#tshwritersnet

[justapurrcat]

Things That Look Like Nothing | p.b.p.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Synopsys: As if getting caught up into the cliché trap of falling in love with your best friend and having to watch as he falls for someone else wasn’t enough, the universe has decided to take a step further in punishing you, turning your existence in a not-so-figurative life or death situation. Your closest confident is now the reason behind your pain, your anchor the very thing that’s dragging you down...

Word Count: 5.960k

Warnings: English not being my first language, angst, hanahaki disease, so unrequited love and blood, a bit of fluff, a hint of smut... the usual you should expect from me I guess~

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: ... after the absolute filthiness of my last vampire!Tom blurb, I needed something to cleanse my soul, so here is an angsty Peter fic with my attempt at Hanahaki!au (aka watch me writing anything but Unscripted because I emotionally scarred myself with it well done Lia well done)~ hope you enjoy it 💜

“Peter?”

You blinked repeatedly, as if you couldn’t believe your own eyes.

The sight of your best friend perched on the windowsill of your college dorm, without his suit, taking the foolish risk of being seen and discovered, was something you were convinced you would never get to see again.

Peter waved awkwardly, his big puppy eyes betraying a certain insecurity, something he was certain he’d never get to experience when talking to you. You were his safe harbour, the person whose presence he felt comfortable enough with to let all his masks dissolve.

He could let go of Spider-Man, of the orphan, of the young man who carried so much onto his shoulders, of the brave, cheerful façade he sometimes forced himself to put on not to worry his aunt and friends… until all that was left was Peter Parker sound asleep in your arms.

Now though, that same Peter Parker was scared. Scared that you would turn your back to him just like you had stopped talking to him all at once, through a dry text on how you needed to spend some time alone, isolated from everything and everyone.

He had jokingly pointed out that it would’ve been kinda hard while bouncing between classes and your part-time job. No answer had come from you.

So, after an entire week of complete radio silence from your part, Peter had decided to take matters into his own hands.

“Mind if I come in?”, he finally found the courage to ask.

You knew you should’ve told him to go away, that now that he was trying to get a girlfriend, sneaking into your room at night wasn’t exactly the best way to proceed about it, but your stupid body unconsciously betrayed you, stepping aside and nodding like you had done so many times before, effectively inviting him inside.

Force of habit, you told yourself, and you were also doing it to protect his secret identity. Wallowing in that stupid lie was way more reassuring and less scary than admitting that Peter’s absence affected you as if a vital organ had been brutally ripped away from under your flesh.

Not that you really needed to admit that, to be honest, considering that you were not so metaphorically dying because of unrequited love… but still, it was one last stubborn fight to preserve what little was left of your dignity.

“W-what are you doing here?”, you babbled, unable to keep your hands from fidgeting and already starting to feel a strange movement in your chest, the threatening, delicate caress of a soft petal unfolding in your left lung. Right next to your heart, how pathetically cliché.

“Just checking on my best friend.” Peter deadpanned, allowing his gaze to wander around your room, looking for any sign that could tell him what was going on with you. But it all looked the same and his spider sense kept buzzing in the back of his mind without any alteration, a white noise he had reluctantly gotten used to it when it came to you.

“Who’s been avoiding me for some reason”, he added when his eyes landed on the picture frame lying face down on your desk.

“I haven’t”, you objected weakly, caught in your lie like a deer in headlights.

His lips pressed into a hard line, in a frown that tasted likr both anger and pain, and he took a step closer, picking the frame up to examine it. He didn’t really need any other clue, but your bright, smiley childish faces staring back at him felt like a stab through his heart.

It was the first pic the two of you had taken together, something you had always described as your most prized possession. And now you didn’t want to see it, just like you didn’t want to see him.

“You have”, Peter insisted, starting to feel tears burning in his throat. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold them back and – before he could break it – put the pic back in its place.

“Fine, I can’t stand you. Happy now?”, you scoffed, hoping this coldness could pacify the sensation in your chest. In a desperate attempt to save yourself that wouldn’t involve a surgery and a definitive memory loss. You wanted to trick the invisible monster, so that it would eventually lead your heart to believe that there was not an ounce of love left in you that could be given to your best friend.

Better to keep him in your life shielded behind a veil of denial and poorly fabricated indifference, than to lose him to darkness forever.

Of course, it didn’t work in the slightest: you simply couldn’t lie to yourself. And that love was no longer yours to give: it belonged to Peter and Peter alone, whether he wanted it or not.

Clearly not amused by your joke, Peter turned around, actually taking you in for the first time after so many days. And it felt like a punch in his gut.

You shrunk under his incandescent gaze, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”, you spat defensively.

“You look…”, he trailed off, at complete loss for words.

“Like shit, you can say it.”

And felt like it, too. Isolating yourself and being away from him had turned out to be useless because, even while basically having entered your Rapunzel era, Peter was still all you could think about.

Even now that he was standing in the middle of your tiny bedroom, physically within reach yet miles away from you, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe his presence there was wrong, that that wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

Which didn’t exactly help with the whole Hanahaki situation going on.

“… annihilated.”

“That’s a big word, did MJ teach you that?”, you sneered, trying to move past him to go and sit on your bed. Your legs were starting to feel like jelly, you couldn’t collapse right in front of him or you wouldn’t have heard the end of it.

“Don’t change the subject”, Peter hissed, grabbing your elbow, not harshly enough to hurt you, but firmly enough to stop you and keep you in place. “You’re sick.”

You froze, the sudden proximity and contact spreading fire under your skin and at the same time constricting your lungs. “It’s nothing”, you forced out as naturally as you could.

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me”, he pointed out, an unusual and new scent of flowers coming from your body not going unnoticed by him. He couldn’t explain it to himself: it wasn’t bad, but it didn't smell like any of the perfumes you would use on a daily basis… and yet, it was so… you.

“You’d be surprised how many things can look like nothing”, you instinctively retorted, pulling your arm from his grip, and you had to bite your tongue not to add a couple more words that you were aware would’ve ruined everything beyond repair.

To you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”, Peter inquired, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Dunno”, you shrugged, dismissing the whole thing. “It sounded like a cool thing to say.”

“y/n…”, he sighed tiredly, trying to resonate with you. “What is going on?”

No response came from you and he gulped when he heard your heartbeat slow down almost imperceptibly. Almost, because Peter had made that rhythm his own, and he had come to know it like the back of his hand. He had regulated his life onto it, his peace nestled in those brief little fragments of seconds inside your ribcage.

“I missed you…”, he confessed. “I miss my y/n.” And he missed the way your heart spoke to him, that sweet, comforting sound that never failed to let him know that everything was okay. But now it spoke a foreign language, so alien that he couldn’t even try to learn it, let alone comprehend it.

“I missed you, too”, you admitted in a thin voice.

“Then why are you avoiding me? What happened?”

“Nothing, Peter”, you repeated softly, with a light shake of your head, letting your lips indulge on the beloved syllables of his name. “I promise it’s nothing.”

“Stop lying to me!”, Peter yelled, the unexpected change in his tone making you jump in surprise. Not in fear. Never in fear.

He immediately regretted raising his voice – and especially raising it at you – but he was mad, worried, and hurt, and your lack of answer did nothing to ease his feelings. If anything, it drove him even madder.

What he had told you was the truth: he did miss you. He missed you like air, he understood he had done something wrong, and he wanted to make it better, he wanted you to feel better… but you weren’t giving him the chance to do that – whatever that was.

For fuck’s sake, he would’ve given you a litre of his own blood, had you told him it was the solution you needed, but you were denying yourself to be helped… and he couldn’t have it that way. He wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry”, he added quickly, reaching out for your hands and taking them in his. He winced at how cold they were.

You let him do that, not putting up any resistance when he took another step in your direction. You just wanted him to hold you tight and never let go of you, was it too much to ask?

Apparently it was, because your name wasn’t MJ Watson.

“It’s okay”, you breathed out, and your voice was so thin that, hadn’t it been for his enhanced hearing, your best friend wouldn’t have heard it.

God every part of you was beginning to hurt so much from his proximity… but it was so nice to have him that close and touching you so tenderly… you would’ve gladly prolonged that pain for eternity. You would’ve died for it.

You realised how stupid you had been to avoid him, all the time you could’ve spent next to him was now lost forever and it was a blasphemy of the worst kind.

Peter placed your palms onto his chest and kept them there in hope his super-human warmth would bring you any comfort, then let go of them and cupped your cheeks, gently tilting your face up so that you would look at him.

He saw your eyes glistening with tears, and it tore him apart to notice how similar they looked to when they were filled with joy. It dawned upon him now, how sad your happiness truly was, like something obscure wouldn’t allow you to experience anything good ever again.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when, but the light in your smile had gradually begun to fade, consumed by a slow, but inexorable melancholy that was weakening not only your soul, but your body as well.

“You’re… you’re…”, Peter stuttered, then went quiet, his voice failing him. He couldn’t bring himself to vocalise them, but the words loomed above your heads like a menacing dark fog. What he wanted to say was cruelly obvious and the fact that you didn’t deny it did nothing but prove his theory right.

It wasn’t a simple illness… you were dying.

“No…”

The ground crumbled under his feet, the air turning to dust in his lungs. How could you have hidden that from him? How could he have been so blind not to see it?

“No, it can’t be.”

Your figure became blurred in his eyes, getting reduced to a splash of colours that barely resembled you on the other side of a thick barrier of tears. But he was too scared to wipe them away, filled with the horrible suspicion that you would vanish from his sight if he only dared to try.

“L-let me help you”, he begged with a broken voice. “Please, y/n, let me help you.”

“Peter…”

“Please…”

You shook your head, taking a deep breath despite the piercing pain spreading in your torso. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Frustration bubbled up in his stomach at those words, a mess of emotions clashing in his mind and heart. No, he refused to believe it. “Don’t say it.”

“It’s true.”

“Shut up”, Peter hissed, clenching his jaw. How could you be so stubbornly calm and almost resigned about it?

He was your best friend, you were one of the most important people in his life, he cared about you more than he cared about anyone else, more that he cared about himself, he couldn’t imagine his existence without you… there was no way in the World he couldn’t do anything to help you.

“Peter, there’s no point–”

“I said shut up.”

Like there was some kind of specific correlation between what he was doing and showing you that he could do something to help you, Peter yanked you forward, crashing his lips onto yours as your chests collided with an audible thud.

He kissed you with the ferocious passion of a desperate man, his arms wrapping themselves around you like ivy, caging you in a suffocating, yet freeing embrace, his hands exploring the mysteries of a body he had criminally taken for granted for too long.

Your incredulity didn’t have a long life, the pain long forgotten as your fingers got lost in his hair, wearing the soft locks like the most precious jewellery. You kissed him back as if you were engaging in the fight of your life, effortlessly following his lead like you had been created to do just that in your existence.

Never breaking the contact, Peter hastily backed you up towards your small bed and unceremoniously pushed you down onto the mattress, wasting no time in covering your body with his and getting between your thighs, immediately starting to grind his core against yours.

Just as eagerly, you wrapped your legs around his hips and gripped his shoulders pulling him in and breathlessly whimpering his name as soon as your hungry mouths parted, like that could’ve drawn him even closer.

You had dreamed of this moment for so long, you weren’t going to complain, no matter how unexpected all of it was.

“Peter…”

“That’s…” Peter threw his head back, licking his lips, still savouring your taste, an obscenely blissed out expression on his face as his grunts mixed with your soft moans. “That’s the only thing I wanna hear from you.”

The sight was nothing short of divine. Almost as divine as the feeling of knowing that, hadn’t it been for the layers of clothing separating your bodies, he would’ve been making you his, ruining you for anyone else… after all, he had already done that to your heart.

You gasped when, without warning, he grabbed the collar of your shirt and pulled, tearing it down the middle, his eyes going round and shining bright when your bare breasts came into view.

“Beautiful…”, he purred in contemplation, letting his thumb circle one of your nipples. The whine that simple touch elicited from you emboldened him and, with a devilish grin, he attached his mouth to your skin.

“Peter!”, you yelped, a hand tangling itself through his soft messy curls and the other one fisting his shirt and yanking the fabric. You needed the damn thing off, you wanted to touch him. Feel him.

“Shh”, he cooed, kissing your sternum as a particularly sharp thrust dragged another moan out of your lips. “I got you, petal”

Petal.

It was just a word, yet it was all it took you to remember how things really were, to understand what was truly going on in that precise moment.

And what was going on was that your best friend – whom you loved more than words could convey – was trying to fuck you and that you were letting him. And what was worse, was that he probably – no, he definitely – just wanted to practice, so that he could be ready for when he would do those things with his true love. MJ.

That was all you had become to him, you painfully realised. What remained of his best friend, was now nothing more than a chance to test himself and his abilities.

“P-Peter…”

Your fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, barely encircling it, and the original intention was to remove his hand from you, but you only ended up keeping it there, even arching your back to give him better access to your body.

“No.”

Yes.

It was so fucking wrong it almost became right. Almost.

“Stop…”

He didn’t hear you, too absorbed by how amazingly right you felt in his arms, on his lips, against him…

Peter discovered that the more he took from you, the more he wanted to give you. He discovered that he needed to be inside of you, that he longed to have you under him, praising how good he was making you feel, telling him how much you cared about him, repeating his name until it would no longer make sense to his ears.

That night, Peter discovered that he wanted to make love to you. Not MJ, you. His y/nn.

“Stop…”

No, he didn’t just want to make love to you.

He wanted to hold your hand, tickle you so much you would cry-laugh, then kiss those tears away as his lips traced every inch of your face. He wanted to fall asleep with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair as you read for him, he wanted to wake up next to you, whisper cute silly compliments in your ear, he wanted to make you smile and pinch your cheeks.

He wanted to yell to the whole World how lucky he was to have you by his side. And that would’ve meant murmuring in your ear while you were cuddled up against each other, because he wanted you to be his World.

Peter Benjamin Parker discovered that he was in love with you.

“I SAID STOP!”, you screamed with what little remained of your breath, the strangled shattered sound that left your throat dragging him out of that inexplicable delight and turning his blood to ice.

He had heard you this time.

Panic washed over him, the suspect that he might have made you uncomfortable, or worse, hurt you, slithering up his spine and sinking its fangs into the back of his neck, poisoning the ecstasy that had descended upon him. “y/n, what–”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence because you shoved him off of you – more like, he let you – and turned to your side, hunching over yourself as you coughed uncontrollably, blood and petals spilling between the fingers covering your mouth.

Peter smelled it before he saw it, but there was something unusual about it, a note to that scent that shouldn’t have been there.

Hyacinths.

It made no sense, but you were coughing hyacinths.

The dreadful discovery, and all that followed in its wake, hit him like a fucking high-speed train.

No…

What had he done?

When he touched your shoulder, you tried to get away from that bed, from him, and you didn’t know if that was helping you or just hurting you more. It was all pointless, tough, because as soon as your feet touched the floor, you fell like a marionette that’d just got its strings cut off.

“Y/N!!!”

Peter rushed crawled off the bed in a hurry, not giving a damn about his hands touching the bloody sheets, and took you in his arms as he sat on the floor, scorching tears once again clouding his eyes, terror and guilt doing the same to his brain, the spider sense going off like crazy.

You were dying. And now it was because he was killing you.

“Nonononono…”

Red and purple were filling his vision. They were painting your mouth, your throat, your chest, and now his own clothes. But he couldn’t let go of you. He couldn’t let go of his love.

“y/n!”

“Y-your shirt…”, you shivered, coughing more blood and petals “I’m sorr–”

“No, love, no”, Peter shushed you, caressing your face in hope that could bring you some relief. He began to stand up, but you winced at the slightest movement, so he was forced to stop and resume his previous position, cradling you like he was afraid to break you. “There’s nothing to be sorry about, you’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Y-you’re gonna be okay because we have to go on a date.”

He was rambling now, imprisoned in a merciless fight against time, death and all sorts of regrets he never thought he would get up until that moment.

He regretted every single time he looked at you without seeing you and every single time he did see you, but decided not to.

“We have to, get it? A-and we have to because I have to kiss you, because I have to spend the entire time telling you how much I love you, okay? Did you hear that? I love you, I love you, I love you…”

You pressed the side of your face against his chest, trying to focus on the beating of his heart so that it would block everything out. Everything that wasn’t the two of you in that moment.

If that was going to be your end, you wanted it to be with Peter.

“I love you, too”, you exhaled, as all your strength slowly started to abandon you. So that was it, then. Only a few instants of love for a life spent wishing it from afar. But that love came from Peter, your Peter, and that made it worth it.

You looked up and a pained smile appeared on your lips as Peter cupped your cheek. You reached out to push his hair out of his face, only sparing the rebel lock you adored so much.

Peter sniffed, crying uncontrollably, the tiny little drops falling onto your skin, mixing with your own.

“I’d love to go on that date.”

“W-we will…”

You were about to nod when your body stiffened all at once, then went inert in his arms, your hand falling limp by your side as you fell into the dark.

“y/n!!!”

Waking up felt like a fist colliding with your chest, forcing air back into your lungs as a striking white light blinded you. Out of pure instinct, you threw an arm over your eyes to protect them.

“Oh, you’re awake”, someone stated, causing you to look to your left and raise your arm, focusing on the silhouette of a female figure. A doctor was standing next to your bed, hands tucked in the pockets of her immaculate coat and an indecipherable expression on her face. “How are you feeling?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but then you realised what you were about to say. Good. You were feeling good.

More puzzled than ever, you pushed yourself up on your elbows until you were in a sitting position, the fatigue and ache you were expecting to feel while doing so, were nowhere to be found in that hospital room.

You pressed a hand against your sternum and felt nothing but a regular, perfectly healthy pulse. “W-what happened?”, you wondered, looking back at the doctor, who was still observing you in silence.

“Hanahaki disease”, the woman explained, not that you really needed to know. “And in a pretty advanced stage, too, judging by the quantity of blood and fully grown flowers”, she added. “But don’t worry: you’re good now, everything’s okay.”

Judging from her face, maybe she was expecting some sort of reaction, but you just stared at her in complete silence, pure confusion written all over your features.

“Spider-Man found you and brought you here.”

Your jaw dropped, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline and your confusion transitioning to disbelief. “He has… are you serious?”

So that meant everything that happened wasn’t just a dream…

The doctor nodded, looking a bit perplexed by your question. That didn’t last long, though. “You must’ve scared the life out of him”, she went on, smiling to herself as she got lost in the memory of meeting a superhero. Not the most professional behaviour to adopt with a patient who had just dodged death lying right there… but you couldn’t really blame her, after all.

“I’ve spent like half an hour reassuring him that you were fine”, she recalled, tucking her hair behind her ear, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

But as it usually happened, your little brain needed to be triggered by words and that was exactly how things went, making you come to the realisation that all that talk about Peter bringing you to the hospital had taken your attention away from a quite important topic.

In all fairness, you weren’t always this slow – your constant anxiety and overthinking wouldn’t allow it –, but you had nearly died: you figured you could cut yourself some slack for needing a bit more time to put two and two together.

At first the doctor had told you that you were good, now that you were fine. Subtle variations to communicate the same message.

“But to be honest, I understand where he came from: you were covered in blood… one of the interns actually fainted as soon as he saw you. We all thought there was nothing that could be done to–”

“Wait, what did you just say?”, you interrupted her, and that startled her a little. Maybe you were coming off as rude, too, but you didn’t really have time to worry about that.

“That you made an intern faint?”, she repeated, arching an eyebrow. “It was his first round, poor guy–”

“No, the ‘me being fine’ part”, you specified, cutting her off again. It was urgent, manners could wait. “What do you mean?”

“You healed”, the doctor said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. “You’re safe now.”

You were not quite sure why she would feel the need to repeat it, and the suspect that she probably thought your confusion was nothing but mere dumbness did cross your mind, but you chose not to question it.

“In fact, you were already safe when you got here. All we had to do was remove the last flowers you couldn’t spit out when you fainted.”

Your jaw dropped dramatically, your eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, the loudest “What?” blocked in your throat, between your vocal cords, without a chance of getting out.

When it became clear that you wouldn’t be able to emit another sound, your gaze fell into your lap, focusing entirely on your folded hands, on the skin you had relentlessly tormented during those last three months and a half. It was a habit you had made yours really quickly, the cuts and scratches on your fingers requiring the excuse of a new cooking course to cover their origin.

Peter had been the hardest to convince, and part of you wanted to believe that it was because of some sort of special connection the two of you shared, a bond that made it impossible for one to lie to the other, or some hopelessly romantic shit like that.

And as you stared at what you had done to yourself in the name of your unrequited love for him you couldn’t force things to make sense for the life of you.

The previous doctor you had talked to had been clear about it, stating that you had only two options to save yourself: an extremely dangerous surgery with very little chance of success, or doing your best to fall out of love with Peter.

But you still remembered Peter. You still loved him… and yet somehow you were no longer ill. So how…

“I feel like I gave you too much information altogether…”, the doctor commented, giving you a weird look you didn’t even notice. “I’m gonna leave you now, so you can rest a bit more, okay? You’re still weak.”

With that, she left the room, without bothering to wait for an answer that wasn’t going to come anyway.

You didn’t move a muscle, staring into the void with your head hung low, the terrifying, sublime sensation of something both worse and better than despair weighting on your shoulders. It was the faintest spark of hope, and you would’ve gladly let it flare up and burn you to the ground.

A little noise dragged you out of your thoughts, and it took you nothing to recognize it: it was the sound of scratching on glass, and that could only mean one thing.

You turned towards the window, finding Spider-Man cautiously peaking his head in. “Peter?”, you exhaled, releasing a breath you had no idea you were holding.

“Uhm… hey…” You could perceive the insecurity in his voice, and even with his face being completely covered, you just knew that a soft baby pink was dusting his cheeks and ears. “I know it’s past visit-time, but… mind if I come in?”

For a few seconds, seeing him there, hearing him asking you that brought you back to your room, with flowers growing in your lungs, a shirt he hadn’t torn, lips he hadn’t claimed and a body he hadn’t touched nor tried to make his. A love he hadn’t poured on you.

“Y-yes…”

Peter carefully stepped inside the room, shutting the window behind him and taking off his mask – him being so comfortable doing it had to have something to do with Karen hacking the security cameras, you were more than positive about that.

“H-hey”, he waved nervously, taking a look around, the thought of you having to stay there on your own making him uncomfortable. Yes, he knew you were no longer in danger, but how could they leave you alone like that after what just happened?

“Hey.”

“Uhm…” He scratched the nape of his neck, chewing on his lips. “I wanted to bring you flowers”, he finally managed to say something coherent, immediately cursing himself for it. “B-but then I thought… you know…”

“It’s okay.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes”, you confirmed, patting the mattress and scooting over a bit in a silent invitation. “They say I’m good now.”

“And what do you say?”, Peter insisted, sitting right next to you, maybe closer than needed. “Are you feeling good?”

You nodded, letting him take your hands in his, your past lies blatantly clear in every small wound his eyes were able to find. Guilt washed over him as he gently brushed his fingertips over them, wishing he could kiss the pain away, wishing that you would let him.

“I should’ve known”, he muttered.

“I’m a better liar than you think”, you joked, lightly bumping your forehead against his, causing him to let out a bitter chuckle. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You’re sorry?”, Peter echoed you in shock, barely dropping your hands. “You are apologising to me?”

“… for scaring you”, you repeated quietly, hanging your head low. “And lying to you.”

“You’re…” Frustrated and at loss for words, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come here, you idiot” , he said then, opening his arms in resignation.

The simple gesture felt like a miraculous ointment on your soul and you let yourself fall into his tight embrace, nostalgia washing over you like a tsunami. Hiding your face into the crook of his neck, you inhaled the fresh scent of his soap, discovering that even the coarse material of his suit rubbing onto your cheek and irritating your skin was something that you had deeply missed.

“You’re incredible, I swear”, Peter broke the silence, caressing your back in an improvised massage. “You’re lucky that I’m in love with you, or I would swing out of this room right after a sentence like that.”

You tensed up and he perceived that, but he didn’t let go of you.

“I don’t love MJ.”

“What?”, you hummed, keeping your face buried in his chest. It seemed so real, but you weren’t sure you could actually believe it. It would mean having to be vulnerable, coming out of your emotional trenches end exposing yourself to the wonderfully frightening possibility of being worthy of love.

Of Peter Parker’s love.

“I do not love her. I thought I did. I don’t.” He was speaking about it so calmly, like she truly represented nothing but a simple friend in his eyes.

It sounded to good to be true.

“Peter, you’re just saying this because–”

“Oh no, don’t you dare”, Peter stopped you with the most adorable pout. This time, it was him who squeezed your shoulders and pushed you back just enough to look into your eyes, forcing you to listen to him.

“I love you”, he declared firmly, leaving no space for misinterpretation.

Part of you wanted to look away in shame, but you didn’t. Appealing to all your courage, you held his golden-brown gaze, the mesmerizing warmth hitting you like it was the first time. Could you accept that light in your life?

“I've been an idiot not to realise it sooner”, Peter reprimanded his stupid past self. “And I know I showed it in a terrible way – probably the worst way possible –, a-and I hate that I almost had to lose you to understand it, but, I love you. I’m in love with you. You and only you, y/n.”

His eyebrows knit together, determination dripping from his tone. “And I don’t care what you say, I’m gonna repeat it to exhaustion if that’s what it takes to get it in that head of yours.”

He chocked on his own breath, his heart skipping a beat at the thought of you considering him an asshole. “Wait, no, I do care about what you have to say”, he tried to clarify. “Please do tell me what you have to say, that was just me being dramatic, please don’t think I don’t care, because I do, I care so much–”

“Peter.” You calling his name, combined with your fingertips touching his lips, effectively silenced him, and the poor guy stared back at you like a lost puppy, waiting for your verdict.

His hands descended onto your waist, toying with the hem of your shirt. You melted into his touch, dragging the pads your fingers along his chapped bottom lip. He mindlessly kissed them, making warmth spread along your cheeks and ears.

“… if it’s not you saying that you love me, I don’t wanna hear it.”

It took Peter a while to fully process what you just told him, the rejection he was expecting only worsening his discomfort, but when he did… oh Lord, his smile would’ve put the sun to shame.

There was nothing more beautiful in the whole universe than Peter’s joy, a mesmerizing spectacle you were incredibly grateful to be witnessing. It was like welcoming an entire sunrise in your being, a thousand little sparks blooming inside of your chest. What was once filled with deadly petals carrying your sorrow, was now blessed with the light of his love.

And there was no need to accept that light: it was already filling your heart and you had no intention of letting it go.

“Not even if it’s me saying how much I love you?”, he teased you, his breath tickling your fingertips, the hypnotizing movement of his mouth when those three last words left it a sight that would forever be engraved in your memory.

You pretended to ponder it. “I guess we can make an exception.”

Usually, words tended to lose their meaning when pronounced one too many times. But that didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

Because there could never be one too many times when the topic was his love for you.

A/n: Thank you so much for reading this! Let me know what you think, if you feel like it, I’d love to hear your thoughts 💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @hemlockhearts @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @melodicheauxxo @seolaseoul @peteprker @peetahpahkah @marajillana @yeetzel @brooklynscherry-z @liltimmys @jahayla-parker @moniffazictress11 @spideysbae @vibesdontlie @raajali3 @lnmp89 @sherlockstrangewolf

Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

[userholland]

out of time | t. holland

moving from london to new york, tom misses a lot about home. late nights laughing and sharing with his friends and family, but mostly you. a year later, you visit him for a few days and see what he's been up to. as you go around the city, he takes photos of you to remember the time you're spending together. you both pick up from where you left off yet at the same time, you have to figure out what's going to happen after vacation is over. it's as if your relationship is running out of time.

PAIRING : photographer!tom & bestfriend!fem!reader

GENRE : friends (with benefits) to lovers, childhood friends, pwp

WARNINGS : smut 18+ only!, unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral (m + f receiving), exhibitionism (dressing room, car & bathroom), fingering, switch!tom + dom!reader, squirting, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, size kink, spanking, spitting & rough sex

WORD COUNT : 8.8k

A/N : if im being honest, felt so weird basing a fic with mostly smut/intimate moments but i hope its not too much (?) lmao but i sort of have a hard time writing these kind of fics because i dont want it all to be smut. i still had fun writing it obviously but i have so many other wips that i cant wait to share!!! thank u for the love and support always for my work! hope i get to write way more during this summer

𑁍 masterlist 𑁍

The sun was barely over the horizon as Tom stretched his arms over his head. He twisted his back, cracking the aches, and rubbed the back of his neck with his smooth palm. It was a peaceful time in the first hours of the day with no traffic passing by and the birds chirping in the trees below his view.

Just as he extended his arms above his head again, your two arms wrapped around his waist. Tom smiled to himself, looking down at your hands as they ran across his skin and grazing your nails against his torso. Your knees sank into the bed when you leaned in behind him, kissing his bare shoulder before playfully biting his lobe.

“Good morning.” You smiled, your arms still around him and running your hands over his toned chest.

“Mornin’.” He lazily chuckled.

Your lips brushed his ear, “Have anything planned today?” You asked him.

“Hmm, nothing specific in mind.” He answered, leaning his head back as your hands continued to slowly move over his body, “Do you?”

You giggled, “What about seeing how many times I can cum for you?” You grinned as your right behind slid under the band of his boxers. His cock was semi-hard, but you wrapped your hand around his base and glided your thumb over his tip.

Tom didn’t expect your gesture, but smirked anyways before pulling away to turn around to you. You wore his white t-shirt from the day before, seeing how perky your nipples were through the fabric from the low sunlight coming in.

He placed his hands on the small of your back before wrapping his mouth on your clothed left nipple. The fabric became wet as he pressed his tongue on the barrier, teasing you as his hand caressed your right breast. You arched your neck back with a smirk painted on your lips, letting out a faint moan as his hand slip under your thin shirt. You loved how tender his touch was– realizing how much you missed it compared to other guys you hooked up in London.

It had been a few hours since you landed in New York and you were relieved when meeting the arms of your best-friend, Tom. After receiving a job as a photographer for a local skateboarding brand, you could only contact him through the phone. Constant, but long facetime calls where it was your late afternoon and his early morning, talking about your days and what your plans were, even flirting about the few desperate photos either of you sent the nights prior.

Tom missed you, but mostly your relationship. Before he left, you two started from a playful friendship and turned into platonic sex every other day. You grew up together and shared the same school friends, but there was something you found in one another throughout all those years. Just like yourselves, your relationship matured as you were finishing your year 13 at each of your schools.

The first time was confusing, wondering if you would be speaking to one another as you buttoned your white, school uniform top. Tom pondered the same as he fixed his tie, trying to find his jacket with his school’s emblem on the chest.

Accidentally, you both grabbed the wrong ones off the floor and chuckled as you switched them. You would turn back to look at the mess of sheets on your bed, hoping that your mom wouldn’t come home early.

“So, your graduation party is next week right?” He asked, gulping.

“Yeah… are you gonna be there?” You asked.

He smiled, “Of course. I was just making sure. I wouldn’t miss it.”

At the time, you thought he was lying, but unlike your doubts– Tom always showed up. There was never any awkwardness or fears of rejection when your friendship took an intimate turn.

That whole summer was being able to explore what you two liked, what you were comfortable with, and even surprising yourself a few times with what you tried. All of it was exciting and nice until university came up. You’d be leaving this little relationship and only wonder what would happen.

Even though you were parted from time to time for four or five years, you always made it back to one another. Sometimes he’d visit you at university, sometimes you would come back home for holiday, and other times were during breaks and meeting each other at whatever destination you two chose.

You two would wonder if your friends knew since it became more and more obvious there was something between you, but you didn’t want them involved. It was easier to stay oblivious and make them wonder, continuing to stay in this little bubble where you neither of you had to explain what “this” was. Only because it just made so much sense.

Tom threw your shirt to the side, admiring your body as you laid back down on the bed. He straddled you, kissing between your breasts and up your neck before reconnecting his lips against yours. As you ran your fingers through his curls, the soft texture carding between them, you lightly bit his bottom lip. You started moving your weight to the left, signaling him to roll over which he did. Now on his back, you giggled because you liked to be the one in control. 

As your hips ground, very slow and steady, Tom lowly groaned and suddenly smacked your ass hard. The tingle made you gasp and then giggle into his neck, feeling your hot breath against his skin. You quickly grazed your lips down his toned chest, leaving a trail of light yet wet kisses down his abdomen. Your hand ran over his cock through his tight boxers and felt how hard he was, aching and waiting for you to dip your hand back into his band.

“I bet you’re just wanting your cock in my mouth. Huh?” You teased.

Tom, red in his cheeks, chuckled leaning his head back, “Don’t tease me like this.”

“It’s fun to see you squirm.” You grinned as you hooked your fingers around his band, pulling his boxers down.

His dick sprung up once you lowered his underwear, seeing how red his tip and the pre-cum running down his slit. As you shifted your body down the bed, you were perfectly between his legs where he could lean his head up and watch you play with his cock.

Your thumb, once again, ran over his tip and used his cum as lubricate. Tom uttered a low groan, cursing under his breath as he admired the way you took your time. Painful as it was, your mouth gaping open as you watched your hand run up and down his cock made him sweat.

“God, I can’t wait to take this all in my mouth… if you're lucky, maybe you can fill me up.” You whispered.

He loved dirty talk. Easily withering into an absolute mess over how seductive words left your pretty mouth. Some mornings when he was alone, his hand would slip into his shorts and palm himself, thinking about the way you spoke to him when you were fucking. Leaving him letting out light moans and panting between your memorized commands and begging.

As your mouth wrapped around his tip, your left hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth while the other ran up his lower abdomen. Tom didn’t know what to grab, instead putting his hands behind his head and trying not to intervene with the pleasure you were giving to him. Your drool slide down his shaft, and he bit his tongue as he listened to you gag and gurgle with his cock in your mouth.

His hips barely bucked, already needy to cum down your throat. You slowly removed your lips from his dick and continued to pump his shaft to catch your breath. There was the taste of his sweet cum on your tongue, making you giggle when you sat back up. As much as you could keep teasing him, you knew there was enough times in the day to do as you pleased so this would be quick.

Tom quickly lifted up, his head tilted up at you as you took off your panties. You tossed them to the side, unknowingly falling on top of your t-shirt on the floor. You straddled Tom, one around wrapped around his neck and the other guiding his cock to your slit. You rubbed his wet tip a few times before slowly letting him enter your pussy and he let out a deep grunt.

“Fuck… so fucking warm and tight. Fucking Christ.” He whimpered.

It had been months without each other's touch so, this felt like bliss. Exploring each others bodies like it was a new journey even though you’d kissed and fucked wherever you could think.

You couldn’t help but hiss, stilling yourself as you bottomed out on his cock. You felt your walls tense around his hard, clenching as your nails grazed his muscular back. He kissed your cheek then your lips, making sure you were comfortable before moving your hips. 

You nodded, “I’m okay, fuck. I’m okay.” You huffed, spreading your legs further to shift your position, “I love your fucking cock inside me.”

As he moved your hips, guiding them as you lifted yourself up, your two moans combined and bounced off the walls of his apartment. Tom’s teeth lightly sunk into your neck and your hands met each side of his head. Your bodies moved in a fluid motion, hearing the slam of your skins as Tom pulled you down harder and faster.

Your eyes rolled back, a defeated moan leaving your throat as you leaned your head up to stare at the ceiling. The pleasure prickled along your body, like a strike of electricity when he pounded each time. Your pussy was warm around his cock, feeling like he could burst at any second. He smacked your ass again, grunting over your small moan from the sudden slap.

Neither of you wanted to cum, but it was tempting. Tom left a soft kiss against your lips, still inside you and his cock painfully throbbing. You ran your hands over his shoulders, gently grinding your hips again and took a deep breath to hold back your orgasm. Sharing a tender kiss, Tom lowered his head and couldn’t take the waiting. With both your eyes closed, grazing each others lips, you brushed your noses against one another’s as time frozen around you.

“Fucking cum inside me. Please… Fuck, I can’t take it any longer.” You gasped.

Tom’s hands caressed your breasts, wrapping his lips around your left hard nipple. His tongue flicked against it causing a soft whimper to leave your lips and you lifted up on his cock. Your cum dripped down his shaft, already leaving a mess between your cores and making your clit unbearably throb.

“Get on your back.” Tom commanded.

Your head was spinning, but you laid down as he wanted and your sweaty back stuck to the sheets. Spreading your legs, still inside of you, he pressed his hands into your sides and you wanted to put your legs back down to curl around him.

“Fucking keep them spread.” He muttered, already sinking his cock back into your cunt, “You fucking cum when I say to cum.”

You gripped the sheets by your sides, arching your back and your toes curled at the pleasure coiling inside your stomach. Tom dug his fingers into your hips, deeper and deeper, both of you aching and straining from letting go until your legs began to tremble.

“God, I’m cumming! I’m cumming, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice vibrated.

He nodded, “Fucking cum for me. Fuck!” Tom groaned as he rode out his high.

You jerked your hips a bit then stilling yourself while Tom slowly pulled out of your pussy. His cock was coated in your cum, watching his drip down your slit and onto the bed sheets. He slapped his tip a few times against your clit, teasing you before you leaned up and got on all fours to taste your cum along his dick. You smiled up at him, a twinkle in your eyes as you tasted your combined juices.

“Sweet, like always.” You giggled before kissing him again.

As you slipped off the bed, Tom gathered the bed sheets as you went to the bathroom to turn on the shower. He couldn’t help but smile to himself, watching you wait for the water to heat up and you pushed your hair out of your face.

The unlikely domestic that came after your constant hookups were always normal– well, it’s better compared to how awkward it used to feel when you weren’t even comfortable taking your shirts off in front of one another and keeping the lights off. You both figured that over time, it just felt okay to be this vulnerable and there was nothing embarrassing about it as if you were still young kids.

After Tom started the load of laundry, you were out of the shower with steam coming off your skin and the towel wrapped tightly around your body.

“I left it running for you.” You told him as you passed, going to his fridge to grab a water. You couldn’t help yourself looking over your shoulder, seeing he was still naked and the marks you left along his toned back.

“Oh, you’re too kind.” He chuckled, walking to the bathroom.

As he showered off, you started a pot of coffee and changed into a short, black sundress for the day. After Tom turned off the shower’s water then brushed his teeth as he walked around with his towel tight around his hips. You were laying on your stomach on his now-made bed with a map of New York spread out on the duvet.

“You know you can just look up places on your phone.” He muffled between brushing his teeth.

You hummed, “I want to have a clear path of what I want to actually see. Like, look. There’s an art museum next to a place where they make custom chewing gum.” You said in a cherry tone.

He chuckled, “You want your own personal chewing gum?”

“No… but, see how much more fun it is using an actual tour guide map.” You joked, using a pen to circle locations.

Tom walked to his dresser, shuffling through his clothes then going into his closet to find a top to wear for the hot morning. You hummed a random tune to yourself as your eyes searched around the map, glancing over at Tom’s backside once and a while. After slipping on fresh boxers and baggy jeans, he pulled a dark-navy t-shirt over his head. The graphic tee slowly covered the scratches and fresh scars left on his back by your sharp nails.

“I wanna go to the Empire State Building… unless it’s overrated and crowded like movies make it seem.” You trailed, rolling on your back.

The coffee pot was ready by the time Tom finished tying his shoes, so he headed back to the kitchen to pour two mugs of fresh brew. 

“Actually, It’s not. I mean, there is a lot of people most of the time but, they get a little sick from how high it is. It’s a great place to take pictures too.” He grinned as he poured coffee into his favorite Star Wars mug with R2D2 on both sides.

“Ah, I can be like your model for the day.” You giggled, rolling on your back and sitting up on his bed. Tom sat next to you, carefully giving you the other Star Wars themed mug. You glanced at the side, “I remember when we got these.”

“Yeah, we took that awful bus ride to Reading.” He hissed, “Nevertheless, we found the coolest Star Wars collectable store.” He smiled as he reminisced on the memory. 

You giggled, “Oh my God, and then that little pub we went to. Those Irish car bombs were so good.” 

Although you thought back on the long night of drinking, Tom remembered how wild you were. It wasn’t like any other of the times you’d been together, but there was a fearlessness to your personality he’d never seen before and it made him fall a bit harder for you. The way you leaned your head out the cab window on the way to the motel for the night, smelling the fresh breeze run through the cab as you opened the window wider.

If Tom could back to any night, that one was special. He would get to fall for you all over again.

After the two of you finished getting dressed, you went downstairs and exited through the lobby of Tom’s apartment. As always, he had his camera around his neck and a black fanny pack across his chest that was filled with his essentials.

You sported a nice canvas tote on your side, bringing a blanket in case you two stopped at the park. The weather was perfect, the sidewalks weren’t too busy, and it was like the day was meant for you.

On the way to the Empire State Building, there was a small cafe that caught your eye. The neon sign blinked in bright blue and pink with treats displayed in the front window. You and Tom strolled inside, merging into the short line to the cash register and decided what you wanted to snack on. As you pointed to the menu, muttering the sweets that stuck out, you playfully nudged your head against Tom’s.

“I think I’m gonna get a chocolate croissant… and a strawberry iced donut.” You trailed, your words so close to his ear in the noisy cafe.

“Sounds good to me. As long as it tastes extra sweet.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, not adding to that comment. At least not in public.

After ordering, you waited a few minutes at the small bench by the door before Tom’s name was called out. He walked over, collected the five brown-bagged treats as well as his small cup of coffee. You were giddy, so antsy to eat because of the insanely sugary smell roaming in the room.

“Thank you.” You giggled, taking your chocolate croissant from him. Immediately, you took a bite into it and moaned a bit from the instant sweetness hitting your tongue. You took another bite even if it looked like you weren’t trying to pace yourself.

Before Tom could take a bite of his treat, he chuckled at you and the smidge of chocolate on your lip.

“You’re a real mess, you know that.” He jeered.

Expecting a witty comment, instead you casually wrapped your lips around his fingers, loving the taste the sweet chocolate. Tom watched in awe as his index finger stayed in your mouth, stroking your tongue between them before you pulled your lips away.

All he could think was, “Fucking tease.”

“So much sweeter than I thought.” You giggled before taking another bite of your croissant, “Definitely, that extra sweetness you were wanting.” You continued to poke fun at him.

♡ ♡ ♡

When arriving at the Empire State Building, you wanted to explore as much as you could. You were surprised at how there was a full history within the main first floor, with the dark granite lining the walls and floors and the high ceilings. Tourists, just like yourself, were browsing around, but you and Tom headed to the elevator to go a few floors up.

Once the elevator doors opened, there was a view of the city behind huge glass windows. With the sun up in the sky, the warm light shined on all the buildings that seemed so tall when you were on the sidewalks all those floors below you.

Unknowingly, Tom took photos of you from behind your view. You were completely mesmerized by the city, and weren’t sure how to take it in. It almost seemed like a place you could see yourself staying— maybe even with Tom. You could barely see people when you looked all the way down, but Tom continuously snapped photos before you turned around to his lens.

With a shy smile, you still beamed it at him and he chuckled. He looked through the lens at your beautiful face, the sun hitting perfectly behind you as if it was a paid background. You posed a few times, trying to be dramatic and you both shared giggles.

“How do you live here and not come to see this view all the time?” You asked him as the two of you stood in front of the glass windows.

He grinned, “I might more… it’s just more fun with you.”

What a dork.

You playfully pushed his shoulder, but he pulled at your wrist to bring you closer to him. Yes, there were moments you two appeared as a couple in the public, but it was never forced. It was easier in moments like this when it was just you two without your friends teasing you and asking questions. But, the question still came up as to how long would this be going on.

The two of you went back to the elevator, going to the top of the building where most people were taking pictures. Luckily, the wind was a low speed and the smell wasn’t completely awful. 

Tom found the right lighting, adjusting the settings on his camera between capturing your moments. He kept smiling just as you were and seeing you cover your face when you couldn’t think of another post to do.

He never gave himself the credit for the art he could see, let alone you want to admit a picture of yourself is art, but he could already imagine these shots in black and white and hung up one of his own pieces. A piece he knew he was proud of.

“Am I looking okay?” You asked him, trying to see the photos.

“No, no, I don’t want you deleting them if you hate them.” He smiled as he pulled away the camera.

You pouted, “Fine, but I trust you.”

When you walked back over to the view of the city, Tom continued to smile at the photos he took and thought that he had never seen someone so naturally beautiful in a scene with so much other things going on. You were the focus out of a city of thousands of people.

After the Empire State visit, Tom took you to a few department stores to find some clothes. It was something on your list of things to-do, so you didn’t mind browsing around and able to ask Tom for his opinion on what you should buy for the summer weather.

Stumbling upon a thrift store, the selection was huge and gave you hope to find a few pieces. Once you grabbed a few items– a nice sweater, a cute dress, and a few skirts– the two of you made your way to the private dressing rooms toward the back of the store. There were only three rooms, and no where to sit outside of them so, you invited Tom inside (because it wasn’t like it was nothing he hadn’t seen).

You modeled for him, not minding the echoing of the camera clicking, his lens pointed at the mirror while you stared at your profile and how the clothes fit you.

Tom’s phone vibrated, making you take his camera and you pointed it at him for once during the day. He glanced at a text and you captured a photo of him looking perfectly down at his phone, loving the detail to his freckled nose bridge and small grin.

“Just got a text, my friend, Olson, invited me to a party tonight.” Tom trailed, “Want to go?” He asked, looking up at you with him sat down and you hovering over him with the camera still in your hands.

“Only if you make a funny face.”

Tom stuck his tongue out, his eyes a bit wide and you pressed the button.

“Perfect…” You giggled, admiring the photo and the light shade of brown in his eyes.

You sat next to him, running through the photos he had taken throughout the day and holding back your comments. It wasn’t that the pictures were bad, but you just cringed at your own image. Tom’s hand run up your leg, hiking the dress you were still trying on, but he slowly got on his knees in front of you.

He was now lowered, hiking the ends of the short dress toward you. You pointed the camera at the mirror where Tom’s back was blocking what was between your legs. Tom pushed his head further down and pressed and curled the tip of his tongue inside your slit.

Your fingers weaved through the top of his head as he continued, surprising him at how calm you were being so he tried to dig his tongue deeper. A giggle left your lips, your back arching against the wall and all your frustrations going into gripping his curls.

You hissed, biting your bottom lip to hold back your moans. There was some satisfaction into knowing how fearless he was to show you that you were each other's cravings.

♡ ♡ ♡

Standing in the full body mirror, you turned to the side to see the way this dress fit. It wasn’t the same dress from earlier, but you still bought that one to cherish the memory. 

You didn’t want it to keep hiking up, but it was pretty cute when Tom kept staring at your legs while sat on his bed. You turned on your chunky heels, walking over to him and seeing his head tilt back the closer you got.

“How do I look?” You asked, placing your hands on his shoulders.

His hands ran up the back of your thighs, over your bum then rested on your lower back.

“Fucking amazing.” He chuckled. His hands moved down to squeeze your ass then run over your thighs again.

He leaned down, his head tilting to the side before leaving wet kisses along your inner thigh. You giggled at his neediness, “We don’t have time. We have to get a cab soon.” You pouted.

“I can be quick. You know that.” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t get cocky now.” 

Tom chuckled against your skin, leaving a small love bite but eventually pulled your dress back down. He didn’t want to give in just yet, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to bend you over right there like he had in the dressing room just to watch your face contort as his cock thrusted into your tight walls.

Your pussy ached from his teasing, wishing he could taste his own theory of being able to make you cum in seconds. Although you felt uncomfortable between your legs, barely able to stand, you knew he would cave in at some point of the night. It was always him and you loved it. 

As you went downstairs, the two of you were arm in arm walking outside to catch a cab. Once one of many yellow cars stopped, Tom let you slide in first then shut the door once he was in too. Within the few seconds of the ride, his head kept running up and down your knee and sneaking up the end of your dress. You could have swatted his hand away, pleading that you didn’t want him to have his hands on you– that wasn’t the case in this moment.

Tom tested his limits. He moved his hand up more and you welcomed that by spreading your legs. With the barrier and sliding window between you two and the driver gave you more privacy, Tom seemed to be more adventurous. That damn smirk painted on his lips as his two fingers ran over your panties, feeling the wet spot where you cunt is. He circled them around your clit, watching your hand grip the door’s arm rest.

You blinked a few times, but his eventually pulled them to the side. You leaned back a bit, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror where the cab driver was keeping his eyes on the road. Trying to keep a straight face, Tom curled his two fingers inside you and moved against the spongy part deep inside your cunt. As he picked up the pace, you could hear your juices pumping in and out of your pussy as a tightness coiled in your lower belly.

“God…” You whispered, saying it under your breath.

Tom still looked forward, appearing like the two of you weren’t speaking, but he felt your climax coming from how your pussy clenched against his fingers. Your eyes squeezed together, jaw clenched tight as you held back every feeling to let go, but Tom quickly pulled his hand away.

You gave him side-eye, pouty from him taking his hand back, but you bit your lip at him placing the two same fingers inside his mouth. He sucked on them quickly, as if he was eating the last of a dessert, and smiled to himself when he tasted your sweetness.

Flustered and heated, you inhaled a shaky deep breath. You pulled the bottom of your dress back down, suddenly twitching at the overwhelming aching between your legs. You wish you could rub your clit right now, knowing you would only need to roll your fingers over it a few times. Nevertheless, you decided to put your frustration into getting back at Tom. Enough for him to regret.

♡ ♡ ♡

At the party, the two of you entered through the open door. The setting was a loft, low lighting and people wearing those cheap neon bracelets and necklaces. Tom immediately spotted some of his friends by the self-serving bar and he took your hand to guide you through the crowd.

“Hey mates, this is Y/N.” Tom introduced you, barely making out his own friends faces from how dark it was.

“Nice you meet you.” You said a bit loud so they could hear you.

“You’re one of Tom’s childhood friends, right? Tell us all the secrets.” One of his friends, Olson, teased. His dark brown curls were long, a bit grown out like Tom used to have.

“No secrets, he’s unapologetically himself. A bit serious.” You joked, feeling comfortable with his group.

Tom smiled at how you could just put yourself out there and get along with his friends here. He was weary about how you’d get along only because it was like his two worlds colliding, but he eventually wanted you to meet them— hoping they wouldn’t tell you anything about what he’s said about your “relationship”.

Just as any party went on, you and Tom were two drinks in and dancing to the loud music with everyone else. After straying from the fun and teasing conversations, you both found yourselves searching for a room to be more private in. Tom’s hands were on your waist as you tried to open the few doors until both of you saw someone walk out of the bathroom.

Quickly slipping in, you and Tom didn’t take it your time slowly. He pressed your back against the cool door, his hand fiddling to lock the door. You held his face as he propped you up on the granite counter.

His hands gently pushed apart your thighs, hiking up the end of your dress for him to see your lace panties. Your back comfortably rested against the mirror, your one hand running through his wild curls and harshly tug on them and the other pressed against the wall.

Tom left slow and wet kisses on your right inner thigh while one hand ran up and down your left thigh. Your clit was starting to tighten, clenching around nothing just from Tom’s teasing and you wanted to beg.

As he pressed his lips against your clothed slit, he felt how wet you still were. Tom slid his tongue up to get a taste of your cum which made him smirk between your legs. He couldn’t help but pull them to the side, so harshly that he ripped the seam. Tom spit on your throbbing pussy lips, leaning in and sucking your swollen clit then flicking his tongue between your slit.

You panted, pursing your lips as you watch him, “God, yes! Eat my fucking pussy like that, Tommy.”

Your words encouraged him, the pace of his tongue going faster and making your eyes roll back. He took his time with your clit and sucked with his lips fully around it. He loved watching your face contort as he flicked your bud with his tongue and your hips jolted, trying to buck against his tongue.

Just when you thought you could cum right there, he quickly pushed his two fingers inside your tight cunt. You moaned, caressing your own breasts as he curled them, but his pace was much faster than in the cab. He pumped them incredibly fast, feeling your pussy clenching around them and listening to your whiny moans to keep going.

His fingers went knuckle deep in your slit, trying to maintain his fast pace before Tom pulled them out and quickly rubbed your clit with the same fingers.

You groaned, “I’m coming! I’m coming!” You surrendered.

A burst of your wetness squirted from your pussy, running down the counter and your inner thighs. Your legs violently shook as Tom kept rubbing before pushing his face back in to taste your pussy and clit once more. He had to keep your legs apart with his hands because of how much they were shaking, still orgasming from how hard you came and his tongue back to work.

You caught your breath, sweat against your forehead and your throat sore from your heavy breathing. Tom came back up to your head, pressing your tongues together and tasting your cum. It was a slow kiss compared to the roughness you both got into, but you knew it was just a short break.

“You want to cum again? Huh, fucking slut gonna fucking cum for me.” He trailed against his lips.

You nodded, “Yes, make me cum again, Tommy.”

He was motivated just from your little nickname.

Tom took a step back, unbuckling his belt and quickly pulling down his jeans and boxers. His dick sprung right up, hitting his lower abdomen and you bit your lip at how full and thick his cock was. He pumped his hand a few times, coating his length in pre-cum before gliding his tip against your incredibly wet slit.

Your toes curled just at his teasing, painfully glaring as he continued to stroke his tip against your clit. You weren’t going to beg just yet, but you were at least on the verge of doing it if this lasted any longer. 

Tom smiled at the neediness written across your face, your eyebrows furrowed and lip between your teeth. He stepped back toward you and spread your legs without warning, gliding his cock once more against your pussy.

You leaned your head back as his cock thrusted inside your tired, worn-out pussy. His length was so big, stretching your slit out as he stilled his hips. Tom licked his lips, watching him bottom out inside you and letting out a low groan once his lower body pressed against yours. That’s how close you were in that moment, oddly feeling so intimate in that moment.

He wasn’t slow this time. Tom slammed his cock back inside you, letting you feel every inch of him enter your tight walls. You could only grip on your chest, running your thumbs over your nipples which doubled the pleasure that was coursing throughout your body.

“Ah, your cock is so… so big. Can barely fit in my pussy.” You whimpered, as if you could take the upper hand at this point. You were a complete mess.

“I’ll make you cum this time. Only if you scream my name when you do. Huh?” He lowly chuckled against your ear, squeezing his hands on your hips to bring them closer to him.

Tom watched his cock pull out of your pussy, groaning at his whole length coated in your thick cum. With just the tip inside your slit, your left hand reached down to stroke him while your right hand still pulled at your nipple. You felt how slick his cock was, not surprised how bad you wanted him.

“Please, I need your cock, baby.” You trailed. Your eyes gazed into his, looking bigger and more desperate, making Tom move his hands down under your thighs and lifting your legs higher. 

Your back slouched more, basically staring up at him as he put your legs over each of his shoulders. Your pussy lips were plump and hot, a string of your own cum running down to your asshole, but Tom collected it on the tip of his cock then teased your slit once more. Stroking his dick back and forth, your ankles by his ears, just before he slid back into you at a much slower pace.

You took every inch in, even twitching once he bottomed out. His thrusts were very rough, pushing his cock as much as he could and hitting your g-spot each time. Tom picked up a rhythm once he felt his dick twitching inside you, anticipating to cum deep inside you. Your skins slapped together each thrust, quicker and quicker, more deep than you think he could possibly go.

“Tommy, Tommy, Ah! I’m gonna cum.” You moaned over the muffled music, “Fuck, I wanna cum so bad, Tommy.”

Beads of sweat trailed down Tom’s temples, his eyes going back and forth from watching your face contort from your pleasure and your pussy. He grunted toward his high, but he suddenly stopped in his thrusts.

It confused you, but he quickly pushed your legs down before he pulled you closer to him by your lower back. Your ass shifted on the sink counter, basically on the edge, before Tom shifted his cock back into your tight slit. The closeness made a tingle go up your spine, with your chest against his and sharing a kiss between each time he bucked his hips.

You moaned against his lips, barely able to move them when he picked up his fast pace. You gasped a few times, your head dropping as your pussy clenched around his cock then quickly throwing your head back.

Neither of you could produce words to explain the euphoria coursing through your bodies, only pants between you two as you stood still and held each other. You left a soft kiss on his cheek before pulling away, Tom immediately pressing his forehead against yours to savor the moment. Your hand ran down his shoulder, running down his sweaty body and lightly scratching your nails down his abdomen.

Oddly in that moment, you could say you loved him. Not the “I love you” that would casually come out at when he did something to make you laugh, like an “I love you” that was more than words. You gulped from that feeling so you refrained from them leaving your lips, instead pulling away from him.

The two of you hadn’t had an intense moment like that in years, almost wondering if this was as good as it gets. Both of you didn’t want to doubt that either, but it was a lot that you didn’t speak for the few seconds it took you to get dressed again.

As Tom pulled his shirt back down, he glared at you examining your neck in the mirror. Darker shaded marks already formed compared to your skin tone, gulping and hoping no one would say anything or think differently of you when you walk back out.

“Are you okay?...I didn’t hurt you or anything, right?” He asked, as if it was your first time again.

You smiled, glancing at him in the reflection before turning around, “No, no. Just rougher than usual, but I would have said if I didn’t like it.”

A shy chuckle left his smile, but he glanced back up at you, “You know I love you, right?”

What did he mean by that, you thought.

“I-I love you too…” You trailed, not even sure if you meant it the way he meant it. 

You quickly walked away from him, and Tom’s confidence fell short in that instance. After opening the bathroom door, the next couple wanting their own privacy walked past Tom to go in. Tom, trailing right behind you,saw the party had only gotten bigger and his friends were still by the corner.

As you went toward the bar, Tom went back over to his friends and he wanted to flush away the embarrassment he was feeling in his face. He had only wondered if he did something wrong.

“Nice hair.” Olson commented.

Tom smiled, trying to run his hands over and through it.

“Mate, we were just talking about Paris and we don’t know if you’re in or not.” The other friend, Mark, brought up, his drink almost empty so he sipped the little bit left.

“Uh, not sure.”

“You need to make up your mind. Offer from the director guy still stands until next week. It’s a good paying gig for a few months, then you come back here and buy a less crapper place to bring your friend to.” Olson teased.

“I don’t really know if I can afford France right now. I have a lot going on.”

“Well, we think you should try. At least think about it and don’t shut it down. Besides, the girls already follow you on Instagram. They’ll be all over you if that’s the issue.” Mark joked.

“I don’t need a girl either…” Tom commented, then twisting his lips, “I think I’ll go. Paris wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Tom, obviously flustered, trailed.

Unknowing to him, you were already behind him once the conversation got serious. You heard about France, you heart about models, you just heard the whole thing and Tom hadn’t even mentioned it. All you could do, without embarrassing him or yourself in front of his friends, is fake a smile. 

So, this was it, you guessed.

♡ ♡ ♡

The walk home was silent. A bit too silent if you asked Tom. Maybe you were tired, or you were just getting homesick. One thing neither of you did, and what you desired the most, is to read each other’s minds, because in moments like this, it would be nothing but help.

Just as Tom was going to ask, after contemplating for a few minutes, about what was wrong, you finally just said—

“I didn’t know about Paris.”

Tom quickly turned his head to you, worried when you didn’t look back at him.

“Y/N, it’s undecided–”

“No, I heard you say that you were thinking about going…” You sighed, “You know I’m not mad about you going, but you… didn’t tell me?” You rhetorically spurted.

“I was going to, but we were having a nice time. I wanted you to have a good time. How was I supposed to just tell you I might up and move again when I want to be in one place.” Tom quickly retorted.

Both of you stopped walking, and you nodded, “You just tell me, Tom? I mean, I didn’t think that there was ever anything that we didn’ tell each other these days.”

Tom nodded, “It just didn’t cross my mind right now because we’re having fun. I’ve been looking forward to you coming for weeks now. I promise, we’ll talk about it later.” He pleaded, not wanting you to get the wrong idea.

“Later or never? I’m confused on what you want… what even are we? We’re acting like teenagers again and… How long can we keep up something like this. I tell you that ‘I love you’ and lately it’s getting so fucking hard to know what kind of love I feel for you. Like.. is it worth it to love you if what’s going on between us is temporary.”

Tears were lining Tom’s waterlines, “I think that too… I felt like I messed up things tonight and almost everyday.” He vented, “I love you too, and I don’t know what we are either, but I know I don’t want to let it go. Not right now or ever.”

“Then what do you want?” You desperately asked, the stress gnawing away on your insides.

Tom fell silent. It was like all the words in the world to describe his feelings had been erased from his mind. He was frustrated too, almost in disbelief that you didn’t think he was into you, but his silence was too much for you.

You gulped, “Let’s just go to bed.” You said before opening the lobby door.

Tom stood there for a few seconds, contemplating about what he had done (or even what hadn’t he done), but truthfully, he was exhausted. Tom wanted to assume it would be nothing in the morning, yet this felt like one of those fights you couldn’t come back from– he could only pray that night it was just a bad thought.

♡ ♡ ♡

Your eyes fluttered open to the dawn of the day. A low light peaked through before the bright sun was coming over the horizon, eerily feeling like it was the end of a dull rainy day. But, it wasn’t the predicted weather that made you sad but rather the thought of you and Tom losing your friendship.

He always told you beforehand when he was going somewhere, and now he didn’t even acknowledge the thought. You were in denial of the jealousy in your veins, coursing like a constant river that no dam could restrain.

Maybe he’s moving on, You thought. Words you didn’t want to say out loud. 

It’s apart of the no relationship and sex spoken agreemen to not have feelings. But, this feeling was doing nothing than eating you up from the inside out, like something was prickling inside every body part.

A few seconds later, Tom was rolled over on the other side of the bed and staring at his front door across the room. He hated when you two fought which was rare, especially when it came to defining what you were. The only time there were any major arguments was during high school, when you were both juvenile and immature (at least you thought you had become more mature with time). 

Complicated as it was, everything seemed to be fine until that news came up to you last night. What made him upset more was that he wanted to tell you at some time of you being here, but Tom also had his doubts that you would want to leave and move on. It was the feeling of not wanting to close a chapter when you know the end is coming to a book. There could have been a million ways of it ending, but this wasn’t one of the ideal ones.

“Y/N?” Tom asked in his groggy tone.

You refused to roll over, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. You wanted to be angry, but it was hard since you were never mad at him.

“Can we talk?” He asked again.

Caving to the possible consequences, you rolled over and saw his pretty face. A face you struggled to be mad at, but you almost lightened up at the sight of his bright brown eyes.

“Yes?” You replied.

“Last night… It was messy. I don’t want to be like this. I want things to be okay again.”

“You didn’t answer my question last night, so you made it pretty obvious how you feel about me, Tom. This whole thing is a fling and I feel in and over my head right now.” You truthfully told him.

Tom could have never pictured those words leaving your mouth, but obviously you had been feeling this way for a while which hurt him since you were up in his head about how he’s expressing his own doubts and feelings.

“So, then you didn’t think this was serious either? Like, this whole time I was stringing you around for sex?”

You sat up, “I’m not arguing with you right now, Tom. Frankly, I don’t even want to be with you right now.” You said out of spite.

“What? You give up like that? I’m trying to have a conversation–”

“No! You’re talking at me, and I’m confused and annoyed by all this. It’s like we don’t know each other anymore and it’s just sad.” You scoffed as you walked to your suitcase toward the couch, kneeling down and tossing your clothes in.

Tom sighed, “What are you doing?”

“I’m packing a few things. Sorry, I don’t want to be somewhere where I’m exactly feeling welcomed.”

“Why do you get the last say, huh? Where was all these emotions and talks any other time we talk?”

“Well it’s not like you were saying anything to me either.” You sneered back, “Maybe we… don’t know or understand each other like we used to.”

Tom stood in front of you, both of you with defensive positions and silence filling the room again.

“Yeah… Maybe we don’t anymore.” He replied.

And just like that, you left his apartment with no other notice as to where you’d head off to.

♡ ♡ ♡

It had been a week since you retreated from New York after the huge argument. After a grueling time at the airport, a mixture of crying and getting stuffed over snacks, you were eager to be on the plane.

At the same time, you hadn’t heard from Tom, and it took a toll on you more than you thought. Noticing the “Last seen” on your Instagram message to him, bothered by being the last person to text him in the messages– it was like he was suddenly a ghost.

You didn’t mope around that whole week either, trying to forget Tom once you piled your workload back on and stayed at your desk for hours to even think about him with a tired brain. Still, there was an emptiness you felt by not having to check your phone every other minute. TV shows and movies weren’t the same. Eating your favorite snacks didn’t taste the same. Even going on car rides and listening to music felt pointless. Everything was a bit gray and gloomy (like London weather).

Just as any other weekend went, you planned to watch a movie, regardless of how boring or corny it may be, and have a snack you picked up at the corner store. After getting your two favorite fluffy blankets from the closet, there was a few knocks on the front door. You thought it was the neighbor asking about their cat or a person trying to sell you something, but instead you were met with the face you least expected to see.

Tom turned with a small smile, “Hey…”

“H-Hi.” You nodded, thinking it was a dream.

“So, I know we haven’t spoken in a week, but I um- I didn’t like Paris.” He summarized.

You pressed your lips together, “Oh… sorry about that.”

“You know why I didn’t like it?” He asked, a bit jokingly.

You replied with another shy nod.

“Because I didn’t have someone who would make fun of the snooty French people there in a silly accent.” He chuckled, his hands in his pockets, “And… I didn’t have someone who wanted to go to those sites because they saw it in a book or a map and just thought about going there than just looking it up on their phone… I didn’t have you, Y/N.”

“Well, I think you’re being a bit dramatic.” You joked, “But, I did miss having some guy in my life that is always the life of the party and knows how to make me laugh without even saying anything.” 

Tom hugged you tight, almost squeezing you too tight. He was more than happy to be with you again, just as you held him with your arms around his back and your head nuzzled by his head.

“I’m sorry I made you choose.” You sniffled.

“You didn’t… I had to make a choice and I want us to be… us. Together…” He trailed, pulling back to see your face. His thumb brushed over the tear hanging on your cheek bone, cupping your cheek before kissing you.

It was as if a new timer restarted on both your lives; one that wouldn’t need to stop.

[jasntodds]

Just Friends? [t.h.]

Pairing: Jealous!Tom Holland x Reader

Request: @anon - Hi I love your writing! Could i request with Prompt 11 "We're more than friends and you know it" with Tom Holland x reader, maybe where she is unsure about what she and Tom are, so she start flirting with another boy to get Tom off her mind

Prompt: “We’re more than just friends and you know it.”

Summary: You and Tom have been close friends for years and nothing more. But, one day he sees you flirting with someone else and jealously starts to bubble over

Warnings: Angst, Tom being a bit oblivious, fluff

Words: 2,536

A/n: My requests are closed but I’m still finishing up a few in my ask lmao and I had some inspiration and time today so here we are!! I hope y’all like it!! Lemme know what y’all think!!

masterlist

“Well, don’t you two look adorable.” Harrison mocks you and Tom as he takes a seat in one of the open lawn chairs.

You and Tom are sitting side by side in your own chairs while your legs are draped over his. There’s a small campfire burning in front of you while the cool summer air brushes across your skin. Tom’s hands are rested on your shins, his right thumb rubbing up and done slowly, subconsciously.

“What?” Tom chuckles, looking to you before looking across the fire to Harrison.

“Just look adorable, is all.” There’s a smirk dancing across Harrison’s face that makes you glare at him.

He’s taunting the both of you and you know it. Somewhere, deep down inside you, you’ve always had this thing for Tom. Always and it has always been more than obvious. Between the stolen glances, platonic cuddling, the bushing of your hand against his when you hand something to him. The banter that’s absolutely you flirting with him but playing it off as just the banter between friends when it’s brought up. Harrison knows you like him, and this is a taunt.

“We’re just friends.” Tom rolls his eyes before reaching to the ground beside him and picking up an unopened package of marshmallows. “Want one?” He offers and you nod.

He always says you’re just friends and maybe there’s a part of you that’s just a little tired of it because he does all the same things you do. He even makes the move first. He’s always the one that asks if you wanna cuddle with him for movie nights. He’s the one that starts the banter. He’s the one who pulled your legs on top of his tonight. It’s almost always him that initiates it and he talks about how no other person has been good for you so far. If he doesn’t like you more than a friend -- which is fine -- maybe he should step back. But you say nothing.

You like the way his fingers feel against your legs and you like how his body keeps you warm even on the hottest of summer nights. There’s something about the way he looks at you that just makes you never want to say anything because what if he stops looking at you with those big brown eyes that make all other shades of brown boring? You like that you’re the person he calls when something good happens and when he just needs someone to talk to. He’s your best friend and you’re his. But that doesn’t make it easy sometimes.

“Yeah,” You clear your throat. “We’re friends.” Your eyes are locked with Harrison as if to be silently warning him to shut the hell up.

Tom flashes you an oblivious smile with your words while he leans over your legs, marshmallow on a metal poker stick, and starts roasting the marshmallow for you. It hurts a little but what more can you expect? You’ve never actually told him, or really anyone, how you feel about him. And you are just friends. You can’t very well expect him to deny being friends and expect something more. But that doesn’t erase any bit of the pain in your chest.

The rest of the night goes by with the normal activities of jokes with everyone, telling stories of past memories, and your stolen glances with Tom. It’s a normal night, just like any other. Everyone slowly makes their way inside, one by one as they get tired. You and Tom always go together and end up on the couch together. When you wake up, it’s always Tom making breakfast and it’s always your favorite. He always remembers your favorite things. It’s a gesture you’ve always loved and maybe it’s one of the countless reasons your heart beats for the boy with curly hair and pretty eyes. But there’s something pulling in the pit of your stomach this time. Because maybe you’re growing a bit tired of it.

Are you supposed to yearn for some boy, your best friend, with no hope of something more coming from it for the rest of your life? That would just be lonely. You want, at some point, to settle down with someone you’re in love with and maybe waiting for Tom isn’t going to cut it. It’s not really that you’ve done it on purpose. There have been others but nothing ever felt quite right with them. Didn’t feel like it always does with Tom. And maybe that’s because you’re so hung up on him that you have to let him go.

It’s the next day and the group of you decided to go out for the night to one of your favorite bars, something the group of you do every so often. The night is going on as normal which includes plenty of flirting between you and Tom but nothing ever coming from it. There are a few comments here and there from Harrison and Harry but you ignore them. Instead, you spot a cute boy standing at the bar who’s been eyeing you all night and decide to say ‘fuck it’. You’re not going to wait for Tom forever to figure it out and you excuse yourself to go have a chat with him.

“Where’re ya goin’, darlin’?” Tom asks, eyes wide and doe-eyed, filled of innocence.

“To the bar.” Your answer is short but you keep a sweet smile. You’re definitely trying to making him jealous but you don’t want to make it seem like that.

“I’ll go with you--”

“No, no.” You shake your head. “You stay.” You give him a cheeky smile before turning on your heels and making your way to the bar.

Tom’s brows are furrowed as he watches you strut right over the guy that’s had his eye on you all night and Tom’s stomach just twists into knots. He thought it was a bit weird you didn’t want him to go with you or that you didn’t ask him to get you a drink and now he gets it. You wanted to talk to another guy. And he’s watching you give him the same giddy smile you always give him and the shade of green that screams envy curls around his bones.

“You okay, mate?” There’s a chuckle from the back of Harrison’s throat as he takes a drink from his glass, knowing exactly what’s going on.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tom snaps his neck in front of him, trying to conceal his own jealously. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Seem a bit…what’s the word, Haz?” Harry laughs, nudging Harrison with his shoulder. “Jealous?”

“I’m not jealous!” Tom’s nose scrunches but he’s such a bad liar. 

“Yeah, alright.” Harrison’s eyes roll with the raise of his brows. “Why d’ya keep glancing over there then?” Harrison’s eyes dart between the bar and Tom.

“And why do you look like you’re about to jump out of your seat?” Harry comments.

“Because!” Tom defends. “I thought there…” Tom trails off and he’s coming to realize that he’s always thought there was more to the so-called friendly banter.

Truthfully, right now, he can’t figure out why he never asked how you felt. Maybe it’s because he just always assumed you felt the same way. When you’d bring out going out with other people, you never really seemed serious about it. You’d say some flaw that they had and Tom would agree with you and point one out, too because he was clearly very oblivious and thought you were joking. But now, you’re over there with your hand on this random guy’s shoulder and he knows you weren’t joking. You haven’t brought up going on a date with someone else is so long and you two have grown so close that Tom kind of thought there was something more going on here.

“Hello?” Harry waves a hand in front of Tom’s face, breaking his stare from you and the random guy. “You were saying?” Harry asks when Tom’s attention is brought back to the table.

“I…” Tom stutters before swallowing his pride. “Well, I’ve thought there was something there!”

“You always say you’re friends?” Harrison questions, his eyes narrowed, a little annoyed at his ability to be jealous after preaching the just friends line for so long.

“Kind of just thought it wasn’t this….official thing!” Tom tries to defend himself.

“Right…” Harrison and Harry say at the same time, not fully believing what Tom is saying.

It’s true, as absurd as it sounds. The two of you spend almost every free moment with each other. You stay over with each other all the time and the countless amount of times Tom’s asked you to sleep with him in the most innocent sense of the phrase. There have been these tiny moments where you get a little too close getting up or sitting down or bumping into him where he almost thought you did it on purpose -- you did -- and he could have kissed you but he never did because it wasn’t ever something that was said and he’d never want to overstep your boundaries. It’s the moments for him where he brings you lunch on your lunch break or you bring him dinner after work, he’s there for you and you’re there for him. Yes, friends do that, but it just always felt like there was something more and he is so sure you felt the same way that now he’s getting up.

“What’re you doing?” Harrison’s voice is flat, almost dreading what’s going to come out of his mouth.

“Going over there.” Tom remarks as if Harrison should have known that.

“Is that such a good idea?” Harry asks.

“Yes?”

“Maybe you should just--”

“I’ll be back.” Tom cuts Harrison off before walking away.

“Well, this might as least be entertaining.” Harry states before turning to face where Tom is walking.

“Or humiliating for both of them.” Harrison groans but keeps watching as if waiting for the train wreck that is sure to ensue.

You catch a glimpse of Tom from the corner of your eye and your plan worked. To make him jealous because surely that’s the only reason he’s coming over here. Which, to be honest, you’re grateful for because this guy you are talking to is almost completely unbearable. He’s talking to you as if you’re a box of rocks which is only making you want to simultaneously bang your head against the bar and throw all of the drinks on him.

“Can I talk to you?” Tom asks but he keeps his voice level, not angry just flat.

“I’ll be back.” You give the douchey frat guy a sweet smile just to dig under Tom’s skin a little more.

“I’ll be waiting.” He states and you almost visibility cringe while Tom actually does give him the ‘what the fuck’ disgusted look before taking your hand in his.

You follow right behind Tom, his hand still holding yours, not forcibly or too hard, just enough to keep you behind him. On the way to the door, he spots Harrison and Harry, clearly on the edge of their seat and looking awfully deflated by the time the two of you get to the exit. Clearly, they wanted to witness how this was going to go down but Tom won’t give them the satisfaction.

“What’s up?” You ask, innocence in your eyes and your voice as you step outside.

“What’re you goin’ in there?” Tom asks, his voice a little harsher now.

“What do you mean?” You ask, the innocence falls a little in your voice, seeing Tom is now actually upset.

“Flirting with that guy.” Tom remarks, gesturing a hand toward the door.

“So?” You cross your arms. “What’s it matter?”

“Because, y/n.” Tom’s eyes widen and his posture is polar opposite to what you’re used to. He’s normally so confident but now he’s annoyed and seems a bit….hurt? Jealous isn’t the right word here because you can tell by the lack of light and fire in his eyes, it’s not jealously. Just hurt.

“Because isn’t exactly an answer, Tom.” You push, wanting him to give you an actual answer. You think you know where this is going because why else wouldn’t he want you to flirt with someone? Some random person? It’s a little hard to believe given how he’s pushed the friends thing but you’re not backing out of this now.

“Why do you think?” Tom challenges. “You think I just cuddle with anyone? I make sure I’m up a full hour before you so I could make your breakfast? A breakfast I practiced when you weren’t around to make sure I’d have it right?” Tom asks and you never knew he had to practice to make a breakfast for you. “I always make sure you get inside okay and text you every morning and night on the few days we aren’t actually together. Why do you think I spend all of my free time with you?”

Your face softens with his words but there’s still a bit of confusion left here. “You say we’re just friends.” If all of that is true, why wouldn’t he just say something? All of this could have been avoided had he just said something.

“We’re more than just friends and you know it.” His voice is stern as he takes a step towards you and that’s what you’ve been wanting to hear this whole time.

So, you step into him.

Your hands come to his face, cupping either side of his face while you bring his lips to yours. Tom’s brows furrow and his body stiffens but only for a second before he relaxes against your touch. His hands come up to the small of your back, pulling you completely up against him.

You pull away first. “Why didn’t you just say something?” There’s a soft and subtle smile starting to dance across your face.

He shakes his head. “Thought it was a bit obvious.”

“The just friends thing, Tom?” Your eyes narrow but the smile is evident now.

“Didn’t think you’d want a label, you never said anything.” Tom explains and his cheeks turn red at the idea that he could have said something all this time and he could have you be his.

“Well, let’s make it official this time.” You press a kiss to the tip of his nose and his hands tighten around you.

“Will you go on an official date with me?” Tom chuckles.

“Well, duh.” You give him a laugh before Tom slams his mouth against yours, you laughing against him. You pull away once more, earning a small whimper and a pouty face from Tom. “We should probably get back in there before Harrison and Harry think we’ve killed each other.”

Tom lets out a soft laugh, his eyes darting down and back up to you. “That mean we can pick this up later?” He asks with the wiggle of his brows.

“Definitely.” 

Tom presses a quick kiss to your lips before sliding his hand down to yours. “Alright, darlin’, let’s go then.” He nods his head towards the door, his fingers interlocked with yours and this time, it’s more than just friends.

Tag list: @spiderboytotherescue // @softholand​ // @lenonizi-fics​ // @sinisterspidey​ // @sunflowerspidey​ // @Xxxxdelenaxxxx // @badhollandfluff​ // @lowkey-holland​ // @teen--marvel​ // @rainbowsinthestorm​ // @lauras-collection​ // @tomshufflepuff​ // @arvinrussellsgirlfriend // @na-nou83 // @ivegotthepetertingle​ // @outshineallthestars​ // @parkersvibes​ // @clover-rover​ // @parkerpeterparker2004 // @maybemona​ // @farfallasunicas​  // @justafangirlduh​ // @bibliophile-grasshopp​ // @love-you-to-saturn​ // @thsummersoldier​ // @moonvis​ // @captainamirica​ // @lovely-valllll​ // @crossyourpeter​ // @spicy-holland-dazed​ // @spideyspeaches​ // @futur3milf // @supernatrualyloki // @xxpeachyxo​ // @parkerdarling​ // @wizliar​ // @daisiesandinvasives​ // @crossyourpeter​ // @slutforsr​ // @shivi1902 // @hogwartsmarvelmommy​ // @sunshine96love // @kayasholland​ // @enilemes​ // @silktoyourspidey​ // @namoreno​ // @cynicallystiles​ // @rae-gar-targaryen​ // @yoharryyouawizard​ // @angrybitch679​ // @thwippyparker​ // @golden-guide​ // @superheros-and-others​ // @unfortunatekiwitrash​ // @spideyinmiddleearth​ // @underoosmarvel​ // @raajali3​ // @for-my-mind​ // @adayasgeorgia​ // @raajali3​ // @nocturnalms​ // @babyspiders​  // @whatbuckywrote​ // @adayasgeorgia​

[totheblood]

lovefool | tom holland

summary: tom is your best friend's brother and you have nooooo idea how you got here.

↳ best friends brother au genre: implied smut, fluff, angst if you squint

word count: 1.7k+

song inspiration: lovefool by the cardigans

You had no idea how you got here.

Actually, that was a lie. You had a really good idea of how you got here. In fact, a few months ago you planned to be right here, on your best friend's couch, your lips intertwined with his brother’s. You knew that if he had found you in this position, with his brother's knee planted firmly in between your thighs, that both you and Tom would be dead. You should stop, you thought to yourself. You knew this could hurt Harry but yet here you were still allowing his brother to practically deflower you with his kneecap. 

You should stop, your mind rang again as Tom’s hands moved from your ribcage to your waist. Whatever air he was breathing out was now your own, the space between you two practically nonexistent. He smelled of lemon and sandalwood and tasted like spearmint, but when he bit down on your lip all you tasted was the sour taste of your own blood. He wasn’t as gentle as you thought he would be but that didn’t stop you any less.

You should stop, your conscience reminded you as he started to make his way down your neck with only his mouth. He was panting and nipping at your skin as if he was starving and you were the only one around, every little noise you made making him smirk against your skin as if he knew what he was doing to you. He was pressing you into the cushions below and you were convinced that the minute you got up the shape of you and him would remain there for years to come.

You should sto-, your mind tried to tell you but was cut short by him sucking on the sensitive skin behind your ear.

Fuck it. 

It had been a week since you hooked up with Tom and despite your best efforts you couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. Harry was your best friend, the person you told everything to, and every moment you spent around him was another moment you felt like you were lying to him. He wouldn’t mind, you tried convincing yourself, but even your own mind laughed at the thought. Your mind flashed to a time where he was punching the shit out of a guy ten times his size because he thought he grabbed you too hard.

It wasn’t like he was in love with you. He was in a happy and healthy relationship with your other friend Angi and he almost always referred to you as his little sister, even though you were older than him. He found you at a particularly rough time in your life and you understood that him meeting you under that circumstance forced him to play a protective role in your life.

On top of that his relationship with his brother wasn’t the best. They had an on-again off-again relationship, being each other's best friends one minute, and tearing each other to shreds the next. You couldn’t begin to understand it, but it wasn’t your place in the first place. So when he needed to vent, you were there. And when he needed to ditch you to hang out with Tom, you understood.

So here you sat in this shitty dive bar across from Angi, giggling with her about various stuff, the liquor now getting to both of your heads. It was nice being out with her getting tipsy off of two dollar margaritas and getting to catch up on the boring stuff that happened to you during the week when you weren’t able to talk. It was also serving as a distraction, your mind not wanting to discuss what you were keeping from Harry and what you did with hi- fuck, was that Tom?

“What is Tom doing here?” You slumped in the booth, taking a large swig from your straw and draining the cup. 

“Oh, I invited Harry and I guess they’re friends again because he asked if he could bring him along.” Angi replied matter of factly as you sat there with your eyes trained on him. You watched as he maneuvered his way through people, smiling and waving at the bartender before his eyes locked on you. Even though the expression on your face was now leaning toward fear as he moved closer, he had the cockiest smirk on his face as he approached you.

“Hey Angi,” He smiled as he slid into the seat next to you and you watched as Harry sat next to Angi and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. You smiled at the interaction but that smile quickly fell as Tom turned to face you in his seat. His face was just a few inches from yours and he allowed his knee to knock against yours.

“Y/n.” He stated simply, smiling at you like his brother wasn’t right there across the table from you. You didn’t even realize how tightly your hand was gripping the wooden seat of the booth until he brushed his fingers along your knuckles and you instantly relaxed.

You glanced over at Harry whose full attention was on his girlfriend which allowed you to take a breath of relief.

“Hi, Tom.” You whispered back, allowing a smile to grace your face. With that grin the tension in the room dissipated and you allowed yourself to relax. You were just talking to your best friend's brother, nothing weird about that.

“I missed you,” he whispered, looking down to where his hand was still lightly placed upon yours. He moved his hand down, allowing his pinky to interlock with yours. “Have you been getting my texts?”

Yes, you thought, but you didn’t want to let him know you were actively ignoring him because you felt shitty for allowing him to fuck you. 

“I’ve just been too busy to reply this week.” You lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn’t notice your sharp intake of breath. But he just hummed in response, and got up to get a drink from the bar.

The night when smoother than you thought it would, the lights getting more blurry with each drink you took. It was like everything everyone said was getting increasingly more funny as the night went on and your body grew warmer. You would occasionally laugh so hard that you had to lean your head on Tom’s shoulder. Well, you didn’t have to, but you really really wanted to. And Tom would welcome your warmth by leaning his head on top of yours, and from what you could tell, Harry didn’t mind.

But as time went on, you only got more drunk which meant you grew more tired and needed to get home to the warmth of your own bed. 

“I need to leave.” You managed to slur out randomly as you tried stepping over Tom in the booth, only managing to trip and nearly fall flat on your face if it wasn’t for Tom’s arm firmly pulling you back up.

“Woah, there. You’re not going to go home by yourself, are you?” He questioned glancing over at Harry and Angi, who were a lot more sober and staring at you with wide eyes.

“Mate, why don’t you take an Uber home with her?” he suggested, glancing in between you and his brother. “Me and Angi want to stay, plus I have to take her home later.”

Tom gave him a look that asked him ‘are you sure?’, but all he did was nod back in response, giving him a tight lipped smile. With that confirmation Tom moved out of his seat and pulled out his wallet to place a few twenties on the table. “Nice seeing you Angi.” He smiled as he turned to walk you out to where your Uber was already waiting.

As you both piled into the backseat he laughed as your head smashed into the window. He nudged you with his arm as he watched you carefully, waiting for your eyes to open in acknowledgment. You could only manage to open one eye to look at him, but when you did you were filled with warmth. He was looking at you like you held the world in your head and you tried to remember the last time someone looked at you like that. You don’t think anyone ever has.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you slurred out, your voice slightly muffled since your face was smashed up on the glass.

“Like what?” he questioned cluelessly.

“Like I’m the only person in the world.” You stated, now mustering up the courage to sit up straight and stare right back at him.

“You are.” he said much quieter, his hand moving to hold yours for what felt like the millionth time tonight. “To me at least.”

You felt flustered, not only were you way past drunk, but here was the person you had been pining after for years telling you that you were the only person that existed to. You understood the implications of that. There was a pleasant isolation that came with liking someone. You woke up thinking about them, and when you closed your eyes they followed you into your dreams. They appeared in your favorite movies, your favorite songs, and even on the pages of your favorite book. You knew that feeling because for so long that is what you felt about him. He was the end all and be all of the human race and your heart grew ten sizes when he walked in a room. That’s what you felt like at least. 

“I liked being with you,” you started, not sure what you were trying to convey “not just sexually, but like, romantically.” You looked down where he was squeezing at your hand, a soft laugh coming from his lips that seemed to mix with the sound of the car engine.

“I like being with you too.” He whispered back, now scared he was sounding like a schoolgirl. “So why have you been ignoring me?” he asked firmly. As you opened your mouth to speak he began again. “The real reason.”

You gave him a half smile before pulling your hand from his. “Because of Harry.”

He looked puzzled for a minute before the realization hit him. “But Harry knows.”

taglist and mutuals: @sxfik @olsensnpm @userholland @gwenscindys @spideyspeaches @cocoamoonmalfoy @venomsilk @spvilers @petereading @honeyspidey @spideyobsessed @vendettaparker @erule @4ppurrr @vxid42 @wildholland @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @lovebyceleste @mayal0pez @ariianelle @keanureevesisbae @ghiblijoons @peterparkoure @starstruckspring @willie-ivy @spideyy @seaveysinn @simplyparker

[pbnjparker]

late night talking | p. parker

an: peter being obsessed with your nightly phone calls :) based off of late night talking by harry styles, sorry for the lack of updates! school has been biting my ass :(

pairing: mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

Something felt off and you couldn't quite pin it down. You were stressed and wanted nothing more than to be in your bed and on the phone with Peter.

You grabbed your phone and typed in Peter's number; the phone rang and rang and rang. You sighed at his voicemail greeting, "Call me when you get a chance, miss you."

Walking over to the bathroom, your phone rang immediately; you scurried across your room and slid on the screen upon seeing Peter's contact picture.

"Thought you forgot about me." You said, "Could never, I'd miss you too much." He winked and smiled, "Smooth, Parker." You laughed.

You laid your phone against the mirror and started your nightly routine, "How was school?" Peter asked; almost as if he wasn't next to you every single second of the day, "Hmm, It was okay. I've got to finish my portion of the project and I'll be free for the weekend, how was patrolling?"

Peter sighed, "Uneventful. No ones out breaking the law." He pouted, "Although, I'm glad to be here and on the phone with you." He teased, "You always make these long nights better."

“Do I now?” You grabbed your phone, “Glad I could be of assistance, Parker.”You smiled, “So when do I get to join you on one of these wild patrol nights? I think I’d be a killer sidekick” Peter laughed, “Never.” 

You scoffed, “I think I would be great company.” Peter groaned, “Yeah but then who would I have all these late night talks with?” He asked, “You’d be too tired and I quite like our talks after patrolling.” 

“And I’d get all sweaty.” Your face churned in disgust, “Never mind, take me off the roster.” You giggled, “You were never on.” 

You smiled at Peter taking in all his features, “Why are you admiring me so much?” He asked, “What? I can’t admire and love on my boyfriend for just a few seconds?” You retaliated in defense, “I guess but our calls would just be pure silence because I’d also be too busy admiring you.” 

“I love you.” You whispered getting into bed, “I love you more.” He smiled, “More than Star Wars?” You giggled; reaching over to your nightstand light.

He laughed, “More than Star Wars, Good night sweet angel.” He said blowing a kiss into the camera, “Good night Peter.” 

[silkscream]

PISTOLWHIP | vii. worth it

synopsis: peter parker is in love with his high school best friend, michelle jones, and you are in love with peter’s roommate, harry osborn. when mj and harry start dating, you and peter test your limits in a situation that “benefits” the both of you. how far will the two of you go to satisfy each others’ loneliness?

genres: university au, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, fake dating, unrequited love

warnings: explicit content (18+), smut, alcohol usage

wc: 6.3k

a/n: welcome to worth it by beabadoobee. this took so long to write YIKES and i don’t love it but once you get to the smut you might for forgive me. i can't believe pistolwhip is coming to a close but i simply have not plotted further than this. tell me how this series makes you feel, send me love letters, send me arsenic, etc.

series m.list / main m.list / join the taglist

In the middle of the night, Peter had gotten too hot in his hoodie to stay in it, and so you’d woken up before him in a bit of a shock. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before – his large biceps and carved stomach were more than impressive. This you knew. What you hadn’t known was the amount that Peter’s body could take in one night, because lined along his sides are fresh bruises in bloom.

You didn’t notice in the dimness of last night. It’s strange to see him like this in the early morning, fast asleep like a newborn lamb but inside a body that’s been mythologized by strangers. You realize this now as you caress the moon-shaped pink of his cheekbone and his crooked nose. 

From all the recklessness the two of you have gone through, both the unholiness and heavenly thing of your limbs entwined together, God must’ve slipped in some kind of ruin in between your bodies. The aftermath is only shown on Peter’s body, it seems, and it feels a bit selfish that you want to keep him to yourself when you know that this is what he looks like after a night of saving the city. The boy you love is loved by everyone else. Even between two different boys, this was true before and this is true now.

He stirs in his sleep, arm tightening around you. A heavy sigh escapes your mouth as you comb through his messy curls. The sunlight hits his face right in the eyes, making him squint awake. He looks up at you with a shy smile.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” you breathe.

“You sleep okay?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur as he pecks you on the cheek. 

“Are we okay?”

Though gravity weighs on your shoulders, you give him a small nod. It’s not a lie. You hope it doesn’t become one. 

“‘m still mad at you,” you mumble.

“I know.” He buries his nose into your shoulder and you already feel ready to give in. 

Without a word, you rise out of bed to stretch your body, which unfortunately requires the ordeal of untangling Peter’s limbs from yours. He follows you into the kitchen as you turn on the kettle for coffee. 

“Thanks for not leaving,” Peter says. It takes a lot for him to keep himself from twirling a finger around a strand of your hair or keeping his hand to your waist. 

You shrug in response. You want to dissect the situation without turning into the version of yourself that’s too interrogative. Especially considering the hell that Peter might’ve gone through in the last night. You aren’t sure if your anger is worth it, but you’re too stubborn to forgive him completely just yet. 

“I’ll make you breakfast,” Peter says to you carefully. You nod nonchalantly and return to your bedroom just so you can keep yourself busy with handling the laundry that you need to do. 

Sighing, you collect a small pile of Peter’s clothes that are littered in the corner of his room that must’ve been there for days. On your way to the washing machine, you watch Peter as he makes you eggs. His muscles flex as he moves his arms and you notice the extent of his bruising in the natural light. Some scars adorn his sides. 

“Will you tell me what you were up to last night?” you sigh after throwing the clothes in the wash. Peter turns around. 

“I was out,” he shrugs. He blinks at you when you flash him a grimace, not realizing that his response came off as accidentally rude. “I mean, I was out… patrolling.”

“How do you keep up with being Spider-Man and a full-time college student?” you narrow your eyes. 

“It’s hard,” Peter nods. He turns off the stove and transfers the fried eggs onto two plates. “I feel kinda guilty because I’m not able to patrol as much but I’m taking fewer credits this semester. But I’m also not a replacement for the cops, so it’s not like anyone’s needing me to be out all the time. Except for… some people.”

“Some people.”

“I got into a fight with my partner last night. Black Cat. She’s kind of a little shit, but we’ve worked together for a little while.”

“Your partner.”

“Interrogate me all you want, I promise I’ll tell you the truth,” Peter sighs, pouting at your acidic tone. You feel slightly guilty at the sight of him, his big brown eyes that tend to permanently make him look like he’s begging you for something. 

“Aren’t you in pain?” you whisper, eyes scanning his bruises. As you move closer to him, you notice a scar near his ribcage that’s raised and pink, spanning the left side of him and down towards his lower back. 

It’s ironic, how you thought you had his body memorized when it can do so many things you weren’t aware of. It all made sense to you then – the times Peter would be too “busy” and you would pretend that you weren’t taking it personally. How he’d be attached to your hip but then be MIA for a few days because of his supposed studies or impromptu extended visits to his Aunt’s apartment. 

“I’m fine,” Peter assures you. “Seriously. I’ve been hit by a train before. Last night was nothing, just more action than what I’d preferred after being on call in the middle of the night. Which I’m sorry about, for leaving, it was… kind of an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?”

“Just some guys with a car bomb near The Met. Everything turned out okay, though! They were also just, like, Russian and fought extremely well and had these weird brass knuckle things.”

“Jesus.”

“You should eat, babe,” he offers softly, pushing the plate of eggs towards you on the kitchen island. You sit down with him and eat slowly. 

You couldn’t imagine the thought of him in a fight. Your Peter, who was too sweet for his own good. Even in his current state before you, he looks like a wounded puppy if it weren’t for the fact that he’s ripped. It amazes you that the boy in front of you is Spider-Man. That you’re wiping toast crumbs off of the mouth of New York’s favorite superhero. Your taste in men had always been… unconventional.

“You put kimchi on them,” you say, a small smile on your face.

“I learn from the best,” Peter shrugs. “Can I kiss you even if you’re still mad at me?”

“I’d say yes if you weren’t in desperate need of a shower,” you sneer, voice lightly teasing but lacking discernment. He rolls his eyes at you with the same conviction.

You watch him walk past you to enter his bedroom, undressing along with the sound of joints cracking from his stretches. You make yourself useful by putting away the dishes, and cleaning up the empty alcohol cans on the living room table from the night before.

Even though you had coffee, you still feel like you’d just woken up. You could probably use a shower as well to calm your nerves, but you choose to enact your skincare routine while Peter’s still in the bathroom. You hear the water run and you walk into the bathroom unannounced. 

“Joining me?”

“You wish, Pete,” you scoff with your Spider-Man toothbrush in your mouth. You thought he had to be joking when he’d returned from CVS the first night you’d spent at his apartment, but you’ve learned to appreciate its charm.

You’re distracted by something on your phone as the water cuts off and he steps out of the shower, bare skin glistening with droplets. You frown at the redness of his bruised knuckles which only got exacerbated by the hot water. Out of the dewy mist, Peter emerges and towels off sporting a wound you hadn’t seen on his thigh before.

“Stay there,” you murmur, rummaging through Peter’s medicine cabinet to find a roll of gauze.

“I heal really quick. It’s part of the, uh, Spider thing.”

You ignore him, spraying the affected area with wound wash with a light bandage. You trace over the rest of his scars and bruises delicately as you listen to his labored breath. He bunches up the towel under his waist and you look up to see his cheeks twinged pink.

“That was fast,” you jeer.

“You were touching me,” he lets out of a soft huff. His brows knit at your inspection of him. 

“I don’t like seeing you injured like this.”

“Duty calls,” he shrugs. You chew on your lip idly as you look him over and he hums softly at the feeling of your fingertips on his skin.

Your mouth ghosts over his cock and he nearly salivates at the mere sight of it before you pull away with a snicker.

“That was mean,” he whines. 

“Get dressed, Spidey, we’re going to the farmer’s market,” you smile, patting his cheek. 

Things had gotten less complicated now that you knew about Spider-Man. It lifted a certain weight off of Peter’s shoulders that he could finally vent about his nights on patrol, feeling relief that he didn’t have to hide from you anymore. 

Even though your stubbornness made it difficult for your forgiveness to budge, you knew that you could never be that angry at Peter. The gravity of his identity was enough to be a liability to your safety, and in the sincerity of Peter’s explanations, you believed him.

And now was the hard part – letting every other part of your life fall into place once you had to untether yourself from Peter. This meant catching up on communicating with others, the glaring elephant in the room leaving you where you are now. At a shitty café waiting to initiate something of a breakup. 

“Hey,” Max nods at you as he sits down across from you at the booth.

“Hi,” you smile sheepishly. The sterling silver of the rings adorning your hands feels heavy. 

You clear your throat. “I guess I should like, be straight up.”

“With?” he raises a brow.

“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

To your surprise, the boy in front of you stifles a laugh, pearly-white teeth grinning in a shark smile as if you’d just told him a joke. 

“Right. Is that all?”

You narrow your eyes. You hate his presence, the way he’s something of a twisted version of Harry but with floppy brown hair and an air about him that exudes apathy. You had mistaken it for charisma.

“Yes.”

“Cool. That could’ve been a text, princess.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t end things in a more… transactional way, Max,” you scoff. 

“You’re fuckin’ someone else, I assume?” He looks so smug.

“What does it matter to you? Considering you seem like you’re begging for this to be over,” you accuse. Your face settles into a venomous smile. “But yeah, I am.”

Peter knows he shouldn’t be watching. Luckily for you, he’s far enough so that his senses are a bit muted to the sound of your voice. Perched on a rooftop, he sees the stern look on your face that’s probably boiling with quiet, seething rage. It pisses him off to even see you talking to that bastard. 

“Who are you stalking?”

Peter sees the swoop of her silver hair first, which flips in the air as she does acrobatics along the wall of the building and onto the rooftop. She manages to hook her leg around Peter’s so that he comes tumbling down with her.

“Ow! Jesus, why do you keep doing that?”

“Because I can,” she grins. 

“Fuck off.”

Black Cat perches herself over the lip of the roof to follow Peter’s gaze. She looks back at him with a devilish smirk. 

“Girlfriend cheating on you?”

“The opposite, kind of. It’s none of your business, though.”

Felicia Hardy is always so subtly looming, like a fly on the wall that Peter can’t seem to get rid of. Their shared history isn’t much despite the occasional game of cat and mouse, which had dwindled considerably since Peter had graduated from Midtown High. 

Black Cat had only appeared back on Spider-Man’s radar within the past year. It wasn’t like Peter and Felicia ever hung out, but their relationship was a strange dynamic that included much sexual tension with a side of migraines in between, mostly for Peter. 

She rolls her eyes after poking and prodding the hero like a piece of meat. He’s ignoring her advances (attempts at annoying him), which meant that he was truly focused on what he was spying on. Felicia zeros back in on you through the cafe window.

“She’s hot. How’d you score that one, Penis Parker?” she purrs.

“She’s one of my best friends.”

“So is she your girlfriend or not? Better make up your mind before I snatch her from you.”

“Yes, she’s my girlfriend,” Peter responds incredulously. Even with his suit on, the way his head lulls back on his hand exudes his boyish attitude.

“So who’s that? Her ex?” 

“Now he is,” Peter shrugs.

“Holy shit! Were you the other woman?” 

Peter groans. He wishes that Cat wasn’t next to him right now, and he also wishes he’d saved himself the trouble of spying on you because he knows that it’d piss you off, and he’s annoyed that you’re couped up in a cafe sitting across what is likely to be his next arch-nemesis if the kid ever happens to contact you again. 

He’s probably chewing up the inside of his mouth from the pressure of his canines. Unclench your jaw. He hears your voice in his head saying it. 

“No, we just didn’t… define the relationship until recently,” Peter mumbles sheepishly.

“You sound so beat up about this,” Felicia scoffs. “Let me guess, she had to cut off all her boytoys just for you, huh?”

“Okay, I’ve had enough of you.”

“Too bad, Spider. You’re gonna be seeing a lot of me.”

Peter crosses his arms. His companion can’t see it, but the look of disdain on Peter’s face was about ready to trigger lasers from his eyes.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

She cocks her head, silver hair blowing in the breeze as she hooks her mouth up into a smirk. 

“You still friends with my ex?” 

Harry. Peter remembers when she’d dated Harry all too well because of how invasive she happened to be whenever the three of them would hang out. He could never quite get a word in without some kind of sarcastic, biting remark from the silver-haired vixen. It turns out in recent years, that still hasn’t changed.

“Yeah, we’re roommates.”

“Fun! Maybe I’ll catch up with him too. You know, before I go and rob his dad’s little entrepreneur friends. Ciao!” 

“Wait, what are you–”

Black Cat blows Peter a kiss, leather palm outstretched before whacking him in a place she knows is bruised from the nights before just to wake him up. Peter groans in frustration as he watches her graciously flip backward like a gymnast to scale herself off the building. He’s left with the smell of YSL’s Black Opium. 

She’s nowhere to be found when Peter looks beyond the roof. But he does see you, small as an ant and looking right back at him.

“My God. You’ve lured me into your dungeon now, haven’t you, Spidey?”

“Shhh. We’re on academic grounds.”

“It’s quite literally after hours. There’s no one here.”

“You know what I mean.”

Your eyes adjust eventually to the darkly saturated room, which without any context, looked like something of a place to get murdered if one was unfamiliar with the territory. You watch Peter as he fumbles in his bag to dig out several film canisters. 

“I didn’t know you were still doing photography. Like, for school and not just terrorizing me when I’ve just woken up.”

“Not my fault you’re adorable in the morning and your bedroom casts the perfect light at the same time,” Peter chuckles. “I still get some gigs from the Daily Bugle. Right now I’m taking this photo seminar just to get the hang of film. Boosted me three credits, too.”

“Is it just like art school, you think?”

“Totally. This girl presented her photos and it was a pic of her boyfriend in a bunny head and boxers smoking a cigarette. Something about childhood vulnerability and masculinity.”

“That’s pretty fucking avant-garde. You better step it up, Parker.”

Atop an empty space on the counter is where you decide to perch. You curl your legs your arms, heel of your converse at the edge as you fiddle with your rings. You watch Peter act almost clinically in the way he works with the darkroom equipment, which felt mesmerizing for you at the moment. Then again, anything Peter did was usually mesmerizing for you. Watching him read or tinker in his labs or even just mundane things like washing dishes. 

You’re staring. You know you’re staring and so does he, because his jaw is fixed at an angle that shows he’s trying really hard to grin. 

“So… how’s Max?”

You groan loudly. “Please don’t make me talk about him.”

“Glad it went well,” he teases. It earns Peter a scowl. 

“Can I please play some music in here?” you sigh.

Peter nods, passing you his open laptop. You click on shuffle on one of your playlists and a Blood Orange song starts playing. Peter isn’t sure exactly what’s happening with his nerves, because he’s for sure certain that you are one of few people he could be around as easily as breathing. What’s contradicting about Peter right now is that he feels like a fucking high schooler around you at the moment.

He takes his time with the developer and the film tank meticulously like it’s a ritual. You suppose it is because you know for a fact that anything that Peter does with his hands is with intention. He cradles the tank in his hands, turning it upside down over and over. This takes a few minutes until he unrolls the film reel. The strips get hung up with clothespins on a string running along the length of the room.

You take a step forward and notice some photographs that were previously developed by Peter. There are some generic shots, like images of skyscrapers with a chiaroscuro depth, portraits of Aunt May, candid shots of parties. You look closer and recognize your own face.

“Oh, god, there are so many of me,” you mumble. “What am I, your muse?”

He doesn’t catch the sarcasm in your tone as he nods in agreement. “Probably,” he admits without much inflection in his voice. Your eyes soften.

There are these beautiful shots that are difficult to see because of the fact that you’re in a darkroom, but you see photos of you in the morning with your hair strewn around your pillow, bedsheets curled around you like you’re in a renaissance painting. The sunlight that washes over you is probably so warm in color.

One of you flipping him off from the fire escape. A mirror film selfie of the two of you while you’re brushing your teeth. A candid of you in front of a bodega in which you don’t seem to notice your voyeur at all, your mellow gaze fixed on the many bouquets of flowers in front of the shop.

“These are beautiful, Peter. Like really breathtaking. You’re talented,” you marvel.

“Thanks. It used to be my thing when I was little, I had this shitty little digital camera that I’d bring everywhere.”

“I didn’t realize how seriously you took photography.”

“I guess I do,” he smiles shyly. “Feels nice to keep little moments frozen in time.”

“I wish everything could be frozen in time. Everything except us.”

Peter finishes drying off a few film strips. “Why’s that?” 

“So we can do whatever we want without time running out.”

“It always feels like that when I’m alone with you.”

He thinks he’s done something from the unfathomable expression on your face, but he watches your eyes soften once again. You beckon him with a mumble and he comes to you, rests his broad body in between your legs while you’re perched on the counter. Your foreheads press together and you listen to the hum of his shallow breathing, up and down with his chest.

The magnetism between you two is strong enough to not let the other go, and you aren’t sure if you’re about turn your desires into a frenzy or if all motion should cease just because you like hearing him breathe. Your hand is buried in his hair, lightly scratching his scalp. His eyes are drooping by the second.

“Hi, Spider-man.”

“Hi,” Peter chuckles breathily. He leans in closer to brush his nose against yours. You haven’t kissed him, not yet – you’re playing a game with yourself, a kind of tightrope to see who will close the gap first as if this is the first time. You can feel his pulse from the way your fingers press against the base of his throat.

It’s funny, how broad and large his arms are when he’s daisy-soft for you most of the time. You think he could break you. You wonder if he would if you just asked.

The soft, doo-wop harmonies of Ariel Pink’s “Baby” play over your laptop speakers, a perfect prelude. He looks at you with wide eyes when you say his name and you kiss him dizzily. There’s nothing rough about it, except maybe the way in which he’s gripping your thighs under your skirt. 

Peter exhales against your mouth, raises his hands from your thighs to cup your jaw. He’s gentler than he’s ever been and it makes the pit in your stomach ache a little bit because of how much you’re restraining yourself from just taking him right then and there. 

He smells like fresh laundry and you, and his hair is as soft as his sheets. You need him closer (as if that’s even possible), so you nip him in the bottom lip playfully to mark your journey on the length of his sharp jaw. He goes slack in your arms, moaning softly at the feeling of your teeth on his throat. 

“Um, should we go h-home?” he mewls.

“Can’t wait that long.”

“But someone could–”

“Shh,” you kiss him again to shut him up, this time with your hands tracing circles against his abdomen. 

“Y/N,” he whines. “Could get in trouble.”

“But you’re already all worked up, so why not?”

“Fucking senses,” he grumbles.

“Hmm?” You look at him curiously and he’s pouty underneath all the redness. Something about fucking in a darkroom is suddenly appealing to you.

“You know my senses go haywire around you, right?”

“Thanks for stroking my ego,” you grin. “Now if I could just stroke something else…”

He groans when you palm him over his jeans and he needs friction so badly that he presses right into your body. You’re pushed further until your back is against the wall and his body is cowering over yours. 

“Fuck it,” he huffs. You’re hazy as he forces his tongue into your mouth while his hands work on slipping your underwear down to your knees. You feel hot under his touch. It’s satisfying for him to feel the wet slick of your cunt with his fingers, then he coaxes them inside and your gasp is delicate, girlish. 

You whimper his name with such frenzied urgency that Peter feels like his cock is fucking aching. You gasp when the pad of his finger hooks onto your g-spot. When you look back at him, his mouth is slack, widening the same time as yours does when you buck your hips deliciously against his hand.

You try to ground yourself with an arm outstretched, but you end up accidentally knocking over a few film canisters.

“Shit!”

“They’re empty, s’okay,” he shushes you. He grins when he sees your body shake as you struggle to respond. Instead, you’re mindless, eyes screwed shut as his thumb rubs against your clit.

“Wait–”

His pace gets interrupted only slightly when he takes his attention towards the door, to which he shoots a web to latch onto the doorknob.

“Just in case,” he mumbles. You giggle into his mouth, followed by a moan, which makes him nearly ecstatic to witness.

You’re thoughtless, shaking slightly under the pressure of his hands doing all the work to ignite fires in your stomach. He’s desperate in the way he wants to please you, mouth wet against your collarbone whining just as much as you are. The expansive terrain of how much he adores you – he says it with his hands.

In tandem with your needy biting, he presses himself into your thighs and you marvel at how hard he is against you. You’re making a mess of him while he makes a mess of you, and within seconds, his fingers are able to make you writhe until you’re rendered breathless. The feverish want continues in a blind attempt of fiddling with the zipper of his jeans.

“Want you to fuck me,” you slur through your high. His eyes look black in this lighting. His mind is slipping like warm honey, and when he’s about to bend down to the ground, you stop him.

“What’re you doing?”

“Wanna eat you out.”

“You just made me cum,” you chuckle. “I want you inside me. Now.”

He nods. Peter often looks at you like he’s drunk when you’re in front of him like this, and if it weren’t for the environment you were both in right now, you’d see that his face is so flush with crimson cheeks. He nods dopily and his jeans and boxers sink down to reveal his aching cock. 

He moans through parted lips as he enters you, your body fitting around him snugly. With hands pressed on the back of your thighs, he pulls you slightly closer to him, then holds you in place by the hips as he groans like a wounded thing. It feels exciting, like dancing around a knife’s edge, like riding on the highway with your head out the window.

Peter’s slow with his pace as if savoring every feeling. He gradually fills every part of you, drowning out your senses as you sit there with all mercy to him. An encouraging tug on the back of his head and teeth on his neck make him feral once more, and so he ruts into your a bit faster just the way you like it.

The tiniest whimpers escape your parted lips as he holds you with an iron grip. Nose buried into your shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your belly until the skin is taut, warm mouth tickling the dip of your collarbone. The roll of his hips picks up its usual rhythm.

“F-fuck,” Peter grunts. He mutters rambly notes of affection as he thrusts into you, most of which are unintelligible, followed along with expletives and your name over and over. 

To your surprise, he pulls you a bit more roughly, has your back sinking down the wall and your ass against the corner of the counter as he hooks your legs over his shoulders. The deeper access makes your eyes roll to the back of your head like a girl possessed. You’re practically putty in his hands and you think for a fleeting second that he’s had superhuman strength the entire time you’ve known him. You’d laugh about the absurdness of it all if you weren’t so distracted by the way his cock inside you makes your stomach cinch tightly over something about to burst.

He’s more frantic now as he grips your waist, bending your body slightly further just so he can lean down and kiss you sloppily. He fucks you with gritted teeth, groaning at the feeling of you pulling his brown locks. Your whole body shakes under the weight of the hero.

Peter softens his grip on you, fucks into you while holding you upright so that your back doesn’t ache from the awkward position. Your nails scrape across the skin of his back under his t-shirt. 

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur suddenly, and within his throes of passion, he looks at you again with that puppy dog look.

“You’re prettier,” he exhales with a smile, returning your compliment with a kiss that’s more passionate. He swallows down your whimpers and the mumble of his name, and the sound of your muffled voice against his mouth brings him closer, making his cock twitch inside you. 

“Please, please, please…”

“F-fuck… shit,” Peter groans. “Oh.”

The tension in Peter’s stomach releases. You’re holding his jaw as it happens, lips on his with fervent passion as he nearly chokes on his moans when he cums inside of you. You cradle him until he slows to a stop. When he parts from your mouth, he exhales heavily, eyes blinking in a daze as if he’d just woken up.

“Was that– fuck, was that too early?” he gasps in between heavy breaths.

“I wasn’t keeping time,” you tease. 

“Do you want me to, you know–”

“You were perfect, Peter,” you interrupt. Hopping off the counter, you adjust your wrinkled clothing and smooth down your skirt. Peter grins at you like he knows something you don’t. 

“What?”

“I think fucking in the photo lab might’ve been one of your best ideas.”

If it weren’t for your snarky attitude, Peter would’ve taken advantage of the fact that you’re usually always insatiable, but since this was not one of those times, he was currently in his apartment making your favorite quesadilla. He figures that perhaps round two can come later.

“Hey, dumbass.”

Peter looks up to see you standing at the other side of the kitchen island with a raised eyebrow but an amused smile. You gesture towards the stove.

“Please don’t fuck up my quesadilla.”

“Oh! Shit,” Peter mumbles. He goes back to the actual cooking part of the evening while you sit back and watch him like a cat with sharp eyes, idly cradling a glass of wine.

“What’s got you all distracted?”

“Literally the sex we had today.” 

The admittance causes you to laugh. It’s been long enough for Peter to not be so bashful around you, but you still never let hear the end of it when he’s especially distracted by thoughts of you. It didn’t help that you were clad in an oversized t-shirt of his and shorts that were barely visible.

“Is it cool if I invite MJ over?”

“I don’t know if I have enough tortillas,” Peter pouts. 

“She’ll live,” you shrug.

Peter takes an absurdly long time to make quesadillas, it seems. You tease him for it, but he insists that things that are made from love take a lot of time. Your stomach is still growling despite his sweetness, however, so you decide to eat the red peppers on the counter as he chops them.

You know you’re being a little childish, turning up the music on the speaker and dancing around the kitchen in circles like a kid begging for attention. Your body envelops Peter from the back as you sway with arms around him.

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Petey,” you mock. 

You ignore his silent requests for peace, twirling around once more as the merlot sloshing around in your glass seems to egg you on further. Your lips are a shade darker, slightly mauve from the wine. You blink once, then twice, as you lean on the counter, shamelessly examining Peter’s arms as he cuts away at the produce. Huh, even the back of his head is pretty.

“You’re not drunk, already, are you?”

“Who, me? Never.”

You’d only forgone alcohol for perhaps two days maximum, which makes Peter turn around to snatch the glass from your hands. You watch with a pout as he downs most of it, leaving a convenient final sip for you. Luckily, you haven’t gone through half the bottle yet.

Smugness paints his features with whiskey-brown eyes shining from the trick of the light, and although you know that you’re barely tipsy, you want to attack Peter Parker in the desperate, horny way, lips and teeth and all. And then your stomach growls again. 

“If I was a superhero, what kind of powers do you think I’d have?” 

“Index finger doubles as a lighter.”

“Not just fire powers?”

“Nope. Just that. Probably lasers from your eyes, too.”

Before you’re able to protest, Peter hands you a plate with two quesadillas and a side of pice de gallo.

“God, I love my wife.”

Peter scoffs, rolling his eyes as he feigns annoyance. He teases you by taking the wine bottle in his hands right when you’re about to reach for it. A cocky smile. Your competitive streak comes out when you aim for it again, though his reflexes are faster than yours, which was (frustratingly) a given.

You pretend to bite his finger, which lands Peter back to his previous mindset once your mouth closes in. You shoot him a devilish glare.

“Eat your damn quesadilla, not me.”

“Right. You’re dessert,” you nod. Peter’s snicker pauses when he hears the sound of jangling metals outside the front door.

A familiar head of hair is seen first, a golden-brown that sways just above a set of ocean blue eyes which, at the moment, were staring right at you as if you were a ghost. You can tell from his parted lips that he was about to say something but had stopped himself once he noticed your immediate presence.

“Hey, man,” Peter nods to Harry, attempting a casual demeanor so that the situation can diffuse before it even begins.

“Hi,” Harry rasps, but his gaze is nowhere near Peter. Instead, it’s on you for a few beats, his eyes now flitting between the two of you and your close proximity. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you I was coming back a day early.”

You realize you don’t feel much of anything other than awkward. You’d been avoiding Harry for obvious reasons. One would imagine you would feel angry upon his arrival, but seeing him in front of you at this very moment only made you pity him. 

You notice a bouquet of tulips wrapped in cardboard behind his arm, poking out of his open bag slung over his shoulder. He walks in visibly disheveled and drops his bags on the couch. Holding out the bouquet of tulips, he extends his arm to you.

“You’re not proposing, are you?”

Peter bursts into laughter. You feign panic when you raise your eyes at him and he mumbles an apology in between chuckles.

“No, these are I’m Sorry flowers. Because I saw them on the street and I know you like them,” he sighs.

“Thanks,” you narrow your eyes at him, though you’re smiling to his relief. You set the bouquet next to your empty plate. “Now Venmo me fifty dollars.”

“I’ve got something better, actually.”

“Madame,” chimes in a new voice from across the room. As if on cue, a wild-haired Michelle carrying a brown bag of liquor, enters the apartment.

You’re so thankful for MJ’s presence that you would’ve probably gotten up and kissed her on the mouth. You pick up the bouquet of flowers and walk over to hug and greet her with ardent sweetness. 

“Monsieur!” you exclaim in your worst French accent. You nudge the front of her body with the bouquet. “For you.”

“Pour moi?” MJ wrinkles her nose. “Is this our first date?”

“It can be if we kick out these losers,” you shrug. You smirk at Peter, then Harry, who holds your gaze with an incredulous expression.

“Did you just–”

You cut him off. “Get your girlfriend flowers? Yes.”

“Wow, Y/N’s the best boyfriend ever,” MJ chuckles, swinging an arm over your shoulder as she leans into you. “And what have you done, Osborn?”

His mouth is ajar until he curves his lips into a slight smile as Peter snickers behind him. “I am actually speechless right now,” he nods.

“Osborn, you were talking about something,” you remind him.

“Huh? Oh. I was saying, since you know, you love free alcohol, you’d come to this gala tomorrow night. OsCorp is sponsoring it and my dad just told me I could bring whoever. I thought all of us could go.”

“You’re telling us the day before?” Peter quips.

“Yeah, you think I own a pair of heels?” MJ adds with crossed arms.

Peter shrugs. “You can consult that with Y/N and Betty. And Pete can borrow one of my suits or something.”

“Damn,” you sigh. “I really can’t reject unlimited champagne.”

Luckily, you feel at peace, which isn’t because you decided to forgive Harry just because he’d invited you to a fancy gala, but because you realize you haven’t been in the presence of your friends in a little bit. You pour yourself another glass as you plop on the couch with everyone else. 

It’s very fast how the night ends in the blink of an eye, how quickly your few glasses of wine turned to Peter officially hiding the rest of the stash from you. You were now asleep on his lap as Peter’s droopy eyes were blinking up at the blue light of his TV. 

MJ and Harry had gone to bed just an hour before. Yawning, Peter adjusts himself as gently as possible so as not to wake you. Your face looks serene. 

Peter’s phone buzzes to the left of him.

felicia [11:23 pm]

i was gonna play thief tomorrow but it looks like i’m gonna have to play cop.

you around for backup?

vi. punching bag ← / → vii. (you know i’d leave) any party for you

tags: @venomsilk @silkholland @g3org1al33 @nocturnalms @edgycatx @sleepingdancer @bluebearxy @marshmellowyellow @hoe-4-sebstan @evanpetersisreallyhot @ronweasleyslut @takenbyheartstrings @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @sinisterspidey @she-wintersoldat @freeshavocadoooo @moonyslantsov @lowkey-holland @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @runawaywithmyghost @mischeifparker @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @letssee2468 @arlo-sanders @adayasgeorgia @spookiespoons @iloveboobs3000 @vigilanteswife @theglitterymess @babyfezco @4ndreaaa @agustdee @trvlllx @mayal0pez @yourlocalomlette @wisdomcrys @sapphosdilemma @juliatpwk @starksview @noemiix1 @lmnp89 @marohares @pure-a-tea @allazay101 @pixiehollands @babyspiders @ellesalazar @honeyspidey @dark-night-sky-99 @spideyspeaches @peterbtwparker @wh0re4zaynmalik @liltimmyst @widowlogy @weak-aesthetic @peterparkerh0le @elishi03 @dontmindmeboo @hollandsangel @justapurrcat @bamboozledflamplant @peterspqrker @heavenlymama @sunshinehollandd @moonlight419 @mjsholland @jallerentrags @dirtydirtygoner @beyond-the-ashes @nopeisalwaystheanswer @lazari154 @belovedholland @lovesick-and-wonderlust @elvenfairy @hearts4spidey @zparr102 @renaroo123 @ratnisseverdeen4 @emmamarshmellow @hh-45 @kbakery @rottenstyx @imobsessedzs @myheartonthemove @softyutae 

[landothemuppet]

Hi dear, hope you're having a great day/night (whatever time zone you're in). How would you feel about something angsty buy ending in fluff with Harry Holland and fem reader? Maybe something like reader mishearing Harry saying she's clingy and needy and distancing herself from him? And then fluff at the end? Thank you ❤️

Listen carefully, until the end, this time

word count: 1.4K

pairing; harry holland x reader

waring: angst, coarse language, low mental health

a/n: am i really disturbed because i really like to write this! Harry, my love, my munchkin, poor baby. This isn't proofread, so i'm sorry if this contains mistakes. In addition, I would really like to draw attention to: if anyone has mental health issues, or you feel depressed or anything, feel free to talk to someone about it or check out the apps that theBrotherstrust supports. Harry and Tom talk much better about it than I do, but I really suggest you take a look at the apps.

Misunderstanding

/ˌmɪsʌndəˈstandɪŋ/

noun

a failure to understand something correctly. 

synonyms: misinterpretation, misapprehension 

A simple word that brought you to the most distressing feeling of rejection you have ever felt. Curled up against the wall of your room, lying on the bed, with your head on your knees, you were sobbing while trying the worst possible scenarios in this situation.

Your work has taken a lot of energy these days, so you were looking for comfort anywhere you could find it. You felt that your mental health was dropping drastically and you clung to the few people who could give you the attention you deserved. Or that you thought you deserved. Yet it seemed that your boyfriend was establishing a distance between you that was gnawing at your insides. His face was cold, his thoughts often vague when you spoke to him. You felt the annoyance and gradually, a ditch opened. 

Harry was, however, the most thoughtful kind of boyfriend, sending you flowers for your birthday, in anticipation of the party he would organize for you. Inviting you to the restaurant simply for the pleasure of going out... a simple walk would put balm in your heart both. But this was different. 

The opportunity had presented itself for your circle of friends to meet for dinner at Harrison and his girlfriend’s. And you had to admit that, despite your mental health inflicting you a social anguish, you were relieved to be able for a moment, to enjoy an evening in all normality. 

Dating Harry Holland involved dating a number of people whose popularity was overwhelming. He himself drew a lot of eyes. Dating Harry Holland meant accepting that your life would be scrutinized in every detail and pinned on the shelf of the web. Thus, photos of you, whose existence you had totally forgotten, were found scattered on the internet, aggreminted by a multitude of comments ranging from simple: "who is she ?!?" to "look at me this bitch, she doesn’t deserve it". Harry Holland was put on a pedestal for many individuals, mainly female, and who had a particular look at your boyfriend’s brother: Tom. 

That’s why you decided to distance yourself from social media, like Tom did and Harry did. It was your boyfriend who had strongly advised you after having many times comforted you following untimely attacks by the Holland fan community. Your friends had at first believed that he was meticulously distancing you from them but you had argued so that they would learn the real reason: people could be obnoxious on the internet, masked by the smoke screen that was anonymity. 

So it was obvious that a touch of normalcy would do you great good. Meeting your loved ones and exchanging platitudes with them would raise your spirits where your Harry was unable to do so now. 

But you didn’t think that your need for attention would be as painful for your boyfriend. And as you were getting ready to bring him a new beer, while he was talking on the patio with Tom, you overheard a conversation that tore your heart out.

"You don’t understand, Tom. No matter what I do, she’s sticky and boring. I don’t know what to do."

There was a little pause during which you held your breath. 

"Try to distance yourself from all this, Baz. It can’t be that bad."

"That’s what I’m already doing, Tom. You don’t understand, I want to throw it all away. It breaks my balls and I’m getting sick of it." 

You didn’t wait a second longer to swallow your tears. You knew that Harry’s colorful vocabulary had always been loaded, he generally did not mince words. But hearing them in a conversation where you were the subject was the most heart-wrenching thing you’ve ever experienced. You shook Tuwaine in the way of your running, he stopped you the minute he heard your voice crack in your painful excuse to leave, sniffing shamefully.

"Hey.. Hey, what’s going on." he asked, worried. That man was a real sweetheart

"I.. I have to go, I’m not feeling very well."

"You want me to go get Harry.. I think he -.."

"No, no, please, Tuwaine. I’m just gonna go. I don’t really feel right now. I’m just gonna go home. Nice to see you."

Without delay, you grabbed your bag with haste and your coat before slamming the door, the sound causing the start of several guests. 

And so you found yourself alone, pouring your anguish into the darkness of your room; shared with your boyfriend, the silence confronting your sobs and inverted. You never thought Harry could have such a picture of you. You never thought your need for attention was so exhausting to your boyfriend. But you were there, dwelling on his words indefinitely in your mind. Torturing yourself with the possibility of an inevitable break up.

Steps filled the appearance, agonizing, dying. They seemed to be languishing slowly, as if Harry was enjoying being able to drag your breakup. The squeaking of the door sounded like the doom of your relationship: it was over and you knew it. 

"babe? omg what are you doing here. Is everything alright?"

Your sobs redoubled as you drew the rage of your messy feelings. You raised your eyes to the mass of curly auburn.With a strength that you were not sure you could draw from yourself, your body overwhelmed by sadness, you stood up, your eyes still overflowing with tears.

"You could have just told me, Harry. We’re adults."

"Tell you what? Y/N, what are you talking about?"

With a raw gesture you swept your tears from your face filled with sadness. 

"I really thought that..."

"You thought what?" he pressed you

"That you loved me. I didn’t think I was such a burden. I thought you could understand, you who advocate good mental health."

Harry stretched out for a moment, stung in your speech. He was lost but even more so since you accused him of not understanding you. Even more so when you confide in him that you felt, or rather that he made you feel, like a burden to him.

"What are you talking about?"

"From your conversation with Tom" you almost screamed, your voice broken by your sobs. "I’m so boring and sticky, you want to blow it all away. I’m the girlfriend so disturbing I’m obviously busting your balls." You confessed, using his own words.

Your boyfriend’s face bleached, struck by the realization before the color of his chocolate eyes, darkened by your argument, warmed up and lit up a little more. He approached you gently, placing a hand on one of your arms in a comforting way as you stood on guard.

"My love, baby... I was talking about the character of Malicia...in my script with Tom" 

You fell skinny, but fearful according to your - perhaps- former boyfriend. You knew that Harry and his brother continued to work on several scenarios, despite Tom’s busy schedule with his many film projects. You had been so caught up in your own problems that you didn’t realize your boyfriend was having trouble with his plans. You didn’t even seem to know that he had resumed writing.

"Your.. script?"

"Yes.. My female character is not endearing enough and I feel like she’s boring and terribly energy-consuming. I don’t know how I modified it to make it better, which is why I told Tom. I feel like it’s a reflection of my mental health right now. My mental health, not yours, baby. You thought I was...talking about you?" He shriveled but was really concerned about your sadness.

"Sure. You seemed so distant lately. And I tried in vain to spend time with you."

A slight smile came over his face before his arms surrounded you and hugged you. His lips came to kiss your forehead and Harry looked for your gaze, placing a finger under your chin so that your eyes would meet his.

"Listen carefully, until the end, this time." He smiled slightly, maliciously but profoundly tender. "I love you. I love you more than anything and you are absolutely not a burden to me. You know that I care about you and that when you are in trouble, you can tell me. I’ll be there. And I’m sorry if my behavior led you to think I didn’t care about you anymore. I love you"

Your sobs redoubled, a sudden relief from the anguish you had felt in the last few days, the last few hours. Your arms held Harry tighter against you as he sprinkled your hair with comforting kisses. You were releasing the pressure, relieved and happy to have such a perfect boyfriend.

"I love you," he said again and you couldn’t help but whisper "me too" very emotionally. 

[sparklingsin]

peter parker x fem!stark!reader - college smau - PART I

masterlist // intro

i. crying wolf

-------------------------------next day------------------------------

a/n: thank you to everyone who reblogged and was genuinely excited for the smau, I love y'all! I'm just getting the hang of making an smau since this is my first, so sorry if it is rough at first. all feedback is welcome, I hope this lives up to your expectations <3

PSA: if you consistently interact (comment/send an ask/reblog) you get tagged for updates, otherwise you don’t :p

[tomdutch]

back to back | tsh

synopsis ⇢ your and your best friend’s treehouse is your sanctuary. even though you’re only there in the summer (which means you only see tom every summer), it’s been your safe space for your entire life. after a certain surgery on a certain someone’s mole, you find your heart beats a little louder in his presence. now, seven years later, you’re back in the treehouse, and tom still makes your heart pound. even when you don’t want him to.

↳ childhood friends to lovers, actor!tom

genre ⇢ fluff & very light angst

word count ⇢ 5.7k

note ⇢ this is a collaboration with the lovely lia @justapurrcat​ for a sleepover hosted by @tshwritersnet​ !! we split it up in half so the deliciously longing first scene is all hers :’) our prompts were “2. tracing a finger across your lover’s scar” + “47. complimenting your best friend over small things, that realistically only someone who’s in love with that person would notice.” i had such a fun and frustrating time breaking my writer’s block with this, so much thanks to lia for partnering up with me 🥺

Nothing beats a first day of holiday, you thought to yourself, closing your eyes and spreading your arms, taking a deep breath of fresh air, ready to leave behind the long ten months that had brought to this.

You loved the countryside, and most importantly, you loved that place: it was a wonderful scenario where you could be free to fully experience your 2005 Pride and Prejudice fantasy. Not that you were particularly fond of walking per se, but hey, the great lengths a young dreamy girl would be willing to go just to savour the feeling of a Lizzie Bennet moment, and in the end, it was more than worth it.

The breathtaking views and jaw-dropping landscapes, the wind causing the skirt of your colourful dresses – promptly worn for the occasion – to float dramatically around your legs, making you feel one with the pretty flowers that sometimes you would pick to press them between the pages of your favourite books. Beautiful summer memories you would cherish jealousy for the rest of the year, waiting to get back there to form new, and even more beautiful ones.

But the best part of all that was that you got to enjoy those amazing things with Tom, who would follow you everywhere you’d go, maybe a bit confused, but still amused and curious to discover the beauty that brought you so much joy. And eager to witness said joy shine in your eyes and enlarge your smile.

Your holiday houses happened to be next to each other, and they even had a shared backyard. It had always been like that, ever since you could remember. For you, summer was that house and the Hollands being your neighbours, and you wouldn’t have changed it for the World. And when people happened to ask you why you considered a guy you would only see during that time of the year to be not only your best friend, but the best friend you could’ve asked for, you would just tell them that he was. Simple as that.

You liked to think that it was Fate’s doing and you would often joke with Tom about that, with him consequently teasing you and telling you that you read too many books, the fond look in his eyes betraying how much he liked that idea.

Finally, the treehouse came into view, your heart skipping a beat making you realise how much you had missed it. The two of you had found it by pure chance during one of your many adventures and it had become your private hideaway, to the point where not even his brothers knew about it.

The rope had been dropped. It was one of your many signals, indicating that Tom was already up there, waiting for you. You wouldn’t actually use it, opting for the more practical ladder – and also because Bridge to Terabithia had traumatised you enough.

“Tom?”, you called, but didn’t think much of it when silence was the only response you received.

You climbed up, taking a moment to admire the view once you’d got to the top, then fixed your skirt and moved the rudimentary curtain serving as a door… only for your huge smile to drop at the soul-shattering sight of your best friend curled up in a corner, right next to the Back to Back spot, a part of the wall filled with the carvings of your height marks.

He looked so small, so fragile, with his face hidden as he held his knees to his chest, and there was no need for a sixth sense to tell that there was something wrong.

Your heart sank and you were about to run up to him when you suddenly remembered what he had told you: that right before the holidays, he would get the mole on his chin removed. He’d sounded so excited on the phone, rambling about how this would be a great boost for his acting career and how he couldn’t wait to ‘get that fucking thing off his face’.

The guy you were looking at now, though, didn’t seem to have a single ounce of that excitement left in his body… and it made worry buzz in your chest.

You approached him slowly, as if the sound of your footsteps on the misplaced beams could potentially scare him. “Hey…”

“Go away”, Tom muttered, shrinking even more on himself, trying to appear smaller than he already was. You didn’t think it was possible, but he managed to do it.

“Oh, quit it, you drama queen”, you scoffed softly. “It can’t be that bad.”

“I’m serious”, he stood his ground, shaking his head, his untidy curls bouncing with the motion. “I’m doing this for your own safety”, he whined. “Please, leave me alone.”

Bringing a hand to your chest in the most theatrical way, you gasped audibly. “Are you really kicking me out? Out of our own house? The house of our kids?”

“We don’t have kids”, Tom shot back, far too lost in his self-loathing spiral to find any amusement in one of your many inside jokes. “No one will ever want to have kids with me.”

You rolled your eyes at the exaggeration, knowing you had no one but yourself to blame for being friends – no, best friends – with someone who had made being dramatic and extra into his profession. “Thank God!”, you smirked. “You alone are enough work.”

In a normal situation, Tom would’ve glared at you – and maybe even pinched your sides, taking advantage of your ticklishness, the way he always liked to do. But this wasn’t a normal situation, and Tom remained exactly as he was, his forehead still stubbornly glued to his knees. “I hate you.”

“Sure you do”, you hummed, the grin not abandoning your lips. “Come on…”, you made another attempt, kneeling in front of him. “We haven’t seen each other in so long… let me see your face.”

“It’s a stupid face”, he countered.

“And I’ve missed it”, you stated, gently poking his head, a gesture that couldn’t resist becoming a caress, which was only the first of many others, on that soft chocolate mess. “Every stupid inch of it.”

Tom relaxed into your touch as your nimble fingers ran through his locks, your nails almost imperceptibly scraping his scalp. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you”, he warned you with a sigh, then slowly proceeded to raise his head.

“There…”, you cooed, nodding encouragingly, letting go of his hair. “I’m sure it’s–oh, my God!” The sentence ended in a loud yelp, your eyes widening and your jaw dropping to the floor.

You were expecting to see a tiny fresh scar on his chin, but you definitely weren’t prepared for the one on the bridge of his nose: a small, more recent and probably just formed scab, its red matching the one of his puffy, glassy puppy eyes.

“Are you okay?”, you asked after a while, a million other questions and possible hypotheses – some tragic, some incredibly silly and absurd – clouding your brain.

“I’m fine”, Tom pouted. “My pride isn’t. But I’m fine.”

Though you still had no clue about what had happened, he seemed okay as you took him in, silently, yet anxiously scanning every part of him, searching for any out of place detail you could come up with. It was something. Not much, but something nonetheless. If anything, it eased your nerves a bit.

“What have you done this time?”, you inquired, moving to sit next to him, your back resting against the wall and your shoulder brushing against his.

“Ask Sam”, he revealed bitterly through gritted teeth, glaring at an undefined spot, like his brother was actually there with you. “That bloody sore loser.”

“I thought you were the one with the short fuse of the family”, you tried to crack a joke, even daring to nudge his elbow.

“Oh, darling”, Tom turned to look at you, a wickedly proud glint shining in his eyes. Despite his sour mood and the tears streaking his face, he wasn’t able to resist the temptation. “I can assure you I don’t have the shortest one, trust me”, he told you with such a smooth tone it made the coarse voice, usually caused by crying, sound like an obsolete myth.

Did he just…? No. No, he hasn’t.

It took you a while to fully process his sentence, coming to terms with the fact that yes, he had, and in the meantime you just gaped at him, motionless as a statue and at complete loss for words. The kinda loss for words a friend – no, a best friend – definitely shouldn’t cause in another best friend.

You held your breath, feeling something contract in your belly, while hundreds of little chills pervaded your being, the unusual tingling spreading like wildfire under the surface of your skin. Why the Hell was your body acting so weirdly? Why the Hell were you being so weird?

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to that kind of joke. They were business as usual, between you two, since Tom was one of the cheekiest people you knew. If you had to tell the whole truth, that one wasn’t even on the top-ten of his most inspired creations.

And yet now, all of a sudden, there you were staring at your friend with the unflattering verve and expression of a dead fish.

The lack of a witty remark didn’t go unnoticed by Tom, who returned your gaze with equal confusion. Only, in his case, it was mixed with a tinge of worry. “Huh… y/n?”, he called, tilting his head to the side, transitioning from cheeky little shit to cute harmless puppy in less than a second, as only he could do. “Are you still here with me?”

“Mh?”, you played dumb, blinking repeatedly and rushing to dismiss those weird thoughts and feelings, shoving them in the back of your mind, where you were positive they would no longer bother you. “Yeah, why?”

“Nothing”, he mumbled, eyeing you suspiciously for a few seconds, like he knew you were hiding something from him. “You just looked zoned out”, he then added, giving up on his search.

You didn’t say anything, and a comfortable silence descended upon you, all the turmoil that had shaken you gradually fading to nothing… at least until Tom’s face flushed the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets, as if he’d just remembered something that made it impossible for him to relax.

“God, stop staring at me!”, he cried out, covering his face once again, his head sinking between his shoulders as he assumed his previous position.

“Tom…” You reached out for him, but he pulled away. “Tommy”, you pleaded, hoping it would soothe him. He hated it when people called him that, but when it came to you, he didn’t seem to mind that much. In fact, he didn’t seem to mind at all.  “Come here.”

“No”, he croaked through muffled sobs. “Please, don’t”, he begged when you gingerly placed your hand on his shoulder. “I’m hideous, y/n”, he whimpered, trembling like a leaf. “I’m supposed to work with this face. This face! Mom was right, I should’ve given up and become a carpenter”, he rambled in defeat.

“It’s not like that’s gonna prevent you from getting other scars…”, you tried to reason with him, rubbing his back gently, but the only result you obtained was that he sobbed even harder.

“Great, I’ll be a monster forever.”

Tom was so mad at himself and his stupid choices that he would’ve bashed his own head against the wall. He regretted even taking that surgery into consideration, just like he regretted getting mad at Sam and hitting him over the head with his golf club. Looking at it now, his younger brother had no faults. Yeah, he was and remained a poor player and a sore loser, but that was not the point.

The point was that it had all been Tom’s fault, and now he would have to live with the consequences of his actions. His own career was at risk, his future was uncertain. How could people ever bear to look at his face again? How could you ever bear to look at his face again?

Though he couldn’t explain why, that was the absolute worst thing for him.

“You do know scars fade, right?”

“Not the ones in my soul”, he objected.

You clicked your tongue in fake-annoyance. “That was unnecessarily dramatic. Even for you”, you complained, but not even that got a reaction out of him. “Hey, I was joking”, you clarified, afraid you might have pushed it too far. Again, your words collided with a barrier of silence. “Tommy… look at me”, you said in a whisper. “Come on, look at me.”

You carefully wrapped your fingers around his wrists, but didn’t pull, waiting for him to be comfortable enough to show you his face. You didn’t want to force him, it was only your silent way of comforting him, of telling him that he didn’t have to hide from you. Not now, not ever.

Over the years, the two of you had developed a kind of non-verbal communication that was yours and yours alone, a personal language that lived on gestures, looks and touches, a language that didn’t suffer from the limitations that afflicted your mere words. Sometimes you would talk non-stop for hours, until your throat would dry up, the sunrays illuminating those peaceful, warm, endless summer days slowly dying out, along with your voices. While some other times you would simply keep quiet, letting your hands and eyes do all the talking. Something that would’ve made anyone else nervous or embarrassed. Not you though. There was no way in the World you could ever make each other nervous.

And finally, finally, your best friend lowered his hands to look at you, the sadness in his eyes piercing through your heart like a well-sharpened dagger. But you couldn’t allow yourself to let it break you. Tom needed you, and he needed you to be strong.

So you grabbed both his shoulders and guided him to turn his torso towards you. Then, you cupped his cheeks, and for a moment you were tempted to lean your forehead against his, like it was normal. Like it was something best friends do on a daily basis.

“I don’t see anything terrible”, you smiled warmly, letting your thumbs gather the little pearls of tears staining his cheeks.

“B-but–”

“They’re just scars, Tommy”, you cut him off with a reassuring tone. “And I told you. They will fade. You’ll forget about them in no time”, you added to reinforce the concept. “Even better, they will make you look tough.”

“Shut up.” With a sniff, Tom rolled his eyes at you, trying to act like he was annoyed by what you’d just told him, but the pleased smirk fighting its way to reach his lips and the spark that animated his gaze betrayed him, telling an entirely different story.

“I mean it”, you insisted, noticing that you were on the right track. “Think of it: a man with a bunch of scars and each one of them carries a mystery with them.”

Just as you were painting that image for him – while also having no trouble picturing it for yourself – you gingerly ran your thumb over the bridge of his crooked nose and on his now bare chin. You would never admit it to a living soul, but deep down, you found yourself missing that mole. Tom hated it, but you had always found it adorable.

I wish I could’ve kissed it…

You did it without thinking, or maybe you did it because you were thinking of too many things all at once, the majority of them blooming in your brain like snowdrops coming out of their sleep under a snowy mantle of blessed ignorance.

“All the ladies will fall at your feet…”, you trailed off, entranced by a sight you had seen so many times you had literally learned it by heart, just like you would do with poems back when you were a kid, and your parents would shamelessly flaunt your ability to remember so many words when in reality you knew and understood less than half of them.

Throughout your whole life, you had always been convinced that Tom was an open book, that he had no secrets for you. How could he? He was your best friend, right?

So how was it possible that he, your best friend, the sight you had gotten so used to, looked like something you’d never seen before without having changed one bit? Could two little scars really have that much of an impact on you?

The imaginary verses you had memorised were still there, but now there was something mesmerising about them, something that had you dying to tell Tom all sorts of ridiculously cheesy and saccharine words, honey gushing from every letter. You wanted to see him blush, you wanted to be the reason behind his smile, you wanted to let him know that he had nothing to be ashamed of, that those scars were only a small part of the incredible masterpiece he was. A masterpiece you would never stop admiring, because even the pain he had gone through and the stupid things he had done made him him, a person that you loved to bits.

What the fuck is wrong with you, y/n?

You snapped out of it, finally coming to your senses. And once that golden aura had completely dissolved, allowing your vision to be clean and clear, you remembered where you were and what was going on.

And you realised that you were embarrassed. That having such thoughts about Tom was making you nervous.

That Tom was making you nervous.

The same Tom who still had your face in your hands and was staring at you with a lost expression that perfectly mirrored your own. And who made you gulp in cold sweat when his big brown eyes flickered to your mouth, his tongue licking his lips in a gesture you were sure was nothing but purely reactive.

However, you needed to do something about it. Now.

“… it will certainly help with your height if you don’t get any taller”, you scoffed, taking your hands off of him.

He frowned at you. “Shorty bitch”, he spat, wiping his cheeks and nose on the sleeve of his shirt, wincing imperceptibly because of the pain. “That was mean.”

“Says the guy who keeps using my shoulders as a support”, you replied.

“They’re comfortable”, Tom shrugged. With a chuckle, he punched your arm lightly and you released a breathy laugh of relief you didn’t know you were holding.

You chose not to question it. You chose not to question anything of what had just occurred, instead playing it down and trying to convince yourself that everything was back to normal.

“So, Miss Bennet, what are we doing today?”

It had to be.

It’s a warm June day when you’re reunited with your beloved treehouse after a long separation. Despite seven years of its isolation, its appearance remains mostly the same as you approach it, lilac dress swaying in the light bursts of wind cooling your skin every now and then. For a brief moment, while wading through the tall grass, you see a flash of light coming from one of its windows, and the breath hitches in your throat. In a second, it’s gone, and your gaze focuses on the notorious rope curled tightly against a branch.

Silly girl, one of the many voices in your head chimes out. That rope, like yourself, hasn’t felt a certain crooked-nosed boy’s touch in nearly a decade. Now, though, you suppose it’s more accurate to call him a man. He certainly earns the money and prestige necessary to deserve a mature term. If you could travel to the past and tell your eighteen-year-old self she wouldn’t be seeing her best friend for seven years, you’re sure she would’ve laughed hard enough to make the treehouse crumble. She would have never believed that the next time she’d be back at the treehouse would be a spontaneous vacation long after she graduates university.

As you approach the one place containing most of your youth’s cherished memories, your heart pangs in your chest as though it were an old drum. The last time you’d properly seen Tom was here, the summer of your eighteenth year, when his dreams of becoming a renowned actor were just learning to waddle. If you’re honest with yourself, you suppose you knew all along this would happen–Tom would succeed as an actor, because no one deserves it or wants it as much as him, and he would fly across the Earth to begin a new life of fame, glamour, riches, and millions of women prettier and more interesting than you. Even as you hugged him for the last time before he climbed down the ladder that stands before you now, a part of you knew that this was the finale of your friendship. 

Of your love.

Sure, you’ve caught glimpses of Tom every other year since your family to Kingston. The irony of them finally finding a home in your best friend’s hometown after the two of you platonically broke up is not lost on you. You can only hope they didn’t invite the Hollands to come along this year, too, even though the chances of Sony’s Poster Child finding the time to join are slim.

You’d almost even talked to him on the twins’ birthday two years ago, the only one you were able to attend in between work and studying for your master’s degree. He was standing there, holding a beer, hair styled to perfection and cheeks flushed like they always did when he’d sneak a pack up to the treehouse on those particularly hot summer nights. And your heart shattered. Of course, you weren’t under the delusional impression he’s been miserable for all those years without you, but the sight of him happy–ecstatic, really–surrounded by strangers to you… it broke you. So you left, trying to find some comfort in a feeble sense of revenge. You were the one who left him now… even though he didn’t even notice. 

Silly, silly girl.

The ladder creaks under your weight as you begin mounting up, coughing a little at the dust coating your adored house. Once you’re up there and move the curtain-door aside, it truly is like stepping into a time machine. Naturally, your eyes immediately seek out the back to back spot, the ink on it faded and cracking. It stands there, patiently waiting for the press of your and Tom’s shoulder against it as you measure your height. In another corner of the treehouse, a stack of books and comics sits, its pages crinkled from rainwater and dust. 

You take a few steps forward, fingers slowly coming up to brush over the numbers and letters on the back to back spot. 

Y/N 10 - 130 cm

Tom 10 - 126 cm

Y/N 13 - 152 cm

Tom 13 - 150 cm

At the highest point, thick, red block figures are written, underlined thrice. You recognise Tom’s loopy handwriting instantly, the words even more jagged than usual from time and the texture of the wood. 

Tom 18 - 173 cm !!!!!

A chuckle escapes you, fingertips over your head tracing the ink, and lose yourself in memories the same way you have been since coming back here. Somewhere between going fishing with Tom and his brothers and that fateful night after he removed his mole, you’re so caught up in your head that you don’t even hear the ladder squeaking or the curtain being moved aside. It’s only when a gasp sounds out behind you that you jump around, hand over your chest from the surprise.

Bathed by warm orange and yellow rays from the setting sun, Tom stands before you, honeyed eyes staring at you with as much shock as yours are. He looks the same and yet so different all at once. His messy bowl cut has been swapped for a clean-shaven half-part, kept neat by gel, and the old t-shirt and cargo shorts are exchanged for a pink Zara shirt and quality jeans. Instead of a toned, skinny boy barely an inch taller than you, Tom stands broad, biceps bulging against his sleeves and veins visible in his forearms. You’re too proud to say you might’ve seen the trailer for his latest film a few times and are thus very aware there are even more muscles underneath his shirt that were definitely not there seven years ago.

“Y/N,” he breathes out, and your name on his lips acts like an ice cube running down your spine. You shiver in mid-June as if it were winter. “Hi.” He finally says, advancing further into the treehouse.

Licking your lips, you look away from him and lean against the wall. “Hey, Tom.”

At your response, he fully enters the treehouse, saucer eyes flicking around it with nostalgic awe before he moves towards you, his arms hesitantly in the air. The way you look back at him and fold your limbs over your chest makes his drop to his sides, and you bite back a snort.

“I was going to say long time no see, but I’m a little worried you might push me out the window again.” He jokes, though you detect the smidge of fear in his voice. He’s not that good of an actor.

“Good.” You reply, and you turn your back to him, returning to your admiration of the back to back spot.

Tom sighs, the floorboards moaning under his weight when he moves until he’s right beside you. “You’re just mad you’re not the tall one anymore.”

If looks could kill.

You clench your jaw and avoid his gaze, not wanting to be petty yet not wanting to joke around with him like the past seven years never happened. A moment of unbearably awkward silence befalls you, with nothing but wind rustling leaves outside and the occasional bug to break the tension. As if that would be enough.

“So… I saw on your mum’s Instagram you graduated cum some loud.”

At the speed of a geriatric turtle, you turn your head and stare at him, jaw hanging open as though you’d just witnessed a plane crash. It happens without you being able to stop it, the first laugh tumbling from your chest, followed shortly by a high-pitched giggle. Before you know it, you’re leaning a hand against the wall as you howl with laughter, tears in your eyes for an entirely different reason now.

“Cum—cum—” You wheeze, shaking your head.

Beside you, Tom’s head tilts like a confused puppy, though he can’t control the smile that spreads on his thin lips at the sight of you guffawing. “Did I say it wrong?”

Sighing with your last laugh, you turn to him again, your face much warmer. “It’s summa cum laude.”

His mouth forms a perfect O as understanding settles, and his nose scrunches, drawing your attention to his delicate features. “Ghastly name. At least I got cum right.” The room falls silent against as your gaze traces over the dip of his chin and his now-thick neck, your mind obviously elsewhere, and Tom puts his hands in his pockets nervously. “What, no hilarious joke about me saying cum so many times?”

Like you’re in a trance, your feet move until you’re right in front of him, and you smile softly as you bring a thumb up to his chin. “Your scar’s gone.”

Confused, Tom’s eyebrows furrow and his palm covers your own over his face. Then, realisation sinks in, and he simpers, nodding ever so lightly. “Yeah, you were right after all. Scars fade.”

Time freezes as you take each other in after all of these years, eyes raking over features as his thumb slowly starts to caress your wrist, sending goosebumps across your skin. His freckles seem even brighter today, though maybe that’s because you haven’t seen them in years and he’s always wearing makeup, or the pictures are too blurry when you see content of him online. The urge to touch them is barely contained.

“You changed,” you murmur, nodding to the Rolex resting on his other wrist which definitely costs more than what you make in six months.

“I’m sorry.” He says, sincerity pooling in his eyes, and your heart cracks a little bit more.

You shake your head, letting go of his cheek, but his hand follows you, and soon both of his are holding your own, his grip tight yet gentle. “You don’t have to be, Tommy, you shouldn’t be. You’re happy now.” Whispering despite your isolation, you squeeze his palms and take a deep breath. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he answers, bringing one clasped hand up to his heart while the other finds its home in the nape of your neck. “I’m sorry for not trying harder, for not coming home more often, for not… for not being the friend you deserve.”

Biting your inner cheek, you shake your head again. “I don’t wanna talk about it. Not now,” you smile gingerly, taking another step back so your back is flushed against the wall, right next to the back to back spot, “when we’ve got more pressing matters to attend to.”

A grin cracks through Tom’s sullen expression, and he chuckles with faux exasperation. “Well, if we must avoid an awkward and painful conversation so we can measure our heights, then I guess I have to agree, don’t I?”

You pinch his side, masking your inner quivering at him being ridiculously muscular by letting out a teasing cheeky and gesturing to the spot. “Does the Tom Holland carry a special pen everywhere to sign autographs for his hordes of dedicated fans?” Tom’s eyes narrow at your jesting, but his ears redden and throat bobs, causing you to fall into another fit of laughter. “Oh my God, you so do!”

“I don’t,” he pouts, reaching for his back pocket, “it’s just a pen, it’s not for autographs.”

“Right, it’s for your diary,” you nod mockingly, squealing as he jabs you with the tip of his pen. “Wow, this ain’t no Bic. Fancy ass.”

Tom mumbles a snippy I hate you through his beam as you move to stand back-to-back, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed with certain feelings as his broad shoulders tower over you. With an arm over his head, Tom marks the top of your head and then his own, going over the lines a few times to make sure they’re clearly visible. When he’s done, you face each other again, matching grins on your faces, until it dawns on you as Tom writes your name next to your mark.

“You didn’t happen to bring a tape measure with you, did you?” You ask, cringing.

“No, I just gave out my last one to a fan at the airport.” He deadpans, snickering as you glare at him. “We don’t need one anyway, obviously I’m the superior one here.”

Scoffing, you snatch the pen from his hand out of pettiness. “Shut up, you’re still on the short side of average.”

“Not as short as you,” Tom singsongs, leaning an arm next to your head so he’s caged you in between him and the wall. This time, he doesn’t miss the way you gawk at his bicep and solid forearm. The bastard even flexes. “Besides, now that I’m taller than you, you’re the perfect height for kissing. Just have to bend my neck.”

As soon as the words leave him, Tom’s eyes widen with alarm like an intruder just pulled back the curtain on you, and yours mimic them immediately. The blush on his cheek is only more pronounced as the sunset paints your little treehouse in shades of red and yellow, and you’re sure your own flustered expression isn’t subtle, either.

“What—what did you—what do you mean?” You stutter out, throat dry as your best friend’s gaze flickers from yours to your lips.

“I was just… paying my dear friend a compliment.” He squeaks out, wincing at his own response. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it often.” You bite back, staring him in the eye with a challenge. “I’m always told I’m a great height for people to kiss, it’s actually on my CV. They don’t let just anyone graduate cum some loud, you know.”

Tom groans and throws his head back while you smirk, tugging on the hem of his shirt to further tease him. You bring him back close to you, so much so that his warm forehead meets yours, and his eyes open again. They’re still the prettiest shade of brown, still just as light and emotive. “You know what I meant,” he repeats, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s looking at your lips.

“No, you see, I’m just an ordinary person, I don’t understand you famous actors’ language—mhm.”

Despite your hatred of being cut off mid-sentence, Tom’s mouth on your own makes it the last thing you’re thinking about. In fact, all you can think about is Tom; the softness of his lips, the sharpness of his jaw under your finger as you trace it, the lemony, soapy scent of his cologne. You could chug it like a shot. With your back against the wall and Tom’s arms around your waist, chests pressed to each other, he kisses you with enough passion to make buildings crumble, much less an old, treasured treehouse.

When you break apart, his nose nudging your own and breathy giggles shared between you, you can’t help thinking about how you and Tom have been back-to-back your entire lives. All you needed to do to find this happiness in his arms is turn around.

[buckybarnesandmarvel]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞

pairings: tom holland x reader

warnings: mostly fluff :)

summary: Congrats on 600 followers bb 💜💜💜May I request a 💜 with you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me? and our beloved Tom? 🥺💜

or, in other words, you have a bad day and Tom is the only person you want

a/n: i loved writing this! thank you so much lia darling! ♡♡

************************************************************************

Today had been shit. There was no other way to describe it. You had lost track of time this morning and ended up being late to your meeting, resulting in your boss yelling at you in front of everyone, turning the rest of the day sour. You kept your head down and worked silently, but apparently, you couldn't even do that right, your dickhead of a boss pointing out all of your mistakes in your draft.

As you unlocked the door to your apartment, all you could think about was a nice shower, a hot takeout and your comfy covers. Placing you bag and keys on the counter, you headed straight for the bathroom. The hot water from the shower eased the tension in your shoulders and back as you let out your frustrations of the day though tears, the salty drops mixing with the water cascading down your body. You stayed there for a few more minutes before getting out, steam engulfing the bathroom.

You changed into sweats and one of Tom’s hoodies that he had left last time he came over and got comfortable under your duvet. Your food had arrived in the time you were in the shower and you ate while your laptop played a random movie from Netflix. But, you couldn’t focus on that at the moment. Your thoughts raced around and you wanted to get out. To go out. Anywhere. Just not here, where your mind was able to come up with a-million-and-one things to make your day worse.

You reached for your phone and called Tom, your boyfriend picking up just before the third ring.

“Hi, Tommy,” you breathed out.

“You okay, darling?” Tom’s voice was immediately laced with concern when he heard your tone.

“Yeah... no,” you sighed, “Shit day.”

“How can I help, love?”

“You don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?”

“Our place?”

“15 minutes?”

“I’ll be there in 10.”

************************************************************************

i haven’t written for tom in so long. feedback is appreciated :)

[borhapparker]

its totally cool if you’re not comfortable writing this, could you do Tom Holland x fem!reader where reader has struggled with depression and it got worse over quarantine, then one day tom (or one of the boys cuz they were all together during quarantine)finds her overdosed on pills? Could end where she survives or not

yes of course! i just wanted to make a note beforehand that i am no expert in this topic, and i am going to be as sensitive as possible when it comes to exploring this topic. all my knowledge and descriptions come from me watching "euphoria" and its overtly graphic scenes, so please take all my knowledge with a grain of salt.

that being said, i am here for everyone if they ever need anything. i am also struggling with depression and i can sympathize with those going through those rough patches and moments in life. i am here for you if anyone ever needs to talk or needs a friend for whatever reason. (: my inbox is always open!

ps. i will also be posting this piece of writing on my wattpad if anyone wants to share the love on there too (:

warnings: angst, some fluff, will make you squirm, mentions of death/suicide, descriptions of overdosing, lots of mentions of self harm

word count: 1.3k

There was something comforting in knowing you were finally alone. Away from the world, away from breathing, living humans. Away from it all. The bliss of hearing your own breathing, the beating of your heart as you laid down, arms spread out, much like that of a starfish.

But, through the bliss of being alone, there emerged your thoughts. The demons, clawing at you, pulling you into a state of pure pain. Your breath hitched in your throat as they whispered, the words twisting into you like a dagger. Tears pricked at your eyes as you fought them back, burying your face into your pillow.

This past year had been tough. You had friends and a good support system around you. But they didn't know. They didn't know the types of demons you fought every night, every waking moment.

Maybe this was it, this was when you would go. This was your time, time to escape your demons, to finally get rid of the hands clawing at you every day.

Maybe you could finally rest.

The cracking of the door jerked you up from your bed, as you sighed, rubbing your hands against your face. Maybe not today.

"Y/n! Love, we're home!" the familiar face greeted you as you got up, opening your door. "We brought dinner."

His eyes met your tired figure as he smiled, coming to wrap his arms around you as you smiled sadly, his hand rubbing your back.

"Let's eat, baby." you nodded, as the boys all hugged you. "It's your turn to pick a show."

Bringing the food to the living room, you smiled as you picked up the controller, opened up Netflix, and chose Supernatural.

"Finally!" Harrison cheered as he high-fived you, "Winchester boys are back in action."

"What episode did we leave off on?"

You backtracked, checking the current episode, "Season 5, Episode 10."

Harry groaned, "At least we finally get to find out what happens with Lucifer."

Tom laughed as he lightly punched his shoulder, "Let's see if our bets were true."

The night passed like a blur through your eyes, your body leaning into Tom's as his body heat warmed you up. Yet, you did not feel warm. Your body felt cold, as you closed your eyes, trying to rest from the neverending voices haunting you.

You didn't know how long you had been asleep for, as you opened your eyes, feeling Tom's arms wrapped around your waist as his face was nestled into the crook of your neck. Yet, you felt empty. Nothing felt right about where you were, as you slowly slipped out of the bed, heading for the bathroom in the hall.

A sigh shakily slipped your lips as you locked the door behind you, looking up at the mirror, at who supposedly was yourself.

Yet, you didn't recognize the person staring back at you. That person looked dead, dark eyebags under their eyes, lips slightly bruised, and cheeks hollow.

Go away

No one deserves to be with someone that looks like THAT

It's just in the cabinet, grab them, they don't bite

The words spilled from their lips as tears pricked at you, and you shook your head, a silent sob slipping from your lips. "No, I won't do it."

But why? It's not like anyone here would even miss you

C'mon, at least you can finally sleep

Sleep

Sleep. That's all you wanted, was for the voices to go away. The claw marks from their hands were not evident on your skin, yet they always pricked at you. It was hard to ignore them, and even harder now when all you wanted to do was embrace the cold.

All you wanted was to be warm, and peaceful.

Quiet.

Opening the cabinet over you, your eyes grazed over the familiar bottle of pills.

They had been prescribed for pain when you fractured your elbow a couple of months ago. But you didn't need them anymore, the pain was gone after two months. As you opened the bottle, you dropped one pill into your hand.

Then two. Then three.

Then the whole bottle was emptied into your palm.

You brought your palm up to your mouth, dropping them all in as you swallowed them dry, the itchiness in your throat stronger by the minute. Looking back up at your reflection, you suddenly smiled.

Maybe this was all you needed.

Just a little dose.

-

Tom woke from the bed, noticing the emptiness beside him. Rubbing his face with his hands, he walked out, finding the boys at the kitchen table, chatting and drinking their respective cups of tea.

"Lads?" they turned to look at him, "Where's Y/n?"

Harrison shrugged, as he gave Tom his cup of tea, Tom only placing it down as an ache in the pit of his stomach grew by the minute.

"Did anyone see her leave?" Sam shook his head as Harry shrugged, staring at his phone.

He walked back into the hallway, noticing the light in the bathroom on. His hand came up to the door and lightly rapped the wood, "Y/n? Darling? You in there?"

Silence emitted from the other side, as Tom's eyebrows furrowed, and he knocked again. Putting his ear to the door, he heard little gasps, slight breathing before nothing.

His eyes widened, as he called for the boys to the door, and he knocked again, this time with more fervor. "Y/n, come on, open up!"

Tom was pulled back by Harrison, as he and Harry kicked the door down, gasps emitting from their lips.

There you were, splayed on the ground, vomit emitting from your lips as your eyes were open, glassy. Tom crouched down, fingers immediately going for a pulse as he couldn't find one, before beginning CPR. Harrison crouched next to him, on the other side, as he tilted his head, stopping Tom. His fingers immediately went into your throat, trying his best to open up your airway as Harry dialed an ambulance, Sam grabbing a cold towel from the kitchen. As Harrison cleared your airway, he motioned for Tom to continue CPR as Sam brought the towel and placed it on your forehead, hoping to cool you down.

Harry ran outside the house, as he flagged down the ambulance, the paramedics began to ask him questions he did not have the answers to. Leading them upstairs, one immediately opened his bag, taking out a vial of a transparent liquid and a needle. The paramedic immediately dropped in front of your body, as he grabbed your arm, plunging the needle filled with the unknown transparent liquid.

"Keep doing that, kid! We gotta go!" the other paramedic immediately grabbed the spine board, pointing at Harrison to pick her up by the shoulders as they slid the board under her body. "Let's go!"

Both paramedics ran outside, carrying her body as the boys followed behind, Tom going in the ambulance as the rest drove Harrison's car, all following the ambulance. The paramedic inside the ambulance took over for Tom and resumed CPR, as Tom held your hand, the warmth now slowly returning.

A gasp emitted from your lips as you opened your eyes, the paramedic smiling down at you before yelling at his partner, "She's awake! Let's go! How far are we?"

"5 minutes!"

"Welcome back," the paramedic smiled, "Stay with us now, okay? Everything is going to be okay."

Turning to your right, you noticed Tom's gaze on you. "T-tom."

"Hey, darling." he gripped your hand. "Stay with me."

At that moment, you realized, there were no voices. The claw marks were gone, and all you heard was silence. You didn't know how long this would last, or how long you would have with this silence. But you welcomed it, like a warm hug on a cold day. Maybe things would be okay. Maybe everything would be better this time around.

Maybe, this was your new beginning.

tags:

@pbnjparker @madmadmilk @websterss @hollandroos @spiderboytotherescue @justapurrcat @ahoefortomholland @darling-parker @darlingparkers @silkscream @silkholland @sunshinehollandd @blissfulparker @boohooiamthefool @softholland @peterprk @tomhollandsblog @thollandsdarling @pvarker @totheblood @sunflowertomholland @slut4holland @gingerparker @darling-im-moonstruck

[justapurrcat]

Chocolate and Cuddles | n.d.

Pairing: Nathan Drake x fem!reader

Synopsis: Just a soft cuddle session with your treasure-hunting boyfriend.

Word Count: 1.335k

Warnings: English not being my first language, mainly fluff, mentions of sex, a pinch of harmless angst bc it’s me.

Nathan Drake Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I have nothing to say for myself, this is shamelessly self-indulgent like everything I write. Inspired by this post.

“Fuck this”, Nate grumbled, setting the little book down onto your coffee table. Not as harshly as his frustration would’ve wanted him to, but only because of how priceless that damn object was. The absolute Odyssey he had gone through to retrieve it was another extremely good reason.

When he’d first told you about it, you almost couldn’t believe him, and this was coming from the person he would always return to in between his crazy adventures. However, a quick glance at his naked torso had been more than enough to change your mind: suddenly, that absurd and fantastic story didn’t sound so absurd and fantastic anymore.

Of course, you had immediately freaked out, the position of your med kit being all you could think of. But Nate had effectively silenced your worries – at least for that moment –, instead focusing entirely on you. And with a stamina you couldn’t explain to yourself nonetheless.

Had someone witnessed the steamy, filthy scene unfolding in your tiny bedroom, they would’ve thought you were the one who’d just made a quick stop in Hell.

Crying in shock and relief, realising you had been just one step away from losing him, you had clung to his shoulders for dear life, eyes rolling in the back of your head and legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him as close as you could, as if you were trying to become one with him, all your coherent sentences getting reduced to mindless, yet adoring chants of his name.

“I’m okay. I’m here. I’m yours…”

With deep thrusts that by no doubt had your neighbours hating you for how loud they had made you moan, and soft lips kissing away all your tears, Nate had taken your mind off of everything else that wasn’t his love for you and his body entangled with yours, twisted in bed sheets that were now stained with his blood…

“Everything okay?”, you asked, approaching him with a mug of hot milk-chocolate in your hands.

Nate sent you a weak smile, running a hand through his hair, still wet from the shower. “I’m going nowhere with this”, he sighed, rubbing his eyes, then rested his elbows on his knees. “Might need your help with it.”

You hummed, placing the mug onto the table, careful not to put it too close to the book, and kneeling on the couch right next to him. “I’ll consider it.”

Your eyes naturally flickered to his battered arms and bare back. You had treated him to the best of your abilities, but his skin was still covered in bruises that would take a while to fade.

Nate reached out and grabbed the mug, proceeding to take a long sip. “Thanks, darling”, he murmured, gratefully.

You smirked, poking at his side. “That was for me.”

He turned towards you, jaw dropped and eyes round. “Shit, I’m sorry–”, he began to apologise.

“Just kidding”, you reassured him, raising a hand to remove a little smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth. The action transitioned into you affectionately cupping the side of his face. “Just kidding, my love”, you repeated, as your thumb ran over the little cut on his cheekbone.

He chuckled at that, grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, lips claiming their legit place against yours.

The two of you spent a good hour and a half cuddling and working on deciphering the secret message contained in the book, and you had actually gotten to a pretty good point when you noticed that all of the action was finally starting to take a toll on Nate.

You shifted on the couch, moving so that you could have access to his back, then spread your palms over his broad shoulders, leaning in to kiss a blue-ish mark right between his shoulder blades. 

Your boyfriend’s initial surprise got quickly forgotten, as he instantly surrendered to you, melting into your featherlight touch and forgetting the coded clue, too.

“Looks like the tireless treasure hunter could use some rest”, you breathed against the nape of his neck. You took your sweet time paying attention to every single wound that soiled his flesh, then, once you were done, you swiftly unbuttoned your shirt – that you might’ve happened to have stolen from him – and scooted closer to him, your front glued to his back, your hands still massaging his shoulders and roaming over his chest.

Nate threw his head back, silently asking himself what he had done to deserve such a sweet little thing as you to bless his life. And kicking his past idiot self for almost losing you. “Fuck, love…”

“Wanna go to bed?”, you offered after a few minutes, lips brushing over the shell of his ear, the gesture eliciting a shiver out of him. “We’ll finish tomorrow.”

He complied and followed you like an obedient puppy, his trademark cocky smirk fading into a love-sick gaze that never failed to make your heart skip a beat, his big, calloused hands not daring to leave yours for a single second.

You had barely touched the mattress when his head dipped to your breasts, taking advantage of the fact that you hadn’t done anything about your – his – shirt, planting soft pecks onto the delicate skin.

“Nate…”, you warned him with a soft gasp. You were still sore, since he hadn’t exactly gone easy on you, doing all in his power to make you come six times in a row, mentioning something about making up for the six months you had spent apart. You couldn’t quite remember, given how he had literally fucked your brains out.

“I know”, he mumbled innocently, and you understood there was no actual malicious intent behind his actions. “Just wanna kiss you, that’s all.”

So you just let him lay you on your back, arching up into him as your eyes fluttered shut, the wonderful sensation of your lover’s lips spreading warmth under your skin, making you feel like you were floating on pasted tinted clouds.

“Nate…”, you purred, filling him with pride, despite how tired he was. He knew all too well that he was the only one allowed to see this side of you, the only one who could make you whisper dreamingly while you were wide awake.

During an argument, you had yelled that he just loved fucking you. It was still in the early stages of your relationship – could you even call it a relationship back then? – when neither of you could quite tell where this thing was going. Well, at least he couldn’t. You certainly could tell way more than he did.

After that, you had stormed out of his apartment, going radio silence for an entire week, and that was what it took him to understand that you weren’t an outlet anymore. He ached for you, he needed you next to him.

God, he fucking loved you.

Once he was satisfied, Nate snuggled into your chest like you were his personal pillow, pressing his cheek against your sternum, so that he could regulate his breathing along yours and let the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat lull him to sleep.

Your fingers idly raked through his locks, nails lightly scraping his scalp. His hair was getting longer. You liked it, but you were ready to bet that tomorrow he was gonna ask you to help him do something about it.

“Can you hold me?”, Nate pleaded quietly, caressing your sides like you were made of glass. “I need to feel you.”

You nodded, and without a word, wrapped your limbs around him when he turned to his side, once again pressing your skin flush against his.

Your boyfriend sighed happily, loving how vulnerable he could allow himself to be in your presence, while still feeling perfectly safe. He took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips, covering every inch of it with kisses, then placed your palm right above his heart and kept it there.

Right where he kept you while he was away.

A/n: Thanks for reading and I hope you liked this! 💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @mrparkerwillseeyounow @indouloureux @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man

(Let me know if you wanna be added or removed, add yourself to my taglist or follow me on my writing side-blog @lia-s-liabrary and turn the notifications on)

[userholland]

between the lines | frat!tom

finals week is here and you’re an emotional wreck, to say the least. not only is your schedule jam-packed, but there are things going on in your life as well. you need to cram, you need to meet due dates and frankly, you could use a drink to get through it all. the night you go to a frat party, you see a cute and familiar face that you have to see every time you go to the small bookstore and he’s behind the cash register.

PAIRING : frat!tom & college!fem!reader

GENRE : college, book shop, love at first sight, dramatic love confessions, wedding date, & a long (too long tbh) slow burn

WARNINGS : tom being sarcastic but cute, lots of fluff + corny dialogue, toxic parents and divorce, a light/tasteful make-out, cursing, drinking, trust issues, both reader and tom being bibliophiles (annotations & recommendations blah blah), etc.

WORD COUNT : 13.9k

A/N : mostly, inspired by an another great idea @venomsilk gave me <3 🧸🌤 🍰 dedicated to her. this is for her valentine’s celebration (a few months late, oops. but school / mental health checks happened so respectable hiatus on this fic) and i was so happy and excited to write it tbh ! i've been more into the romance ya novels lately so i really wanted to give this fic a lot of love and filled it with inspiration from books i've read. pls rec me some bc this summer i want beach reads. anyways adore and appreciate my venomsilk besthie so much. bear with me in this fic, but hope everyone enjoys ! also this header is originally from here! i just added the shredded border

𑁍 masterlist 𑁍

Books. They were a common comfort you turned toward in times of stress, sadness or simply something to make the time go by on the bus ride to campus.

The small bookstore, that you often went to on the weekends, was unique. Most books were donated or found, then there was a small selection of brand new editions on the circular table when you entered the shop.

From the tall shelves filled with fictional adventures to the big, voluptuous, and green plants decorated around the front window, everything about this place was perfect. But, the dark, curly-haired cashier with a soft smile was a bonus to your shopping experience.

Every time you approached the counter, heat would suddenly radiate from your face and your heart fluttered when the boy rose his head to meet your eyes. Sometimes, you caught him reading a classic novel, other times, he was taking his time to finish homework when the store didn’t have but one or two people browsing.

His name is Tom, once overhearing one of his co-workers call him Tommy. You didn’t know anything about him, but it fit his charming yet approachable appearance. He wore a bunch of flannels with the sleeves rolled up and a solid color tee to match underneath, the occasional baseball tee or henley if the temperature in the store was too warm.

You didn’t mean to giggle the time you walked up to him and his cheeks were bright pink from how hot it was inside compared to the coming winter chill changing the fall weather.

Once or twice, you wondered if he remembered you. It sounded egotistical, questioning your importance to some stranger, but you couldn’t help it. He gave you recommendations or comments on the books you purchased, persuasive enough to burn a bigger hole in your pocket for decent literature.

The way he smiled and giggled when you had small talk, all from asking each other how your days had been. If it was a selling tactic he used; it was working.

Some days, romanticizing simple interactions like this made life less lonely and stressful. Tom was simply a crush; just another cute guy you could think about when you think about your future and the little fantasies in between your daydreams. It was nice for a bit and then you snapped back into reality, concentrating on your studies and looking forward to getting a degree. 

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Tom took advantage of the lazy afternoon shift between his classes.

There were little to no customers, free time to study and complete silence unless he turned on the music over the speakers throughout the store. While the minimum wage didn’t seem worth it, Tom much more preferred working at his Aunt and Uncle’s bookstore than to getting ripped off from writing English essays for his “so-called” fraternity brothers. 

As he sat at his post behind the register, comfortably wearing his black Carhartt jacket, with his head lowered so his brown curls hung down. He unknowingly pouted as he made bright-red corrections on his rough draft for one of his final papers. Even though Tom had three to four other final papers of his own to do, he was doing essays for other people. 

His final paper for his Advanced English Romanticism class was way more important and frankly, all he wanted to do was pass with high grades, but earning money for next semester’s tuition by easily bullshitting Shakespeare’s literature theories or creating basic fictional, short stories for people who were barely sober 12 hours out of the day made his eyes wander to the rough drafts in his worn backpack.

The ink imprinted his, sloppy but small, handwriting on the side of his hand, and the end of the pen had a few bites when he was re-thinking his sentences and paraphrasing.

Suddenly, the bell above the entrance door rang, not phasing Tom to look up since people came in and out, but he glanced up when he noticed the familiar color of the jacket you wore. He had seen you a few times, wearing that same navy blue jacket with a red and black stripe going down the sleeves. 

A gloss filmed over his bright-brown eyes but looked away once you walked toward the back, admiring the books placed perfectly around the best-sellers table at the center of the store. You were the same, pretty girl who wandered around the stop for an hour, maybe two, seeking a book and nothing else. 

Each one that came to Tom’s counter was a different genre from a worn-out classic or a fairly used historical fiction– it intrigued him so, he’d list a few recommendations. After a bit of, what he considered, flirting, you left with a big smile until two or three days passed and there you were again, searching and reading in between the numerous aisles.

“Think fast!”

Tom already flinched, but a soccer ball thumped against the side of his head and he immediately pressed his palm on his temple.

“Jesus…” Tom hissed under his breath, his eyes giving a dirty look toward his friend, “A ‘hello’ would have sufficed.”

“What? You’re not happy to see me?” Harrison grinned, holding the ball under his arm.

Tom quickly retorted, “Why are you bothering me at work?” 

Harrison tilted his head.

 “Because I cherish every second we spend together…” He smiled before rolling his eyes, “What do you think? We have a meeting at the house in twenty minutes. C’mon, no one is even here, it’s your family’s store and you can leave when your manager is on his phone in the back office–”

Tom opened his mouth, but no words came out. His eyes shifted to you, past Harrison’s figure, watching as you flipped through another book on the same shelf; a hardcover version of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Basic, but not a bad read. Tom thought.

“Who’s that?” Harrison asked, “She’s pretty.” He glanced over his shoulder, but you had no idea that the two boys were glaring as you concentrated on the text.

“No one.” Tom said in an annoyed tone, messily pushing his books and paper into his worn-out backpack.

The rosy pink tint of the apples of Tom’s cheeks made Harrison slowly smile, “Oh, Tommy. You’re squirming. Is she an ex? Hookup? Maybe TA?”

Tom sighed, “If we leave now, I’ll still help you with your sports management paper tonight.”

Harrison nodded, “Geez, she must be someone if you make that threat.”

You couldn’t help but lift your head at their commotion, watching Tom lead the way. Harrison trailing behind with his duffle strap on his shoulder and spinning the soccer ball in his hands, but your glances connected as they passed. Being the brother he is, Harrison announces, “He has a thing for you! Big ole crush! Do you have his number-”

Tom pushed on Harrison’s back hard, forceful enough to get him through the door. He wanted to avoid you noticing the bright tint red painted on the apples of his cheeks from the embarrassment he couldn’t escape.

Your heart was in your throat, a warmness spreading throughout your body from the attention. Half-smiling, you looked back down at the book in your shaking hands. While it wasn’t your first choice, this happening made you want to buy it to remember this moment.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

The feeling of falling shocked your nerves, jerking your head up to make sure you were still in your seat. You hadn’t noticed you fell into a catatonic state, blankly staring at your laptop with little to no brain function. The brightness of the small screen gleamed against your face, making you blink your eyes a few more times before hearing the multiple cracks break in your back.

This was being a university student. More specifically, an English major.

As much as you loved a hardcover book, money thought differently. Instead of flipping through thick pages with a smell that comforted you, those same texts flashed on whatever device you could afford it on. 

The biggest misconception of being an English major is that you like to read everything and anything. Completely wrong. You liked to read the books that were like a warm hug after a rainy, cold day or made you weep until mascara burned the corners of your eyes. 

The details you paid attention to within the novels you kept close are the reason you loved to read. But, classics and sonnets that you were forced to analyze to write papers about what they mean bored you mindlessly, wondering why picking English was even an option when it’s just reading a language you know.

You turned to your tall bookshelf, perfectly placed in the corner of the room, and books of various sizes overflowed it like a garden. Some rest on the top of it after you ran out of room on your shelves.

Each had their own story as to how they were placed on the old wooden ledges; buying them brand new from bookstores, finding worn-out classics from the thrift store or they were collecting dust in your parent’s attic. But, lately most had come from the Joel & Anne’s bookstore–you blamed Tom.

Just as you wanted to pick up The Picture of Dorian Gray, a notification popped up in the corner of your laptop’s screen. It was a brief email from your professor, granting an extension to the midterm paper due for those who requested it and you couldn’t have been more revealed.

Thank God, you thought.

The pace of your heart slowed down, the cracking of your spine as you straighten your back at your desk.

Falling on top of the fluffy comforter of your bed, your body’s muscles relaxed. The tension disappeared from your chest as your heavy eyes fluttered close. In and out of sleep, the buzz of your phone caused your head to quickly rise. Half-awake, you leaned up to grab it then plummet back into the soft sheets.

“Since there’s an extension for your paper, does that mean I’ll see you at the Delta Epsilon ABC party tomorrow?” Your best friend, Lillian, texted.

“ABC?” You typed with a furrow brow.

“Anything But Clothes.” She replied with a tongue emoji.

Reluctant, you wanted to say “no” and take the extended due date seriously, but from how stressed out the paper was making you, a party didn’t sound like a bad idea.

You sealed your lips while typing, but once you sent “What should I wear?”

After Lillian pitched a few last-minute ideas, you exited from your text messages then placed your phone on the bedside table. Rubbing your dry eyes, you get back up to turn off your lamp and other lights. 

As you stroll to the desk, you trace your finger over the trackpad of the laptop to exit from the email. Surprisingly, you forgot about the already-opened browser of the book you’ve been hunting down for your paper. You were so exhausted, you spaced out in those few minutes to probably forget about it.

Shakespearean plays were the subject of your paper, researching for hours on end about this ancient man’s entire collection and existence. His missing years, his creation of words we still use today, anything that pinpointed a significance in the English language was stored somewhere in the paper your fingers cramped to write for the past week.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Tom downed the last Red Bull from his mini fridge, compressing the aluminum can in his hand then throwing it in trash. There it sat with the other empty cans and overflow of crumbled drafts.

He couldn’t remember the last time he blinked today yet his fingers were typing any of the words coming up in his head. The sixty bucks he was being paid for it was his only motivation to finish the last lines about the rise of the Roman Empire.

Shockingly, it wasn’t as difficult as told to him– but usually, it’s the people who don’t pay attention in their classes that find it hard and in their way. At least if he did it, there were rewards other than a high grade.

As Tom pressed tab to indent, he thought of how you smiled at him. He hoped it was him and not Harrison being cocky from what he said. He pondered what would happen if he stayed, walking back to you and saying that his attraction was true. But, Tom was more confident in his mind and he couldn’t actually imagine seeing you after how embarrassed he felt from Harrison’s announcement.

“Hey!” Harrison said as he knocked on Tom’s open door, expecting nothing but what he saw– Tom’s ass glued to his desk chair and the bright, white screen of his laptop staring back at him.

Tom turned his head, rolling his eyes at the blonde, blue-eyed devil, “Come here to make any of my other of my secrets known to the public?” He continued to jot down any last corrections on the paper he’d been working on for hours.

Harrison chuckled, jumping onto Tom’s bed, “It’s not like you were going to say anything to her if I didn’t, now she knows. ‘You’re welcome’ would be the correct answer, Mr. English smartass.” 

“See, you’re saying ‘you’re welcome’ when I didn’t ask for your help in the first place. She’s just a girl that comes to the store a lot and I just…” Tom shrugged, tossing his pen down, “I happen to notice her.”

“Happen to notice?” Harrison scoffed. “Dude, you were staring at her so hard at her that I thought your eyes were going to pop out. Blink once in a while so if this girl does notice, she doesn’t think you’re creepy.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “She’s not some girl, her name is Y/N.”

Fuck. Tom thought, now realizing how much he corrected Harrison out of habit.

Harrison instantly smirked, “So, you know her name too? What else are you hiding so I can brief her in on it… but more subtle this time.”

“H, why are you in my room at one in the morning?” Tom asked with furrowed his brows.

“You’re going to the ABC party, right? You’ll be there, participating for once, and having fun. Maybe getting high or laid will loosen you up. ”

“I can’t, I have these papers to finish for the guys who will be partying downstairs all night and if I’m lucky, I can get paid double if I ask them for their fee while they’re drunk.” Tom smirked.

“C’mon. One party! It’s a few hours out of the whole semester… Before you have to go back home for the holidays and do nothing but watch Christmas movies and read books for pleasure.” 

Tom replied with silence.

“Maybe you could invite Y/N. It could be a nice romantic gesture that your books talk about, right?”

“So, invite her to a party where everyone is wearing anything but clothes and shit-faced within the first hour.” Tom took a pregnant pause, “Yeah, I’ll pass on that.”

Harrison knew not to pry anymore, not planning to give Tom shit for wanting to do well in school. Unlike most of the trust-fund raised kids, Tom paid his dues from paycheck to paycheck. Maintaining high grades wasn’t only for his pride, but his academic scholarship that discounted his tuition. 

He admired Tom for his natural work ethic despite it interfered with his social life. Luckily the other brothers saw Tom as an asset, but it was for their own selfish reasons. Harrison was a month younger than Tom, but still felt protective of him as if he were an older brother.

“Okay, well. I have a ‘Beware of Dog’ sign if you want to use it as shorts tonight.” Harrison winked before leaving to his room.

Tom chuckled, but his smile slowly turned into a frown. The desperate need to earn cash for his two semesters’ tuition consumed him the past four months, realizing that this term was practically done and he had done nothing else but work.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

You could say that having caution tape wrapped around your body was ironically hazardous. The plastic was constricting, too afraid to bend over or you may fall and never get back up. While it was cute in thought, you looked in the mirror from head to toe and knew this could end in disaster. 

With too many intrusive thoughts, you were about to change back into your grey sweatpants and grab an oversized shirt from the dryer. But, just as you took a last glance at your reflection, Lillian came right through the front door and sported a dress made out of bright green and white condom wrappers fastened together with tape and safety pins. 

It was totally Lillian.

You furrowed your eyebrow, “Did you walk all the way here wearing that?” 

But she ignored your comment from the stun of seeing you actually wearing a costume.

Lillian gasped, “You look hot! That caution tape was a good call.”

“I feel like this tape is going to fall off at any second.” You groaned, grabbing your college t-shirt from the basket on top of the dryer, but Lillian held your wrist.

“What are you doing?” She retorted. 

You sighed, “Changing into something that lets me breathe and walk.”

“Oh, don’t be a party pooper. It’s only a few hours.” She said as she walked to the mirror, fixing her strawberry-blonde waves. She pushed them from the front of her body then behind her shoulders, wondering if the prominence of her collarbones made a difference.

“A few hours of guys asking me what’s underneath this caution tape.” You mumbled under my breath, and she moved you in front of the mirror.

“Y/N, I made a promise to you at the beginning of the semester to make sure you have an amazing last year of college… and I always keep my promises.” She said, her head resting on your shoulder as the two of you glanced at your absurd outfits  in the mirror, “And you look too good to not go out...”

You chuckled, “Are you pouting?”

“Depends, does it guilt trip you want to go to the party more?” Lillian jeered, giving you a light squeeze around your waist.

You scrunch your nose, “Only a little.”

The two of you pre-gamed with a fruity, alcoholic seltzer, which barely gave any buzz, then ventured downstairs to the Uber waiting in front of your apartment building.

As Lillian snapped photos of herself from the lighting of the warm streetlights passing by, you noticed Joel & Ann’s bookstore in the darkness. It made you think of what Tom might have been doing tonight, wondering what his life was like outside the store.

You blushed thinking back at the fond moment of his friend shouting he liked you, keeping your head up for most of the day. As harmless as it was, it lingered in your mind and turned into scenarios of how you would enlighten that comment. 

Would you make the first move? or has he already and you didn’t notice? Overthinking didn’t help, but you needed to come up with something good to respond to it whenever you’d see him again.

Once you arrive on Fraternity Row, the Delta Epsilon house was anything but quiet. Everyone was following the rules of the party, wearing anything but clothes in different and creative ways.

A brunette passing by wore a makeshift dress, the sparkling Christmas wrap tailored with tape to fit around her slim body. Another guy wore paper-mache shorts made from Superman comic book pages— even a couple of girls sporting the same outfit idea as Lillian which didn’t make her happy.

You hold back a laugh, “Well, at least your wrappers are green. Hers are purple… and Trojan.” 

“Ugh, now I’m gonna blend in.” She pouted her glossed lips, “C’mon, let’s go see where the drinks are.”

The music played loud enough that you could feel the bass vibrating your teeth. Lillian hooked your arm around hers as she pulled you toward the bar set up in the corner of the dim lit room.

Everyone managed to commit to the theme of tonight, impressed by the sustainability people reached like wearing a dress made of streamers with your university’s colors or pants made out of cardboard beer boxes. The surprises and creativity seemed limitless tonight, but there was no one who caught your attention.

“Are you looking for someone?” Lillian asked as she poured brown liquor into her plastic cup, spilling a bit on the counter when she shifted the pour into your cup on the counter.

“Kind of.” You mumbled, “You know that guy at the bookstore that I talk about? Tom?”

Lillian giggled, “Oh. The guy you practically stalk.”

“I don’t stalk him.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve just never spoken to him other than giving him money for a book and your literature small talk.” She joked, but it sort of hit a nerve. You almost wanted to prove to her that you could talk to him, you were just nervous as to what to say past your total amount and tax.

“Okay, but you don’t have to put it that way.” You pouted, but she handed you a drink.

“Well, you can forget about bookstore boy, and we can have a little fun tonight. Cheers!” She diverted your attention to your cups, pushing them together before she took a long sip.

You watched her, but didn’t drink with her. Instead your eyes shifted around the excited crowd, but no luck in finding your crush with brown curls and shiny brown eyes to match. You twisted your lips and took a small sip of your bitter beverage, squeezing your eyes shut as it burned the inside of your throat.

“What is that?” You hissed.

“I don’t know, but it gets you loose.” Lillian jokes, hugging you quickly before she pulled you to where everyone was dancing… or what could be described as dancing. It was more like drunken movement between strangers while flashed by neon colors in sequences. 

Trying to dance with Lillian in a restraint costume didn’t help until there were two taps on your shoulder. You quickly turned around, acquainted with Tom’s blonde friend— just dressed in shorts made out of the big cloth from Twister.

“Hey! You’re the cute girl from the bookshop, right?” Harrison chuckled.

“Yeah! And you’re the best friend of the cute guy at the bookstore?” You confidently said, raising your eyebrows.

Harrison shared the same expression, “Cute?” He smirked, “I bet he’d love to hear that if he were down here… Hey, why don’t you do him a favor and try to get him down here to have fun.”

“Why? Where is he?” You asked over the music.

“Upstairs in his room, working on his papers… C’mon, I bet he’d be happy to see you.”

Harrison winked at you before turning back to the girl he was dancing with, tipping his head back to down his beer. When searching for Lillan, you saw her dance with some of your shared friends by the unlit fireplace. 

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

With the door cracked open, Tom listened to the muffled music below as well as the occasional conversation passing by to find an empty room. The bright light from the lamp on his desk shined against his paper. Although you remained silent, Tom took a quick sip of his to-go coffee and blinked his tired, dry eyes a few times. 

After two light knocks, Tom assumed it was Harrison, once again, asking him to come downstairs, but instead his heart shot up to his throat when he saw you standing in his doorframe. He was even more surprised seeing caution tape wrapped around your body like a tacky, shiny dress.

“Hey! Hey, nice to see you… especially with your new look.” Tom jeered.

You giggled, “I could say the same, never really see the bottom half of you.”

The two of you shared a warm laugh before Tom shyly asked, “What- What are you doing here?” 

“My friend sort of invited me at the last second, then your friend told me that I should come up here and try to urge you to come downstairs… possibly in a costume.” You trailed.

Tom licked his lips, “I appreciate it, but I’m working on some papers tonight. I want to get them done before tomorrow morning”

“A few papers over a party in your own fraternity?”

He hummed, “Well, papers I write for ten dollars a page. Paid in cash or credit… usually.” Tom smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

“Do I even want to know the other options?” You joked, slowly walking further into the room.

His blush was hard for him to hide, so he lowered his head down to hide the rosiness on his cheeks when he stood up to stretch. As Tom reached his arms over his head, the end of his shirt lifted a bit and you could see his v-line that disappeared past the band of his Calvin Klein boxers. 

Making you blush in return, you rub the back of your neck and look at some of the posters lazily taped on his dull, baby blue-colored walls. Shockingly, not one model from Playboy or Sports Illustrated was staring back at you in a tiny string bikini, rather there were posters of his favorite bands, a few classical authors by his bookcase and distressed movie posters of The Empire Strikes Back and Jaws above his full bed.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess.” Tom tossed a few t-shirts on his bed in his hamper by the door.

He said that, but it was probably the cleanest guy’s room you ever saw. Besides the clothes scattered around, the bed was made and his desk was fairly organized. There was even a trash can–with a trash bag to line it.

“Mess? I wish my room looked like this half the time.” You jeered, walking over to his bookcase, “A bookcase says a lot about someone to me.”

Tom chuckled, leaning on his desk, “And what does mine tell you?”

You awkwardly sat down on the end of his bed, trying to cross your leg over the other. You tried not to show that the plastic coiled around your body was uncomfortable, but one wrong move and you thought that you may expose yourself to Tom at any second.

“You okay?” He asked, “I don’t want to assume, but you look very tense.”

“Wow, it’s that noticeable.” You joked back, Tom chuckling in return. “Yeah, it wasn’t my idea to come tonight so, I got stuck wearing this.” You added, running your hand over the material.

He could see the pout on your face, maybe even a bit of embarrassment, so he suggested, “Do you want to change? I can give you something to wear. Not as much plastic, but more comfortable.” He joked.

Your face heated as you stood up, watching him pull clothes from his drawers. He grabbed a dark-blue Tottenham sweatshirt with a faded logo and baggy, gray sweatpants with your university logo embroidered by the hip.

“Here, hope these are okay.”

“Trust me, anything but this dress is fine.” You grinned, taking them from him. Your hand grazed his, making him gulp as you pulled the clothes to you, “Do you mind if I change in here?”

Tom raised his eyebrows, not realizing he wasn’t responding until he nodded, “Yeah! Yeah, I can just turn around.” He reassured, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes searched around his room, trying to fixate on any small object.

Like the vinyl player in the corner on top of the rack, something he bought out of being impulsive. At the time, his dad had given him some old records that he had found in the attic from spring cleaning, music that was popular when he was Tom’s age. Tom stopped listening to them after–

“Well, I certainly look the part of being a frat dude.” You jeered, turning for him.

“I think you look pretty...”

Way to sound creepy, Tom thought.

“Pretty nice!” He quickly added, trying to save himself from embarrassment.

You smiled at his shy compliment before glancing at the papers scattered around his desk, “So, what are you working on?”

“Uh, themes in Frankenstein. It’s actually my final paper.”

You arched your eyebrow, but admired how he had three different drafts and all of them were marked in red. As you leaned further down to read, Tom quickly shuffled the papers, “It’s not really my best. I’ve been through every book talking about Mary Shelley and her reason for this book... It’s pretty scandalous if you ask me.”

God. He was so dorky, it almost made him charming.

Just as you were going to say your joking comment, the music got louder downstairs and you two could feel the heavy vibration of the bass through the carpet.

“Is your paper the only reason you’re up here by yourself?”

“Well, technically you’re up here with me so, am I really by myself?” Tom shrugged.

You chuckled, “Don’t deflect.”

Tom licked his lips, letting out a long sigh, “I just need enough cash to cover tuitions, and saving up for grad school too. My family has gotten tied up in money and my friend, Harrison, said that he could help me be in a frat and I could make more connections. So, I’m not really here to have fun, more like just doing what I can to make some money and add to my resume.” 

“I know we just met, but… Can I give you some advice?” You sighed.

He naively nodded, his eyes turning glassy.

“You need to have some fun while you’re still in college.” You giggled, not meaning to sound mean, but you didn’t have to touch Tom to know he was a tense guy.

Tom responded with a nervous chuckle, “I’ve had… fun. I have fun. This party theme just isn’t really for me.” He protested.

“Well, I can’t disagree with you there.” You grinned, glancing at your now-cozy outfit, “Then what do you want to do tonight? What’s your fun thing?... other than reading the Mary Shelley scandal.”

His eyes searched around the room, then hummed, “It would be nice to have some peace and quiet… maybe work on my papers–”

You interpreted, “Okay, no, no. You’re not working on any papers, it’s about having fun. So, let’s go somewhere you think is fun.”

He smirked which made you think that he had a good idea, rather he said, “We can go to the bookstore.”

Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea.

You leaned against his desk, “Really? How?”

“My aunt and uncle own it.” He smirked.

“Ah. So, you’re like a bookstore nepotism baby. How lucky.” You grinned, cringing at your own jokes on the inside. But, it’s not like flirting was either of your fortes.

“Some kids get into movie premieres and have luxury cars, I have books and the cat that hangs in the front window until he goes back to his owners across the street.” 

“I always wondered if that was your guys’ cat.” You smiled.

Tom nodded, “His name is Milo and he loves eating our plants and sleeping on the classic novels.” 

You shared another light laugh before you said, “What are we waiting for? Get your jacket on.”

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

Once you took a step outside the house, the night breeze felt cool against your sweaty skin. The fresh air was a relief to your lungs once you walked out of the humid-filled frat house, like you had forgotten how clean it could smell outside. 

Although the bookstore was a few blocks away from campus, Tom made you comfortable as he made you. Both of you weren’t sure if there were feelings, but there could be since your interaction isn’t ending with you leaving him behind a counter.

Tall street lights guided the way, and the only people passing were stumbling from the few bars lining your college town. There was little small talk between you two on the way, but Tom stopped in front of a convenience store, one he frequently went to if he wanted something to snack on during his shifts.

He walked toward the door, opening it, “You want anything?” He asked.

You nodded, walking in as he held the door open. The two of you walked into the small store with white walls and bright lighting over all the aisles. He walked around the chips and candy, heading to the big freezer with the familiar ice cream brands around the case.

The two of you gazed over it, smiling at the variety of choices like two kids. You couldn’t remember the last time you picked from the freezer– probably before you were even given an allowance. You were seeing another side of Tom, one that was a bit goofy when the stress faded from his character.

“Which one do you want?... I think I’m gonna get a cookie sandwich.” He hummed.

“No way. The strawberry shortcakes with the oats? Or the gelatos? Way better options.” You giggled.

He chuckled at your wit, “Okay, you pick for me. I pick for you. Does that sound fair?”

“Hmm…” You smirked, sticking your hand out, “Deal.”

Tom smiled as he shook yours, both your fingers trailing when you pushed open the glass case.

“Okay. Turn around…” You said, circling your finger to signal him to face back.

The curly brunette rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face, taking a slow turn around with his arms crossed. He stared at the rack of colorful packed snacks, reading the brands and flavors.

You grunted as you shoved the sliding window, then grabbed an ice cream bar of your choice. Putting it behind your back, you tell him, “Okay, your turn.”

Tom smiled to himself, seeing you try to conceal your ice cream bar under the hoodie as you headed toward the counter. He could hear your exchange with the cashier before Tom grabbed an ice cream bar out of the freezer, quickly closing it and hiding his pick behind his back.

“I hope you got me something good.” You teased, facing him and your hands behind your back holding the plastic convenience bag..

He sweetly chuckled again, “I think I did okay… I think you should be worried.”

“Ah, are you hard to please, Tom?” You continued to jeer with him.

All he could do was turn pink, chuckling out of embarrassment like an elementary boy in school. There was a glimmer in his brown eyes and you weren’t sure if it was from the bright lights in the store, but it made your heart pang at how innocent and sweet he appeared.

The two of you walked outside, sitting on the bench under the awning of the convenient store. There was a space between you as the bags crinkled when both of you reached into them. Counting down, you pulled out your ice cream bars for one another and it left you both with smiles and light laughter.

“Great minds think alike.” Tom grinned.

Both of you held the same ice cream bar, still exchanging the treats and opening them. As you ate on the bench, there was silence– but it was comforting silence. Better than surround sound music and drinks being spilled everywhere, preferring the sound of crickets and watching some stray cats walk by the alleys.

You tried to prevent any drops of ice cream getting on the hoodie he let you borrow, leaning out as you bit down and it made him chuckle.

“It’s okay. It’s an old hoodie.”

“Yeah, but, I don’t want to be a slob.” You grinned, trying to ignore how nervous you felt.

“Here, I got it.” He said, leaning over to wipe your chin with a napkin.

You glanced into his eyes again as he came close, holding your breath.

“There, now you are a presentable member of society again.” He jeered, putting the napkin in his wrapper before tossing it in the bin next to the bench.

The two of you stand up together, pulling and adjusting your clothes before continuing the venture to the bookstore. Street lights shined down on the red brick sidewalk, and a few cars passed by as they headed toward the center of town as you both walked further out from the noise of the bars and partying. 

Chirping from the crickets was peaceful and the rest of the way was lit by the full moon, making you glance at the glowing orb high above the clouds and surrounded by the stars. The shine reflected off your eyes, smiling at the breathtaking sight but unknowing to you, Tom was glaring at you.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He trailed, not taking his eyes off you as he shyly grinned.

Tom wished he had spoken to you sooner, not knowing how to express right then and there how he had some sort of feelings for you. 

You turned back to him, “Are you okay?”

Embarrassed, he quickly nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Great.”

You grinned back at him, “Good.” you said before the two of you continued to walk to the bookstore.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

The soft warm glow shined on Tom’s back as his keys jingled when he unlocked the front door.

“You got it?” You ask him, watching him turn the key both ways until there was a click.

“Yeah, it’s pretty old so-” 

Tom pushed enough of his weight with his shoulder against the door, opening the seal the door created from how cold it was outside. He half-smiled before walking into the dark room and you followed close behind him.

With how many times you’d been in this store, you could bet Tom that you knew the layout better than him. You carefully stepped around the racks of books, leading to the counter before you heard a loud thump.

“Ow!” Tom hissed under his breath, instantly rubbing his knee from cutting the corner too hard.

“Are you okay?” You giggled.

“Lovely.” He groaned, rubbing away against his soon-to-be bruised skin.

He turned on the reading lamp on the counter, the warm glow against his freckled skin. You noticed how he was able to smile with his eyes, the crinkling next to them when he laughed or smiled. Although you didn’t mean to observe that, it was hard to not notice. He radiated some kind of shine in the way he carried himself– at least from what you gathered.

“So, I’m sure you have some weird stuff behind here, huh?” You teased him, squatting down to look at the shelves.

“Nothing weird, but I hoard books… without telling anyone.” He admitted in a low tone, scratching the nape of his neck.

There was a collection of books down here filling up two rows, most of them had bright tabs on the sides to indicate some annotations between pages. The books ranged from recent autobiographies and novels to ones with broken spines and the names of classic writers on the covers.

You came back up, “I think you have a problem.” You jeered, smiling at him.

“As if being interested in literature is a problem.” 

“...Touché.” You nodded, “Do you like working here?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He trailed, “It kills time, it’s quiet.”

“As opposed to going home?” You asked out of curiosity. He was sort of like a guessing game. One clue led to another, intriguing you as you went down this mystery path of a person.

“Uh, I don’t… I don’t go home anymore.” He nervously chuckled, “Haven’t been for a while.”

Heat burned his cheeks and neck, not realizing he was venting in the moment.

“Sorry to hear that.” You gently replied and sensed his discomfort as he looked down.

Tom hummed, “It’s alright. I feel less lonely here.” He shrugged, picking at his fingernails before looking into your eyes.

“Well, now you have me so… it’s a little less lonely than that.” You smiled, scrunching your nose. “...and that may have been the corniest thing I’ve said ever.”

“Yeah, just a little.” Tom nodded, and a sweet chuckle followed, “But, thanks.”

He had a bit of a twinkle in his caramel-toned eyes, and his jaw was incredibly sharp. When he looked away, he’d clench his jaw and you noticed how tense he seemed.

Tom smiled, blushing a bit before he pushed the book on top of the counter toward him. It was an old copy of Pride and Prejudice that he found on a top shelf a few weeks ago. He re-read it three times, and each time felt like a different experience. He rarely annotated, but Tom genuinely loved reading this book and wanted to write down any thought he had about it.

“A favorite?” You asked him.

“Can you tell?” He chuckled, passing it to you.

You skimmed the pages, running your fingers over the different colored post-its sticking out. His handwriting was a bit small, but you could make out what he noted and you found it incredibly cute. You smiled to yourself as you read through them, and Tom hoped there was nothing embarrassing in there– not that there would be but he was already nervous around you.

Just as you got to the last page, a picture fell out and you turned it over to its front. The frame was cardboard with the Disney logo on it and the picture was of Tom and his parents. Sporting a Mickey Mouse baseball cap, he showed a huge smile and held a melting ice cream. His mom and dad were smiling too, his mom with her arm around his small structure and Tom gulped.

“Are these your parents?” You asked.

“Yeah, I was wondering where I left that picture.” He smiled, taking it from you.

You watched him grin at it, but the smile slowly faded the longer he glanced. It didn’t seem so much reminiscing, but feeling more sad. He didn’t want to get down on himself, but he put the picture underneath the counter.

“It’s cute. My parents never took me to those kinds of places growing up, but I was never the Disney princess lover either.” You pouted. 

He chuckled, “What? You didn’t want a Disney prince? Something like Prince Eric?”

You hummed, “You do resemble a bit of Prince Phillip.”

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms, “The boring one?”

“Okay, okay. Maybe Prince Charming… you look like you can treat a girl to a dance,” you teased.

“The one time I slow danced was at my prom in year 13 and I remember stepping on her feet most of the night.” He told, trying to deflect your compliment

You rolled your eyes, “Oh, please. Now you’re being dramatic like a prince.” You grinned at him. 

Hesitantly, you moved your hand toward his face and pushed back the curls laying on his forehead. Your fingers carded to the back of his head, feeling his soft coarse hair and his brown eyes sparkled. It was a bold first move, but you wanted to know if this intense crush was too good to be true.

All this passes through Tom’s head is “do it”, his instincts scream. Kiss her.

You brought your hand back to his cheek, and you brushed your thumb over his bottom lip before leaning in to kiss him. Tom slowly moved his hands up your sides, pulling you closer to him as the two of you continued to makeout. He lightly pushed you against the counter, your bodies pressed together as he tasted your cherry-flavored lip balm.

With your foreheads against one anothers, Tom pulled away to take a breath, but it caused you both to let out this warm giggle. Just as you were about to kiss again, there was a sudden knock on the door along with the doorknob jiggling.

You quickly ducked under the counter while Tom stood there, trying to fix his hair as well as rub the lip balm off his mouth. He saw his uncle walk through the door, turning on the lights and Tom’s embarrassment flooded his body.

“I thought we were getting robbed. The silent alarm went off a few minutes ago.” His uncle told him, pretty light-hearted once he saw it was Tom.

“No, it was just me.” Tom gulped, glancing down at you hiding under the counter.

“Good, good. Why are you here so late? Your mom told me you had some party tonight.” His uncle trailed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“It was getting… loud and I just left to get some air. Work on some papers.”

You could audibly hear his uncle sigh, then say, “Is this because of… the divorce?”

Tom sealed his lips, it wasn’t what he wanted to talk about right now– especially since you were unknowingly in the room. Although divorce was a common thing, it was different going through when you’re already grown up and that was Tom’s struggle. He knew his parents had underlying issues, but he didn’t think he would get sat down and told his parents would separate their lives then and now.

“I know, it’s hard. But, you have to talk to someone about this. We don’t want you… hiding away, missing out on opportu-”

“I’m not, I just… wanted to be alone.” Tom shrugged, trying to grin and bear it.

His uncle didn’t want to get more into it since Tom was still going through it, but he nodded.

“Alright, make sure to lock up when you’re done. See you tomorrow, kid.” He sweetly said before he walked back out, the bell above the door ringing. Tom was only left with a bright red face, and a sudden racing in his heart. It’s like he realized how lonely he had made himself to be rather than people avoiding him altogether. 

Coming from under the counter, you dusted off your shirt at first. You didn’t want to immediately face Tom, sensing there was a bit of awkwardness created. He rubbed the back of his curls, but you finally broke the silence.

“Sorry, my lip balm kind of… got all over your lips.” You joked, taking your thumb to wipe the smudge of gloss from his chin.

Tom smiled, but nodded, “Well, I’m more sorry you had to hear that, but it’s no big deal. I don’t know why my family has so many issues.”

“I think they’re just genuinely worried about you. I mean, you don’t seem much of the talking type.” You confessed.

“It’s ironic. They don’t ask about any of this stuff until I just don’t say anything at all. Maybe, I just want to be left alone and be able to think about how the only two stable people in my life just choose to not be with each other anymore.” He trailed, trying to humor himself.

You could tell he’d been hurt by people before, but this was something he was expecting. It was still shocking, but he chose to close everyone off. 

Tom thought if he didn’t have to talk about these feelings, they’d go away. But, by telling you, basically a complete stranger, how he felt— his hurt was more on the surface than he thought.

“Well, you don't deserve to feel this way.” You told him with honesty, rubbing his tense shoulder, “If I can promise you one thing.”

There was a bit of comfort in that. At least someone acknowledging his feelings over their own.

“Thanks.” He grinned.

“Please, you’re one cigarette away from being Holden Caulfield. I felt like I needed to step in now… because he was the worst.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “He witnessed worse.”

“Well, luckily he’s a fictional character. Meanwhile, you need to worry about how you feel, and not be so… scared of thinking the world is going to get you.” You trailed, running your hand from your shoulder to the back of his curls.  

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*

A week and a half breezed by and all you did was hang out with Tom at the bookstore, the library, or his room at his fraternity house. Occasionally, Harrison would pop in, trying to tease him, but also try to get to know you since Tom cared about you. It was actually a bit cute the way Harrison would pinch at Tom’s cheek, trying to make him flustered in your presence. You could tell he cared about him too.

Once your finals were finished and Tom was paid for his essays, it was nice to hang around the bookstore without the added tension. You could hang out for hours and read books in the cozy corner of the store, near the cat by the window and the sunlight would kiss against your skin. Sometimes Tom would get lost in the mesmerizing scene–like being with you meant more than fate. Something like he read in novels.

The sun was starting to set when the two of you entered the pizzeria where Harrison worked. Both of you nodded your heads over at him behind the counter before finding a booth by the window.

“Look at him in his cute apron.” You teased, sliding into the booth.

“Trust me, he thinks it’s a magnet for girls. I wouldn’t let him know.” Tom chuckled.

Although you and Tom were having a fun time, you hadn’t talked about the kiss you shared. Not that it wasn’t on both your minds, but felt better left unsaid than having to figure out what’s going on between you two and ruining this blossoming friendship. It already took long enough to talk to each other outside the bookstore, neither of you wanted to taint that.

“So, do you have any plans for the weekend?” You asked him.

Before Tom could answer, Harrison slid next to him already sporting a cheeky smile and wiped some flour on Tom’s cheek from his apron.

“What are you two gossiping about, huh? Or just miss me?” Harrison winked at you, but Tom wiped the flour off his face.

“We just wanted to grab a slice.” Tom cheeks tinted pink, feeling as if he’s being embarrassed by his dad.

“Calm down, Tommy.” Harrison smiled, “You’re too easy to mess with sometimes.” Harrison jokingly retorted.

You giggled, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna go and order.” You tell them before getting up, heading to the counter.

The two boys watched you walk up to the counter, beaming at the cashier as you made small talk before ordering. Tom’s look glistened, sparkling when he kept his eyes on you and Harrison snickered at his doe-like gaze.

“So, you guys made out and nothing happened?” 

It was no lie that Tom regretted venting Harrison–moments like this reminded him of that.

Tom gulped, “I think what’s going on is fine.” He lied.

“Fine?” Harrison asked, “You’ve been crushing on her for weeks and she obviously likes you too.”

“You can’t know that.” Tom trailed.

“She’s been to the bookstore everyday to hang out with you, going out to dinner, spending time at the house and you know no girl likes hanging out there, look at the bathroom for God’s sake, it’s disgusting. No woman willingly stays there unless she’s basically in love.” Harrison explained.

Tom nodded in disagreement, “I don’t think she… likes me. I’m not gonna mess up just talking to her.”

“You’re not. You just need to figure out how to make the right move.” Harrison stated before quickly asking, “Hey, you got invited to Steven’s wedding, right?”

Steven was one of the alumni of the frat house and a close friend of both the guys. Tom was a “baby-faced” freshman when they met and was still teased to this day for looking so young.

“Yeah. I did, but I don’t know if I’m going. It’s kind of far.” Tom trailed, scratching his nail against the table.

Harrison smiled, “No, you should go and Y/N is your plus one. Bam, matchmaking.”

Tom rolled his eyes, “Yeah because a two hour car trip would really make me less awkward and weird.”

“You need to be a little hopeful. It’s not like your strangers anymore. You guys hang out at the store for hours with no problems. C’mon, she’d love it. It’s a nice countryside wedding and lots of our friends will be there so it’s not like you’ll be the odd one out. Introduce her, and maybe find some romantic spot to makeout, huh?”

Tom thought Harrison was a bit in over his head, but trying to make him see the other side of his pessimistic thoughts. Tom liked you, you like Tom. The problem was finding the moment to say that outlook to each other.

He twisted his lips, “How do I even ask that?”

“You’ll know how to say it when the moment comes… which seems like right now.” Harrison smirked.

As you walked back with a table timer in your hand, already wanting it to vibrate with your order since you were starving. You slipped into the booth, noticing both boys getting quiet which made you giggle.

“Am I interrupting something private?” You teased them.

“Actually, we were talking about a wedding we’re going to next weekend.” Harrison immediately said.

Tom wanted to sink into his seat.

“A wedding? Aw, that’s nice.” You smiled, “Who’s wedding?”

“Our friend, Steven, is getting married and I think Tom wanted to ask you something…” Harrison insisted.

Tom’s eyes widened, but Harrison quickly said, “I gotta get back to work. I’ll bring your food right out.” He flashed a cheery smile, something Tom wanted to slap off his face if he could, before leaving you two to talk– more like Tom improving what to say.

The feeling could be compared to dropping a baby into the deep end, trying to teach them how to swim and all Tom could do is internally panic.

You thanked Harrison before facing toward Tom’s pink-tinted face, and you tilted your head with a cheeky smile, “Something to ask me?”

He sighed but nervously smiled, “Not to impose, but… I was wondering if you wanted to… go with me? To the wedding. I know it’s last minute and all, but I would really like you to go… with me.”

You giggled at his shy question, “I’d love to go with you, Tom. It sounds like fun.”

There was a relief in the air for Tom, not thinking you would accept so quickly and with an assuring smile.

“ Really?” He still asked.

“I don’t know why you assume the worst of me. Maybe being your wedding date will change that. Weddings always give people a bit of optimism” You chuckled, tilting your head at his shy expression.

A light chuckle left his lips, “Remember, optimism isn’t my thing. Then our personality equal us out.” He joked.

“Exactly why I’m the perfect wedding date. I make the conversations and you hold your drink and nod. It’ll be adorable.” You grinned back as heat radiated from your cheeks.

Tom can’t hold back his smile once you look out the window. His eyes traced your jaw then up your perfect cheekbones, trailing to your eyes as the streetlight reflected off the irises. He feels that moment again where he could confess everything he felt for you right there in front of everyone at the pizza place, a small amount of courage whispering in his ear to do it. Just to say it out loud.

“Here’s your complimentary garlic bread, love birds.” Harrison interrupted as he placed the plastic basket on the center of the table.

“Thank you for your incredible service.” You jeered at the cheeky blonde.

Tom laughed off his sudden thought, nodding at Harrison before you two started talking about the wedding plan since you were going now. The rest of the night was hanging out and eating together, talking about the future with classic rock playing over the old speakers in the restaurant.

There was a coziness that radiated the more you were vulnerable, even showing through being more relaxed while sitting in the booths. You felt like you could tell him anything and for once not have to think twice about what you revealed or said. No one could compare to Tom and you wish you could tell him that. 

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

A breeze brushed past your face as you waited outside your apartment with your bags. You were sat on the front step, waiting for the two boys to pick you up on this nice summer day. Tempted to text them for a time of arrival, the door opened behind you and you glanced up to see Lillian.

“I went through the back only for your roommates to tell me you’re already waiting outside. I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She jeered as she sat next to you on the stoop.

You sighed, “Sorry, I’ve been hanging out with Tom.”

She chuckled, “Of course. I’m not surprised. It’s been this way ever since you ditched me at the party-”

“I didn’t mean to di-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Lillian giggled, putting her hand on top of your knee, “I know you really like him.”

“I don’t… like him that much.”

“I can’t remember the last time someone could actually get your attention away from books or studying so, I like to call it fate that you met at the party.” She teased and scrunched her nose.

You rolled her eyes before turning your head, seeing the car come down the street and you quickly stand up. As you brush off the back of your pants, Lillian picks up one of your bags and the two of you slowly walk up to the curb. Once the car stopped, the two boys got out and Tom immediately greets you with his pearly smile.

“Hey Tom, Harrison,  this is my friend, Lillian.” You introduced them, gesturing your head.

“Hey there.” She greeted both of them, moving her hair behind her shoulders, “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

“We promise.” Tom grinned, lowly chuckling before he took your bag she gave to him.

After giving a goodbye hug Lillian, you slid into the backseat of the car. You sat on the left side so you could sit diagonally from Tom’s view, already creating terribly awkward scenarios in your head for what this two hour drive may be like.

What if we don’t talk at all? What if I’m in over my head? What if this isn’t real or what I thought? What if this whole trip was going to be a big mistake?

Tom was pondering the same, but he tried his best not to doubt his own feelings. Especially after the, what Harrison would call, pep talk he gave him on the way to your building. Nevertheless, it made Tom especially when he already knew he was being incredibly shy, but knew Harrison meant well.

“Alright so, I found out Cami Bernet was coming and I wanted to stay in her room so… It’s just the two of you sharing the hotel room, yeah?” Harrison announced, making you and Tom share a sudden glance.

“I don’t mind…” You trailed, your eyes shifting.

“Yeah, no problem.” Tom quickly added.

Harrison smiled at your reactions, “Don’t worry, there’s one bed and a pull out couch.”

Tom’s face beamed a light pink, making him turn his head toward the window. But, you did the same by turning your face to see the street passing by as you were leaving town. Harrison couldn’t help but smirk to himself at how antagonizing he could be yet trying to be a perfect matchmaker.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

Toward the end of the drive, you laid down in the backseat wearing the cozy hoodie Tom stuffed in his backpack. With your head sunk into your pillow and your legs curled up, you looked as comfortable as someone could on a road trip. A few times, Tom glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were okay when there was a sudden bump in the road, but you also looked cute nuzzling your face into your pillow. 

Once you arrived to the hotel, you stirred in your daze as Harrison pulled in front of the huge front doors. Two valets walked up to the car, one on Harrison’s side then another by the trunk. As Tom got out, he quickly opened the back door and lightly shook your leg.

“Hey Y/N, we’re here.” He softly spoke, giving his hand for you to hold.

You blinked a few times, but lazily smiled as you wrapped your hand around his and pulled yourself up from the comfortable position you lied in. You pulled down your hoodie when you got out of the car, grabbing your bag on the floor while watching the valets take the rest of them to put on a luggage cart.

“Jesus, Tom. What’s in this?” Harrison asked as he gave Tom his duffle.

“A few books, some shoes…” He trailed.

“You brought books to a vacation wedding? How adorable.” Harrison teased him as he gave the valet his keys before entering the hotel doors.

You giggled, “What literary fix did you bring on a two day trip? Romantic novels, I bet.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s just my genre.” Tom chuckled, his eyebrows raised at his comment.

The entrance to the hotel was grand, to say the least. There were two large, revolving glass doors trimmed with gold that entered into the main lobby with renaissance art against the woven wallpaper. Both your heads tilted up toward the ceiling, admiring the pale murals along the lavish lights.

You could only hope to get married at such a beautiful place in the future, and you were pretty optimistic that you would find someone for that to happen.

Harrison faced the two of you walking toward him, noticing the way you glared at Tom and your eyes looking so bright. Although he was still looking at the scenery, your eyes were just on him. It made Harrison smirk, but turn back to the hotel front desk manager.

“Thanks.” Harrison grinned, taking the key card. He turned to Tom, “Here’s your key. Don’t be too loud and rowdy. This is a classy place.” He teased, seeing Tom already turn a tomato red.

You snickered, “Thanks, Harrison. You guys planned doing anything?”

Harrison nodded, “I’m meeting Cami by the pool then we’re gonna go back to her room before the rehearsal dinner. What about you guys?”

“I actually saw on their website that there’s a historical library on the second floor, a bunch of old collections.” You turned, “Tom? Interested?” You asked him with a beaming smile across your face.

Tom glanced at Harrison, who also was smiling, then back at you, “Yeah, of course. Sounds fun.”

“Wow, you guys really know how to get out of your comfort zone. Have fun with that.” Harrison, obviously sarcastic, stated before leaving to meet Cami.

Quickly, the two of you took the large, carpeted staircase on the second floor and followed the signs that directed toward the library. It wasn’t as fancy as the hotel, but it did look pretty old from the traditional style of the room.

You looked up at the high ceiling before heading toward the back shelves of familiar British authors. Although most of these titles triggered him back to all the essays he was paid to do his last year of college, he glared back at you completely mesmerized by the complete collections.

“Look, Williams works. All his romanticism in one set. I bet that’s like a dream to you.” You smiled to yourself, flashing back to your late night ramblings over the phone about literature. You never thought you’d meet anyone with a bigger opinion on themes of romance– and Tom was pretty convincing in his arguments. Truly adorable when you he went on his tangents, just wanting to listen to his soft voice all day.

Tom traced his fingers along the spines of the books before selecting one to read. He breezed through the pages, noticing the pictures within the text before he glanced up and didn’t see you straight on.

“Y/N?” 

“Over here!” Your voice echoed.

He followed the sound of your tone then seeing you sitting in a comfortable nook that overlooked the beach and pool area.

“I found the best seat in the house.” You jeered, pulling your legs to your chest with your back against the wall of the nook.

Tom joined you, sitting down on the cushion within the space and facing you from the opposite side. The natural sunlight came through the window beautifully, so much so that he was already in the reading mood.

You grin, “I bet a bunch of writers came here and just wrote their hearts out.” You said as you looked out to the calm ocean.

“Or where a lot of people hid from their brides.” Tom jeered.

You rolled your eyes, then crawled over to his side. You instantly curled up next to him, your head against his chest as the two of you glanced at the page of the book together. Tom didn’t expect you to get so close, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Within that time, you learned that Tom is the fast reader between you two. Dorky enough, you were a bit envious of that. Everytime he tried to turn the page to tease you, you’d quickly put your hand up to stop him and plea that he stop moving his eyes so fast. 

About thirty pages in, Tom hadn’t realized he was flying through the pages with how in depth he was of the text. He turned his head and saw you fell asleep, smiling down at you and not knowing the short car ride really tired you out. He didn’t move though, he wouldn’t dare to with how peaceful you appeared. He chuckled at your light breaths, napping against him with your hand at the center of his chest.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

A few minutes later, you woke up in Tom’s arms and almost sprung up from the embarrassment.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I passed out.” You chuckled, lifting out of his arms.

“No, it’s okay. I was just reading away.” He shrugged, showing that boyish smile that made your heart race.

The two of you came to the conclusion that you were starved, so you thought of the only bougie thing to do on a wedding weekend– ordering room service. Giddy and smiling, both of you went one of the three huge elevators in the hall and headed to the eleventh floor.

When you entered your room, your luggage was lined up by the door. Neither of you wanted to gawk, but it was probably one of the more fancier places either of you stayed in your lives.

There was a deep tub in the bathroom and robes hanging on the door as well as a king-size bed with an incredible ocean view and balcony. The sofa was in the corner with the mini-fridge next to it, making you curious as to what else they could offer.

“Do you think if we take from here Harrison will kill us?” You asked Tom, opening the small fridge door.

“Kill, no. Strangle? Maybe.”

You giggled, but saw a few sodas and healthy snacks. As you checked out the selection, Tom walked back to the bathroom and turned on the light. His eyes widened to a bottle of champagne on ice set on the counter. There was a tiny card next to the bucket that said: Happy Wedding Everyone! From us, to you! XO The Bride and Groom.

Holy shit, how much was Steven paying for this. Tom thought.

“Wow, that’s for us?” You asked peaking from the doorway.

“I say that we toast. It only seems right.” Tom trailed as he checked the label on the bottle.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward of a night as the two of you dread. Thank God.

Tom already popped the cork, making you hurry back with a bit of a pout on your lip.

“Well, couldn’t find wine glasses but I did find hotel coffee mugs. Much more sophisticated.”

After pouring both cups at least half, the two of you sat on the balcony to admire the scene. The view from your hotel room was beautiful, as if it was a green screen. The sun perfectly setting below the shorelines and the winds blowing the tall grass in the dunes. It reminded you both that it was the summertime; a period of time to relax and destress from the fast pace environment of school and warm up from the previous harsh winters.

There was a freedom in the air, almost confusing from how much time you suddenly had.

“This is definitely the kind of view I want for my wedding.” You trailed, a bit mesmerized.

Tom nodded, “Really?”

“Yeah. A beach wedding is romantic… well, until it gets windy, but I know I’ll get my planning down.” You said before turning to him, “Where do you want to get married?”

His heart skipped a beat, “I’ve never thought about it.”

You scoffed, “Never?”

He nodded, “Never ever. My dad sort of said that it’s what the woman does and the man just nods and agrees.”

“God, your dad sounds like a joy… No offense.” You quickly corrected yourself.

“He’s always been like that. Then I wonder why they didn’t work out.” Tom tried to humor himself.

Your lips went to the side before saying, “Hey, that’s their issues. It doesn’t fall on you or anything. I personally think they did do a great job at raising their son. He turned out pretty okay.” You grinned, holding your cup with both hands.

Tom smirked, “I can agree with okay.”

When he looked at you, it’s like he had this crush on you for years. He thought for a moment that maybe if he believed in his gut feeling, there could be a chance with you. He couldn’t keep backing out each time he wanted to ask you that simple question.

You wondered the same just a few feet away from him. You didn’t want to think so highly of yourself in his perspective, but the thought of getting over this crush would make you feel nothing but regret.

Something was there. The word for it was unknown at the moment. Ultimately, it was now or never. 

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

In the early hours of the day, you and Tom found yourselves in a rush to get ready. As you tried to do your makeup in the bathroom, Tom was in the main room looking in the long mirror while trying to perfect his black tie. He wore a nice navy blue suit with a white button up, feeling like he was playing dress up since he never went to many fancy occasions other than important fraternity meetings.

“How are you doing in there?” You asked him, contorting your face to make sure there were no creases in your concealer.

“I remember why I wear clip-on ties.” He mumbled as he pulled at the end of the tie, but the knot was too crooked by his collar.

As you put down the brush, you grabbed one of your earrings and tried putting it on as you walked out to see where he was at. You saw how he struggled to figure out what shirt to where, seeing the two other unbuttoned ones on the pull-out coach he slept on last night.

“Here, let me try.” You trailed, standing right in front of him so you could align the tie. Tom glanced at you, your eyes focused on the centering as your fingers moved the knot around to get it just right. He gulped with how close you were to him– the last time being when you two had a short make-out before being interrupted. If he kept thinking about it, the more red his cheeks would get and he tried to let his mind go somewhere else.

“There, that’s better. A wedding date has never looked so handsome.” You teased, patting down his tie on top of his shirt. He nervously chuckled, both of you sharing a shy smile before you touched his gelled curls to fix the stray strand of hair by his forehead.

“Now, how do I look?” You asked him, dramatically posing with your hands on your hips. You wore a knee high dress, a pale blue that complimented Tom’s shade of blue where it still matched.

“You look beautiful.” Tom complimented in complete awe.

Heat rose your face, genuinely flustered, “Good, we should probably head down there… before Harrison can think of any comments to throw our way.”

“You’re right.” Tom groaned.

Well, Harrison’s insinuated comments were well in his head anyways so, you two got a few of those before the three of you headed to the wedding venue outside by the beach. Harrison briefly mentioned Cami, not getting into too many details which was for the best (at the moment). 

The three of you took your white fold-out seats toward the middle of the left side, Tom and Harrison pointing out Steven’s family in the front row. You picked up the pamphlet that sat on the chair, the cover showing a professionally taken picture of the couple.

Smiling, you read through the brief summary of the ceremony and Tom kept giving you short glares. He really couldn’t believe how beautiful you looked, especially in the warm sun and beautiful setting around you all.

Once everyone gathered, the wedding started and eventually everyone stood up for the bride’s entrance. You saw her already tearing up, almost making you want to shed tears as well, but you held it together. It was nice to see this woman so happy and you didn’t even know her– you just knew she was happy.

All went well and thorough, everyone awing at the ring bearer and flower girls, but then the vows came and there was nothing but silence.

“I promise to love you today as much as I did yesterday, as much as I will tomorrow and years to come.”

Both you and Tom got shivers up your spine, relating those words. You glance down at Tom’s hand resting between his legs, watching him pick at his nails, and you carefully placed your hand on top of his wrist. He didn’t even realize he was doing it, a shy smile to show his bit of embarrassment. You quietly giggled, squeezing his hand before bringing your hand back to your own lap.

Tom let out a shaky sigh, gulping and thinking his tie was now strangling his throat.

The ceremony would end in a beautiful kiss before the bride and groom left back down the aisle. Everyone slowly moved over to the reception which was only a few feet away under a huge white tent. The cake was set as well as the food and free bar, everyone, including Tom, able to loosen their ties and even take off their shoes to dance.

“That was really nice. Anything like you want at your non-thought of wedding?” You jeered at Tom, walking next to him.

He nodded, “I took a few mental notes. But, my eyes may have been concentrating too much at what color pink the bridesmaid dresses were.” 

“I was thinking between a light flamingo or cotton candy.” You scrunched your nose.

With booze and food being passed around, all the wedding guests were having a great time. With the sun set and the fairy lights beaming around the tent, everyone was having fun and embracing the bride and groom’s special day. Their first dance together was sweet, applauded and wooed before the real party started. 

Hooked on A Feeling by Blue Swede began mid-verse, making everyone laugh at how random the song was. People linked together, swinging back and forth with happiness painted on every face.

“Do you want to dance?” You asked Tom, getting up from your seat and giving your hand out to him.

He nodded, “I’m good right now.”

“C’mon. One dance.” You pouted, “Don’t leave me hanging here.”

“Maybe later.” Tom chuckled, turning a bit pink. 

That was one thing he forgot before the trip– how to dance with rhythm in his step.

“I’ll warm you up and maybe makeTom realize he’s missing out.” Harrison jeered, stepping in to take your hand.

Tom dazed in pure awe of you sway back and forth with Harrison. He wasn’t envious, confident knowing that his bestfriend wouldn’t do that to him, but just being able to see you gracefully dance was like seeing an floating angel glide on clouds. Harrison spun you a few times, throwing your hand back in laughter just from the positive atmosphere.

A minute or two passed in the song, and Tom leaned his arm on the back of his seat, grinning at your smile, but you suddenly made eye contact across the room.

He blushed as you and Harrison walked back over, hoping he wouldn’t be making a fool of himself.

“It’s your turn.” You smiled, taking his hand and Tom got out of his seat. Harrison purposely cheered for both of you loudly, making a scene to tease Tom, but he was happy that Tom was happy. Brown Eyed Girl started playing when you both planted your feet and instantly grooved to the fast beat. Sure, the songs were kind-of cheesy, but it’s expected at a wedding and all you could do was embrace it.

You two merged into the dancing crowd, everyone happy and spinning around as well as kids jumping around between their parents. You wrapped your arms around Tom’s neck, both of you moving and swaying and people passed by singing some of the lyrics. Even Steven and his bride cut in, making everyone cheer for them and laugh.

Once the night calmed down, with kids and older folks heading to their rooms, slower songs played for the guests still enjoying their time. As nice of a night it was, you looked out at the beach from afar and Tom was nursing his drink next to you.

“Do you want to… go see if we can sit on the beach?” You hesitantly asked, wondering if it was cheesy.

Tom nodded, “Sure. Yeah.” He half-smiled.

You both walked together from the wedding tent, heading down the unlit path. Tom grabbed one of the folded blankets displayed in a bin for people who wanted to sit on the beach any time of the day. 

As you two got closer to the beach, Tom couldn’t help but notice everything going on. The moonlight, the leftover pink petals and rice in the sand, even dolphins fins going by within the waves.

No one could make this up as the most perfect moment to ask someone out. Tom cracked his knuckles, the two of you listening to the crash of the waves against the shore, before he stuttered out his words.

“D-Did you have fun tonight?” He shyly asked, not looking at you.

“Yeah, I had a lot of fun. I’m glad you invited me…” You trailed.

Okay, this was the moment. Tom thought, This is when you tell her.

He gulped, but you spoke before him.

“Are you okay?” You furrowed your brow.

Tom cleared his throat, “Yeah! Yeah, I just… I want to tell you something.”

You giggled at his sudden shyness, getting closer to him, “What’s going on?” You grinned, but a bit concerned. You couldn’t gauge if his tone was happy or upset.

He didn’t want to take a completely dramatic pause, but there wasn’t enough air in the world for his lungs to feel like they were working. His tongue felt dry, his skin felt cold, holding his breath until it just all slipped out.

“I really like you and… I haven’t been able to figure out how to say it. I read these books about love and what it is but, I couldn’t think of anything to say for shit.” Tom chuckled, his neck and cheeks heated, “But, now I know that I want to be with you and I’ve known that ever since you came into my life wearing some caution tape and gave you my hoodie… I think that you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

He couldn’t believe he admitted it out loud, feeling a bit faint from letting it all out at once.

You chuckled in relief, “I like you too, Tom. We’ve spent so much time together and you’re so fun to be with that I’ve been tripping over myself wondering if you felt the same.” You thought your heart was in your throat and butterflies bursted in your stomach, “I didn’t want to be that weird girl who just thinks she’s in love with the cute guy at the bookstore she spends too much time at during the day.” 

Tom gulped, surprised by your response, but he had to catch his breath again when your eyes met again. The moment was still a bit awkward, not knowing what to say next, but you bite your bottom lip, “I think this is the part in books and movies where we kiss and ride into the sunrise on your beautiful steed.” 

He cracked a smile and leaned in, his hand against your cheek before your lips met. You would be lying if you said you weren’t dying for this kiss to happen. Like that end at any sappy romance novel you read for pleasure, they always ended in these kind of passionate and satisfying kisses. Although you didn’t think those type of scenarios were real, this was enough to make you start believing.

*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ*✭˚·ﾟ✧*·ﾟ* 

Your eyes fluttered open, surprised by the sound of the waves still crashing onto the shore and salty but gentle breeze brushing across your face. You two must have fallen asleep from how tired the night made you between the dancing and drinking, but you weren’t complaining instead smiling at the coincidence.

A few moments later, Tom would stir from his sleep. He didn’t believe how loud and close the waves were, but his eyes fluttered open to you sat up and looking out at dawn. The wedding arch still stood between the soft sand of the beach, both of you watching the glowing sunset begin its descent under the horizon. 

Another cold breeze set the relaxed mood even more as you two sat there admiring the start of the morning. Tom stretched his back, both of you comfortable with the silence between you two. Feeling refreshed and happy, you turned your head to Tom and the orange light made his brown eyes shine.

“Yesterday happened, right? It wasn’t just an amazing dream I had.” Tom joked, turning to smile at you.

“Truly real. Nothing fictional about it.” You smiled.

Tom placed his hand on your cheek, cupping your skin softly before placing his lips on yours. Your smile faded as your noses brushed together, your heart fluttering as you paced your sweet kiss. It was your happy ending that no book could write.

[jasntodds]

Summary:

Pairing: Bartender!Tom Holland x Reader

You want a relationship and Tom wants to find his “one person.” The want to not be lonely left you both going on a string of bad dates. And you both had your usual spots you would go to sulk about it but, as a coincidence would have it, your spots are closed on the same night leading you both to same exact diner. And as another coincidence would have it, your server serves you each other’s meals, leading the two of you to meet.

Not a soulmate AU but inspired but the red string of fate theory.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of getting cheated on previously, alcohol use, there’s blood in like one chapter (I can’t help it)

A/N: I said I thought about this fic for over a year and here we are lmao decided to finally write it. I haven’t been this excited or happy with a series since Forever so I hope you guys enjoy it as much I do!! 

tag list | playlist | full masterlist

↳ status: CANCELLED

Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Coincidences Chapter 2 - Date One Chapter 3 - The Setup Chapter 4 - Atlas (coming Nov. 25) Chapter 5 - Date Two Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 Chapter 9 - Petrichor  Chapter 10 - Oh, There’s The Trauma Chapter 11 Chapter 12 

OC Versions

AO3 Wattpad

I don’t know Tom personally nor I own him. What’s written is just fiction and should be thought of as such. I’m essentially using him as a nameclaim and faceclaim. I’m creating a character and just using his name and features for details. I do not directly associate Tom with any ideas used in my writing. It’s used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. I do not directly associate the actions, activities, or emotions with Tom himself. He is being used here as a character should be thought of such.

[totheblood]

people i don't like | tom holland

act one: round one

summary: college is much harder than you thought it would be and now you have to pretend to be rich and join a sorority to keep your scholarship. tom just happens to be the rich frat boy who gets thrown in the mix.

↳ richkid!au, college!au

word count: 4.3k+

(a/n at end of chapter)

You were generally a smart person.

At least that’s what you told yourself. You were smart, in an over-achieving, high marks on all your papers kind of way. You were smart, in a valedictorian, staying up late studying type of way. You were smart enough to earn yourself a seat at one of the most elite universities in the world. You were also smart enough to earn yourself a full ride. However, you were not as smart as you thought.

As you grew accustomed to the harsh Connecticut winter, bulking up in thick wool jackets and getting warm with herbal teas, you failed to adapt to the rigorous curriculum at Yale. You found it hard to keep up with your peers, the due dates always being earlier than expected and the words that got you through high school somehow falling short. Whatever work you were doing was described by your professors as dull, lacking understanding, and rushed no matter how hard you tried. This would’ve meant seemingly nothing, the only downside being a bit of a bruised ego, but every time you got a bad grade your mind drifted to your mother.

Your mother who sent you off to college with her last five paychecks and a kiss on the cheek. The mother who raised you all by herself after your father abandoned you. The mother who worked multiple jobs to pay the bills and make sure you never felt the lack of your father. The woman who you knew, even if it wasn’t explicitly said, was banking on the fact that you would graduate from an ivy league and land any job you wanted. A part of you knew your mother would always be proud of you, no matter what you did, but you still felt your stomach sink at the idea that your scholarship might be jeopardized with your poor grades and you would have to leave Yale and compromise the future your mother expected of you.

To your surprise you finished your first semester with 2 A’s, 3 B’s, and a bit of frostbite from the blizzard you had the night before finals. You were really shocked, however, that you had gotten an A in your Advanced English Literature class, seeing as you handed in all your papers late and received nothing but criticism from Professor Berger. So you remained blissfully unaware, arriving back on campus in late January with a new attitude and determination to do better this semester. You were unaware as you unpacked your belongings again and heard your phone chime the same sound it does ten times a day. Unaware as you opened up your email to see in big bold letters:

URGENT - MEETING WITH PROFESSOR BERGER TO FINALIZE YOUR GRADE

After freaking out for about an hour on the phone with your best friend, Fletcher, he urged you to go to Professor Bergers office as soon as possible to get this resolved. So you made your way over to his office on campus, your hands shaking and heartbeat fast as you waited outside his office for him to be finished with whatever student he had decided to torment first. You were almost positive you were having a heart attack and you watched as your vision got blurry until-

“Ms. Y/L/N?” He announced in a loud yet firm voice, his eyes catching your frantic ones. “Are you ready to come in?” He asked, pushing the door more open with his body, his arm outstretched motioning you to come in. So you gave him a nervous smile, averted your eyes, and sat on the chair facing his desk. You sat with your clammy hands and rapid heartbeat as he closed his door behind you and made his way to the other side of the desk. As he sat, he began searching through his desk for your file and upon finding it let out a deep sigh and placed it on the desk between you two.

“Ms. Y/L/N, I know you were probably a bit confused as to how and why you got an A in my class last semester after never submitting a paper on time.” He stated, seeming to wait for your response.

“Well, I would never look a gift horse in its mouth if you know what I mean.” You joked, earning not even a hint of a smile. Tough crowd.

He let out another sigh, rolled up his sleeves, and leaned forward on his desk getting as close to you as his desk would allow. “Look, Y/N, I am a firm believer in second chances. I know that the first semester at Yale is most difficult for new students and I know what it’s like to be in your position. I know there are certain requirements for your scholarship and I would like for you to be able to meet them but for the grade I gave you last semester, you will have to earn that.”

At this point you were confused, scared, and developing a wicked headache so you had no idea what to say. You thought he would keep talking but when he didn’t, you took that as your sign to open your mouth.

“I’m sorry Professor, do you want me to retake your class? Because I think that the times that you have class conflict with my current schedule.” You explained, a smile on your face that pleaded ‘please go easy on me’.

“No, I’m not asking you to retake my class. I am asking you to write an in depth paper about a person, a thing, an organization, anything really that you hate or opposes your worldview. And I’m not talking about mild research, I’m talking literally putting yourself in their shoes. Walk around in them, and then write about it. Write from a different perspective. Become someone new. Your writing is good, but it is also juvenile. It’s inexperienced. You only see the world from your point of view, and to be a good writer, you need to change that.”

All you could catch yourself doing was blinking back in surprise. He wanted you to write a research paper for your A? That you could do, and if it was only one paper then you could also do it really well. So you plastered a smile on your face and nodded back at him.

“So how long do you want it to be? And when is it due?” You inferred, hoping you had time to figure out who this paper was going to be about.

“However long it needs to be to let me know how your view has changed and why. You have until the end of this semester.” This time he gave you a smile. Not a kind smile, but  a smile that let you know that he was in charge.

“What if my views don’t change?” You questioned.

“If you get to know the thing, the people, the organization, some part of your views will change. Not all of it, but some.”

With limited written up instructions, he sent you off into the night, your head now on the verge of exploding from information overload. On your way home you began to think of ideas, who to write about, who you hated, and how you were possibly going to get to walk in their shoes. With your headphones in you couldn’t hear the loud music on sorority row as you approached, but you did see the lights and people scattered all over the lawn. Bodies on top of bodies, and groups of unbelievably hot rich girls and douchey rich frat boys gathered in circles on porches of houses and you rolled your eyes at the entire concept of greek life.

It appalled you how these people spent money on huge houses, useless parties, and galas while you were struggling to even go to this college. How these people, basically dry humping on the lawn, didn’t have to worry about grades or that classes started tomorrow because they could afford to fail. It made you angry but it also made you insanely jealous. However, as you rolled your eyes at the people having fun and ‘living life’ it occurred to you that they just might be the answer to all your problems.

Fletcher was already outside your dorm room door when you arrived, a chocolate chip cookie in hand. He was the first and only friend you made at school and he was also the reason you made it through the first semester. He was awkward but in a way that made you comfortable to be around him. He was this tall, blonde hair, standard white guy that you would have found attractive if he wasn’t Fletcher. But he was your friend and possibly the best friend you ever had and you in no way wanted to mess that up, the taste of platonic intimacy being all you needed.

“Brought you a cookie.” He stated, smiling and opening his arms up for a hug. You happily obliged since you hadn’t seen your friend in weeks and you were missing human touch. “Just in case you got bad news.” His words getting muffled by your hair.

You pulled back from him and moved to open your door so you both could pile in. “No, not bad news. Just different news.”

He placed the cookie on your desk and sat down on your bed, leaning back and taking off his jacket. “Different news? What does that mean?” He watched as you took your jacket and shoes off and hopped on the bed next to him.

“It means that Professor Berger wants me to write a paper about something that I oppose, but I have to really get to know it.” You told him, your voice low as you rested your head against the wall.

“That makes no sense to me.” Fletcher replied, leaning up on his elbows to get a good look at you. “What are you gonna do?”

“I think I’m going to rush Kappa Kappa Gamma.” You stated simply, getting up to grab your cookie and quickly returning to your spot on the bed. Fletcher, however, quickly sat up and sat crossed legged across from you, watching your movements.

“What do you mean you're going to rush Kappa Kappa Gamma? Do you want to lose your soul?” He asked rushed as if he was genuinely worried about you joining a sorority.

“It’s not like for real, just something to write my paper about. That’s all.” You took a bite of your cookie as your friend began to look more panicked.

“Y/N, do you know what they do to people who rush sororities? Awful things. People die from hazing, you know. And isn’t the initiation fee like a thousand dollars?” He questioned frantically, making good points, and while you knew that Fletcher was protective of you, you were also sure that rushing greek life wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to you.

“I have money saved up from the cafe that I don’t have anything to spend on. And I can take care of myself, Fletch. I promise I won’t let some sorority girls kill me.” You tried reassuring him, which seemed to work but he still looked a bit spooked.

“Just be careful, Y/N, if you decide to do this.” He pleaded, grabbing your hand. “Please?” 

“I will be careful, I promise.”

ROUND ONE

Round one took place that Saturday night, the KKG foyer decorated elegantly with baby pink streamers and a big bright banner that read: Welcome To Your Future. You wanted to laugh at the irony, but didn’t. You were ashamed to admit that you spent over 200 dollars on a dress from Free People that seemed to fit you in the right places. It was silk with a deep V neck and flowy sleeves. It was long and flowy, yet form fitting at your waist. It was comfortable enough to wear with your large leather jacket with fur trimmings that you thrifted a month ago back home. You spent over an hour doing your makeup, trying to play up your best features with your newest purchases from Sephora. You are also not proud to admit that you spent over an hour doing a deep conditioning treatment on your hair so it could look extra healthy for tonight. Needless to say, you were dressed for the part.

To your surprise, that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part would be talking like you belonged there. Finding out where rich people buy their groceries, buy their clothes, what gyms they had subscriptions to. The hard part would be the conversation, the forced laughter, and trying to not look absolutely disgusted when taking a bite of caviar. It was making sure your posture was right, making sure you exuded enough confidence for them to want to get to know you. Confidence had never been your strong suit, but you were sure it was something you could muster up for a night or two, or maybe that was your fake confidence talking.

Whatever it was, you were in a room full of girls your age who either looked terrified or absolutely at home and you could tell you were teetering the line between the two. So you made your way across the room to where two tall, clean, and effortlessly beautiful women were standing beside a table full of finger foods and premade cocktails. You didn’t acknowledge them, seeing as you didn’t want to come off as desperate or needy, but they definitely noticed you. 

You watched from the corner of your eye as the two girls looked you up and down before turning to each other and whispering. You wanted to yell at them about how whispering is rude but instead you took a glass filled with champagne and a baby pink bow around the stem and took a swig from the cup before turning your attention to the party. You were observing the other girls, with their long flowy dresses and silky hair and wondered to yourself how much you truly looked like them. You were just getting lost in your thoughts when the girls from before approached you.

“Hi, I’m Millie.” The first girl smiled, a hand outstretched for yours. She was the type of beautiful people wrote books about. She had a sculpted face and amber eyes with the highest cheekbones you have seen in your life. She had long honey brown hair that sat nicely on her shoulders and she wore a strapless black dress that would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for her long legs and high heels. “Millie Astor, I’m the president of Kappa Kappa Gamma.” She bragged and offered you a sugary sweet smile as you took her hand and shook before quickly retreating. “And you are?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L.” You smiled so widely that your cheeks hurt. “It’s so beautiful what you’ve done with the place. Truly stunning.” you beamed. You were unsure if this was going to win you points with Millie, but you didn’t want to come off as detached or have her believe you thought you were too good for this sorority. 

“Thank you, sweetie.” Condescending, you thought to yourself. “Are you planning on rushing KKG?” She inquired in an insincere way. 

“I’m thinking about it, yes. My mom is a legacy at Kappa Alpha Theta so I’m also rushing there.” You replied back to her in the same insincere way. She smiled at you like you said the right thing and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Well, please consider rushing Kappa Kappa Gamma. We would be lucky to have you.” This time she actually sounded sincere.

“I’ll think about it. It was lovely talking to you.”

About 30 minutes had passed and you had already talked to enough people to last you a lifetime, but you needed everyone here to like you. You don’t know why you needed it to be that way, but you assumed that it would be easier to get dirt if you got on good with everyone here. But as the night went on and you began on your fifth champagne flute, you found yourself sitting down next to some girl seated at the kitchen island.

“Hey,” she smiled the first genuine smile of the night, almost seeming shocked that someone was sitting down next to her. 

“Hey.” you smiled back, giving her the best half smile you could muster.

“I’m Hazel.” she told you more awkwardly this time, her confidence draining by your cold demeanor.

“I’m Y/N.” You sighed, keeping your gaze with her and taking another sip from your champagne flute. She had shoulder length black hair and tan skin. Her kind eyes kept creasing everytime she spoke and she was suited in a short gold dress that you were sure cost more than your house. She looked nice, but she also looked nervous.

“Are you anxious?” You asked, glancing at her fingers playing with her thumbs.

“That obvious?” She laughed, the tension draining from her body but you just held her gaze and gave her a real smile. “Yeah, I’m really anxious. I feel like I don’t belong here when getting into this sorority has been a lifelong dream of mine.” That’s a sad dream, you thought.

“What makes you think you don’t belong here? You certainly look the part.” You told her. This was you in your own way trying to be nice.

“I know I have this fancy dress on and my mom is a legacy but I just feel like the people here don’t get me like I thought they would.” She confided in you, her head now resting on the cold tile of the kitchen island, her brown eyes glancing up at you.

“Well, you just have to act the part now. Make them get you. Assimilate or some shit like that.” That sounded more comforting in your head. “Or just drink until everything anyone says becomes funny.” She let out a giggle and lifted her head up to look at you.

“Thank you.” she sighed.

“For what?” you wondered, completely confused.

“For being the first person to make me laugh tonight.” She gave you a large grin that was completely replaced with a look of confusion as you both heard loud noises coming from the entryway. She jumped up off her seat to find out where it was coming from and you quickly followed behind her to find a group of guys entering through the front door. Some of the girls who were already a part of the sorority were hugging and greeting their loud guests while some of them started to move inside and pick off the food table. 

There was, however, a brunette among the crowd who had his eyes locked with you. His curls were slicked back making his hair look almost wet. He was wearing a baby blue button down shirt and pants that were way too fitting as he stood across the room with his eyes fixed on you. He then offered you a smile and a tiny wave before you averted your gaze and turned towards Hazel, a weird look on your face.

“It’s Alpha Delta Phi, the brother sorority.” Hazel notified you trying to answer the question you had asked in your head.

“Oh, I know that, I just want to know who that guy is. The one who is staring at me.” You glanced over at him quickly so Hazel could know who you were talking about.

“Babe, he’s not staring, he’s checking you out.” She giggled as you could feel the heat rush to your face. 

“I don’t care what he’s doing, I want to know who he is.” You snapped at her, but in a friendly way. In a way that made her giggle and put her hand over her mouth.

“That’s Tom, he’s like modern day royalty I swear. He’s loaded.” She informed you causing you to literally roll your eyes.

“What, you don’t like hot rich men?” She giggled again, linking arms with you and dragging you to the food table with her.

“I’m just tired of douchebags, I think.” You popped a grape in your mouth before browsing the rest of the food on the table. 

“Oh, he’s not a douchebag. I heard he’s very nice which is why almost everyone here wants to date him. A guy with money who is nice? Unheard of.” She also grabbed a grape and popped that in her mouth before grabbing an appetizer that resembled a wonton and began eating it.

“I wish he would be nice enough to stop staring at me.” You mumbled, glancing over to where the brunette was deep in conversation with another much taller guy. He would occasionally glance over at you, smirk when he caught your eye, and then give his attention back to his friend.

“Are you not into guys?” Hazel asked, throwing you out of your trance as you shook your head in confusion as to why she was asking you that.

“No, I am. Why do you ask that?” You eyed her, obviously intimidating her.

“It’s just that here you have this hot, rich, and apparently nice guy. I just don’t understand how you could not want him to stare at you?” She was making good points, but that didn’t take away from the fact that you were here for one thing only and you didn’t need any distractions.

“I’m just not into dating at the moment. It’s not for me.” This was partially true. To say you had commitment issues would be the understatement of the century. Ever since you watched your parents' marriage fall apart right in front of you, everything having to do with love quickly turned sour. The idea of even settling down caused your stomach to flip upside down and you didn’t think that some rich boy with nice hair could change that. Especially if he was JUST some frat guy.

Later that night you found yourself walking home alone. You didn’t want to waste money on an uber seeing as you needed to save as much money as possible to not only pay your initiation fee, but to also keep up the charade. You also didn’t feel like taking public transportation this late at night so you decided to do what you always do: pretend you are on the phone and walk as fast as your heels would allow you.

It would’ve been a nice night to walk home if it wasn’t so cold and your feet weren’t killing you from standing in your heels all night. There were fairy lights that were strung across each house and the streets were relatively empty. You could hear music coming from various houses on sorority row and see silhouettes of people dancing through the windows. Needless to say, you felt very safe walking home.

You were feeling safe until a black sports car started tailing you. You could hear how fast it was driving prior, but was met with silence when it started going much slower right behind you. You wanted to run into a house, scream, or call for help but you were frozen and just hoped whoever was in that car would leave you alone. You held your breath as the car pulled up to you and maintained its pace with yours as you walked. The window rolled down to reveal the brunette from earlier, the one who was staring you down.

You stopped in your tracks to glare at him. He had that same stupid smirk from earlier on his face and you could tell that he expected it to make you swoon, but it didn’t.

“What? Are you stalking me?” You asked harshly, your night officially being too long.

“No, not stalking you.” He gave you a wide grin. “I promise.” He made a crossing motion over his heart and you had to admit that it was kind of endearing. You, however, chose not to respond, raising your eyebrow and urging him to speak.

“I saw you walking and wanted to see if you needed a ride home.” He offered. “I’m Tom, by the way.” He was cute in a boyish way. His dimples made his eyes wrinkle around the edges and his teeth were straight and white. He looked well put together, like he looked after himself or had someone to do that for him. He looked calm and safe, but don’t most serial killers look calm and safe these days?

“Well, Tom, I’m not supposed to get in cars with strangers.” You teased. “What if you kidnap me?” This earned a hearty laugh from him, his head shaking as he tried to hide his blush.

“I won’t kidnap you, but if it makes you feel safe I could roll the windows down, keep the door unlocked, and drive really slow.” You could tell he was being nice and sincere but you still took caution upon entering his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice and you had to be careful to not let on that you weren’t one of the sorority girls he was used to. 

Not to your knowledge, but at the same time you were getting into Tom’s car Millie was walking down the block with the pack of cigarettes that she had previously hidden under the floorboards in her hand. She wouldn’t have recognized you as the girl getting in Tom’s car if it wasn’t for the dress you wore that made you stand out among the crowd. She couldn’t help but smile to herself watching the car drive off with you inside it. 

After you told him which dorm you lived in, he kept his promise and drove excruciatingly slow, but you just assumed he wanted to spend more time with you. He didn’t play music and kept glancing over at you to make sure you were okay and comfortable, smiling to himself about how you were playing with your hands and was visibly nervous.

“Why were you walking back home anyway?” He broke the silence, only glancing over at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road. You had to come up with a lie and you had to come up with one quickly.

“I just think walking is better for my health, so I don’t have a car.” It was a blatant lie but you thought it sounded shallow enough for him to believe you. “But it was really cold tonight so I’m glad you picked me up, I just canceled my Uber.” He just hummed in response, his long fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

“So you’re rushing KKG?” he wondered, this time not looking over at you at all. 

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun. Everyone seems so nice.” He let out a loud laugh that actually caused you to jump out of your seat.

“Nice isn’t the first word I would use to describe Kappa girls but I can tell you’re nice enough to try to compliment them.” He told you after he caught his breath.

“Yeah, I mean, I felt like I was definitely being judged but nobody threw me down and started punching me so I assumed they were nice enough.” This time you glanced over at him. You could see the little freckles on this side of his face and the texture on his skin. The tip of his nose turned upwards as he spoke and his lips wer- Ok, no, you were not going to do this.

“That’s your standard for niceness? Someone not throwing you down and punching you?” he asked in a teasing tone.

“Yeah, I think so.” You replied back, watching your dorm room appear in the distance.

“Do you think I’m nice then?” he asked his voice now low and subtly flirty, looking over at you again.

“Hm, maybe. I’d have to get to know you, I think.” You whispered back, smiling as his cheeks changed shades. What the fuck were you doing.

“Well, I’ll show you just how nice I can be.”

That Sunday morning you decided to sleep in, but were rudely awakened by a notification from your phone.

DEAR Y/N Y/L, YOU HAVE BEEN INVITED TO ROUND TWO AT KAPPA KAPPA GAMMA

LOVE, MILLIE

a/n: i am ashamed to say this took me two days to write not including my outline... but i actually love this plotline and i think it will be a fun challenge to write but i have a lot of scenes mapped out and character boards which i think i will like just make igs for them as a concept andddd yea ok i hope you like... I APPRECIATE ANY AND ALL FEEDBACK MWAH!

taglist and mutuals: @sxfik @olsensnpm @userholland @gwenscindys @spideyspeaches @cocoamoonmalfoy @venomsilk @spvilers @petereading @honeyspidey @spideyobsessed @vendettaparker @erule @4ppurrr @vxid42 @wildholland @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @lovebyceleste @mayal0pez @ariianelle @keanureevesisbae @ghiblijoons @peterparkoure @starstruckspring @willie-ivy @spideyy @seaveysinn @simplyparker @silkscream @silkholland

[pbnjparker]

pretty face | t. holland [smau]

an: this gif <3 makes my heart go wooooo, anyways sorry for the lack of updates recently!!!! im nearing the end of my school semester and trying to get the grades that i need bc im on academic probation lmfao :p love u all and i hope u enjoy this short smau :) 

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader (jenna ortega fc)

liked by tomholland2013, florencepugh, ashemusic, zendaya and 4,595,204 others

yourinstagram taken and edited by moi <3 oh and tom looks good too ig

view all 503,503 comments

yourinstagram im a supreme editor, love that 4 me

tomholland2013 babe???

yourinstagram what???

zendaya he ruins the picture *sigh*

yourinstagram i think he looks pretty :p

tomholland2013 tysm love u

yourinstagram pretty ugly HAHAHA

harryholland64 he wants to be a vsco girl

yourinstagram he really does lmfao

liked by yourinstagram, florencepugh, haileesteinfeld, zendaya, harryholland64, samholland1999, hazosterfield and 9,958,054 others

tomholland2013 this pic is concerning

view all 1,405,502 comments

yourinstagram omg this pic pls

tomholland2013 im so concerned

harryholland64 not u casually taking a pic with ur killer

yourinstagram im iconic for that

harryholland64 as you should 

zendaya our new scream queen periodddd

yourinstagram slay

hazosterfield do u want to play a little game?

yourinstagram wrong franchise bud 😭

samholland1999 i can't stop laughing omg

yourinstagram  i haven't stopped giggling since tom took it