all'armadio e ci abbini dei semplici collant. Ai piedi un paio di anfibi.

Dopo il sollecito di tua madre, prendi la borsa e scendi rapidamente le scale. Siete in ritardo, la cosa non ti sorprende.

Arrivate al ristorante e al tavolo sono già tutti seduti, vi stavano aspettando. Scruti attentamente l'intera sala, riservata a voi solo per l'occasione, per trovare il posto vuoto che occuperai. Le luci sono soffuse per regalare a chi mangia l'idea confortevole di casa. Il lungo tavolo occupa un'intera parete e visto che siete in molti, continua e fa angolo con l'altro muro. Il tuo corpo si congela improvvisamente quando scopri che ti siederai vicino a Peter Parker. Lui sembra avere la stessa reazione appena ti vede.

Sorridi e vedi che il gesto è ricambiato. Peter è il tuo amico d'infanzia, purtroppo lo vedi solamente una volta ogni paio di anni perché abita lontano. Ricordi che sua zia, May, è una cara amica di tuo zio, il padre del festeggiato. 

Ringrazi il cielo, insieme sapete sempre come divertirvi. Come quella volta che a dieci anni siete saliti in cima ad una pila di balle di fieno. Il povero Tim vi urlava dal basso di scendere ma voi non gli davate ascolto. Vi sentivate come Jack e Rose, i re del mondo. Oppure come quella volta in cui, a sedici anni, siete spariti per un paio di giorni. Avevate semplicemente trovato una casa abbandonata e deciso di rimanerci.

Ti accomodi, "Sono felice che ci sia anche tu." Le uniche occasioni che avete per vedervi sono appunto queste riunioni di famiglia.

Peter ti appoggia una mano sulla spalla. "Anche io. Sei stupenda, comunque."

Arrossisci e lo ringrazi. L'ultima volta che hai visto Peter, aveva gli occhiali e un corpo esile. Non sai cosa sia successo in due anni, ma ora non solo non porta più gli occhiali, ma sembra persino più alto. Il suo fisico è decisamente cambiato. La sua camicia verde scuro risulta più stretta sulle braccia evidenziando i suoi muscoli.

Di certo non ti aspetti che un ragno radioattivo lo abbia morso donandogli i super poteri.

Anche tu sei cambiata, sei cresciuta, e Peter non riesce a toglierti gli occhi di dosso. Le tue spalle sono scoperte e lo scollo del vestito è profondo il giusto da non risultare volgare. Le tue gambe armoniose sono coperte dal leggero strato dei collant, accavallate per comodità mentre aspetti la prima portata.

Durante l'antipasto avete parlato di tutte le novità della vostra vita, riso e scherzato. Tutti sono occupati con il proprio vicino oppure con il festeggiato e come previsto tu e Peter vi siete completamente isolati. C'è solo lui, tutto il resto è scomparso.

All'arrivo del primo, batti le mani contenta, un piatto fumante di lasagne ti sta fissando. Lo stesso per Peter, che in un batter d'occhio divora e finisce, mentre tu stai gustando ogni boccone. Sei troppo concentrata ad assaporare la buonissima lasagna quando all'improvviso senti qualcosa che ti tocca il ginocchio, ti spaventi e il pezzo di cibo cade dalla forchetta. Tiri su la tovaglia per vedere che Peter ti aveva appoggiato una mano proprio lì. Lui sembra far finta di nulla quando ti giri per vederlo e sorridergli. Lo trovi un gesto dolce, quasi a ricordarti che il tuo amico è lì e di non preoccuparti.

Sussulti quando la sua mano inizia ad accarezzarti la coscia, dopo averti spostato leggermente la gonna. Trovi conforto in quel tocco ma la mano si sta alzando, dirigendosi sempre più vicino alla tua zona proibita. Il tuo respiro è diventato più pesante e il cuore sta battendo come non ha mai fatto prima. Ti piace, non riesci a fermarlo. Peter si attacca all'interno coscia e te lo stringe. Il dolore muta in piacere. Hai capito le sue intenzioni e allarghi le gambe per facilitargli l’arrivo alle mutande, coperte dai collant. Riesce a sentire il calore che emani, sei bagnata, tanto da inumidire entrambe i tessuti. Peter ammicca un sorriso alzando solo un lato della bocca e continua a non rivolgerti lo sguardo.

Hai la forchetta in pugno, ma non riesci a mangiare. Ti guardi intorno, tutti i parenti sono impegnati in chiacchiere e nessuno si accorge del tuo cuore che sta per uscire dal petto. Le tue guance sono arrossate e con la mano libera strizzi il tovagliolo sul tavolo.

Lasci scappare un gemito silenzioso appena il ragazzo seduto affianco a te inizia a muoversi sotto la gonna. Sta creando movimenti circolari sul tuo clitoride e stai facendo di tutto per mantenere un’espressione seria.

“Peter...” sussurri. Quello che state facendo è sbagliato sotto ogni punto di vista ma è proprio questo che rende la cosa ancora più eccitante di quanto non lo sia già. 

Peter avvicina il suo volto a te, le sue labbra sfiorano il tuo orecchio, “Respira.” bisbiglia e ti lascia un bacio veloce sul collo. Torna seduto composto e i movimenti circolari mutano in su e giù. Quelle maledette calze velate stanno impedendo il diretto contatto con la tua intimità. 

Non resisti un minuto di più. Afferri il suo polso, fermandolo. Ti alzi dalla sedia e i parenti che sono seduti nelle vicinanze si accorgono di questa improvvisa azione. “Qualcosa non va?” qualcuno chiede.

E ora cosa ti inventi?

Guardi Peter in cerca di aiuto. Per fortuna il ragazzo è bravissimo ad improvvisare. “Y/N mi stava dicendo che non si sente tanto bene. L’accompagno al bagno.” afferma e si alza anche lui. Tu stai al gioco, ti accarezzi la pancia e assumi un’espressione sofferente. 

“Infatti ti vedo un po’ sconvolta. Andate, andate.” dice un tuo zio.

Vi allontanate entrambi dalla tavolata vagando in cerca di non sapete bene cosa, ma che sia privata. Camminando, Peter si sistema il cavallo dei pantaloni che nel frattempo erano diventati stretti. Te ne accorgi e nascondi un ghigno divertito.

Una porta con scritto “Solo Personale” e con le chiavi attaccate alla serratura vi sembra il luogo perfetto. Entrate e chiudete a chiave. Si tratta di un piccolissimo sgabuzzino con un armadio aperto contenente le divise dei camerieri e dei cuochi.

Non fai in tempo a dire qualcosa che Peter ha già le sue labbra sulle tue, un bacio pieno di foga e passione, eccitazione repressa. Le tue mani finiscono tra i suoi capelli mentre le sue sono avvinghiate sui tuoi fianchi. Peter si stacca dal tuo viso per concentrarsi sul tuo collo, poi sul seno che, abbassandoti le spalline del vestito libera ed espone all’aria. Si inginocchia e ti sfila gli stivali. Abbassa insieme alle mutandine i collant, fino a sfilarteli completamente. Le sue dita stanno tracciando linee invisibili sulle tue gambe nude. La sua testa finisce sotto la gonna del vestito e la sua lingua trova dimora in mezzo al tuo sesso. Assaporandoti dolcemente, spalanchi la bocca e abbassi le sopracciglia. È così bravo.

Peter si alza e ricomincia a baciarti. Lo aiuti a sbottonarsi la camicia che lascia aperta ma non toglie. Ti piace accarezzare il suo torso scoperto, è liscio e muscoloso. Gli abbassi la zip dei jeans ed esibisci la sua possente erezione pulsante. Un gemito esce dalla sua bocca: la stava tenendo prigioniera da troppo tempo.

Senza alcuna fatica, Peter Parker ti solleva e ti sbatte contro la parete libera dagli scaffali. Ti stupisci della sua forza e avvinghi le gambe intorno a lui. Peter avvicina la punta del suo pene sulla tua entrata bagnata e lentamente lo inserisce. Lo guardi negli occhi e, gemendo per il piacere e per la sensazione di riempimento che stai provando, ti accorgi di quanto sia bello e attraente. I suoi capelli sono sempre arruffati e senza una forma precisa ma adesso hanno motivo di esserlo e quel motivo siete voi due, dentro lo sgabuzzino, uniti dalla stessa eccitazione che invade i vostri corpi accaldati. Le sue gonfie labbra sono umide e rosee, non si toccano, sono leggermente aperte per far uscire i silenziosi sospiri che si mischiano ai tuoi quasi all’unisono.

“Non faccio altro che- che pensare a te. Esci dalla mia testa.” afferma appoggiando la sua fronte alla tua.

Le spinte sono violente e piene zeppe di passione. Ognuno cerca l’altro disperatamente come se non vi aveste già in pugno. Peter stringe talmente forte il tuo culo che sta lasciando dei segni violacei a forma delle sue dita. 

Peter si ferma un attimo e in un batter d’occhio ti gira. Con il suo aiuto sollevi una gamba che poi mantiene da sotto il ginocchio, ti pieghi leggermente e ricomincia a scoparti in quella nuova posizione. Volti la testa quel tanto che serve per guardarlo con la coda dell’occhio, non esiste che tu perda quella celestiale visione che è Peter Parker mentre ti fotte. Il lato destro del tuo viso è incollato al muro e rischi di sfondarlo per via della foga che il ragazzo dietro di te ci sta mettendo. La tua schiena è coperta dal vestito ma la gonna è alzata per mettere il tuo culo tondo in bella vista. 

Usi tutte le forze che possiedi per non urlare, Peter porta una mano al tuo collo e stringe leggermente, soffocando i gemiti che minacciano di uscire rumorosamente. I tuoi occhi ruotano all’indietro.

Il tessuto dei suoi jeans, che non aveva abbassato, sfrega contro la tua pelle nuda mentre gli scaffali che vi circondano colmi di divise piegate tremano, come il tuo corpo per colpa dell’orgasmo che, piano piano, è sempre più vicino. Lo senti nella pancia, farfalle in preda ad un attacco epilettico si rivoltano nel tuo stomaco. Lo senti nei palmi delle mani, nelle punte delle dita dei piedi, nudi e che toccano il pavimento. Lo senti persino nei capelli e Peter sembra rendersene conto perché li afferra dalla base della nuca e ti tira verso di sé. Ora la tua schiena è a contatto col suo petto e riesci perfettamente a sentire il suo battito accelerato. Le vostre figure sono legate in una sola e vi sentite entrambi al settimo cielo.

Qui non serve il senso sviluppato da ragno per sapere che sei nel bel mezzo dell’orgasmo più potente della tua vita.

“Cazzo, io sto per-” Peter ti avverte e fa per allontanarsi ma tu glielo impedisci, avvolgendo un braccio intorno alla sua schiena e obbligandolo a rimanere dov’è. 

“Non provare a fermarti.” ti imponi e Peter obbedisce. 

l suo caldo respiro contro il tuo orecchio, il suo naso sfrega sulla tuo zigomo colorato di rosso. Peter ti riempie di baci sul collo, talmente tanti che è impossibile contarli. Mordicchia e lecca un punto particolare sotto al lobo, ma è bravo e non ti lascia il segno. Per tenerlo più vicino, appoggi una mano sulla sua guancia e provi a baciarlo nonostante la posizione a sfavore.

I suoi movimenti diventano sempre più veloci, i suoi fianchi sbattono contro i tuoi rumorosamente e armoniosamente con un ritmo accelerato e con un’ultima spinta raggiunge il suo apice dentro di te. Le tue umide pareti si imbrattano del suo liquido seminale e riesci a sentire che cola lentamente lungo le gambe non appena si toglie da te. 

Siete sfiniti, la parte del tuo corpo sotto la gonna è ricoperta di segni vivaci. Il mascara è sfumato intorno ai tuoi occhi dopo che qualche lacrima era scesa tanto era la lussuria che hai provato. Non ti aspettavi tutta questa potenza da parte del tuo amico. A dire il vero, non ti aspettavi neanche di finirci in intimità dentro lo sgabuzzino di un ristorante. Non c’è tempo per riposare, i vostri parenti saranno in pensiero per voi. La vostra assenza sta durando anche troppo. Peter prende una delle divise nell’armadio e si pulisce, poi te la passa per far sì che tu possa fare lo stesso.

I vostri fiati si stanno regolarizzando. Vi guardate e sorridete. Peter si avvicina per baciarti di nuovo mentre ti rivesti dei collant e degli anfibi. Ti stringe più vicino a sé in un abbraccio diverso da prima e privo di foga, ma ami questo tipo ti contatto e ti accorgi che la cosa che più ti piace è che lo stai ricevendo da Peter Parker. Questa cosa ti fa aprire gli occhi su tutto quello che avete passato, da quando vi siete conosciuti fino ad oggi. C’è sempre stata questa connessione fra voi due e finalmente avete scoperto cos’è.

Lui si riabbottona la camicia e si sistema i pantaloni.

“Secondo te è già arrivata la torta? Ne ho una voglia matta.” domandi a Peter e gli sorridi calorosamente. Con un po’ di fretta ti sistemi, per quel che puoi, i capelli.

“A chi lo dici.” Peter ridacchia mentre apre la porta. Vi fermate di colpo quando “E voi cosa state facendo lì?” vi chiede un cameriere che proprio in quel momento sta passando con un vassoio vuoto in mano. Vi guarda un po’ perplesso, squadrandovi dalla testa ai piedi.

“Ehm... Noi-” provi a dire, ma “Stavamo cercando un bagno. Possibile che tutte le porte siano uguali?!” ti interrompe Peter, salvandovi dall’imbarazzante momento.

“È proprio là.” vi indica il cameriere.

“Grazie!” risponde facendo il finto offeso. Prendendoti la mano, Peter ti porta via di lì. Trattenete una fragorosa risata e tornate nella sala privata che ospita i vostri parenti.

Con un tempismo perfetto, tornate ai vostri posti, come se non fosse successo nulla.

[sparklingsin]

tysm for 500 followers, it ain't much but it's honest work! jk jk i love all of you so much! thank you for all the support and love for my work, you have been amazing. to celebrate your kindness I wanted to do a little something, and here it is!

you can send in as many asks as you like <3

rules: 1. RB/like this 2. must be following me

☾. if you are a writer - send me the link to an underrated fic of yours or just something you've written that you are very proud of <3 that I could read and give all my love to (love to follow new writers and make new mutuals)

☾. send me your favourite tom picture + name - and i'll make a moodboard for a story with you x him

☾. spill the tea - and i'll give you honest advice or send you a bunch of memes to help you cope with your situation (add an A(dvice) or M(eme) accordingly)

☾. send me a nsfw tom headcanon on anon- and I'll judge you add my thoughts. since my brand is smut, let's just fully commit eh?

☾. confess to your writeblr crush by @-ing them on anon - let me play matchmaker! show off your love to your fave writers <33

tagging some moots:

@justapurrcat @thollandsdarling @darlingparker @sunshinehollandd @venomsilk @silkscream @silkholland @totheblood @buckybarnesandmarvel

[lindszeppelin]

So why doesn’t Kaia post Austin on her social media then? Wouldn’t that get her more attention?

that would show that it's real and not a sham relationship. there must be some stipulation wherein they both agreed to not post or talk about one another in the media and on social. but therein lies the rub, if they talked about one another or posted about each other that would show that they would be a serious couple. but since that is not the case, well...

[heinz-peenz]

Dysphoria and dysmorphia beating my fucking ASS oh my GOD

[venusbyline]

Hey guys, I'm Vênus (she/her). This is my new ff blog and requests are already open!

I really like writing dark, smut and/or angst contents for s/o x female readers.

Almost all the characters and artists I'll write for are tagged. Feel free to send me your writing requests on my ask. (ps¹: practically i'll write for all Jacob Elordi and Ryan Gosling's characters, there just wasn't enough space in the tags).

So don't be shy... I'm a member of the "toxic characters stan" too <3

ps²: some characters besides the other characters of Ryan Gosling and Jacob Elordi that I didn't put in the tags but that I can also write for:

Scream: Ethan Landry, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher.

Euphoria: Rue Bennet, Jules Vaughn, Ethan Lewis, Lexi Howard, Chris McKay, Fezco.

Hunger Games: Lucy Gray Baird, Katniss Everdeen, Sejanus Plinth, Johanna Mason, Treech, Clemensia Dovecote, Tigris Snow, Haymitch Abernathy.

MCU: Tom Holland!Peter Parker & Andrew Garfield!Peter Parker, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff.

Daisy Jones & The Six: Eddie Roundtree, Daisy Jones, Camila Dunne.

The Vampire Diaries: Stefan Salvatore, Damon Salvatore, Silas, Rebekah Mikaelson, Katherine Pierce.

Margot Robbie: Barbie, Harley Quinn.

Gossip Girl: Chuck Bass, Nate Archibald, Carter Baizen, Blair Waldorf.

YOU: Love Quinn, Joe Goldberg.

Harry Potter: Cedric Diggory, Hermione Granger, Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Draco Malfoy, Sirius Black.

Grey's Anatomy: Jackson Avery, Derek Shepherd, Mark Sloan, Alex Karev.

Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank.

Anyway, more characters can be added here over time!

[peeterparkr]

all roads lead to;tom holland;one

one: Tom...eo and Juliet.

story summary: when your long time boyfriend breaks up with you and leaves you to find himself in Italy because you’re not spontaneous enough, you follow him to prove him wrong. Along the way you meet Tom , who recently went through a breakup himself, and might help you believe hate at first sight exists. Your trip trying to find your ex in small italian towns will become a desperate call for help, trying to help your new enemy get his relationship back by fake dating, sharing beds, getting lost and finding romance in dubious spots; all while falling in love with the country and the romance of it. Will your trip help you find your ex, yourself, your Romeo and Juliet story or finally lead you to Rome?

New series: fluff, smut, angst-ish (not really)

pairing: tom holland x writer!reader

tropes: enemies to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, road-trip, love triangle (or square), very rom com, idiots to lovers, oops-we-kissed, italian cliches from Hollywood

chapter summary: what is love? (baby don't hurt me) word count: 7.8

playlists: Italian vibes | y/n's breakup

wanna be tagged?

masterlist prologue|next chapter hi, sorry it took so long life happened, but heeeeyoo here it is! the first chapter <3 comment, reblog and tel me if you like it

It’s supposed to get easier by the time. That’s what they say. Time heals. 

When does it heal? Tom could only wonder. When is time enough? 

How long do you need to be healed? Had enough time gone by? When is it supposed to be when time starts healing? Because time goes slow and too fast. But it never seems to be enough. 

The clock becomes an enemy when you’re supposed to be healing, like it’s  carrying a big sword to dig the wound. To kill, slowly and steady. Ticking each and every hour. With each tick, it digs and with every tock it pulls. 

It kills. 

Tom was dying. Everyone is, really. Death comes as the only certain thing in one’s life. Not love, not even life. Death is the only thing that is certain. And what a bummer to be thinking about that. 

However, Tom felt like  he was dying, slowly, and steady. Time was announcing his death. And it had been that way for a while but he decided to ignore it. He decided that eventually, time would heal him. 

And time couldn’t come faster. 

Currently he had decided to die, sporadically. He had decided that dying with strangers was not the option. A year and a half ago he decided that he would die with only one person. 

Yet, like everything else. The relationship died. 

Of course, he had been meaning to break up with Giulia for a while but she’d broken up with him before he had planned it and he probably was being over dramatic as he usually was. Yet it was harder each day. A bad omen to an expected and early death. She’d killed his pride. 

And it had been harder that particular day. Waking up  to the news he’d be sharing his apartment with a couple who might be engaged isn’t the news he had been eager to hear. A couple who was so in love that might be or might get engaged. 

It was life laughing at him. As if saying that he couldn’t get it. Laughing at his misfortunes. Tom had never felt love, he always escaped before he could feel anything. 

Yet Giulia had been the closest thing to it. But he feared that he had to settle. He had wanted to break up with her and yet he was miserable, how easily had Giulia accepted it. And how she had turned his own breakup against him. 

So if the closest thing to love didn’t feel the same. How could he believe in it? 

Tom had decided years ago that he did not believe in love. How could he? The unexplainable reason as to why someone would believe in love was a mystery to him. He couldn’t believe in love because all love does is kill. 

And Tom, as we’ve mentioned, was slowly dying. Emotionally, at least. Besides if he was dying without loving someone, how worse could it be had he loved her. 

“Giulia is seeing someone.” 

Second news he’d heard that day just after taking a second bite of his breakfast.  Life playing a death march. His head had vanished, completely. 

He didn’t want to hear it. 

How could she? 

How much time had gone for her? Or had the mounting started before? Had the relationship ended for her? 

“You’re fucking joking,” Tom said. “It’s been—How do you know?” 

Serafina only pursed her lips. “She posted a picture.” 

Tom took a deep breath staring at the picture, his ex-girlfriend with a bright smile on her lips as her right hand posed on another man’s chest.

Tom then felt he died a little more. “She mourned an 18 month relationship for only a month ?” He questioned. “and now she’s bloody dating? No, correction. She didn’t mourn the relationship.” 

“You wanted to break up with her why the fuck do you care?” Serafina sipped her cup of coffee, hugging her knees as she watched her desperate friend. “Besides, you don’t know that. Maybe they’re not dating.” 

“You literally just showed me the picture.” 

“It could be a rebound,” she pointed out.

“No.” 

 “Have a stupid coffee and move on, stolto.” 

Tom picked up his cup. “No, it’s not a rebound. You don’t post a rebound, you fuck a rebound but you don’t post it on Instagram. Maybe a story, but not on your feed. That’s—that’s relationship shit. Which brings me to my point.” 

She rolled her eyes, tired from having this conversation. “To your point?” 

“She started seeing him earlier.”

“Now that you don’t know,” Fina pointed out.

Tom laughed cynically. “Please. I wanted to break up with her and it ended up with her saying and I quote: she knew what she wanted and that wasn’t me.” 

“So?” 

“So?” Tom scoffed. 

“You wanted to break up with her,” Serafina couldn’t believe him, “she was defending herself. She probably broke up with you because she saw your intentions. You started ghosting her.” 

“I—this is what I needed. A final reason, This is why I don’t believe in love. Because she simply—“

Serafina Sighed loudly, “Ay, per favore, Thomas! You can’t be so dramatic! And such an asshole!” 

“I dated her for 18 months, I think I have a reason to be dramatic, how am I supposed—“

Serafina took a deep breath. “So ché. You don’t believe in love, fine but you are acting like this because you wanted her to mourn you. You—you’re—you’re so—“Fina was trying to find the words to describe him. 

“So what?”

“Stupid! You do believe in love you’re just incapable of feeling but you do believe, and that’s why you are not buying any of this. Giulia is in love with you, I do think she is in love with you, but that’s who she is, but you get bored easily! You—you’re  not right for her, and you need  to get your shit together—“

“I don’t” Tom stated. “I have my shit together. Yes I—. I don’t think I fell for her, but I still cared. And I saw my life with her—“

“And that’s why you wanted to break up?” 

“But I didn’t break up, she broke up with me.” 

Serafina only watched him, amused. “You suck. I hate men. You made that poor girl fall in love with you when you don’t fucking believe in it.” 

Tom rolled his eyes. And why should I believe in love? It takes a month to forget someone apparently.” 

“Well I do believe in love.” 

Tom only scoffed and rolled his eyes. 

“And you will too as soon as you meet Miles and y/n, you will see that love can last,” Fina had warned him. 

“I am angry because I cared for her, and she was a good shag, okay?” 

Serafina shook her head. “Don’t you think it’s that? That she got tired of you not wanting to admit that you loved her?” 

“I needed more time to love her,” he said, “eighteen months isn’t enough.” 

“If you didn’t love her why are you so angry?” 

“She hurt my pride.” 

No. How could he? Or would it be better? Tom decided to take this with philosophy. 

He decided to humor her, by ignoring her. 

He’d learned about that couple. Miles and y/n. According to Serafina the couple was the one couple she ever believed to be forever. They’d been together since college and they were the perfect pair. Tom’s roommate believed that they probably had come to get engaged. As any other stupid couple who comes to Verona to fulfill their Romeo and Juliet fantasy. 

But Tom did not believe that Miles and Y/N would make him believe in love. Or would they? 

A year and a half wasted. A year and a half  full of foreves that didn’t last,  and a year and a half  full of promises that would be broken so easily, a year and a half  full of ‘what if’s. Full of moments that would be ingrained in Tom’s mind forever. 

Leaving with the sole wonder of how a moment lasts forever and yet it dies. 

The big question was how can you make it not last anymore? How can you get rid of a moment in time that will be buried deep inside you? 

Tom wondered, was it really that significant? Was it really? 

Because time had led him to love her. But did he really? And he did. Otherwise he wouldn’t be hurting. He’d be healing and that wasn’t near. 

How pathetic was he that he just… died. He had always loved the idea of the relationship he had with Giulia. 

And it had been difficult, waking up every morning and not knowing how the day had gone through. 

Giulia and Tom were gone. And every promise of tomorrow was blurry. 

Tom, really, was dying. And how can a dead person have to pick up someone from the airport? A couple that he’d been promised would be the epitome of love. 

Life was laughing at him. 

And it kept laughing when the one girl who’d knocked his coffee off was…

“I’m y/n.” She said. 

Tom blinked, “what?” 

“I'm y/n, Fina told me you’re the one picking me up,” she explained. 

Tom watched her. She hadn’t slept, he could tell. But he hadn’t either, and probably the reason why she hadn’t slept was because she traveled. 

He hadn’t slept because of a heartbreak. It was not fair. 

And it wasn’t her fault per se, but Tom had decided he wouldn’t like her. As immature as it sounds, his heartbreak demanded him to hate on someone. That particular someone had to be the woman who knocked off the coffee. The woman who came to Verona to have her lame Romeo and Juliet fantasy. 

Tom took a deep breath. Of course it had to be her. Now two reasons to hate her, she was the one who was in a happy relationship probably here expecting to get engaged to her lovely boyfriend… who was nowhere in sight. 

“You can’t be.” 

“I am.” 

“I was told you’d be with your boyfriend,” Tom explained. “Where is he?” 

There was a certain discomfort in her face, she took a long deep breath before looking down at her phone. “Yeah I was told that too but he isn’t here, can we leave?” 

Tom crossed his arms. “Where is he? Are you ditching him?” 

She let out a cynical cackle. 

“Did you?”

“He’s not here. He caught another plane,” she was humored by him, chuckling to herself. As if he was stupid for not knowing the reason why couples these days took different planes. 

Tom frowned. “Well I’m not coming back to the airport—“

“He will figure it out,” she interrupted. “Don’t worry. He’s a tough guy. He will be fine but for now I’m here. It’s only me.” 

Tom only watched her. He placed his sunglasses back on. 

“Please?” She begged. 

He decided he wouldn’t fight anymore with the poor stranger. He couldn’t hate her. 

“Are you going to leave me here?” 

“I’m considering it,” he admitted. 

“Why?”

“I’m deciding if I hate you or not.” 

“We just met and you hate me already?” She questioned. “Only because I dropped the coffe accidentally.” 

“The coffee was for you and what’s his name? Miles,” he said, handing over a small cup of coffee. “Now I have one extra coffee and I have spent money on 4 espressos that won’t be drunk by anybody. Three because they got knocked off and one extra one.” 

No, actually he could hate her. 

“I did not mean to knock over the coffee but thanks, I need caffeine. I’m sorry.” 

Tom helped her with her bags as she installed herself in the front seat. There was a tinge of sadness upon herself, probably bitter her trip hadn’t started with a princess-like carriage pulled by horses. 

He checked his phone once more, knowing he would hate it completely. 

A text from a group chat, an invitation to a party which Giulia would probably attend. A party that she would probably bring her newest butt acquisition to. 

Tom locked his jaw, he was angry. 

“So you’re Fina’s roommate?” His passenger questioned. “Why couldn’t she pick me—“

“She had a job emergency,” Tom explained. “Sorry she’s not here, trust me, I wouldn’t have come.” 

“Right.” 

“We don’t have to talk, you know.” 

Y/N only widened her eyes, watching him. “Gee, sorry for existing.” 

He was angry. Not at her, for sure but she did bring in something. 

He started the car. “The airport annoys me, it’s full of couples who’re here to be enamoured by Verona and the streets where Romeo and Juliet fell in love. I blame Shakespeare for that.” 

“Aren’t you british?” She questioned. 

“How did you know?” 

“The accent is noticeable, innit?” 

He huffed. 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s just ironic.” 

“What is?” 

“A Brit hating on Shakespeare.” 

“It’s not. And I didn’t say I hate him.” 

Maybe it was but who was she to judge? She’d arrived 10 minutes before and she knew absolutely nothing about him. No, he hadn’t come here specifically to get his romantic story, he’d gotten it in the way but he hadn’t come here for that. Besides, that was beyond the point. 

Sure Shakespeare was British and so was he but that was beyond the point, his point was that romance was out of his league for now so he would resent anyone who experienced it. Besides, how unoriginal. Although he had to admit that he did have the story near his heart. 

“So where is your boyfriend?” Tom questioned. “I assume that you’re here to experience the most 

romantic place. Visit Juliet’s house and everything.” 

She chuckled. “I—well. Not really.” Her tone was sarcastic. There was something about her that didn’t sit well with him. 

“Why? You don’t think Romeo and Juliet is romantic?” He questioned. 

“I do. I’m not here for that,” she said. “However, Romeo and Juliet is, undoubtedly, the greatest love story ever written.” 

Tom disagreed with her, now getting even more reasons to hate her.

“Of course you think that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She frowned. 

“What else are you here for? If you’re here at Verona you must be a Romeo and Juliet fan.” 

She watched him. Quietly, and it made him feel uneasy. 

“So you don’t think it’s the greatest love story?” 

“It’s so stupid, they met each other for like three days,” Tom said. 

She rolled her eyes, “and of course you say that.” 

“Why is it romantic?” Tom questioned. “Tell me one reason.” 

“I never said it was,” y/n cleared up. 

“You said it was the greatest love story,” Tom reminded her. 

“Because it is,” she said. “Romance and love aren't the same thing, however.” 

“What?”

“There can be love without romance and there can be romance without love,” she explained. “Although Romeo and Juliet might have a tinge of both.” 

“But you have to agree that it is stupid,” Tom kept pushing. “They knew each other for three days. You can’t love after three days.” 

She gave it a thought, “Probably, but not because of time. I think it’s stupid he died… But dying in love might be better than dying after you’ve loved. Dying before love dies.” 

Tom paused, dying in love. He’d never thought about that before. Perhaps that was the answer to the problem. 

“However, I do think it’s romantic that they fell for each other right away,” she added. 

Tom had to disagree. “That’s stupid. I would say dying is more romantic. But not even, all of it, it’s stupid.” 

“How is death romantic?” 

“They died for love! Or whatever they thought love was.” Tom excused, “that is romantic. It’s literally the one thing I do believe to be romantic.” 

“How? They could’ve had a lifetime together,” she refuted. 

“Romeo loved Juliet so much that he died for her,” Tom snapped. “He loved her so much that he couldn’t stand the idea of living without her.” 

Maybe he had more in common with Romeo than he cared to agree. 

Y/N shook her head, “That’s stupid, first of all, living for someone is a bigger act of love… And then Romeo was an idiot because he should’ve waited.” 

How in the world had he ended up discussing Romeo and Juliet with a stranger was beyond his mind but he could  understand less how stupid one could be to discuss why Romeo and Juliet isn’t or is romantic. 

“How the hell was he supposed to know?” Tom snapped. 

Y/N scoffed. “He didn’t give it a second thought. What about their plans and future? He could’ve waited and—“

“He was a teen from the old… age… time thing, what was he supposed to do? Check her pulse?  he knew nothing.” 

She smirked. “My point, he knows nothing.” 

Tom Groaned. “nothing about medicine maybe, but he knew he had to die for her.” 

“Oh yes, loving so much you die,” Y/N laughed. 

Tom frowned. “They were teenagers, he had a crush,he didn’t love her but—in their mind, it was love, and that’s why it’s stupid. But his sacrifice isn’t,” Tom fought. 

She shook her head. “Love means staying Besides love when you’re a teenager…  is like that. Rough, passionate.” 

Tom shook his head. “I guess love is like that, not when you’re a teenager, though. You don’t know anything when you’re a teenager. Or not that fast.” 

“Why wouldn’t they know about it? It’s love, it’s not anything about freaking taxes. It’s love. Love when you’re young might be the purest love in its most raw form, it’s love without thinking about the consequences.” 

“It’s not about them being young, It’s about loving without thinking. That is not—safe.” 

Y/N shrugged. “But it’s fun, why should we ever stop and think when you love someone and they love you back?” 

When had this come from? Tom didn’t believe in any of that bullshit. 

“Several reasons actually,” Tom explained, “well, not—love, but before making rash decisions.” 

“So you agree? You think that him dying was stupid.” 

“It’s subsequently stupid because they fell in love quickly,” Tom said. 

“I'm not saying—love is about two people, what Romeo did was very selfish. He took the decision all alone and—left Juliet on her own.So what else did Juliet have? He decided to end it because he thought it was the best for them because he didn’t think, he didn’t stop to see if—because he thought Juliet had died. He left her. Romeo killed Juliet.” 

Tom listened. There was something else there. Romeo killed Juliet. 

“Juliet killed Romeo,” Tom challenged. “Or, rather love killed Romeo.” 

“Love doesn’t kill.” 

“Both of them died.”

“But not because of love.”

“Love kills.” 

She stayed quiet. Tom knew he had won. 

“Weren’t you the first to say what they felt wasn’t love?” She asked with mischief knowing she was right, 

Tom opened his mouth yet no words could come out. She won. 

“Lack of love kills, not love,” she said. 

He could tell she was not in her right mind. Had she traveled alone? He suddenly was feeling intrigued by her. He had noticed her eyes were covered by a sleepless night and she didn’t have that sudden glimpse in her eyes that says she’s in love. 

“You’re just wrong, love kills,” he smirked. “And I guess you should live with that.” 

She frowned. “I’m not but you ran out of arguments.” 

“I don't need any, you are wrong.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You were the first to say you didn't believe Romeo and Juliet to be romantic. And you actually agree with me but you worded it differently, you're just too proud to admit it.” 

“I’m not proud,” Tom scowled. “You don’t know me.”

She raised her brow and chuckled.  “I don’t have to, I can tell what kind of person you are, you’re a walking stereotype. I think I wrote a paper on people like you.” 

“People like me?” 

“Yeah.” 

Who did she think she was? “And what kind of people am I?” He frowned. 

She just smirked. 

“What kind of—?” 

She kept smirking. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Tom asked again and her smirk was erased. There, her weakness. Easily discovered. 

Hasd she had a fight? Was he rejoicing in the fact that she might be miserable too? 

“He’s coming,” she said. 

“To Verona?” 

She stayed quiet. There was a change of mood, and he could tell. 

Tom watched her. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, not really. However he’d been proven that you could hate someone at first sight. 

“Serafina told me you were here to get engaged,” he commented trying to make conversation. 

She pursed her lips. “I’m not.” 

Tom frowned. “How long have you been dating?” 

She took a deep breath. “He’s actually here,” she avoided the question. “Here in Italy, already.” 

“Who is?” 

“Miles.” 

“Who’s Miles?” 

“My…boyfriend.” 

“Oh. Why are you not with him?” No answer again. Tom was annoyed. “So the boyfriend talk is out, okay.” 

“Please.” 

“I actually do know who you are,” Tom admitted. “You’re a writer, yeah? I’ve seen your books somewhere in the house. One is about a surfer, right?” 

She nodded. “Oh, yeah, a summer love, the other one is about some best friends who fall in love.” 

“Cliché.” 

“Kind of, yeah. It was based on… my story with Miles.” 

Tom turned to see her eyes. “Ah.” 

“The next one was supposed to be Italy, actually, it's… , different.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Yeah, have you read then?” She asked. “The copies I sent to Fina?” 

“It’s romance,” he said matter of factly. “I don’t read that kind of bullshit.” 

She chuckled. “Thanks.” 

“No offense, it’s not you, it’s me.” 

She suddenly hugged her bag. Weird. 

That’s all Tom could gather from her, she was weird. And although he didn’t want to admit, he did know a lot about her. Serafina had always talked about y/n, as someone incredible, but how else would she talk? Serafina and y/n had been friends for what seemed forever. Although they’d only met in college and shared a room, they became instant friends. 

However, Fina always talked about y/n in the best way. A writer who was so good at describing  romance that it made her want to feel like it. He did know about Miles and y/n. He’d learned about them and even more so when Fina had told him they’d be coming. A couple that irradiated chemistry and romance. Tailor-made for each other. 

Yet, there she was. Avoiding the subject. 

He had lied, he had read a few pages of y/n’s book. Both of them. Skimmed through it.  Not read it. But he had read…some of it, 

One particular line had stuck. And he would keep it to himself to this day. 

He couldn’t understand it. Less now that he had no one to share whatever love was with. He hadn’t for a while but that’s another story, one that he would keep for himself. 

Tom was, a big fan of secrets even if everyone believed to know him. Everyone would have their own conclusions and assumptions about who he was and he hated that. Everyone assumed he was an open book, and that they knew him. Always saying he was proud, insensitive and stubborn. 

He was, but he was more than that.

He knew y/n would be one to think less of him. 

“I’m glad you haven’t read it,” she said. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t think you would get it.” 

“Why?” 

“Just because.” 

“I’m not stupid.” 

She chuckled. “I didn’t say you were but if you think Romeo and Juliet—“

“Woah woah that is different but I have read Shakespeare, I tried reading yours once and I got bored from the first sentence.” 

She shrugged, “I did use a lot of fancy words, I apologize.” 

Tom didn’t want to make more conversation.Luckily it wasn’t as far and Serafina was there to receive y/n with wide open arms. 

Y/N turned to him, “thanks for the ride.” 

“Yeah whatever, we don’t have to talk anymore.” 

She just rolled her eyes. 

“Y/N, tu sei così carina, amore mío, I’ve missed you so much!” Serafina called to her friend. 

Tom decided he wouldn’t like to engage in any more conversations. He’d had enough and he was annoyed enough. 

“Where’s Miles?” Fina asked. “Thomas, did you ditch him?” 

“No,” he answered simply. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, you have a tendency to go after women who already have a man.” 

He did have that tendency. Tendency which he… wasn’t proud of but didn’t regret. 

“No,” y/n said as they were walking in, Fina already had a charcuterie board prepared and four glasses of wine. “Miles is not here.” 

“Che cosa?” Fina asked. “How come?” 

“Well,” Y/N licked her lips, before giving Tom a glance. “Why don’t you tell me about your job? How’s the whole fashion design going?” 

Of course she didn’t want to tell him but Tom loved getting into everyone’s business, he believed in others people gossip, he didn’t tell anyone about it but he liked gathering information for his own entertainment. 

He was an ass, really. 

He pretended to go to his room, knowing y/n was supposed to settle on the couch. He would not give his room to a stranger. 

He then decided to actually close the door to give the girls the privacy they were craving for, and the one he was yearning for as well. 

Some solitude to drawn into his lonely and angry thoughts. 

To think about the party. A party who h Fina had already responded for him, they were all going to the party. Like a big family, Fina, Y/N, Tom and… Miles. 

Who was nowhere in sight, did he even exist? Tom decided to stalk y/n. Instagram. 

She was… different. Pictures of various places, mostly doors. With photographs of her and Miles, kisses on cheeks and of Miles alone. Very handsome man. 

Her Instagram was full of them. A couple that only had eyes for each other. As if it was looking at the guy through her heart. 

Tom felt jealous. Their pictures were very… intimate. Not in the usual intimate sensual way, but in the way he could tell the pictures were taken in the exact moment. 

He wanted that. Honestly, seeing y/n’s smile made him uneasy, for he would never be able to make someone smile like that. 

He decided to go to his profile, and Tom got even more jealous. It was still y/n and Miles. but in a different way. 

Through Miles’ eyes. 

Tom had never really felt that, that need to take pictures of someone while they’re being… them. Miles had managed to create the perfect picture of his girlfriend, with her cooking, with her writing, or under the moon. Y/N was, even if Tom didn’t want to admit it, attractive. And maybe it was his tendency to want what he didn’t have but he felt jealous and urging to steal her away from Miles. 

Maybe it wasn’t even y/n. Maybe he only wanted to fall in love. 

Tom saw they had a perfect cozy life, and even after all this time, they would show they were in love. 

He saw various candid pictures of her and some of them showed when she noticed, trying to hide from the camera as if her view wasn’t enough. Her hair flying and with a smile that would outshine the stars. 

So different from the y/n he had met today, who looked tired and as if her light was gone. The radiant girl from the picture was nowhere in sight, and it wasn’t a catfish, per se, Tom saw someone had stolen something from y/n. 

And he hated them for that because whoever did that left y/n to be someone who he couldn’t stand. 

He kept scrolling and creeping through theirInstagram, with pictures of both of them midst laughs, in motion. 

Y/N’s pictures told their story and it was full of romance and love. Miles pictures showed complete adoration to y/n. Devotion, even. 

It’s funny how different the relationship was through their eyes, Tom thought, how can love truly be when we all have a different meaning to it? 

Is love really something by the book or is it just an imaginary concept with no subsequent meaning. 

Why did everyone yearn for it? And would he ever feel it again? 

That feeling when your cheeks rush and your heart beats, slightly faster. When their skin tastes like sweet honey, or when a word is poison enough. 

Poison. That’s what he would describe love as, a poison that kills you slowly. 

Was that love for the couple he’d just stalked? 

Or was love…. Each other? 

Was y/n love to Miles? was Miles love to y/n? 

If he was, then…where was he? 

He was curious so he decided to walk out. Adventuring himself trying to understand where the hell was that guy with pure and profound admiration. 

Luckily for him, Serafina had just finished talking about her own life so he was just in time to understand where exactly Miles was. 

Y/N had  noticed Tom was there, hanging out in the kitchen with them, he only leaned against the counter, stealing some of the prosciutto Fina had let out for y/n. 

“You’re going to love Miles, Thomas, and you’re going to get jealous,” Serafina warned him after a while of telling cute stories from the magnificent couple. “He’s super hot.” 

Y/N shifted in her place. Tom raised his brows. Was that jealousy? Had y/n felt uncomfortable that someone else admired her boyfriend? 

“Ah, really?” He crossed his arms. 

“They’re the perfect couple,” Serafina continued. “They make me believe in love.” 

Tom scoffed. 

“I remember this one time when y/n and him were not dating still, but they both showed up to the same party wearing practically the exact same outfit.” 

Tom chuckled. “And that’s why they’re perfect. Wow. Same outfit, really that—“he turned to see y/n. “That’s as romantic as Romeo and Juliet.” 

Y/N shot him a glare. 

“And this other time—Like, you guys always said stuff at the same time, and you finished each—“

“Finished each other sentences!” Tom laughed. “How romantic.” 

“It is" y/n said. 

“I highly doubt that,” Tom disagreed. 

“You don’t think love relies on similar values and taste?” Y/N asked. 

Tom scoffed. “An outfit doesn’t make you a perfect couple.”

“What does, then? You seem to know much about love.” 

Serafina let out a laugh. “Tom doesn’t know much about love, he’s an idiot.” 

“Am I, really?” 

“Yes,” both girls answered at unison. 

“All I’m saying is having similarities with a person doesn’t guarantee you a long lasting and loving relationship.”

Y/N ignored his sight. 

Tom hated that, he could be insulted, misjudged, anything, but to deny him attention was the one thing to actually hurt him. 

Tom watched the girl, she was delicate. Finally seeing the loose hairs, trying to find the remaining pieces of the girl he’d seen on the pictures. 

“Tom here does not believe in love,” Fina explained. 

“So I’ve gathered,” y/n said. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Tom shrugged, “It’s not that I don’t believe in it, it’s just people think it’s so significant and I believe the idea of love, the idea of it—I mean, the idea that people have is just undeniably stupid.” 

“Why is that?” Fina asked. 

Y/N decided to still focus on her drink. 

“Well, you’ve based love on outfits, and speech patterns or anecdotes togehter, while I think love is a much bigger sentiment which needs a fully bigger understanding and we’ve been taught to wrongfully see love as a romantic comedy, or a romance book—“

Y/N them smirked. “You’re against romance.” 

“I’m against generic and comercial romance,” Tom explained. “Cheap romance, which means in this whole… rom com thing in which the girl meets the guy and after knocking down a cup of coffee they instantly fall in love.”

“You’re still bitter about that, huh.” 

“Yes but it brings me to my point, romantic comedies or movies  or even books have taught us that you and I should’ve fallen in love the moment we bumped into each other because it would be a—what’s it called?”

“Meet cute,” y/n said, 

“And that’s not love, and you must know that, you’ve had a relationship for years and I am sure you didn’t fall in love with him just five minutes after you’ve met him.” 

Y/N watched Tom, deciding whether or not to humor him with her opinion. 

“You’re arguing with a romance writer, Thomas,” Serafina asked. 

Tom smirked, “which brings me to it yet again, are your books accurate?”

Y/N shrugged, “a bit, I did have my meet cute with Miles,” she said and then took a deep breath. “No I didn’t fall in love right away with him but it took me absolutely no time.” 

Tom shook his head. “That can’t be true, love is time.” 

“Love is timeless,” y/n said. 

“Then why do breakups happen? Why—why are there divorces or—“

Y/N shifted in her place once again. “Break ups don’t necessarily mean lack of love. Sometimes time itself is the one that kicks in.” 

“Breakups are the sole reason why love doesn’t exist.” 

 “I’m sorry darling but you’re so wrong, who hurt you?” Y/N asked Tom. 

Tom turned to Serafina. “I don't like your friend she can’t stay here.” 

“This is my place so you fucking deal with it,” Fina grinnned. “Please, prove it to him. How long did it take you to fall in love with Miles?” Fina smiled then, “I remember when you did, it was when he sang to Dancing Queen” 

Y/n smiled to herself. “The lyrics thing, yeah, he-“she chuckled. 

“The dude,” Fina explained. “He was singing along to Dancing Queen… he said..  See that girl, watch her scream, kicking the dancing queen.” 

Y/n laughed. “And the tangerine part,” she laughed. “Dancing queen, feel the beat from the tangerine,” she sang along. 

Tom raised his eyebrows. “That’s—that is not love.” 

“It is actually,” y/n said. “Love for me is not something incomprehensible, it’s actually something so simple that only a few get to experience it.” 

“Where’s Miles anyway, y/n?” Fina asked. “Don’t avoid the question. I’ve asked you three times now. I’ve missed him, and we have to show this idiot here that love does exist.” 

Y/N sighed. “He…” she cleared her throat. Her thoughts were circling in her mind, words struggling to come out. 

Fina turned to Tom. “This is your fault she won’t talk to me cause you’re here.” 

Tom smirked as he shrugged, “pretty avoidant about your boyfriend.” 

Fina rolled her eyes, “sorry he’s an ass. He’s just probably bitter we are going to a party where his ex-girlfriend will be with another guy.” 

Tom shook his head. “I’m not going, by the way.” 

“Ay, per favore, Thomas,” Fina rolled her eyes. “We are going.” 

The discussion didn’t take long and he knew there was no use of trying to discuss anything. There was no disposition of him. He didn’t want to go. 

Fina told him it was okay to admit he was going through a heartbreak. 

Was this a heartbreak? Because it wasn’t as bad, not as bad as he thought it would be. How can you feel pain when you haven’t felt love? 

But going to see the girl he’d spent time with seemed like hell. It was hurting his pride as if all the relationship was lifeless. 

Tom was lifeless. How couldn’t he be? Wasn’t life supposed to be love? How could he know? 

He just remembered tossing the car keys to Fina after waiting for her and y/n to get ready. There was something there, seeing a girl who was full of love getting ready. From the earrings to the hair, maybe loving someone gives you that kind of excitement. 

He didn’t have any. 

It was weird. 

Now less, when he was in hell knowing he’d been changed for someone who he would never be. That’s the thing about relationships, you can only give so much and yet it’ll never be the same someone else can give. 

Uniqueness. 

But did he have that uniqueness? He hadn’t given Giulia anything someone else couldn’t give her. But he was certain he hadn’t given her love. 

And now she was with someone else. 

He walked into the party, with people he’d known for a while but who didn’t know him at all. No one truly did, ever. 

Meanwhile he knew he had to hate y/n because she had someone who knew everything, even how she would finish her sentences. 

Would he ever have that? Would someone just know him? Or bother to know him? 

He only had a glass of wine as he watched his friends laughing, drinking and smoking, living. Yet. He was there, knowing some girls would be drowned to him yet not care about it at all. 

A girl was gently stroking his shoulders, as she tried to see what was underneath his t-shirt. He would only give her a few smiles. 

He was staring at the new girl in his life, with a forced smile, speaking very few words in Italian, laughing at jokes she didn’t understand. Y/N was entertainment for him, she was pathetic, honestly, 

Tom decided he would focus on y/n rather on expecting Giulia to arrive with that new asshole. Besides, Y/N wasn’t enjoying her time either or so it seemed. He pitied her, y/n was probably too busy focusing on the fact that Miles wasn’t there rather than enjoying her surroundings. 

That’s probably why Tom didn’t bother on falling in love, because it involved depending your happiness on someone else. Celebrating on rather useless milestones that didn’t matter. Tom knew he couldn’t rely his happiness on anyone else. 

Yet he didn’t find happiness on his own. 

Perhaps he was hurting. Yeah. 

Perhaps the drink in his hand wasn’t enough and perhaps he would blame his headache on not sleeping. 

Yet he knew deep inside he was hurting because even though, he didn’t experience love, he had experienced the closest thing to it, and he had lost it. 

What a shame.

He saw y/n head out, walking to that balcony on the second floor. He saw her, all alone staring at the night and taking a few deep breaths, before deciding to look outside. 

The streetlights were barely giving any light to her, 

“Are they not good enough?” Tom asked as he headed out with her. 

“Who?” 

“Our friends, are they not good enough as your boyfriend?”

Y/N was slightly startled. She gave him a sad smile. “No.”

He snorted. “Figured.” 

She shrugged. “You’re going through a breakup, then.”  

Tom nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Is she here yet?” She asked. 

Tom shook his head. “Not yet.” 

“When did it happen?” 

“A month ago.” 

“Hm.” 

Y/N nodded to herself and then remained quiet. They both turned back to the party. Everyone was having fun but them. They were stuck. 

Tom knew why he was stuck but why was she? 

“Why did it happen?” She broke the silence. 

He shrugged. “Not sure. I have an idea, if she’s bringing someone else, I think that might be it.” 

Y/N watched him and turned back to watch the quiet city. A couple was walking by. 

“I bet you thought that Miles would be here and run to the balcony all Romeo and Juliet style,” he teased. 

“It’s not bad to wish for a love story,” she said. 

He rolled his eyes. “Are we having this conversation again?” 

“No, I’m not really in the mood for it, I don’t like you.” 

Tom watched, “where is he?” 

Y/n laughed. 

Tom stared. “Where is your Prince Charming, then?” 

Y/N licked her lips. 

“I think you shouldn’t be waiting for him, you can enjoy a perfect party like this, you don’t need someone you love to be happy.” 

Y/n wrinkled her nose. “No, but it does help. Having someone who just—“she smiled, “I assume you haven’t felt it. To have someone who just stops time, who makes you speak in prose and who, you know, at the end of the day, it makes everything better.” 

“I guess not, haven’t felt it,” he admitted. “But when I could’ve, she ended it.” 

She turned to see Serafina laughing and hanging by someone’s shoulders. He followed her gaze, bored by the same theatrics his friends always pulled. The same routine, everything.

What is love, baby don’t hurt me by Haddaway played in the background. 

“I hate that song.” “I love that song.” 

Neither knew who had said what, but they just turned to the other with disgust. 

“Are we going to argue about this, too?” Tom asked. 

“We can.” 

He sighed. “It’s an 80’s song.” 

“That should sum up the answer and end the argument,” she said. “It’s an 80’s song.” 

“It could bring us to our previous argument, though, what is love?” 

She chuckled. “It is a deep analysis of it.” 

“As if he’s asking himself, what is it really? And if it’s love-” 

“If it’s love why are you hurting me,” she chuckled. “He desn’t know, why she’s not fair.” 

“He gives her  love.” 

“And she doesn’t care,” Y/N nodded, very seriously now. 

“What is right and what is wrong?” He asked, quite philosophical. 

“Gimme a sign,” She continued. 

“What is love?” He asked again.

“Baby don’t hurt me.” 

He sighed. “Don’t hurt me.” 

“No more.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” they both sang.  

They both smiled to themselves proud of the most stupid thing they could come up with. Silence filled up again.  

“Miles broke up with me, ” y/n said candidly, ignoring the silence beside her. 

“What?” Was all Tom could ask midst agonizing stare. 

“Miles, my supposedly  soon to be fiancé broke up with me.” 

Tom then, understood, as if suddenly a light was lit. He saw it, she was dying too, that’s why the girl could not be judged. 

“What?” He asked again, with humor this time, 

“He broke up with me,” she said, “it’s a funny story, actually.” 

“Is it?” He grinned, “that is something I do want to hear.” 

“He broke up with me and left me and came here to Italy because we used to have this dream that we would take a road trip together and I didn’t—and I couldn’t do it so he broke up with me and came to do it on his own, and I panicked and I followed him blindly hoping I’ll bump into him and we get back together.” 

“That’s fucking insane.” 

She sighed. “A bit, yeah.” 

He smirked, “and you had the bloody courage to say you believe in love?” 

“Yes.” 

“When you’re broken-hearted and insane?”  

“A broken heart and insanity  is only proof that love exists.” 

“Pfsh, that’s bull—“And in that precise moment he saw her. Giulia. 

With her waist against the new guys hand. With a smile he could’ve never gotten. It hurt, and in a way he never thought he would feel, a chest pain slowly spreading through his body. A sudden urge to run away yet having the inability to do so, his body slowly sinking. 

Tom was dying. That’s what he was feeling. Knowing about it hurt but seeing it. Seeing it. He was dying, and he was shaking and he was dying. 

Giulia was with someone else’s and he had to deal with it. He had to fucking deal with it. A heartbreak that killed him. 

“It’s not bullshit.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re—right.” 

Y/N frowned. “What?” 

“Yeah, you’re right, yes.” 

She followed his gaze, “ah.” 

“Yes.” 

 “Is that her?” Y/N asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“She’s pretty,” 

“Yeah, yes, yes.” 

“No wonder why she broke up with you, she’s way out of your league.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you just agreeing to everything I say?”

“Yeah.” 

“Great, will you admit you’re an idiot?” 

“Yeah.” 

Tom was shaking, sweating, and sinking into the ground, slowly, the world was trying to eat him alive. He needed to escape, but how? He didn’t need Giulia to see he was weak. He couldn’t stand the idea of being weak. 

How could he prove to her that he had moved on? How on earth? He looked around and he saw no escape, he was trapped. His eyes darted across the room until he finally looked to his left, to the girl he had been attempting to insult all day. 

An idea, a very stupid one, came to his mind. 

“I’m going to wrap my arm around you and we are going to walk in and we need to seem madly—“

“What?” She interrupted him. “What?” 

“I need Giulia to see I’ve moved on and so you will have to—“

“I won’t pretend I’m your girlfriend,” she stated 

“No, not my girlfriend, just—let’s look mad horny for each other.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Tom was panicking and running out of options, he didn’t want Giulia to realize he was there. If it were for him no one would be acknowledging he existed at that precise moment. 

“Please, please, I—“

“I’m not going to do that, I don’t like you you’ve been rude to me all day!” 

“It’s only for a moment, we can flirt and—“

“I would never flirt with you,” she was repulsed, 

“I’ll pay you!” He insisted, 

“No.” 

“I’ll read your book?”

“Why would I want you reading my book?” She questioned. 

“I’ll help you find Miles.” 

“Thomas!” That was Giulia, approaching him in slow motion as Tom was going to be sick. “Thomas, what—what are you doing here?” 

Giulia was approaching him, and with each step Tom felt he turned smaller, and before he could realize it, he is ex girlfriend was standing right in front of him, with the new idiot beside her.

“Tom, hi, I would like you to meet Mateo,” Giulia said. “He—“

Who the fuck introduces a new fling to their ex of eighteen fucking months? Only weeks after the fucking breakup, 

Tom only stared. “Oh, hi.” 

“Ciao,” Mateo answered. 

Serafina had seen the whole scene and rushed to see how she could be of help. 

Giulia’s eyes landed on y/n, who was watching the whole scene with amusement. 

Tom gulped, “Uh— this is y/n—She is—“

“Tom’s girlfriend,” y/n grinned. “Nice to meet you.”

wanna be tagged?

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[prettyprince00]

♡ FILMS FOR FAUNLET FASHION INSPO ♡

~~Got bored so compiled this (pretty extensive) list of film references for faunlet style and aesthetics, might be helpful for anyone looking to delve into and develop their style. Don't take this as some kind of gospel, it's just a bunch of movies and shows that I think can be useful reference points. My personal style and taste for example is a huge mix and amalgalm of stuff I see, from movie characters to paintings, books, comics, cartoons, music videos, haute couture collections, K- and J-idols, BJD dolls, even elements and staples from female fashion that I kind of genderflip or just outright mix into and merge with my own "masculine"/boyish/whatever faunlet fits. I think the secret to finding your style is to never limit yourself & always be creative (& clever ofc)! ♡

Feel free to suggest and tell me some of your personal films/shows that inspire you the most. I'm sure I forgot some stuff >.> Hope this helps somewhat lolol

WARNING: A LOT OF THESE HAVE MATURE THEMES AND +18 STUFF, SO DO RESEARCH BEFORE WATCHING AND PROCEED AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, CAUTION & RESPONSIBILITY!

I. Academia/Schoolboy/Old Money/Preppy/Classic Faunlet Vibes

Les Amitiés particulières by Jean Delannoy

A Series of Unfortunate Events (Film and show)

Both versions of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Lord of the Flies (both versions tbh)

The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe by Andrew Adamson

Kaze to ki no Uta + Natsu e no Tobira (Honestly most shounen ai anime especially from the 80s/90s)

CLAMP Gakuen Tanteidan

Kuroshitsuji i.e. Black Butler (probably the most famous ouji aka male lolita-influenced anime out there)

Ouran High School Host Club

Cardcaptor Sakura (Li's fits especially but also Touya's and Yukito's)

The Long Day Closes + The Neon Bible, by Terence Davies

If... by Lindsay Anderson

The Butcher Boy by Neil Jordan

Tea and Sympathy by Vincent Minnelli

Purple Noon by René Clément

Sleepers by Barry Levinson

The Basketball Diaries by Scott Kalvert

School Ties by Robert Mandel

The Dangerous Lives of the Altar Boys by Peter Care

Blue Spring by Toshiaki Toyoda

Death in Venice by Luchino Visconti

East of Eden (also Splendor in the Grass I guess?) by Elia Kazan

Lacombe Lucien (+ Au Revoir Les Enfants) by Louis Malle

Bad Education by Pedro Almodóvar

The Ice Storm by Ang Lee

La Luna + The Dreamers by Bernardo Bertolucci

Teorema by PP Pasolini (also Saló tbh bt I feel kinda weird recommending that lmfao even though it's a pretty well-established masterpiece & one of my favs)

Total Eclipse by Agnieszka Holland (teenage Arthur Rimbaud is a core faunler reference tbh, strange that I don't see him brought up more, though he's been a queer/twink culture icon for ages so yeah)

Les roseaux sauvages by André Téchiné

Call Me by Your Name by Luca Guadagnino

Deep Red by Dario Argento (only for the flashback Xmas scenes with the creepy little boy in knee-highs and Mary Janes tbh lol)

The Omen by Richard Donner

The Good Son by Joseph Ruben

Pinnocchio (OG Disney animation) (you could make a double feature with A.I. Artificial Intelligence by Spielberg/Kubrick too)

Les 400 coups by François Truffaut

L'enfance nue by Maurice Pialat

A Single Man by Tom Ford

Looking for Langston by Isaac Julien

Sacré College, Garçons d'Etage, Scouts and Gamins de Paris by JD Cadinot (WARNING: Cadinot's films are basically erotica/arthouse vintage gay p*rn so obviously 18+!!!!!)

II. More Contemporary/Gas Station/Trashy/Greaser/Hustler/Catalet Faunlet Vibes

My Own Private Idaho (also Mala Noche and Elephant) by Gus Van Sant

Slight Fever of a 20-Year-Old + Like Grains of Sand by Ryosuke Hashiguchi

Mysterious Skin + Totally Fucked Up + Nowhere by Gregg Araki

Hustler White by Bruce LaBruce (+18)

Rebel Without a Cause by Nicholas Ray

Cry Baby + Polyester by John Waters

Pretty much any juvenile delinquent teensploitation 40s/50s Old Hollywood flick tbh

The Outsiders by FF Coppola

A Cruel Story of Youth + Sing a Song of Sex by Nagisa Oshima

Most of Edward Furlong and Vicent Kartheiser's 90s filmography (Pet Semetary 2, Brainscan, Little Odessa for Furlong; Heaven Sent, Another Day in Paradise, Masterminds for Vincent)

River's Edge by Tim Hunter

Young Soul Rebels by Isaac Julien

Sleepaway Camp by Robert Hiltzik

Le Diable Probablement by Robert Bresson

Permanent Green Light  + Like Cattle Towards Glow (+18) by Zac Farley & Dennis Cooper

Pauline à la Plage by Eric Rohmer

The Smell of Us + Ken Park by Larry Clark

Flesh by Paul Morrissey

Lonesome Cowboys by Andy Warhol

Cruising by William Friedkin

Un couteau dans le cœur by Yann Gonzalez (though most of the male fashion in this is just ripping off Friedkin's Cruising and Cadinot films like Aime... comme Minet, Deuxième Sous-sol and Les Minets Sauvages so you could just watch those instead I guess lol)

Equation à un Inconnu by Francis Savel (erotica/+18)

Rebels of the Neon God by Tsai Ming Liang

Fireworks + Scorpio Rising by Kenneth Anger

Dope by Rick Famuyiwa

Cooley High by Michael Schultz

The Inkwell by Matty Rich

Red Hook Summer by Spike Lee

George Washington by David Gordon Green

American Graffiti by George Lucas and Bill Norton

All About Lily Chou-Chou by Shunji Iwai

Stand by Me by Rob Reiner

The Mudge Boy by Michael Burke

US Go Home by Claire Denis

Gummo by Harmony Korine

L.I.E. by Michael Cuesta

Palo Alto by Gia Coppola

Spetters by Paul Verhoeven

Fox and His Friends by RW Fassbinder

The Pit by Lew Lehman

O Fantasma by João Pedro Rodrigues

The Delta by Ira Sachs

What Have I Done to Deserve This + Law of Desire by Pedro Almodovar

The Partridge Family sitcom tbh lol, also the 70s era of the Mickey Mouse Club, pretty much any 70s media featuring male idols of the time like David Cassidy, Leif Garrett etc

Dazed and Confused by Richard Linklater

The Lost Boys by Joel Schumacher

Y Tu Mamá Tambièn by Alfonso Cuarón

Summer 85 by François Ozon

Les Chansons d'Amour + La Belle Personne by Christophe Honoré

Body Without Soul + Not Angels But Angels by Wiktor Grodecki (personally rly dislike the weird Christian melodramatic & imo exploitative direction of these documentaries bt the boys who are interviewed do the best they can to salvage it -- quintessential East European 90s cityboy looks)

III. Fantasy/Glam/Mystical/Sacred/Ancient/Historical Faunlet Vibes

Pink Narcissus by James Bidgood

Caravaggio + Sebastiane by Derek Jarman

Peter Pan (any version tbh)

Fantasia (1940 Disney classic)

Tabou by Nagisa Oshima

Poison + Velvet Goldmine by Todd Haynes

Party Monster by Fenton Bailey

Satyricon by Federico Fellini

Der Rosenkönig by Werner Schroeter

The Blood of a Poet by Jean Cocteau

[amber-michaelson]

His Darkside

Tom holland x reader

Summary: all is well till his celebrity life gets in his way and he's about to lose his love but changes things very fast

Read at own risk

Warning: swearing, yandere

yn pov

“have a nice day” i smiled handing the costumer her coffee “next please” i called and smiled as i saw a familiar face “tom holland 4 times this week people are gonna start thinking you have a crush on me” i giggled “well your smile just brightens my dreadful day” he smiled leaning onto the counter “oh really do you want my smile and your regular” i asked “yes please with a chocolate muffin” he pleads and watches as i get his order ready “hows filming going” i ask making small talk since he was the last costumer the rest already sorted and chatting not caring that TOM HOLLAND was in the shop ‘must not be movie people’ “its good good but tiring” he mumbled and smiled as i handed him his order “well thats 15 dollars please” i said and wiped the counter where i spilled “keep the change” he smiled and handed me 30 and i was about to protest but he shook his head and turned around but turned back around and stared at me “can i take you out” he blurted out “like a date” i questioned tilting my head “like a date” he murmured nodding and grabbed a pen and paper out of his pocket and scribbled down his number “you just keep a pen and paper on you” i laughed “well when a fan wants a autograph” he said handing me the paper i smiled at the little note he wrote ‘if a star fell for every time i thought of you, the sky would be empty’ it was kinda weird “ill make sure to text you later” he said smiling before leaving “bye” i murmur to myself ‘i just got asked out by a celebrity’.

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tom pov 

i looked at my phone as i waited for her i choose a casual date spot so i didn’t make her uncomfortable with a fancy restaurant “hey tom” i looked up as i heard her and looked her up and down “you look beautiful” i say standing up and pulled her chair out for her “such a gentle men” she giggled and sat down “anything for a beautiful woman” i smiled and sat back down “how was your day” i asked and sipped my water  "it was very slow after you left" she murmured gazing over the menu "what would you like yn" I mumbled waving over a waiter "ill just have fd and ff please" she smiled at me and I order mine "your orders will be right out" 'this is gonna be great'.

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I walked her to her door as we chatted "I had a really fun time hopefully we can do this again" she said smiling "we differently should we should have a movie date at my house we order pizza wear baggy clothes and binge Netflix" I smiled imagining everything for out next date "sounds perfect" she murmured and looked at her door then me "I guess ill see you tomorrow with your regular" yn giggled "with that beautiful smile please" I smiled with puppy dog eyes "sure thing" she whispered and kissed my cheek before heading inside 'she's just perfect'.

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Yn pov

The silent tears run down my cheeks I can't do this anymore its not right for me or him the media is right I'm not good enough for me "babe I'm home" I quickly wipe my tears away and put a smile on my face it isn't his fault be doesn't deserve the hate I bring "hey baby" he greet and hugged me "hey welcome home" I freak as my voice sounds shaky "whats wrong" he asks pulling back and staring at me I couldn't do it anymore "we need to talk" I murmured and walked to the couch him trailing behind me "did I do something wrong" I shook my head sitting down "your making me scared what's wrong" he murmured grazing his hand up my arm I grabbed it and held it in my lap im gonna miss him "tom...." I paused thinking of the right way to say this "I can't do this anymore and I'm really sor-" "what do you mean couldn't do it do what" he asked pulling his hand away with a little force "tom our relationship has to end" I murmur looking down as the tears started again "why why are you doing this" he muttered "you deserve someone better" I whisper and yelped as he forced me to face him "who said something" he asked raising his voice which he has never done infront of me "why would you ever think you were never good enough for me" he said softening his voice and let go of my face "I never thought I was good enough for you but I wished I was when you asked me out I thought it was a dream but now reality is catching up and I can't do it anymore" I cried looking away from him "what do you mean reality is catching up" he asked but I couldn't answer "what do you mean" he shouted standing up I looked at him in fear and moved away "answer me" he yelled threateningly "I can't tom" I said putting my hands up as a shield "why cant you tell me why" he screamed and picked up the vase that layed on the table and threw it at the wall I was shaking in fear and got up and started running up to our room but he was following in toe "are you cheating on me is that why you wanna end our relationship" he screamed and threw a picture frame that landed next to my head, I shot into the room and was about to close the door put his foot got into the way "tom please you have to understand" I pleaded and moved away from him my cheeks wet with tears "understand that your trying to leave me without a explanation yn" me muttered and grabbed the bat we kept by the bed incase of a robbery "tom please don't" I begged and gasped as I hit the wall "you don't understand one thing yn and it is that you are mine and you belong to me and me alone you can never leave" he yelled and raised the bat and hit me knocking me out.

Tom pov

I stared down at her unconscious body and dropped the bat to carry her into our basement where I will keep her till she's ready to come out again and it doesn't matter how long it takes "sweet dreams babe" I murmur as I finished cuffing her to the bed "now lets check that little phone of yours" I muttered and went to the living room where her phone sat on the table I sat down and grabbed it and turn it on the lock screen was a picture of her and Tessa when she first met her and her password was our anniversary I looked on her social media's and watts-app but nothing she was loyal "then why did you want to break up" I murmured to myself I see she had a opened app and clicked on it my eyes widening "what the fuck" I muttered and scrolled down the page it was hate comments and theories of me just using her I threw her phone into the wall breaking it "well yn you don't have to deal with that anymore because you won't me able to leave me" I muttered to myself.

Bonus

"It is the 10th year anniversary since tom hollands girlfriend has gone missing, he was spotted at their favorite restaurant picking up his and hers favorite meal and his commitment still stands" the news reporter says "and I think that's enough tv for today babe" tom grabs the remote turning off the TV kissing the cheek of the emotionless girl as their three kids whispered to their mothers growing belly with their 4th child she lost her freedom and tom lost her love but he will never let her leave never till her last breath she is his and his alone

My other actor works 

Check out my other works

[t-lostinworlds]

t’s february frolicking celebration ✘ MOODBOARDS

PETER PARKER + GRUNGE/PUNK BOYFRIEND ⤷ requested by @cutetomholland

[destinyc1020]

I love big brother Tom. Patty yessing him is so funny. I don't think Tom would hesitate to give him a crack on the ass for not listening lol.

I don't think Tom would hesitate to give him a crack on the ass for not listening lol.

I'm still not over that time when Tom was whistling at Paddy like he was a freakin' dog on the red carpet during the Spider-Man Homecoming premiere lol 😅🤣

[honnelander]

btw I just wanted to let u know it's totally okay if you do decide to write for taz because there's literally ff of so many actors even aside like what character they play for example Peter Parker fanfics but also there's Tom Holland fanfics....I hope you get my point, pls don't feel embarrassed to share your work, it's just another form of appreciation and love for the actor and I hope you never feel ashamed of it :) ofc it's ur choice but just wanted to put in my two cents lol

you know what… you’re so right and that’s so true 🥴 I’ve read actor fic before too and never really thought twice about it tbh… 🤔

maybe it is a bit of embarrassment ? idk. but I’ll definitely consider it, thank you 🥹🫶🏼

[melancomine]

⸻

TEASING | peter parker x lettrice

trama: peter parker è il tuo migliore amico, ti sta tenendo nascosti piacevoli segreti ma li stai per scoprire tutti questa notte

pairing: peter parker x lettrice (mi riferisco a tasm ma può essere qualsiasi pp se lo desideri)

avvertenze: smut esplicito, sesso non protetto

word count: 2,7k

masterlist | wattpad

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Questa sera fa particolarmente fresco a New York City, il tempo perfetto per un tè, una copertina e un film in streaming. Ma c’è una cosa che ti sta distraendo dalle immagini cruente di Alien, ovvero il disordine. Non riesci proprio a sopportare che la scrivania abbia ancora lo scompiglio dello studio del pomeriggio. Metti in pausa il film e ti alzi. Chiudi e raccogli i libri su cui hai passato ore e ore a memorizzarne le pagine e li riponi al loro posto, nella libreria. Le biro e gli evidenziatori nel portapenne e stavi per tornare a letto quando ti accorgi che una delle cornici appese al muro è storta. Appena noti che la foto in questione è quella del tuo diploma, inevitabilmente un sorriso scappa dalle tue labbra.

Sei felice, spensierata, emozionata e a condividere quel momento importantissimo per voi con le toghe blu è Peter Parker, il tuo migliore amico e spalla su cui puoi sempre contare. Peter Parker… Sei innamorata di lui dal momento in cui i vostri sguardi si sono incrociati per la prima volta a scuola. Lui un po’ goffo, imbranato, se ne andava in giro con lo skateboard e in un modo o nell’altro faceva sempre cadere qualcosa. Ma è questo che ti piace di lui. La sua spontaneità, il suo essere vero.

All’improvviso, un rumore alla finestra. Ti giri di scatto per vedere che un’ombra si sta muovendo da dietro le tende. Hai paura, tanta paura. Il tuo cuore inizia a battere fortissimo, ma pensi che è meglio avere il sangue freddo per qualsiasi evenienza. Cerchi l’oggetto più pesante che ti possa capitare sottomano e trovi una candela. Una candela?!

Ti avvicini lentamente alla finestra e con una mano sposti la tenda. Sei pronta a scaraventare quella profumatissima candela in testa all’intruso quando… ”Spider-Man?!” Esclami.

Cosa ci fa il più famoso e amato supereroe di New York sul tuo davanzale? Sei confusa, ma eccitata. Il mondo si ferma e il tuo cuore continua a battere veloce, non più per la paura ma per l’emozione.

”Calmati, calmati, per favore!” Il ragazzo con il costume ti fa segno di rimanere in silenzio, non vuole che qualcuno ti senti. Entra completamente nella tua stanza e tu lasci cadere la candela. Spider-Man posa una mano sulla tua bocca e l’altra dietro la nuca. Il tuo respiro si regolarizza. Quel tocco ti dà conforto. Rimanete in quella posizione per alcuni secondi, l’uomo ragno sta aspettando che ti sia rilassata completamente e tu ne approfitti per ammirarlo. Non ti è mai capitato di ritrovartelo così vicino. La sua tuta ha dei piccoli strappi qua e là ed è macchiata probabilmente di sangue. Il scintillio degli occhi di plastica della maschera non ti permette di vedere i suoi sotto di essa, riesci solamente a specchiartici.

”Non volevo irromperti in casa, ma non sapevo dove andare.”

Spider-Man ti lascia andare e ti allontani di un passo. ”Perché qui?” Domandi, con aria perplessa. Lui sembra perfettamente a suo agio in questa stanza, tanto da recarsi nel tuo bagno privato, aprire il secondo cassetto del lavandino e prendere il tuo kit del pronto soccorso. Ti stai chiedendo come faccia a sapere dove tieni quella roba. 

Spider-Man ti passa la scatola e tu la prendi, ma il tuo sguardo è ancora più confuso di un attimo fa.

”Prometti di non agitarti.” L’uomo ragno mette in avanti le mani come se fossi una belva da domare. Lentamente, si toglie la maschera. In quella frazione di secondo pensi che sia meglio non guardarlo, per proteggere la sua identità segreta, ma lui sta compiendo quel gesto per infrangere questa etica. 

”Peter?!” I tuoi occhi si spalancano. ”Cosa- Ma quindi- TU?!” Farfugli qualcosa ma hai un uragano di emozioni dentro lo stomaco e non riesci a formare una frase di senso compiuto.

Ecco perché conosceva dove tieni i medicinali. Qui c’è già stato.

Spide… o meglio, Peter Parker si accascia sul divanetto davanti alla finestra e ti rivolge il suo solito caldo e amichevole sorriso che in un certo senso riesce a far sciogliere quella tempesta che hai dentro. 

Lo guardi meglio e noti che perde sangue dal naso e da un taglietto sul labbro. ”Ma tu sei ferito.” In mano hai ancora il kit del pronto soccorso quindi ti accomodi di fianco a lui sul divano verde e prendi gli oggetti necessari per pulirlo e disinfettarlo.

”Dovresti vedere quegli altri.” Ridacchia il ragazzo con il costume rosso e blu. ”Cinque ragazzi se la stavano prendendo con un povero fattorino. Ho fatto vedere loro le buone maniere ma mi hanno rincorso e non potevo scappare all’infinito quindi… Eccomi qui. Tranquilla, non mi hanno visto entrare. Per fortuna abiti all’ultimo pia- Ah! Piano!” Un urletto stridulo esce dalla sua bocca quando il batuffolo impregnato di disinfettante tocca la ferita che ha sul labbro.

”Hai lottato contro una lucertola gigante e ti lamenti di questo micro taglietto?” La cosa ti fa inevitabilmente ridere.

”Guarisco in fretta, ma brucia lo stesso.” Peter fa cadere la testa sullo schienale del divano e ti guarda mentre lo curi. Le sue iridi marroni sono stracolme di dolcezza e passano dai tuoi occhi alle tue labbra, bagnate dalla punta della lingua che fai uscire ogni volta che ti concentri.

”Lo sospettavo, comunque.” Sospiri. Conosci troppo bene Peter e hai capito che ti stava nascondendo qualcosa. Quelle fughe in piena notte e quei giorni passati a non sentirvi erano troppo loschi. Vederlo con quella tuta, ti fa salire un brivido freddo lungo la schiena che improvvisamente si trasforma in una calda e piacevole sensazione nello stomaco. Ti piace, tantissimo.

”Non mi dire.” Ti stuzzica ironicamente Peter per poi tornare serio per un attimo. ”Mi fido di te. Ciecamente. Ecco perché sono qui, sei l’unica su cui posso contare.” 

Appena finisci di pulirgli il viso, butti per terra i batuffoli di cotone usati e metti da parte il kit. Stai per alzarti quando Peter ti afferra un polso con delicatezza. ”Torna qui.” Dice, tirandoti verso di lui. Sei nuovamente seduta, ma il tuo amico non ha intenzione di lasciarti. Tu non riesci a opporre resistenza, quindi ti lasci cullare dalle sue mani quando una di queste si appoggia sulla tua guancia accaldata.

”Sono contenta che ti sia aperto con me. Significa tanto.” Ringrazi Peter per aver confidato con te il suo più grande segreto, nonostante i rischi che corre.

I vostri visi sono incredibilmente vicini. Peter riesce a percepire il tuo battito accelerato con il suo senso sviluppato da supereroe. A cosa fare adesso ci sta pensando da una vita intera. Con il pollice ti accarezza lo zigomo e la mano scende verso la nuca e ti avvicina ancora di più. I vostri nasi si stanno sfiorando. Rimanete così, con le labbra che quasi si toccano ma ancora non si incontrano. I vostri respiri si uniscono.

”Peter…” Sussurri. Quella lontananza ti sta torturando. Perché non si decide a baciarti? La verità è che anche lui sta fremendo, ma vuole capire se sta facendo la cosa giusta.

”Sì?” Sussurra a sua volta. 

”Non farmelo dire.” Sorridi ma stai tremando.

Peter ti guarda negli occhi, che nel frattempo sono diventati lucidi di desiderio e con la debole luce dei lampioni che viene da fuori si nota più facilmente. ”Voglio sentirtelo dire.”

Potresti morire di infarto. ”Baciami, ora.”

Le vostre labbra finalmente si incontrano in quello che sembra essere uno spettacolo di fuochi d’artificio. Peter è così delicato ma anche così passionale, questo bacio sta riempiendo la stanza con rumori bagnati e ansimi pesanti. La sua mano scivola verso la tua clavicola, scoprendola dalla sottile spallina della canottiera bianca che indossi come pigiama. Peter ama come il tuo corpo reagisce al suo contatto e sorride nel bacio quando sente i brividi salirti lungo la schiena.

Le vostre forme si fanno più vicine. L’uomo ragno prende di nuovo il controllo della situazione e ti fa sdraiare, la sua figura esile in mezzo alle tue gambe. Con un braccio regge il suo peso appoggiato di fianco alla tua testa, l’altro lo usa per abbracciarti la vita. Sussulti quando senti una dura presenza affermarsi attraverso il suo attillato costume di spandex e sbattere contro la tua intimità.

Le tue mani si trasferiscono dallo stringere i suoi capelli castani e arruffati a cercare la zip nascosta dietro la tuta. La trovi e la tiri giù, lo aiuti a togliersela e quando si allontana per riuscire meglio nel vostro intento, ”Tienila.” Mormori, così Peter l’abbassa il necessario per mostrare il suo torace liscio e i suoi addominali. Sul fianco destro noti che ha un grosso ematoma probabilmente derivante dalla scazzottata di prima.

Ti sollevi per toglierti la canottiera che in quel momento vi sembra un grande ostacolo. Non porti il reggiseno, per questo i tuoi capezzoli si irrigidiscono per l’improvvisa aria fresca. Peter si china per lasciarti dei baci umidi sul collo, sulle spalle, infine sul tuo seno. Inarchi la schiena per cercare più contatto con l’altra persona. Lui lo prende come indizio e con una mossa veloce fa scivolare i tuoi pantaloni larghi felpati lungo le gambe, fino a toglierli completamente e lasciare scoperto il tuo intimo per niente sexy e soprattutto con disegnati sopra dei cuoricini. Ma è Peter Parker, hai condiviso il liceo con lui, tanti pianti e tante risate, e non ti vergogni affatto di quelle mutandine.

Il percorso di baci di Peter continua fino ad arrivare al tuo ombelico, poi si allontana. Ti sta guardando negli occhi con il respiro pesante, studia ogni particolare del tuo volto, te lo accarezza, con il pollice traccia il contorno delle tue labbra. Le dita dell’altra mano stanno sfiorando i tuoi fianchi e il ventre. L’indice e il medio si fanno strada verso il tessuto di quelle ridicole mutandine e da sopra di esso inizia ad accarezzare il tuo sesso, o meglio, a stuzzicarti, perché quel tocco è talmente leggero da essere a malapena percepito, come uno straziante solletico, una tortura, perché ne vuoi di più e non te ne dà, ma è questo che ti fa eccitare. Questa delicatissima e lentissima carezza, insieme al suo sguardo che punge su di te.

Il tuo corpo si sta contorcendo sotto di lui e questo fa impazzire Peter. Decide che questa sofferenza è troppa anche per lui, per cui, finalmente, ti spoglia delle mutandine e riposiziona le dita nell’esatto punto di prima, ma questa volta con più decisione e maggiore pressione. ”Sei eccitata, lo sento.” Dice Peter riferendosi al fatto che lì sotto sei talmente bagnata e calda da far quasi squagliare la stoffa del divano. Annuisci e ti lecchi le labbra. ”Allora dimmelo. Dimmi quanto mi vuoi.”

”Ti prego Peter, ne voglio di più.” Ansimi e lui ti risponde con l’indice che si inserisce completamente dentro la tua apertura, seguito poi anche dal medio. Le dita dell’uomo ragno si stanno muovendo su e giù contro le tue pareti e inizi a gemere oscenamente. Il ragazzo si china nuovamente per cercare le tue labbra e ti bacia appassionatamente, strozzando i tuoi gemiti. Gli stai stringendo, quasi tirando, i capelli. Sei vicina all’orgasmo. Peter continua, più veloce, inoltre friziona con il palmo contro il tuo clitoride pulsante di eccitamento. Ci sei quasi. Lui lo sa. Si stacca dal bacio per leccarti il collo e le clavicole e il suo respiro caldo contro la tua pelle esposta ti fa provare sensazioni uniche. Raggiungi l’apice del piacere e Peter lo capisce dal tuo grido - soffocato per non svegliare i coinquilini - di piacere e per le gambe che stringono il suo corpo esile ma muscoloso.

Spider-Man ti solleva per i fianchi con neanche un minimo di difficoltà, infondo ha la super forza, e ti porta su di lui. Siete entrambi seduti, lui appoggiato allo schienale del divano e tu sopra le sue gambe. Hai le guance e il naso rosso, per non parlare delle labbra, sembra che ti sia messa il rossetto talmente sono gonfie e scarlatte. I tuoi capelli sono un disordine totale. Questo è l’aspetto dell’orgasmo. 

”Tu non sai che effetto mi stai facendo. Ho aspettato troppo a lungo.” Ti sussurra sulla bocca, finendo la frase poi con un bacio. Le tue braccia sono ancorate dietro il suo collo e le sue girovagano sulla tua schiena.

È il tuo turno di stuzzicare quel carnefice che ti ha fatto contorcere dal piacere, ma non riesci, devi averlo subito tutto per te. Accarezzi i suoi pettorali nudi e con qualche vecchia cicatrice e le tue mani si perdono sotto la parte inferiore della tuta rossa e blu che, grazie alle tue istruzioni, ha ancora addosso. La sua erezione reagisce pulsando con il tuo contatto. La prendi in mano e la liberi dalla tuta attillata. Ti aiuti con le gambe per muoverti contro di essa, sfregando i due sessi insieme. Peter fa cadere la mandibola e si lascia scappare un piccolo gemito. Rallenti dal strusciarti sulla sua presenza sudato fino a fermarti. Lui afferra il suo pene e lo indirizza dentro di te, lentamente. Il piccolo gemito si trasforma in un profondo sospiro e la stessa cosa vale per te. La sua grande presenza al tuo interno ti fa strizzare gli occhi e aprire la bocca.

Il rumore della pelle delle tue cosce che sbatte contro le sue coperte dal costume di spandex si confonde con quello dei versi di piacere che riecheggiano nella stanza. Appoggi entrambe le mani sulle sue spalle toniche per aiutarti con i saltelli quando Peter ti afferra per i fianchi, ti solleva leggermente ed inizia lui a spingersi verso di te. Sa perfettamente quello che deve fare e questa cosa piace sia a te che a lui. Il comando.

”Guardami.” Geme Peter e ti prende il collo con una mano, le dita ti stanno stringendo le guance, obbligandoti ad aprire di più la bocca. Rispondi al suo incoraggiamento e con un’espressione di piena goduria obbedisci. ”Brava, piccola.”

”Continua così. Ancora.” Mormori. Ti è molto difficile parlare in questo momento. Sei nel pieno del tuo secondo orgasmo e ci è vicinissimo anche Peter. Quei movimenti stanno facendo rimbalzare il tuo seno a qualche centimetro dalla sua faccia, il tuo culo trema quando colpisce le sue cosce. Peter sta memorizzando tutti questi particolari, come le tue sopracciglia corrugate che creano delle piccole rughe sulla fronte, gli occhi socchiusi che lo ammirano con desiderio.

”Voglio sentire. Tutto quanto. Voglio che- voglio che tu venga dentro di me.”

Peter cambia velocemente posizione, senza mai fermarsi dallo scoparti, e ti ribalta. La tua schiena è a contatto con il divano e la sua mano ancora aggrappata al suo viso. Gli stringi il braccio con le mani. Peter porta l’altra mano sul tuo gluteo sinistro e ti piega la gamba in modo che il ginocchio sia vicino al tuo corpo per sprofondare dentro di te e farti provare più piacere. Ti agguanta il culo e lo strizza talmente forte che ti lascia il segno.

”Sì, ti prego.” Lo stai implorando. Il modo in cui lo supplichi, non solo a parole ma anche con l’espressione, fa girare la testa a Peter, che non resiste un secondo di più, e con un ultima e forte spinta viene copiosamente dentro di te.

Appoggia la sua fronte contro la tua e ci lascia un leggero bacio, aspetta che i vostri respiri si regolarizzino per far uscire il suo pene arrossato da te, lasciandosi dietro una scia di liquido seminale che ti sporca il divano. Si rimette seduto e tu lo segui, la tua testa sulla sua spalla. Peter ti afferra una guancia e ti obbliga a guardarlo, poi unisce nuovamente le vostre labbra in un bacio, questa volta più dolce, più stanco.

Quando entrambi i vostri cuori ricominciano a battere normalmente, Peter si riveste della tuta da Spider-Man e tu fai lo stesso ma solo con i pantaloni felpati, lasciando libero il tuo seno. 

Dal pavimento prendi la maschera che aveva lasciato qualche momento fa, la guardi, poi la indossi. ”Come mi sta?” Chiedi, facendo qualche ironica mossa da supereroe. ”Ciao! Sono il tuo amichevole Spider-Man di quartiere, come posso aiutarti oggi?” Ridacchi e fai ridere anche Peter dalla tenerezza.

Lui ti osserva, ti studia, una visione quasi eterea, hai addosso la sua maschera ma la parte sopra del tuo corpo è ancora nuda. Sei splendida.

”Dove si comprano i costumi da supereroe?” Domandi sorridendo, Peter non può vederlo attraverso la maschera ma lo percepisce.

”L’ho fatto io.” Si vanta il ragazzo.

”Davvero? Come?”

Peter si avvicina al tuo viso coperto e solleva la maschera quel tanto che serve per scoprirti le labbra. ”Stai zitta.” Sussurra prima di baciarti di nuovo.