[justapurrcat]

Baby Penguins and Popping Legs | p.b.p.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Excerpt: “Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.”

Word Count: 8.977k

Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, a bit of angst, silly dialogues, throwing up (not graphical), NWH spoilers, Tom!Peter (aged up)

A/n: And here it is! My Valentine gift for you (one day late bc it’s me)! Written for @venomsilk’s Valentine Bingo~ thank you for giving me the occasion to write this 💜💜💜 I received Card 1 - SFW and I went with the third vertical row (college + bed sharing + meet ugly). Happy (belated) Valentine’s day to you all, and I hope you enjoy this!

Penguin Crush Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

You winked at Mira from across the over-crowded room. The guy she was talking to was completely mesmerized by her, and rightly so. She looked like a goddess, the accent of gold you had put above her eyeliner wing bringing out the little flecks in her eyes.

You raised your cup with a proud nod of your head: the poor girl deserved a break. And, in all honesty, you did, too. The latest group project had been – to say it nicely – an absolute fucking nightmare, with the two of you ending up doing all the work and the other three assholes making a fool of themselves in front of the whole class, because they couldn’t even be bothered to take a quick look at the part of presentation that had been prepared for them – that you and Mira had prepared for them –, leaving you and your friend to pick up the pieces and save the situation.

So, even if you weren’t that much of a social animal, you had accepted to go with her at the party in what was commonly known as the Osborn dorm.

Bringing the cup to your lips, you realized your drink – a sad and plain water because you were a sad and plain lightweight – was almost finished, so you made your way through the crowd, heading towards the kitchen and finding it surprisingly empty... except for one person, a guy with his back turned to the entrance.

Your heart leaped in your throat: you would’ve recognized those curls anywhere, since you kept staring at them almost everyday in class.

Mira had mentioned that he might have been there tonight, and you would’ve lied if you’d said that wasn’t one of the main reasons that convinced you to go. And she knew you well enough to know that giving you that information from the very beginning would be a winning strategy.

You had no idea how, but Peter Parker seemed to sense your presence despite the music covering almost every other sound and he turned around so quickly you almost lost track of his movements. “Oh!”, he gasped.

He was dressed in the same way he would dress everyday to attend class, with jeans and a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with a pun on it. Mira would occasionally make fun of them, but you found them cute. Today, it was an art one, with a pizza drawn like the Vitruvian Man. Your favourite so far, probably.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying, and failing, to push back the rebel lock that would always fall back on his forehead. “Hi!” His rosy cheeks and nose told you that he had probably been drinking a bit, but overall he looked like he was doing okay.

“H-hi!”

“Hi...”, he repeated, shooting you a breath-taking smile. “I’m Pet–” That was all he managed to let out because, next thing you knew, he was hunched over, one hand on his knee and the other one resting on the wall, throwing up everything he had in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” You jumped back at the sudden turn of events, scared and a bit disgusted, but concern washed over you immediately after, so you rushed to his side to help him, grabbing his arm so that he wouldn’t lose his balance. Your free hand went to support his forehead, moving the loose curls out of the way. “How much did you drink?!”

To his credit, he did try to answer you, but he just couldn’t, too busy pouring his soul out on the alcohol-stained floor.

You tried to keep calm, but deep down you were panicking, and it felt like being trampled by a bunch of runaway horses. However, you never let go of Peter, not even when your arms started to hurt, not even when, right after the vomiting stopped, he literally slouched on you with his eyes closed, in a way that made you fear he was about to faint.

You gasped, the unexpected weight of his body threatening to make you fall. “It’s okay, it’s okay...”, you said, talking to yourself more than to him. “You’re okay, I got you.”

The poor guy just hummed against your ear and you sighed in relief: it wasn’t much, but at least he wasn’t unconscious.

“Okay, I must get you away from here”, you shouted, throwing his arm on your shoulders and wrapping yours around his torso, another completely unexpected detail distracting you for a spilt-second.

You had noticed his arms before, and Mira had spent an entire afternoon teasing you after hearing your first comment about them.

“You bet he’s great at giving hugs?”

“What?” You muttered, purposely ignoring her knowing look, and instead focusing on getting her eyeliner done. “I wouldn’t mind being cuddled by him.”

“He does give off extremely cuddly Golden Retriever vibes”, she conceded.

“So what’s wrong with me wanting to hug him?”

“Nothing, sweetie”, your friend said with a reassuring tone, looking at you like she was staring at a kitten. “It’s just... you’re so cute”, she gushed. “A hug is not the very first thing I think of when looking at a guy’s arms, you know?”

“I’m touch-starved, okay?”, you pouted.

“Touch... girl, you’re the perfect combination between a hedgehog and a porcupine that got high on a cactus”, Mira countered. “You despise the idea of people touching you.” To furthermore prove her point, she lightly pinched your hip, snickering when you flinched and scrunched your nose at her.

“Mira! The eyeliner!”, you scolded her. Thankfully, she had caused no damage. “You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

She smirked, blowing you a kiss. “It’s part of my charm. But you see what I mean? You’re worse–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Worse than my cat”, you cut her off. “But I... I get the feeling it would make him blush and get all giggly...”, you explained, already starting to beam like an idiot as you pictured the scene in your mind. “I wanna make him blush and get all giggly...”

Mira clicked her tongue in fake annoyance, this time doing her best not to move too much. “Oh God... spare me.”

But you were already getting lost in your daydream to care. “I wanna count his frecklesss!!!”, you whined. “And pinch his cheeks and–”

“Give him the best head of his life, I get it, I get it.”

... but there seemed to be something more because apparently, he wasn’t as skinny as he looked, always covered with those sweaters and flannels that were too big for him...

Fuck, y/n! This is not the time!

You considered moving him to the garden, but it was freezing and you had no idea where his coat was. In his state, you knew he wouldn’t have been of any help in trying to find it and you didn’t want him to catch a cold. Plus, he probably needed to lay down, drink a lot of water and rest for a while.

So, you eventually guided him out of the kitchen and dragged him up the stairs, your yelled comforting words gradually lowering as the boomy music got more and more muffled, until they quieted down to soft whispers.

“Trust me, you’re gonna be fine, okay Peter?”, you mumbled encouragingly, rubbing his back in gentle motions, while you tried to find an empty room, the unequivocal moans alternated with loud snores not really making the task easier.

Peter sniffed the air a few times, like something was bothering him.

“You need to stop for a second?”, you offered, apprehension lacing your tone.

He just nodded and you stopped helping him lean back against the wall.

“Everything okay?”

Peter scrunched up his nose, narrowing his gaze, those adorable little wrinkles that lived in your mind rent-free forming at the side of his eyes. “You smell...” He stopped for a second, studying you attentively, like he was looking for the right adjective. “... weird.”

“W-well, I–”

“I don’t like it.”

You were absolutely taken aback by that, your mouth dropping open in embarrassment and dismay. What a lovely first interaction with your crush. That perfume... you had picked it out just for him... only for him to tell you that you stank. “Oh...”

Fighting the urge to sniff your wrists to check how disastrous the situation was, you attempted a chuckle but it came out weak and dry. Right now, you just wanted to do the opposite and bawl your eyes out. “O-okay...”

Peter tilted his head to the side, a blissful smile on his lips as he closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. But then he immediately jumped up, almost giving you a heart attack. “Nonononono wait!”, he blabbered, grabbing your outstretched hands not to fall. “It’s your perfume, I meant your perfume!”, he rushed to explain, causing you to blink in confusion, wondering why he felt the need to specify that, because what else could ‘You smell weird. I don’t like it’ mean?

Oh God, was he implying that you smelled like you hadn’t showered?

“It’s your perfume that’s bad, your skin smells amazing!!!”, Peter yelled, distracting you from that trainwreck of thoughts.

“Wha–how the fuck do you know how my skin smells?!”, you questioned. If his previous words had been confusing, you had no idea how to describe these new ones.

“I have a fifth sense!”, he whispered, tapping the tip of his nose.

You opened your mouth to reply – what exactly, you didn’t know – but something, or rather someone, cut you off before you could even speak.

“Dude, what kinda weird sex ritual is that supposed to be?”

Your head whipped in the direction of that voice, only to find Harry Osborn standing a few feet away from you, a cup in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“He said sex”, Peter giggled like a school-girl.

Harry ignored him. “Are you into this, y/n?”, he asked you mockingly. “Are you gonna chop his head off once you’re done?”

“You’re not helping, Osborn”, you hissed, but it didn’t seem to impress him.

“Wasn’t trying to”, he replied plainly, taking a sip of his drink. “Have fun with your weird sex.”

“Sex”, Peter repeated. “Yes, I like sex. Sex is fun.”

“He’s shit-faced!”, you pointed out with horrified indignation on behalf of the drunk boy next to you.

“I haven’t done much of it, but I’d love to do more–”

Harry just shrugged. “A condition that never stopped me. That’s actually when I perform at my best.”

“So, you’re telling me that you need to get into an altered state to know what a clit even is?”, you asked, venom dripping from your every word.

“I know what a clit is!” Peter announced proudly, and you just knew, even without looking at him, that he had that impossibly adorable expression he had whenever he’d give an answer in class. It went without saying that it was always the correct one. “And even where it is!”

Harry brought a hand to his chest, his smirk faltering a little. “... that hurt, y/n.”

“I can show you, if you want–”

“Good”, you dead-panned, trying not to let your thoughts linger on what Peter just said. “Now, kindly fuck off if you can’t help me.”

You faced him again and he was already staring at you with a dopey smile.

“Fuck. You said fuck”, he told you, like he was spilling a secret. “You look cute when you say fuck.”

You were just about to say something, but, for the second time that night, Harry interrupted you. “Last room on the left.”

You gave him an interrogative look.

“It’s mine”, he explained casually. “You’re lucky, I changed the sheets this morning.”

You furrowed your brows. Harry wasn’t a complete asshole, but he wasn’t exactly the most generous person you knew either, so it was fair to say that that sudden kindness was taking you by surprise. “And where are you going to sleep?”

The grin reappeared on his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. “Bold of you to assume I wanna sleep, lovie.”

You rolled your eyes at the pet-name as he began to make his way towards the stairs, but a sense of regret for your mean words caught up with you. You bit the inside of your cheek. “Harry...”, you called, then waited for him to turn around.

“Mh?”

“... thank you.”

Harry winked, raising his cup at you and Peter. “Cheers!” Then he downed what remained of his drink in one-go and resumed walking away.

“Okay...” Finally, you returned your full attention to Peter, who was looking at you expectantly like an excited puppy. And you noticed that, despite the support of the wall, he was still holding your wrist, his delicate touch on your skin making your cheeks and ears heat up.

But you got out of that moment, and reminded yourself what you were actually doing, so you guided him to Harry’s room, shutting the door behind you, the mess you found inside not being a surprise to you. But at least, the bed was made. Not in the best way, sure, but it was and it even looked clean.

A positive thing, right?

“Careful...”, you warned Peter, slowly helping him towards the bed. “Here you go... just sit down, okay?”

With a pained groan, he plopped down on the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees, shoulders and head sinking in exhaustion.

You stared at him for a moment, your hand itching to caress his curls, but you decided against it. “I’m gonna go get you some water.”

“NO!”, Peter screamed, scaring the shit out of you. He grabbed your wrists just like he had done before, giving you an imploring look. “Don’t go! It’s too dangerous!”

“Peter”, you attempted to calm him. “I’ll be back in a second–”

The desperation in his eyes quickly turned into confusion. “How do you know my name?!” And then, said confusion merged into panic. “Shit!”, Peter yelped, his voice going up an octave. “How did you find out?!”

“Peter, we’re in the same class–”

He shook his head frantically, closing his eyes when the motion gave him a headache. “I’m not Peter!”

You kept quiet for a while, not really knowing how to reply. “... okay?”

“I’m Spider-Man.”

“Sure you are”, you snorted.

Peter’s eyes shot open again, and holy shit did the boy look offended. “It’s true!” He made a motion with his right hand, pointing it towards the wall with his palm facing up, the gesture reminding you of the way to say ‘I love you’ in sign language. “Look! Psst! Psst! Psst!”

Nothing happened and he frowned, observing his naked wrist like there was something wrong with it. He tried with his other hand. Still nothing.

“Shit, they don’t work...”, he muttered in disappointment, then looked back at you. “But I am Spider-Man, I swear!”

“Anything you say, Pet–Spider-Man”, you smiled, correcting yourself last-second.

“It’s fine”, he slurred, returning your smile... but kinda overdoing it: the corners of his mouth raising so much that he almost closed his eyes. “You can call me Peter. Just because I like you”, he conceded, but suddenly brought his finger to his lips. “But don’t tell my Guy in the Chair.”

You solemnly traced an imaginary ‘x’ on our mouth. “I promise I won’t.”

“Good”, Peter nodded, positively impressed by your loyalty. “Because he would be dead jealous.”

You bit down on your lip lightly, an idea you hadn’t took into consideration forming in your mind at his words. “Is he your boyfriend?”, you asked cautiously.

“He is... was my best friend”, he specified, frowning a little, like something crossed his mind. But he dismissed it immediately. “But I have to admit: he is cute.”

A wave of relief washed over you, even though it was not definitive. Sure, he had told you that he wasn’t romantically involved with this guy, but he didn’t go into the details. As far as you knew, there could’ve been someone else. But at the same time, him not saying anything else gave you a semblance of hope: maybe it meant that there wasn’t anyone else? But then again, he was drunk enough to firmly believe he was Spider-Man, so...

“The room is spinning”, Peter pointed out, taking a look around and bringing you back to reality. “Is this your house? You have a spinning house?”

“Yes, I designed it myself.”

“That’s so cool!!!”

You scanned the room, hoping that Harry could have some unopened water bottle lying around. Lucky for you – maybe the universe was trying to help you, after all –, he did, and you immediately grabbed it, silently apologized to its owner, and offered it to Peter, who impressively downed it in one go. Not without thanking you first, of course: even drunk, he still conserved his polite manners.

Good. Hydration? Done. Now, a lot of rest.

“Do you want to lay down?”, you asked, taking the now empty bottle from his hands. “Here”, you patted the mattress. “C’mon.”

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

Peter tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, but when you didn’t seem to understand, he explained what he meant. “I don’t have my pajamas with me.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem”, you reassured him. “Just take off your shoes.”

He took a moment to process your suggestion, then simply did as you told him.

Surprised by how smoothly things were going, you went to throw away the bottle, but as soon as you turned around whatever you were planning to say next got reduced to an incoherent mixture of sounds. “What are you doing?!”

You had no idea how he could’ve done it so rapidly, but Peter had already removed his plaid shirt, which had been carelessly thrown on the chair, and he was just in the middle of finishing to do the same thing with his pants. “Jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in”, he stated, completely unfazed by your reaction, and by the fact that he was left in his t-shirt, underwear and socks. It was like he wasn’t even realizing it.

You were left speechless until he pointed at your dress, no trace of malice in his voice. “That looks pretty uncomfortable, too.”

Trying to overcome the embarrassment, you forced out a nervous laugh. “Oh, it really isn’t–what the fuck?!”

He didn’t. He fucking didn’t.

His t-shirt was now covering your whole head like a bridal veil, the delicate scent of his cologne invading your nostrils...

You took it off to protest and immediately regretted doing it, the sight in front of you hitting you like a punch in the gut and making breath itch in your throat.

The young man in front of you looked like he’d literally just been carved out of a marble block. The dim light of the bedside lamp followed the well-defined shape of his broad shoulders, it traced the outline of his muscle onto the smooth skin, like a chisel moving on its own account to give life to a perfect Renaissance sculpture.

You gulped, totally absorbed in contemplation and Peter scooted back a little until he was sitting in the middle of the bed with his legs crossed. “You can use it.”

“W-what for?”

“Sleeping”, he replied like it was obvious.

“I don’t need to–”

“Are you leaving?”, he asked in all seriousness. Or at least, all the seriousness his drunk state could allow him.

Your answer, or rather lack of told him everything you needed to know. “Why?”, he murmured weakly. “Please, stay with me.”

Your hands clenched onto the soft fabric like it was a rope and you were about to fall into the void. “Peter, I really shouldn’t...”, you tried to reason with him.

Your most rational part told you that it was probably the overabundance of alcohol in his system talking through him and causing all that sudden sadness... and yet there was something in his eyes. Something that silently captured yours, making its way into the deepest part of your soul and grabbing your heart in its hold.

It wasn’t your first time seeing it: whenever he thought no one was paying attention to him, the light in his eyes would die out, eclipsed by a melancholy that made his happy façade crack. You did pay attention, though. You always did.

Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.

His eyes watered with tears and he outstretched his hand for you to take. He looked lost, frightened even, as he repeated your name, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Please.”

You sighed, giving in. “... okay.”

“Yaaaaay!!!”, Peter exulted in a complete shift of emotions, throwing his hands up in the air and agitating them in every direction. “This is the best party ever! Psst! Psst! Psst! Psst! Fuck, I really need to fix these things...”

“Right”, you went along. “While you... fix them” – whatever that means – “I’m gonna go change. I’ll be right back.”

Luckly, he didn’t protest, so you grabbed your purse and locked yourself in the bathroom, leaning against the door as you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

What the Hell are you doing, y/n?

You took your sweet time in there, removing your make up, brushing your teeth – you thanked your past self for making the wise decision of always carrying make-up wipes and a travel toothbrush in your bag, just in case of emergency –, and washing your face as calmly as you could, like everything was perfectly fine.

Like your crush wasn’t right on the other side of the door in just his underwear and socks, waiting for you to change into his shirt to sleep next to you, sharing the same bed.

Holy shit...

When you came back, tugging onto the hem of the shirt to make sure it covered you enough, you found Peter jumping onto the bed like a little kid, the difficulty of movement from before nowhere to be seen. “Ha!”, he exclaimed, making poses and uncoordinated combat moves, his curls bouncing wildly at his every movement. “Who are you calling little kid now, huh, Mr. Falcon?!”

It’s like watching a baby penguin tripping over his own feet...

He dodged another imaginary blow, then shoot another imaginary web at another imaginary enemy. “Bet you weren’t expecting that, Mr. Winter Soldier!”

God, I love this idiot.

“This will teach you!” He was charging his new attack when he noticed you standing there by the door. “Oh, you look so pretty!”

“Thanks...”, you smiled shyly, leaving your dress on the chair, on top of Peter’s clothes, and placing your shoes on the floor. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes! I’m winning! Just like in Berlin!”, he announced proudly, but he stopped all at once, creases forming on his forehead as other memories returned to him. “... wait, I didn’t win back then, did I? ... that fucking little wingy robot bitch yeeted me through the glass roof...” There was a bit of resentment in his voice, but his words made so little sense than they made maintaining a straight face extremely hard for you. “But, hadn’t it been for that, I would’ve won!”

“I believe you”, you nodded. “But maybe it’s better if you lay down? For real, this time.”

“But those two...”

“They look pretty beaten-up to me”, you finished his sentence, getting on the bed and standing next to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. “See?”, you gestured, trying to sound convincing. “They’re retiring.”

“Oh, you’re right...”, he agreed, then he raised his hand and...

Was he really making the ‘Whatever-You-Massive-Loser’ gesture from Camp Rock?

“Suck on that, you losers!”, Peter yelled, confirming your doubts. The overflowing enthusiasm took a toll on him, what little remained of his balance vanishing into thin air and his legs giving up under his weight.

“Be careful!” Moving on instinct to help him, you ended up meeting his same fate as you both fell back on the bed, your hands still holding his arm.

Peter didn’t even bat an eye, still busy gloating about his victory. He seemed good.

And despite the initial fear, you were good, too. Thankfully, neither of you had hit the wall with your heads or any of your limbs, nor had you fallen off, so it had been harmless. But it was always better to be sure. “Are you okay?”

“Heroes never get hurt”, he said, taking his eyes off of the ceiling to look at you and making finger guns. “And friendly neighbourhood super-heroes even less.”

“Right.” You let go of his arm, fixing your-his shirt to cover your thighs. “Because you’re Spider-Man.”

He blinked a few times. “How do you know?”

“I have a fifth sense that allows me to read minds”, you joked, tapping your temple to imitate him, but you doubted he would remember what he had told you in the hallway. And it turned out you were right: he didn’t remember, your latest shocking revelation being the only thing dominating his thoughts.

“Oh my God, really?”, he marvelled, covering his mouth with a hand. “What am I thinking now?”

“That you’re Spider-Man.”

“No way!!!” He got so excited that he sat up, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ and eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “You’re really good!”

You prompted yourself up on your elbows, releasing a quiet giggle. “What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

“You should make a business out of it”, Peter told you seriously.

Staring back at him with puckered lips, you fidgeted with your hands, mostly picking at your nails, to keep them busy from grabbing his face and pulling him in to cover his cheeks in kisses. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay”, you confirmed.

“Pinky promise?”, he asked you, offering you his little finger.

You sat up too and were about to cross your legs when you remembered what you were wearing, so you settled for resting your back against the headboard and interlocked your little finger with his. “Pinky promise.”

“Great.” His satisfied smile faded away as he tilted his head to the side, inspecting your hands. “... what are we promising?”

It took everything in you not to boop his adorable red nose and to keep a neutral face. “That we’re going to sleep.”

“Together???”, he gasped, cupping his own cheeks like he was afraid they could somehow run away. “Like hugging and holding hands?”, he suggested. “Can we hold hands? I wanna hold your hand.”

“Thought you were supposed to be a spider?”, you reminded him.

Peter straightened his back and you couldn’t have described it better than by comparing him with a Golden Retriever expecting to be petted. “I am a spider!” Even his expression made you think of that. Mira was always scarily accurate when creating her metaphors.

“I know, I know”, you playfully held your hands in front of you. “It was a stupid joke, Spider-Man.”

“Call me Peter”, he said, pointing at himself. “You can call me Peter.”

“Okay, Peter.”

“Peter?”, he wondered, as if he wasn’t the one who had mentioned that name in the first place. “Peter likes you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but that tiny fragment of hope that sparked in your chest was just as rapidly eclipsed by the darkness of reason. Like you’d told Harry not even an hour ago, Peter was shit-faced. So shit-faced he could’ve told you anything.

Nice try, y/n, here’s your friendly neighbourhood reality check.

“Well...” You lowered your gaze, tracing the lines on the palm of your hand like you always did before touching an important topic. “I like him, too.”

“Nonono”, he shook his head. “He likes likes you. That poor boy’s whiiiiiipped.” He emphasized his last words by using his arm to draw an imaginary arc that you assumed was supposed to physically show you how much he was into you.

“Is he, now?”, you smirked, indulging in that daydream a bit.

You were convinced he didn’t even know what he was talking about... but there was nothing wrong in words, right? Also, you liked the sound of his voice. You liked listening to him. Even if he was blabbering nonsensically.

Peter took a look around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in and gestured you to do the same. “Violets are his favourite flowers because of you”, he whispered in your ear. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

“Your secret is safe with me...” You stopped mid-sentence, wondering if you should really add what you were dying to add or if it would be better to just keep it to yourself. Then, mainly encouraged by the fact that the hungover was going to erase all of his memories anyway, you decided to let it out.

Even if it was just for tonight...

“I like like him, too, by the way.”

“You do???” He pulled back with an incredulous yet ecstatic glint in his eyes, frantically moving his arms just like...

Just like a baby penguin.

“I do”, you confirmed.

“No. Shut. Up. Shut. Uuuup.” He stressed each word with an energetic slap on his thigh, then let himself fall back on the mattress, lying on his side with his cheek resting in his palm. “Tell me more.”

“He always has the right answer for everything and has a quirky eyebrow that is simply the cutest thing ever”, you began listing, mimicking his position. “He’s so impossibly kind to everyone, to the point that it’s almost irritating how he never gets mad over anything.”

That particular detail made Peter cackle, the action being right on cue, considering what you were about to say next.

“And then he gets those tiny wrinkles at the side of his eyes when he smiles”, you continued dreamily, enchanted by the reality of what you were describing happening in front of you.

“He doesn’t smile much, because he’s too busy blushing and pouting when he’s concentrating on something... but whenever he does...”, you recalled fondly. ”I see sparks fly everywhere. I wish I could see him smile more.”

There it was again, that sadness cracking Peter’s carefree mask. Like every other time, it was there for a fleeting moment, yet, like every other time, it was enough for you to notice it. “He doesn’t have a lot of reasons to smile lately...”, he trailed off, his eyes seeing something else, something that wasn’t there, his lips pressing into a hard like. Now, there wasn’t just sadness, but a shadow of anger as well. The kind of anger people often address at themselves, caused by the firm belief of not having done enough. Of not being enough.

What happened to you, Peter Parker?

All of that slipped away when your face reappeared in Peter’s sight. The clouds of the past had tried to keep you from him failing miserably. “But he smiles when he thinks of you”, the boy said. “He wants to bring you swinging around the city.”

“Swinging sounds quite fun”, you observed with a certain interest.

“Of course, you two will have to cover your faces because otherwise people will recognize you”, he recommended.

“Of course.”

“It would be dumb not to do that.”

“Very dumb.”

“And then...” Peter held his breath and made a pause for dramatic effect, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “He wants to find the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss you there as the sun sets.”

You both hated and loved that you could already picture it. “I like it. It’s romantic.”

“And the kiss, I must tell you about the kiss!”, he urged.

“Tell me about the kiss.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in your tone, this time.

“He wants it to be so perfect that your leg will pop! Just like it happened to Princess Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi in...” He snapped his fingers repeatedly, frowning more and more at each snap, the title he was looking for running away from him and hiding in the deepest, most secluded corners of his mind with no intention to come out. “... what was it called?”, he finally gave up.

“In The Princess Diaries.”

“Yeah! That one!” He scoffed in annoyance. “No one could ever remember something like that! It’s so complicated!”

You raised an eyebrow. “But remembering Princess Mia’s full name isn’t?”

“It would be high treason not to”, Peter declared firmly.

“I suppose you’re right”, you agreed with a giggle, lying on your back, but still not dethatching your gaze from his.

“Peter likes you so much when you laugh, you know?”, he said, scooting closer and raising a hand up to your face.

You held your breath as his fingertips traced your features like gentle feathers: the baby hairs along your hairline, the curve of your brow, the bridge of your nose, you cheekbones, the line of your jaw, the shape of your mouth...

“He wanted to sketch you on his notebook, but he’s shit at drawing, so he just gave up.” His voice was soft, even softer than his touches. “Harry Osborn saw it and said that it was too stalker-ish and that he should just grow a pair and talk to you.”

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth running dry. “My friend Mira keeps telling me the same thing.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Super-hearing”, he hummed, fingers brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Oh... right.” You released a breathy chuckle, Peter’s simple gesture enough to threaten your sanity. “I keep forgetting who I’m talking to.”

The confusion was back on Peter’s face, as he looked over his shoulder and craned his neck to check the room. “Who are you talking to?”

You pointed at his chest, careful not to touch him. “The guy who stole my heart”, you whispered, but he had no trouble hearing you.

You didn’t exactly know what type of response you were expecting – to be completely honest – you had no clue about it. But, in contrast to his previous ones, Peter’s reaction was calmer... and yet, surprisingly stronger. His chocolate eyes went wide, shining like they had been filled with little diamonds, worthy rivals of his radiant smile.

“I could return it...”, he considered, resting his palm on your cheek, his face hovering over yours, the light coming from the little light on the nightstand filtering through his curls. He was enchanting. “If you promise to return mine.”

“We have a deal.”

“And a date?”

“And a date, of course.”

“I like the shape of your nose”, he mumbled, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

“Thanks”, you replied softly. “I like your left eyebrow.”

It happened fast, so fast it took you a while to understand what was going on, but next thing you knew, Peter’s lips were on yours.

It fell on you like a cascade of rose petals, mesmerizing and intoxicating, and your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you melted, letting him kiss you. His hand was still cupping the side of your face, the rebel curl on his forehead tickling your skin.

That simple, innocent contact, no more than a peck, felt like floating in a pool of liquid golden light. As if it were endowed with a will of its own, one of your legs bended, effectively popping, the sparkles of countless fireworks spreading under the miles and miles of surface of your skin.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n?!

Peter pulled away, looking like he was on cloud nine, and flashed you a tender smile as a single tear slipped from his eye, gravity attracting it to the enflamed skin of your cheek. “Can you hold me?”, he asked.

Before you could do or say anything in response, his arms gave out, making him collapse on top of you and thus blocking half of your body under his, his head falling on your chest, your heart beating right against his ear. It was so loud you could hear it in your ears, but it didn’t seem to bother him, soothing him like the sweetest lullaby.

Holy shit...

Struggling to process everything that just happened, everything that was happening right now, and trying not to think of what would happen once the night would be over, you didn’t sleep a wink, with his warm skin glued to yours, his arms and legs unconsciously wrapping themselves around your frame and his face snuggling into your chest.

Peter’s soft snores and cute little sleeping noises kept you company for the entire night as you watched the hours go by through the gradually changing shades of colour of the ceiling, the only sensible action you had managed to do being outstretching your arm to turn off the light.

Peter Parker kissed me...

At one point, you dared to touch his hair, gently playing with those soft curls, following the rhythm of his breathing. It helped you and, slowly, you calmed down... but still couldn’t fall asleep, afraid that everything would turn out to be just a dream.

... and my leg popped.

In that tiny dorm room, you lost track of time, a time that stopped and then started again, it speeded up and then slowed down, it skipped forward and jumped backwards, eventually flattening out, transforming into a calm, silent, yet vibrant personal solar system, its brightest star covering the majority of your body with his and you feeding off his warmth and light.

I’m fucked...

“y/n?”

Your entire body stiffened as you returned to planet Earth and the dimension of time freed itself from your distortions.

You looked down, locking gazes with a very much awake and equally lost Peter who was staring at you.

“H-hey...”

The poor boy didn’t reply, but he blushed violently when, thanks to the perspective, he realized he was touching your boobs. With his cheek, yes, but it was still touching.

With a loud gasp, he removed himself from over your body, crawling back and quickly standing up, panic and shame fighting on his face. “W-where... why are we... why am I... why are you...”, he blabbered, gesturing at himself, the room, you, the bed, anything he could think of. “What happened?”

“Nothing!”, you rushed to deny, getting out of the bed, too, only on the opposite side. “Nothing, you were drunk and I tried to help you and Harry Osborn let us use his room”, you explained, taking a few steps back with your hands raised, but then you felt the need to specify something else, just to make things clear. “To rest, he let us use his room to rest.”

“B-but we were hugging...”, Peter argued weakly. He was about to add the ‘almost naked on top of you wearing his shirt’ part, but decided against it. It wouldn’t have been gentlemanly. Just like staring at your naked legs coming out of his shirt definitely wasn’t gentlemanly.

“Apparently, you get especially cuddly when you’re drunk...” It was supposed to lighten the mood, but the effect you were hoping for was nowhere to be seen.

It sounded better in my head.

“... b-but I promise, nothing happened.”

Peter took a look around, spotting his clothes and your dress on the chair, his shoes abandoned on the floor like he’d kicked them off in a rush, the sheets that looked like someone had been jumping on the mattress...

“Nothing?”

“Nothing”, you confirmed.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Peter’s eyes flicker to your chest for a moment.

“You’re lying.”

“Wait.” Your eyebrows knitted together, while you blinked at him. “How do you–”

“Oh God, oh shit! You’re making that face!”, he cut you off, whining in dismay, and then, without even waiting your answer, he began walking back and forth, his restless hands now tugging at his messy curls, now slapping his cheeks, now rubbing the back of his neck. “You always make that face when you don’t wanna give bad news to people”, he kept going, pointing a trembling finger at you.

He knew it wasn’t nice, and that May would’ve rightfully scolded him for such manners, but this situation was a fucking mess. He might’ve made a fucking mess. “Look at that cute little wrinkle between your eyebrows! I’ve done something bad to you, haven’t I?” He was running miles by now, basically digging a trench in the floor with his nervous pacing.

“What?!” Understanding what he was implying, you shook your head so hard it almost hurt. “No no no!”, you cried out, the shock caused by his words making you feel like you’d just got slapped across the face. “No, Peter, absolutely not!”

He stopped abruptly, making you stumble back, his squinting eyes flashing to your chest and then to your face. “Your heart is racing.”

“How do you know what’s happening to my heart?!”

“y/n.”

A long, cold shiver ran down your spine, a Peter Parker you’d never seen before standing a few feet away from you. His back was straight, making him appear a bit taller, everything about his posture screaming authority.

Like a true super-hero.

“Please, just tell me what happened.”

“Uhm... uh... we talked.”

“About what?”

“The weather”, you blurted out.

“y/n.”

You sighed, head sinking between your shoulders. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined you would look back at your first kiss with him. “About the fact that... you like me.” Your voice was so low a breath of wind could have effortlessly covered it. “And then about our hypothetical first date. You have some cool ideas.” You dared to crack a smile while telling him that. “You said that you want to bring me swinging around the city.”

“Swinging?”

“Because you’re Spider-Man.”

“I’m–” To say that Peter straight up died and came back to life in less than the blink of an eye wouldn’t have done justice to the turmoil happening inside of him because of your sentence.

He had told you his most unspeakable secret, the secret he had altered realities to restore... the one he had sacrificed everything for. It had taken him so long to recover and move on, to create a new life for himself, but he had made it.

And it had taken him even longer to allow himself to accept his feelings for the girl in his class. Feelings that had bloomed and blossomed in the frozen valley of his chest with the strength of a snowdrop. Only, it wasn’t a snowdrop, it was a violet, the same you had gifted him a few months ago...

And now, he had ruined it all before it could have the chance to begin. He had put you at risk: he was already losing you, even though you weren’t his to lose.

Well done, Peter Benjamin Parker, this is a record even for you.

But then he remembered something... something that made him want to face palm himself so hard it would leave the trace on his face and at the same time lifted his entire body, filling it with hope. He had told you about his alter-ego while being completely wasted. And then there was the tiny smile you had given him while saying it...

Maybe he was safe. Maybe you were safe.

And that was all that mattered.

“Oh...” He masked his sigh of relief with a breathy laugh. “Right.”

Seeing him react like that gave you a little more confidence. “And that you want to find – and I’m quoting you here – the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss me there the way they do in The Princess Diaries, as the sun sets”, you resumed your description of the previous night. “You know, with... the leg thing”, you specified, unable to resist the temptation to re-enact the movement.

“The pop”, he nodded, remembering how much May loved that movie and especially that sweet little detail. Peter had never wanted to admit it out loud, but it had grown on him, too. She would’ve been proud of him using it as a pick-up line. “Romantic.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Then what?”

“You...” And now came the hard part. What was it that you’d just thought about confidence? “You... kissed me.”

Peter choked on thin air, a strangled high-pitched shriek coming out of his throat. “I did what?!”

“But I swear I didn’t kiss you back!”, you hurried to reassure him. “You fainted right after you did, and then I swear we just slept!”

“We just slept?”

“Yes.”

Once more, he looked at your chest and then at your face, in what had become a solidified pattern during this brief conversation. What in the World was wrong with your chest???

“You’re lying again”, he stated.

Unbeknownst to him, that sentence sorted the effect of a time machine on you, sending you back to the previous day, right before the party, on that first glorious lazy morning after weeks of pure Hell on Earth.

You carefully sipped your well deserved hot chocolate, observing Mira through the steam as you did so. “Who...”, you began timidly, still shielding part of your face behind the mug. “Who did you say’s gonna be there?”

“Just ask me what you really wanna ask me, will you?”, she smirked, sly as a cat as she looked up from her latte.

You let out a sigh, aware that the cover was blown. “... fine. Is he gonna be there?”

“He?! Girl, you can just say Peter Parker, y’know?”, she laughed, her voice echoing off the walls of your cosy bedroom. “What?”, she asked, after noticing your deer-caught-in-headlights expression. “It’s not like the guy has super-hearing or something...”

“Sometimes I think he does”, you muttered, only half-joking, thinking about how Peter Parker always seemed to be extra-aware of what was going on around him, despite his repeated attempts at hiding it...

“Nah”, Mira dismissed that hypothesis, waving her hand in front of your face, the way she would always do to help you erase worries from your mind.

That was a relax day: she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it for her best-friend.

“You’re just being paranoid because you have a crush on him”, she affectionately nudged your shoulder with hers. “We all get paranoids when we have a crush.”

You loved Mira to bits, and it was extremely rare for her to be wrong about something... but, coming back to the present, with Peter Parker still staring at you and expecting answers, and apparently aware of the rhythm of your heart, a tiny part of you started to think that this could be one of those few exceptions.

“Uh...” You clenched and unclenched your fists, nails sinking into your palms each time. “You slept. I couldn’t.”

His determination seemed to back down, leaving the place to a genuine surprise. “You stayed awake the whole night?”

Your blood turned to ice, a sharp contrast to the fire raging on your cheeks and temples. “I didn’t do anything weird, I promise!”, you whimpered.

“I know you didn’t.” Sensing your raising terror, Peter grabbed your shoulders, lightly squeezing them to help you calm down. The idea of hugging you crossed his mind, but he chased it away: it might’ve done worse and he didn’t want to overwhelm you any further.

“I believe you”, he said, repeating it as many times as you needed, until the furious beating in your chest returned to its normal pace, until your frail body stopped shaking. “I believe you.”

He led you towards the bed and made you sit there, afraid that your legs would betray you, and sat next to you, letting go of your shoulders only when you nodded reassuringly at him, silently telling him that you were okay. “And I know you’re a good person.”

You closed your eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, placing your cold hands on the sides of your burning face. “Fuck, I’m sorry...”, you chuckled humourlessly.

“No. I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at him with confusion written all over your face. “What for?”

“For this”, Peter gestured between your bodies. “I didn’t want to upset you... and for last night, too. I must have been... a handful.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you replied, shaking your head. “Are you feeling any better now?”

“Yeah... thanks to you.” Just to flex a bit, he made a big a big show of touching the tip of his nose with his right index and the with his left one. It was a silly thing, but it managed to get a small laugh out of you, so he was proud of it.

“I did nothing, just brought you here and gave you some water... you recovered quite quickly, but you did it all by yourself.”

“Perks of being Spider-Man.” He looked at his shirt, a coy smile crawling its way onto his lips. “You look cute in it.”

“I like the joke”, you smiled back, but it fell as soon as you realized that, in all likelihood, it was a polite way to ask you to return it. “Right, uh... I’ll go change and give it back to you.”

You stood up and began to make your way in direction of the bathroom, but an unexpected hand gently wrapping itself around your wrist halted your actions.

“Wait...”, Peter spoke softly.

You sat down again when he tugged on your hand, fingers moving to interlock with yours. You let them. “What is it?”

“Last night I was...” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I was absolutely shit-faced and I can’t remember a thing... I want to apologize.”

“Peter, I told you, there’s no need–”

“Please, let me finish”, he begged, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Shit, I don’t know how to say this...”

You waited patiently, letting him search for the right words.

“Oh, fuck it, seize the moment, right? I like you”, Peter rambled quickly. “Like like you”, he clarified. “And I’ve liked liked you for a very long time. Ever since you complimented my shirt – you know, the Find x one –, making that joke about Charles Xavier wanting to know my location, and then offered me one of the violets you’d picked saying it was International Give Everyone You Meet a Flower Day.”

“Oh God, that”, you let out with a pathetic sigh, covering your face with your hands as the painful memory resurfaced in your mind.

You wanted to be happy for what he’d just revealed to you, most importantly because he was sober now, but you also wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury your head in it. Why did he have to bring that out?

“I was hoping you’d forget about it by now, it was so embarrassing!”, you confessed, voice getting muffled against your palms. “It was probably one of the worst jokes I’ve ever made in my entire life. And I actually wanted to give you the whole bouquet and ask you out, you know? But then I panicked last second and came up with that stupid excuse.”

“I could kinda tell it was an excuse...”, he admitted. “Y-you ran away and didn’t give a single flower to anyone else. I couldn’t even thank you. The joke was fun, though.”

“It wasn’t!”, you groaned. “Professor X would have no problem finding out your location if he wanted to. It was so stupid!”

“It was adorable.” Not without a few difficulties, he removed your hands from your face, holding them in his and placing them in his lap, fingers caressing your palm like he had seen you do so many times.

You kept your gaze fixed on them, feeling your heart melt.

“And yesterday night I... I actually wanted to talk to you and tell you all these things... but I made the mistake of following Harry Osborn’s advice about liquid courage and I ruined it.”

In the end, you found the strength to raise your head and dared to look at him again. “Never follow Harry Osborn’s advice unless you’re looking for trouble.” Another wise suggestion coming from Mira.

“Right...”, Peter agreed. “I had to learn it the hard way.”

A few minutes went by like that, in the calm of a silent room. The morning light filtered through the shading, casting a golden halo around Peter’s curls and transforming the brown in his irises into pure amber.

“But I meant what I said”, he tentatively said, after a while. “All of it. I’d really love to take you on a date.”

“Minus the swinging part, right?”, you asked, faking a disappointed pout.

“I’m sure I can figure something else out...”, he replied smugly. “I-if you want to, of course”, he added, not wanting to put any pressure on you.

You tapped your chin. “Well, I happen to be free tonight.”

“Just one thing...” Cautiously, he scooted closer to you, until his hip was attached to yours, one of his hands moving up your arm, brushing your shoulder, and then the column of your throat. “Suppose that on said date I kissed you...” Grinning wickedly when you tilted your head back to accommodate him, he reached for your lips and caressed them with his fingertips. “Would you kiss me back?”

You hummed, delivering a feather-light peck on his thumb. “Only if you promise it’ll make my leg pop again.”

“Wait, I made your leg pop?!.”

Part two -> here

A/n: If you got here, thank you so much for reading this! And again, a huge thank you to @venomsilk for giving me these prompts, I had so much fun writing this! Love you all, and see you next on... you-know-what pt.6 😏💜

Taglist: @thollandsdarling @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @vendettaparker @wildxwidow @mn-jun @thisisparadisemylove @belovedholland

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)

[jahayla-writes]

Crowded : Tom Holland x Reader SMAU

Desc.: Tom Holland Instagram SMAU based off bts for/of his show The Crowded Room. Fluff

Warnings: flirting, I think that’s all but lmk if you find others!

Note: to celebrate my 1k followers, it only felt right to go back to where I started, with a Tom Holland x Reader SMAU post. 💜

liked by harryholland64, yourusername, zendaya, and 9, 362, 916 others

tomholland2013: bts 📸 @/harryholland64 #thecrowdedroom

view all 654,789 comments

hazosterfield: so stoked mate!

nikkihollandphotography: my boy ❤️

yourusername: so handsome 💙💙💙

yourusername: p.s. imy 🥰

tomholland2013: imy too❤️♾️

hollandfanatic17: so it begins! We can’t wait to see it! 🙌

liked by tomholland2013, harryholland64, zendaya, and 5, 735, 719 others

yourusername: it’s not about your reflection, it’s what you see beyond it ✨ (ft. This oddly cute airport elevator)

view all 389,321 comments

zendaya: you shine so bright you need shades for even your reflection 🔥😎

yourusername: Ily Z 🥹

hazosterfield: zzzaayyummm

tomholland2013: 👀…

tomholland2013: it might not be about your reflection, but it sure is a magnificent thing 😍

yourlastname4eva: how does she look this good even at an airport?!?! 😭

liked by harryholland64, yourusername, nikkihollandphotography, and 8, 362, 428 others

tomholland2013: working hard for you all on this one! 📸 @/harryholland64 #thecrowdedroom

view all 953,289 comments

yourusername: gotta love a ‘bad boy’ 😏

harryholland64: eww

yourusername: go away Baz 👋

tomholland2013: 😂

nikkihollandphotography: missing your smile Thomas ❤️

appletv: you won’t want to miss this! Be sure to tune in!

liked by hazosterfield, tomhollamd2013, zendaya, and 7, 625, 326 others

yourusername: underground adventures 🗽

photo cred: @/harryholland64

view all 504,823 comments

tomholland2013: you guys had Maccas without me? 💔

yourusername: you couldn’t leave set meanwhile Baz picked me up from the airport soooo 💁‍♀️

harryholland64: she made us order you some mate, chill 😂

yourusername: Harry! 🤦‍♀️ I swear the whole Holland family is infamous for spoiling things 😂💙

zendaya: cutie ❤️

yourusername: babe 🥹🤗

liked by harryholland64, tomholland2013, nikkihollandphotography, and 8, 419, 547 others

yourusername: If you’re not planning on watching The Crowded Room on @/appletv , what’s wrong with you? 📸 #thecrowdedroom

view all 731,286 comments

tomholland2013: a bit aggressive there love 😂😘

yourusername: I think it’s appropriate 🤷‍♀️😉

appletv: we agree with @/yourusername

yourusername: see Holland? 😘

nikkihollandphotography: there’s that smile 🙂

yourusername: isn’t it precious? 😍

nikkihollandphotography: definitely. Missing it and you all ❤️

yourusername: I was missing it too 🥺 and we love and miss you too Nikki 💙

hazosterfield: I’m planning on watching it 😎

yourusername: as you should 👏😉

hollandislife23: anyone notice how he’s smiling in this bts note that y/n is on set? 👀

tomhollandstans4evr: I want what they have!

liked by harryholland64, yoursername, hazosterfield, and 8, 761, 058 others

tomholland2013: missed seeing this between takes on set ❤️

view all 753,186 comments

yourusername: I missed waiting for you bts on set 😘

tomholland2013: truly cherishing your supportive presence love ❤️

harryholland64: confession time: I missed having her on set too 🙂

tomholland2013: understandable 😌

yourusername: you two 🥹🥰 I’ve missed you both

zendaya: warning, I’m gonna have to steal her from your set for at least a day next week 😇

tomholland2013: 🤨

yourusername: oopp 🫣❤️

tholland_luvr: is that the Big Bang Theory? Iconic 👏😂

hollanderstribe: I’d wait on set for you too, just saying haha

liked by harryholland64, tomholland2013, nikkihollandphotography, and 7, 896, 245 others

yourusername: some of my favorite boys

bts @/appletv #thecrowdedroom

view all 753,298 comments

appletv: loving these btw photos 👏

tomholland2013: some of? 👀

harryholland64: yeah, some of???

yourusername: I can’t leave Paddy and Sam out of it; that’s just rude. 💁‍♀️

tomholland2013: or you could just leave Baz out of it too and problem solved 😉

harryholland64: now that ^ @/tomholland2013 was rude 😩

yourusername: @/nikkihollandphotography please send help 🫣❤️

nikkihollandphotography: boys, don’t fight over y/n lol

harry _n_tom_h: thank you for this gem 😍

dommoholland: ❤️

thomas4life: his smile 😭

hollandislife23: brought to you by @/yourusername 👏😍

liked by yoursername, hazosterfield, zendaya, and 8, 458, 742 others

tomholland2013: finished wrapping @/thecrowdedroom and now I get to spend more time with this angel, I’m truly a lucky man to have this be my life ❤️

view all 756,423 comments

yourusername: I didn’t know you took this 🫣 you’re lucky I love you 🥰

tomholland2013: I already said that 😘

zendaya: waking up to that view? 🙌 Lucky sounds like an understatement Holland

yourusername: Ily Z baby 💙

tomholland2013: that’s a good point 😌

hollanderarmy: she’s so pretty!

tsholland_: filming finished? Yay, that means we get to see it soon!

liked by tomholland2013, hazosterfield, harryholland64, and 5, 762, 314 others

yourusername: it’s time, go catch @/thecrowdedroom on AppleTv June 9th! 💙

So proud of you Tommy 😘

view all 681,342 comments

tomholland2013: thank you darling ❤️

hazosterfield: let’s go mate! Proud best friend here ❤️

harryholland64: so much time and effort went into this project, he did so well!

yourusername: 💯 couldn’t be happier for him. You did great too Baz 💙

nikkihollandphotography: I love this photo ❤️ proud of you Thomas!

harryholland64: it turned out nice despite the photographer being irritated that he was distracted by @/yourusername hence the side gaze

yourusername: my bad 😂🤷‍♀️

tomholland2013: can you blame me? My love was radiant again tonight ❤️

yourusername: @/tomholland2013 💙🥹

liked by yoursername, hazosterfield, harryholland64, and 7, 641, 809 others

tomholland2013: Amazing night with amazing people celebrating an amazing achievement. ❤️ This was one of the hardest projects I’ve ever done, and I can’t wait for you all to see it! #thecrowdedroom

view all 847,219 comments

yourusername: Thomas Stanley Holland, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. This project is another prime example of how incredibly talented you are and the range you have as an actor. I loved getting to see you grow though this journey. I love you and can’t wait to see what comes next for you 💙

tomholland2013: darling 🥹❤️

harryholland64: June 9th!!!

appletv: what a wonderful night!

myloveholland: he’s so handsome!

yourusername: agreed 👏

ilovetomh: see you June 9th! Very proud already 😍

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Tom Holland Taglist: @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswifeysblog15 @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny @theslayerofthevampires

[justapurrcat]

This was so cute I cannot-- 😭💜

[shellshocklove]

one: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, unrealistic description of art school?

word count: 4.1k

a/n: i hope you guys like this one too! feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

The snow squeaked under your shoes as you stepped through the doors of the arts building. The ESU campus square bustled with students, even in the January cold. You pulled your coat tighter around your body before you stuck your mitten clad hands in your coat pockets.

Continua a leggere

[justapurrcat]

I’m soft and weak and I need to pinch Peter’s cheeks rn… no srsly, seeing scenes in which he gets taken care of after NWH… it really hits different 😭💜

[shellshocklove]

omg !!! lia my love!! 🥹 hiiii i’ve missed you so much! i hope you’re doing well 🫶🏼💜

[justapurrcat]

Missed you too, sweetie 🥺💜 I’m doing okay, I hope you’re doing well too 💜💜💜

[justapurrcat]

Miss you ♥️

Awwww, I miss you too 😭💜 how are you???

[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

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[justapurrcat]

Rebound | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Excerpt: “It wasn’t Tom's fault that you got your heart shattered, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that this was by no doubt the most painful heartbreak you ever went through.

There was only one person to blame for all that, and that person was you.”

Word count: 8k

Warnings: English not being my first language, (once again, poorly written) smut (if you're younger than 18, don’t read this), angst, fluff.

Rebound Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: ... so here we are! I wasn't expecting part one to receive such a huge response, but ya'll have been so amazing and made me cry like a baby, I'm not joking. I love you all and I hope you like this 💜

Tom remained there, petrified and completely lost, wondering whether he should run after you or leave you be. Eventually, he ended up opting for the latter: he hated to admit it, but it looked like the wisest thing he could do. Truth be told, every part of his body itched to get out of that door and follow you and he almost did…

But that look in your eyes, the way you reacted when he called your name, and how you recoiled from his touch, kept him right there where you left him, torturing him as they replayed in his mind like a painful broken record.

You even called him ‘Thomas’ and you never called him like that. It’s not like he had a problem with people using his full name, but on your lips it sounded like an off-key note in a beautiful melody. It was wrong: he wasn’t ‘Thomas’ to you. Only ‘Tom’ or ‘Tommy’.

She doesn’t want me around.

A lump formed in his throat at that thought. You’d always go up to each other whenever something wrong happened: you were there for him and he was there for you.

This was the first time you ever ran from him.

And the worst part was that he was the one who caused you to get so upset. Tom was sure about it, even if he had no idea what he had done.

His gaze landed on his counter, on the packet of cocoa powder he bought especially for you. Every time you'd spend the night at his place, he would always make you hot milk chocolate in the morning, knowing how much you loved it.

For a moment, he swore he could see you there, sitting on the counter with your legs swinging, waiting patiently while he prepared it for you. You were wearing one of his shirts, hair pulled up in a messy bun and a sweet smile on your face as you laughed at a stupid joke he made.

Tom let out a long deep breath as that image vanished from his mind and dragged his tired body to the bedroom. He flopped onto the mattress, burying his face into one of the pillows. Which, coincidentally, was the one still stained with your tears.

The one that still smelled like you.

He rolled onto his back, holding it to his chest like he would’ve held you, closing his eyes and inhaling your sweet scent.

Sweet…

You smelled sweet. You tasted sweet. Your lips, your skin, every part of you tasted sweet. Maybe that was the reason why you loved milk chocolate so much. And maybe that was the reason why he began to love it too.

And maybe it was because he hadn’t got to cum, or maybe because you tended to have that effect on him, but that thought made his cock stir in his pants.

Unable to fight that sudden urge, he palmed himself through the fabric. It was wrong, he shouldn’t be doing that after what just happened, but he missed you so fucking much…

He licked his lips as his hand slipped inside his pants, wrapping itself around his length to find it still coated with your arousal. As soon as he did that, he realized he hadn’t touched himself in a while. Ever since this whole thing with you started, to be precise. His fingers were longer, thicker, more calloused, not at all like your slender, soft ones, but they would have to do. Al least, he could try to mimic your movements, stroking himself the way you would have.

Soon enough, moans of your name filled the room and, behind his eyelids, the darkness shaped itself in the form of your face.

“Fuck, y/n.”

It took him nothing to get fully hard again as the fresh memories from earlier, before it all went to shit, came back to him.

Tom groaned loudly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard they almost tore the skin. He was doing his best to imagine you there with him, teasing him mercilessly and then letting him have his way with you…

“Oh God, yes…”

You were everything he could ever ask for and even more. You were perfect. He had never felt this good with anyone else. Not even with Meg. It was stupid, but almost every time he was with you, his brain would automatically compare the two of you.

And God, Meg didn’t stand a single chance against you.

He had no idea why, but everything was easier, more spontaneous and natural with you. And that didn’t only apply to sex. You were always there in the back of his mind, constantly with him even when you weren’t. Your arms felt like a safe haven, your smile reminded him of the calm after a storm and the sound of your laugh was as relieving as the first sip of fresh water after days of wondering in the desert. You were light, a fire that burned without scorching him.

Just the simple thought of you was enough to make Tom wonder what was it that had made him fall for Meg back then. Making him question himself if he ever even loved her if it was so easy to forget his feelings…

He increased his pace, crying out for you and tightening his hold on the pillow, mind completely lost in a spiral of memories. And the focus of said memories was always the same.

You.

“Darling, I’m close!”

Of course, he received no answer, but in his brain you were there. Now you were under him, your soft pliant body taking his rough pounding, your walls clamping down hard on him as tide after tide of pleasure washed over you.

And it was then, in the middle of that extremely accurate fantasy, just as he was about to reach his climax, that it hit him: he called you ‘Meg’.

His movements came to a sudden stop, eyes shot open at the realization. He stared at the ceiling in disbelief, that quickly turned into disgust towards himself.

Fuck.

He called you ‘Meg’.

He fucking called you ‘Meg’. Again.

Tom brought the pillow up to his face, screaming all his anger and frustration into it. No wonder you got mad at him: he was fucking furious at himself.

I called the girl I love by the name of my fucking ex.

His breath hitched in his throat. His heart skipped a beat.

Fuck…

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

You held your knees up to your chest, resting your forehead on top of them. Your hair was still dripping wet after the long shower you took in the desperate – and unsuccessful – tentative to erase any trace of him from your body, and the couch would certainly get wet, but at the moment you couldn’t have cared less.

Because no matter how hard you tried, all you could think of began and ended with Tom. You were still covered in the hickeys he’d left, still sore between your legs… and you could still feel his touch all over you, your nose was still filled with the scent of his skin, you could still taste his kisses on your lips. He was still there with you.

He had stolen your attention away from any other thought and taken for himself all the room you that there was in your heart. And then shattered it with the words that kept echoing in your ears.

“I love you, Meg.”

You sighed, already feeling your eyes getting watery. You were sure you’d run out of tears, but apparently you were wrong. And it wasn’t the only thing you had been wrong about.

It wasn’t Tom’s fault that you got your heart shattered, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that this was by no doubt the most painful heartbreak you ever went through.

There was only one person to blame for all that, and that person was you.

You had underestimated the risks of the whole situation and you had been so stupid that you didn’t understand nor realize your own feelings until it was too late.

And on top of that, you’d treated Tom like shit. You could’ve solved it like the two grown adults that you were, but no, you had to go and say ‘fuck reason and logic’, losing your best friend and the man you loved all in one go.

Great job, y/n.

You already missed him so much and wanted to reach out to him so badly. You wanted to apologize, no, you needed to. And you wanted to hold him, cry on his shoulder, laugh with him. You wanted to take his hand in yours, kiss his cheeks, mess up his hair. And then you wanted to rant to him about your day, help him with his lines, tell him about your dreams and listen to his…

But you knew he probably hated you know, so you were terrified at the idea of facing him again.

You raised your head when you felt a paw touching your leg, finding Grimm staring at you with his single eye. You scratched him behind his ears and he purred happily.

“At least I have you”, you told him softly.

But the sudden frantic banging at your door frightened you both, causing him to escape to your bedroom and you to jump and almost fall off the couch. Eyes rounded in fear, you held your breath, not daring to move.

“y/n, it’s me. Please, open up.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine as soon as you heard that voice.

Tom…

“Darling… please, please, open up.” He begged, sounding so desperate that you simply couldn’t find it in your heart to send him away.

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked up to the door, your hand trembling so much it made it difficult for you to unlock it and turn the knob.

Tom was there.

And it wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. He was really standing there in front of you, hair dishevelled, cheeks reddened by the cold and eyes glossy with tears, in the same clothes he was wearing back at his place, the only additions being a pair of boots and a heavy hooded coat.

There was a mug in his hands and you recognized it in an instant. It was the one you bought him for his birthday, when you first met him eight years ago.

You were not even supposed to be there, but your brother had basically dragged you to his place, forgetting to inform you that the party was actually the birthday party of his boyfriend’s friend. You casually found out only a few hours before…

“Are you kidding me, Alex?! Not only I don’t even know who this guy is, not only I’m showing up uninvited, but empty-handed, too?!”

“Relax, sis, you know no one there: you’re not expected to bring a gift.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s a birthday party! Who doesn’t bring a gift to a birthday party?!”

“The birthday person?”

“Thank your good star that you’re my brother, Alex, or I would fucking murder you with my bare hands. Quick, tell me what you and David got him: I’ll pay my part and we’ll say–”

“We already gave him the gift this morning…”

“Shit… what can you tell me about him? What does he like?”

“Uh, he drinks a lot of tea. He likes golf. And he’s an actor, so he travels a lot.”

“Wow, that gives me a lot to work with.”

“He also likes dogs.”

“Everyone likes dogs!”

“You like cats.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t li–why are we even having this conversation?!”

You ended up finding a purple travel mug with cartoonish Staffies – another information you had managed to gain from your useless brother – drawn all over it, telling yourself that at least you could laugh it off as a joke gift.

The guy had turned out to be Tom. And, much to your surprise, he had absolutely fallen in love with that mug. He would bring it with him every time he left, never forgetting to send you a picture of himself drinking from it to let you know that he was putting your gift to good use.

The two of you always liked to joke about how your whole friendship started with a mug.

That very same mug he was now handing you. “I-uh… I brought you this”, he said nervously.

You hesitantly reached out for it, disbelief painted on your face, ignoring the small sigh that escaped his lips when your fingers brushed against his. Not knowing what else to do, you stepped aside to let him in, closing the door immediately after.

“It’s milk chocolate”, he informed you, breaking the silence after almost half a minute spent staring at each other. “Hot milk chocolate, of course. God, at least I hope it’s still hot… b-but I’m not saying that the mug doesn’t work: it works perfectly, it’s the best present ever, it’s just… i-it’s really cold outside and it’s even snowing, so I don’t know if–”

“Tom, why are you here?”, you asked in a small voice, interrupting his anxious blabbering.

He seemed taken aback, but it didn’t last long as his confused expression shifted to a pained, but determined one. “I’m an idiot.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise. It wasn’t at all what you were expecting him to say.

“I’m an idiot because of what I’ve done”, he kept going. “… and I’m even more of an idiot because I didn’t realize it.” He shifted uncomfortably, running a shaky hand through his hair, guilt filling his eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry, y/n.”

“Tom”, you tried to reassure him, now knowing perfectly well where this was going and being absolutely terrified by it. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do, y/n”, he insisted. “I called you by my ex’s name.”

There. He finally said it.

You were thankful for the mug still in your hands, since it was literally the only thing preventing them from shaking. “It’s fine.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is”, you stood your ground, feeling all the sadness starting to turn into irritation. “We’re not in a relationship.” It came out way harsher than you intended, but you just couldn’t hold back. “Fucking me every now and then doesn’t make me your girlfriend.”

Tom looked as if you’d just punched him in his stomach, a mixture of shock and pain fighting on his face, a sight that made you regret your words instantly.

“Fucking you every now and then…”, he repeated to himself, his voice so low you almost couldn’t hear him. “Fucking you every now and then?!”

The sudden raise in his voice startled you, making you take a few steps back, the mug almost slipping from your hold.

“You fucking stayed at my house for almost three weeks last month!”, he yelled. “And you even got your period on the second week! And I knew it would happen when I asked you to come over! Why would I have you over while you’re on your period if my intention was only to fuck you?!”

You gulped at that memory, feeling even worse for your mean words.

“And we went on holiday together! Just the two of us.” He pointed out the last sentence gesturing between your bodies. “Have you already forgotten about Florence? I don’t remember fucking you there, but I do remember the whole day we spent just cuddling in bed!”

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek. There was no way you were ever going to forget about Florence and those eight days of pure bliss…

“And every time I’m back in London this is the first place I come to”, Tom continued, taking a step in your direction. “Not my place, y/n, yours.” He took another step, getting closer to you. “I always spend my first night back in town sleeping next to you.” His voice sounded just as broken as he looked, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill. “Sleeping, ‘cause I’m too bloody tired to even try to do anything else… and the only thing I can think of is that I just wanna be close to you!”

His desperate rant came to an end, leaving you absolutely speechless, poised between joy and pain, between the love you had for him and the hate you felt towards yourself.

“Fucking you every now and then…”, he muttered again under his breath as if he just couldn’t believe it. “Is that all that this is to you? All that we are to you?”

“O-of course not!”, you tried to object. “But…”

“But what?”, he croaked out. “y/n, you’re probably the person I spend the most of my time with. You’re the most important person in my entire life!”

In any other circumstance, that admission would’ve made you the happiest girl on Earth, but now it only caused you to see red.

You resisted the urge to throw the mug on the ground, slamming it onto the counter, instead. “Well, I’m also the person you started fucking to get over your ex!”, you spat, venom dripping from your voice. “And I guess I’m not even that good of a distraction, since you keep dreaming of her every time you are with me!”

“It’s not like that!”

“Oh, isn’t it?”, you scoffed. “Tell me then, have I ever called you ‘Ethan’?”

A deafening silence fell between you after you pronounced that name and you just remained like that, staring at each other. Not daring to move despite how difficult it was to resist the invisible force that tried to pull you together.

“Yeah, thought so…”, you muttered after a while, your own words hurting you just as much – if not even more – as they were hurting him. “I get it, Tom. Meg is the great love of your life and you will never forget her. I already figured that out, but thanks for coming here to rub it in my face.”

“I swear to you that it’s not like that, y/n”, he pleaded, daring to take another step in your direction. “I no longer have feelings for her.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you don’t.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why did you fucking call me ‘Meg’?!”, you exploded.

“Because you’re not her!”, he shouted back, but then quickly realized how stupid and nonsensical that sounded.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“You…” Tom paused, taking a long deep breath and trying to think of the right words. It was finally sinking in: this could be his last chance to tell you how he felt. He couldn’t let it go to waste.

“Being with you does make me think of her”, he confessed, the words burning like liquid acid on his tongue. “… but not in the way that you mean it.”

Staring at him in silence, you just nodded lightly, to let him know that you were willing to listen to what he had to say.

“You’re nothing like her”, he explained. “Everything is different, better with you. I feel better with you…” His hands were aching to cup your face, to pull you close and never let you go, but he kept them still along his sides.

And you, you were hanging on his lips, your heart regulating its beating to his every word.

“Being with you makes me wonder if I ever even…” He made another pause, knowing that there was no going back from his next words. “… if I ever even loved her the way a boyfriend should love his girlfriend.”

Unable to hold his gaze, you looked at your feet, the weight of what he just told you crashing you down on your shoulders like a bag of rocks. Scaring you to death.

“… and I’m not just talking about sex.”

“Then why does it keep happening during sex?”, you mumbled weakly.

“Because…” He lowered his eyes in shame just as you raised your head, looking like an adorable child with his cheeks flushing red. “Because that’s when my mind gets the most… clouded.”

It almost made you smile how embarrassed he was when he admitted it. Almost.

“That’s also the reason why it took me a while to realize what I’ve done…” He scratched the back of his neck, mentally yelling at himself. You probably considered him an idiot now.

Great.

“And I was afraid.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I kept clinging to her memory because I got scared of how much I was letting you in.” While saying that, ‘letting you in’, he grabbed his shirt, right over his heart. Whether he did that on purpose or without realizing it, you had no clue.

But it was a gesture that both made your heart soar and sent shivers down your spine.

“I got scared of how good it felt. Of how much I didn’t consider it enough. And of how much more and more I kept wanting.” As he was opening his heart to you, all that fear seemed nothing but a faded memory. A stupid, pointless faded memory. “It felt so right it terrified me.”

Just as hearing you say this is terrifying me…

“Is that why…”, your voice betrayed you halfway. “Is that why you didn’t want me to touch you?”, you found the courage to ask him.

He cocked his head to the side, honestly clueless. “I didn’t want you to touch me? What are you talking about?”

“When you made me let go of your hair…” The memories came back to your mind, hurting you like salt in a fresh wound. “… and just kept me there, face down on the pillow, so you wouldn’t have to kiss me…”

“You…” His eyes widened, mouth dropping open. “You think… oh, fuck.” He covered his face, the curse getting muffled against his hands.

“What is it?”, you asked worriedly.

“I did it because I thought you didn’t want me to touch you”, Tom explained. “Because I didn’t want you to think I was too clingy…” His hands moved back, uncovering his face and running through his hair. The bewildered expression he saw on your face felt like a punch in his stomach, making him feel even more stupid.

“When I told you you were beautiful…”, he went on sheepishly. “You seemed bothered by it, and I got scared I might have overstepped… I didn’t want to weird you out.”

“I…” You couldn’t move. It was as if your feet had been glued to the ground. You could physically feel your surprise climbing over your body like braches of wild ivy, covering it entirely, so that you could no longer move. “I can’t believe it.”

“You’re telling me…”, he laughed faintly, frustration clear in his voice. “God, I fucking suck at communication.”

“We suck at communication”, you corrected him. “I treated you horribly, instead of talking to you and telling you what the problem was.” You bit down on your lip, regret and guilt constricting your chest and throat. “I’m so sorry, Tommy. I really am.”

“But things can get better now.” His eyes were shining now, not with tears but with hope, as he got closer to you, taking your hands in his, gently brushing his thumbs over your knuckles. “We can be better now.”

You looked down at your joined hands, wishing you could keep them like that forever. But you couldn’t. “No…” You forced yourself to drop them. “No, we can’t.”

“W-what? Why?”, he panicked.

Folding your arms around your body and stepping back, you shook your head repeatedly. “I can’t do this anymore, Tom.”

“I’m not asking you to. I don’t want that anymore.”

“Then why are you here?”, you sobbed, not sure of how longer you could hold back your tears. “What do you want?”

“Because I love you.”

And that was when you felt it: the small spark in that cold dark pit that occupied your chest. “… you… y-you…”

“I love you, y/n”, Tom repeated, and he didn’t just do that with his voice. You could read those words in his eyes, you could see them in the way he was fighting to keep his hands from shaking. “I’m in love with you.”

It was all it took for the spark to grow into a fire that brought your frozen veins back to life, spreading all over your skin so rapidly and with such strength that it almost made you lose your balance.

“Shit, what’s wrong, darling?” He rushed to your side, grabbing your arms to keep you from falling. “Are you okay?”

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, in an attempt to ground yourself. “No… no you’re not…” You were shaking, crying, blabbering, the strong emotion making it hard for you to even breath correctly. “You can’t be… it’s too beautiful, it can’t be…”

“Shh shh, look at me, love, look at me…”, he told you, taking your face in his hands. “Just breathe, okay? Focus on my voice and breathe”, he tried to remind you, but when he realized that your legs were about to give out, he held your trembling figure to his chest to prevent you from falling.

Careful not to hurt you, he sat on the pavement with you between his legs, rocking you gently and reminding you to breathe, like he always used to do help you calm down.

And like it always happened, it worked. He did know you like the back of his hand, after all.

You curled up against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tom cupped your cheek gently, brushing his thumb over your tears. “You okay, love?”

You just nodded.

He sighed in relief. “I’m here, y/n”, he promised, laying a kiss on your forehead. “I’m here and I love you.”

“Stop…”, you murmured, raising your head to look at him, nose bumping against his, your lips so close they were basically touching. “Please, stop. Stop saying that or I’ll believe it.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“I said–” You couldn’t finish the sentence as Tom cut you off with a kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your protest dying in your throat while that familiar warmth spread all over your skin. The pain and the cold were long gone and you felt safe.

At home in Tom’s arms.

But just as we was the one who kissed you, he was also the one who pulled away after a few seconds. “I’m sorry, I shoul–”

“Don’t be”, you shushed him, tracing the line of his parted lips with your fingertips, the touch so delicate it almost felt unreal. “I need you, Tommy.”

It was all Tom needed to hear.

He claimed your mouth again and pulled you up in his arms like you were weightless, carrying you to your bedroom, his lips never parting from yours until he gently laid you down on the bed, hovering over your body.

“We made it this time”, he joked, getting rid of his coat and kicking off his boots.

You were about to answer him, but an annoyed “meow” distracted you, making you both turn. Grimm stretched, glaring at the two of you for ruining his peaceful nap, then jumped off the mattress and trotted away.

“Sorry, Grimm…”

“Well, that cat certainly knows how to read a room. I guess I might like him”, Tom commented, but left you no time to respond, claiming back your attention. He kissed you again and settled himself between your legs, immediately starting to rub his clothed core against yours.

“Tom”, you whined into his mouth at the friction, gripping his shoulders, both hating and loving how incredibly responsive your body was to whatever he did to you. That, combined with how sensitive you still were from before, was making you lose your mind.

“Yes, darling?” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes, not ceasing the tormenting movement of his hips. “Tell me what you want, love, I’m here for you.” He smirked when a particularly sharp thrust had you yelping. “I’m yours.”

You tried to answer him, but the only thing you could put together was a pathetic ‘Please’.

“Please what? What do you want, y/n?”, he breathed against your throat. “You want my mouth?”, he offered, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “My hands? My cock?”

“I-I want you”, you stuttered in a desperate whimper. “A-all of you.”

“All of me?” A small chuckle escaped his lips. “I can do that.” He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat and along your collarbone, then proceeding to move lower and lower down your body, biting and sucking at the feverish skin as his nimble fingers undid each button of your shirt, until he reached the elastic of your pants.

You impatiently wiggled your arms out of the sleeves, taking off the garment and throwing it across the room.

“Someone’s eager, huh?”, Tom laughed, leaving a love bite right under your bellybutton. “That’s adorable”, he cooed, then hooked his fingers into the waistband and slowly, teasingly, pulled it down your legs. “No panties?”

You rolled your eyes at his fake surprise. “You know I don’t–”

“Wear anything under your pajamas, I know.” He hastily took off his shirt, then resumed his place between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. “That’s even more adorable.” And he slapped his mouth on you.

You moaned, both in surprise and pleasure, as he started to eat you out like a starved man. Your hands immediately flew to his hair, tugging slightly at his soft locks.

Tom had always been generous when giving you head, but this time it was as if he wanted to push both his and your limits. He was giving you his everything, sparing no energy, alternating between sucking on your clit and pushing his tongue inside you, using the muscle to fuck you, and letting out a small laugh from time to time and only to enjoy the way your body reacted to the vibrations.

“You taste so sweet. Got me fucking addicted, love.”

Your eyes were in the back of your head, your mouth filled with his name, your back arching off the bed and your hips keeping still only due to the strong hold he had on them.

“I jerked off at the thought of you right after you were gone”, he murmured, his teeth grazing over your clit and making you shiver. “Couldn’t cum though… because of what I did to you.” He splayed a hand over your stomach and the other one grabbed your wrist. “Besides…” He raised his head to look at you, ignoring your whine of protest, and grinned like a devil with his chin glistening with your juices. “There’s nothing like this…” He placed a delicate kiss on your palm. “Nothing feels this good.” His tongue swirled around your fingers. “Nothing feels like you.”

All you could do was watch, hypnotized by both his actions and his words. “Tom…”, was the only sound that left your mouth.

“I haven’t touched myself since I started fucking you, you know?” He let go of your wrist, fingers brushing over your folds. “What about you, though?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as he circled your opening. “I…” Any possible chance of a coherent answer vanished into a loud gasp the moment he pushed two thick fingers inside of you, finding your g-spot in no time. Tom knew your body like he was the one who created it and wasted no occasion to remind you that.

His fingers sat still inside of your heat and you clenched desperately around them. “Tom…”, you pleaded.

“Have you touched yourself when I wasn’t there?”, he questioned, eyes boring into yours, the intensity of his look practically making it impossible for you to even think about lying. “Answer me, darling, or I won’t move.”

“Y-yes”, you admitted in a mumble.

“Tell me more, darling.” He gave you a lopsided smile, placing his thumb on your clit and starting to rub circles on it. “How many times?”

“O-only… fuck.” It was already hard to think straight, let alone form a complete sentence. “Only once.”

“Mmh…” Satisfied with your compliant behaviour, he finally indulged you, moving his fingers at a slow pace. “When?”

Your hands grasped at the sheets. “T-the first time–”, you blabbered. “T-the first time you c-called me…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say it, the pain still clawing at your chest, but Tom understood exactly what you meant.

He frowned a bit, guilt flashing through his eyes. However, that didn’t cause him to stop his actions. You may have already forgiven him, but for him to forgive himself, he needed to know exactly what he did to you. He needed to understand how much he hurt you. “Go on.”

“I… I got so mad and I didn’t even know…”, you began, stumbling over your own words as his free hand caressed your thigh and he turned his head to leave delicate kisses on it. “I wanted to get back at you… so bad…” You interrupted yourself again when his teeth sunk into your skin to mark you up. “I tried to think of… of…” you tried to focus, to remember your ex-boyfriend’s name, but it was impossible, no matter how hard you tried. So you gave up. “B-but I all I could… all I could think of was…”

“Me?”

“Yes”, you breathed out, now shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers. “You. Only you, Tommy…”

Your words made him groan. He soothed the bruised skin with a gentle peck of his lips and then removed his hand from you all at once, chuckling at the loud annoyed noise that you made. “And you never did it again?”

The view of Tom between your legs, licking your arousal off his fingers with that cocky grin plastered on his face, was the most deliciously painful torture you could ever ask for. It was Hell combined with Heaven.

“It was pointless.”

“My poor girl”, he murmured, placing one last kiss on your inner thigh. “My poor sweet girl.” He pulled away to free himself of the rest of his clothes, then quickly came back to you, covering your body with his, careful not to hurt you. “You’re an angel and I’ve been a dickhead to you.” He cupped your face in his hands, nose brushing against yours.

You held him close, running your hands up and down his back to comfort him. “Stop saying that, Tommy. Everything’s fine. I mean it.”

“And I love you, y/n.”

Hearing him say those words was so beautiful that you still couldn’t believe it was real. It was almost making you feel like an undeserving impostor. Adverting your cheeks starting to heat up like they had been set on fire, you lowered your gaze.

But Tom wasn’t having any of that, making you raise your chin so that he could lock his gaze with yours. “I mean it”, he added, before kissing you again.

Tasting yourself on his tongue made your head spin like crazy and your walls clench painfully around nothing. You tried to rub your legs together to get some relief, but he was in between them.

“Tommy.”

“I know, darling, I know”, he cooed reassuringly, peppering kisses all over your face.

You tried to push him away, so that you could turn on your stomach.

“No”, he stopped you, taking your hands in his. “I want you like this.” He placed them at the sides of your head, fingers intertwined with yours. “I wanna look at you.”

His tip rubbed against your folds, making you both whine at the same time.

“That okay with you?”, he asked you breathlessly and you simply responded with a frantic nod of your head, not trusting your own voice.

He pushed inside of you slowly, as if you were doing this for the first time, making you feel every single inch, his eyes never abandoning yours until he finally bottomed out.

His head fell in the crook of your neck. “Shit, I’ll never get used to how amazing you feel.”

You threw your head back, closing your eyes while you tried to regulate your breathing.

When you were about to actually beg him, he started moving, teasingly dragging his cock along your walls, almost pulling out entirely and then sinking back in, never failing to find your g-spot, each thrust slow, but incredibly strong and deep.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to get even deeper, to claim you fully, clenching around him when you felt him touching your cervix.

“Tommy...”

“Easy there, I'm not gonna last long if you keep doing that”, he warned you, biting your earlobe softly. But then he decided to reward your patience, gradually increasing his pace until he was fucking you into the mattress.

“There”, he panted against your neck. “Is this what you wanted, darling? All of me?”

“Y-yes.”

“Take it then. Take me.” He was ruthless now, pounding into you so hard you were sure the entire area would be covered in bruises tomorrow.

You loved it.

His hands slipped from yours, one of them tangling itself in your hair as he caught your mouth in a searing kiss. “Touch me”, he breathed against your lips. “Please, y/n, touch me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, clinging onto him for dear life, softly scratching the skin with your nails and then soothing it with delicate touches.

His free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers tracing circles on your throbbing clit as soon as they found it.

“Tommy!”, you cried out, clamping down on him, the pleasure so intense it neared pain. “I-I can't...”

“I got you, love”, he whispered. “Let go for me.”

Next thing you knew, you were falling apart under him, arching against his chest, fire exploding under your skin, strings of his name falling from your lips, your walls squeezing him so hard that your release triggered his.

“Oh God!”, he groaned, pumping his seed inside you as if he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t go to waste. “I love you, y/n...”, was the last thing he managed to say before he collapsed on top of you.

The two of you remained like that, minds clouded in the haze of the afterglow, his cock still twitching inside of you, the soft breathing of your recovering bodies being the only sound that could be heard in the room.

As you felt him trying to pull off, you tightened your hold on him. “Please, don't”, you murmured in his ear. “N-not yet.”

He complied, kissing your shoulder. “As you wish, darling.”

You hummed contently, already starting to doze off. “… Tommy?”

“Mh?”

“I love you”, you murmured, before sleep claimed you.

The persistent tickling of the rain against the window was the sound that woke you up.

You stretched and rolled on your back looking for Tom, but the only thing you felt was the cold mattress, covered with crumpled sheets.

Your eyes shot open and you quickly sat up, ignoring the dizziness caused by the abrupt movement and looking around in fear. He was nowhere to be found.

Maybe it was just a dream… you told yourself, not wanting to think that Tom could do something like that to you. No, he couldn’t. Not after breaking your heart. Not after showing up at your house in the middle of the night to tell you that he loved you.

Not after making love to you...

However, that hypothesis got completely shattered in a few seconds: you were naked and still sore between your legs, something a dream couldn’t definitely have caused…

But then, just as tears were about to form in your eyes, you saw something: his coat and boots were still in the room.

Your heart filled with relief at that sight and you got up, wincing a bit at the slight pain. You took your time pulling your hair up, gathering your clothes and putting them on: falling face first on the ground before you even left your room wasn’t exactly the best way to start your day.

You found him in the kitchen with his back facing you, so busy making hot chocolate he didn’t realize you were there. Leaning against the door frame, you didn’t dare to make a sound, allowing yourself to admire the view, heart bursting with happiness.

The only thing that distracted you was Grimm head-butting your leg, so you smiled down at him and took him in your arms, placing a soft peck on his missing eye and one on his forehead. “Good morning, love.”

“Good morning to you!”, Tom greeted you gleefully, turning around, but his smile dropped as soon as he saw you. “Oh…” He squinted his eyes at your cat. “I see I’ve already been replaced.”

“Nonsense.” You replied, scratching Grimm under his chin. “He was here before you. You never even stood a chance.”

“Right. Got it”, he pouted, turning his back to you again. “No hug for me, then.”

You did your best to hold back a chuckle, then let go of Grimm and walked up to your favourite man-child ever. You waited for him to finish pouring chocolate into the mugs and then wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your front against his back. “Good morning, lover”, you said, singing the last word and leaving a kiss on the nape of his neck.

He pretended to ignore you, but you didn’t miss on the light shiver that ran through his body. So you decided to have a bit of fun with it. “You look so cute when you’re all pouty”, you whispered, loving the way it made his ears turn pink.

“Makes me wanna ride that sour expression off your face.”

Tom gasped loudly, the bright pink turning into an angry crimson red. “Shit, y/n…”

“Too much?”, you teased him. “I distinctly remember you telling me far worse things, like when you told me that you wanted me–”

“Alright, alright!”, he interrupted you. “You win, I’m not mad anymore.”

You let go of his waist, allowing him to turn around and face you. He returned your hug and he was no longer frowning, but you could tell that something was still bothering him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just remind me to bring you a couple of my shirts next time”, he muttered. “No offense to your… feline pajamas, but I prefer you in them.”

“What about my legs?”, you questioned. “They’re bare, I get cold.”

He squeezed your waist affectionately. “That’s what your hot boyfriend is here for, darling”, he winked at you, causing your heart to skip a beat. It still didn’t feel real.

You smirked, pulling at the elastic of your pants, letting them pool down at your feet and stepping out of them. “Better?”

“Much better”, he nodded in agreement. “We can work on the top, but much better.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Speaking of tops…”, you murmured, lightly pulling at the hem of his shirt. “I prefer you without one.”

“I might have a solution for that”, he gave you a smug grin, reaching up and undoing the button of your collar.

You stood there, admiring his focused expression as he kept going at a slowly, teasing pace. When he was done, he carefully pushed the fabric off your shoulders, letting it fall on the ground, leaving you to stand completely naked in front of him.

He let a few moments go by, his gaze running all over your body in religious silence, then slowly proceeded to take off his shirt.

You immediately understood his intentions and, without a word, followed his lead and raised your arms, letting him slip it on you.

“There”, he murmured, fixing the collar and pushing the stray locks out of your face.

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his and threw your arms around his broad shoulders. He didn’t skip a beat, his hand grabbing at the back of your thighs to pick you up. He hoisted you up on the counter, quickly placing himself between your legs, arms encircling your waist to get closer to you.

“Perfect”, he panted after breaking the kiss, eyes still closed and forehead touching yours. “You’re perfect, y/n.”

You drank your chocolates like that, stealing tender kisses between each sip, with one of your hands tangled in his unruly curls and his free arm looped around your waist, as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“This is by far the most uncomfortable way to drink something we could ever find”, you complained playfully after a while.

“I beg to disagree”, he countered, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I’m doing great. And this is the best chocolate I’ve ever had.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone with a sweet tooth.”

“I wasn’t. It’s all your fault, you temptress!”, he accused you, letting out a theatrical sob. “You ruined me.”

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair, earning a content hum as you massaged his scalp. “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“Mmh, you’re forgiven.” He took one last sip, then set his empty cup down and waited for you to do the same to engulf you in a proper hug. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Uhm…”, you trailed off, sparing a glance at the raindrops beating against the windows. “I dunno, it’s raining.”

“Oh darling, with you, I’d dance in a storm in my best dress”, he declared solemnly, sounding like he was reciting a sonnet.

You arched your eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “… did you just talk Taylor to me?”

“Are you even surprised?”, he dismissed it, acting offended at your question. “It’s basically the only thing you listen to: I had to learn your language for the sake of communication.”

“Why don’t you just admit that you like her too?”, you wiggled your eyebrows at him.

He shook his head exaggeratedly. “You’ve already turned me into a chocolate addicted and led me to believe that my freckles are stars, isn’t that enough?”

“Mmh… don’t know about that.”

“You’re heartless”, he complained, clutching his chest and throwing his head back and sighing like a diva. “I can’t believe that I’m in love with you.”

“I like the sound of that”, you said with a smile, pulling him close to you again by the waistband of his pants.

“Of what?”, he questioned, running his hands on your thighs. “Me calling you ‘heartless’?”

“No, you saying that you love me.”

He pulled back a bit to look at you, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “I love you.” He rubbed the tip of his nose against yours. “I love you.” Then he kissed it. “I love you.” Then it was the turn of your chin. “I love you.” And he went on like that, kissing every part of your face aside from your mouth, those three words falling from his lips like a prayer.

You giggled, closing your eyes and giving yourself up to him entirely, getting lost in that perfectly happy moment.

“I love you, y/nn.”

“I love you, Tommy.”

It was the only thing you managed to reply before his lips captured yours. You melted into his touch, your mouth moving with his in perfect harmony. Tom was in love with you and you were in love with him. Finally, everything felt right. Perfect. He was perfect. And, in that moment, you felt perfect, too.

“So…”, he said after breaking the kiss, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “I know I-we totally fucked up the order of things, but do you wanna go on a date with me?”

You placed a soft peck on his temple. “I’d love to, Tommy.”

A/n: ... so, yeah this is the end end. I'd really love to know your thoughts! Thank you so much for your support and for reading my story, it really means the world to me 💜

Taglist: @pure-ghost @bigdickjerry21 @375fullsun @ellastark00 @supraveng @viwihere @furiousdreamvoidalmond

(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, if your name is like this, it means I couldn’t tag you)

[justapurrcat]

(Re)bound | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Excerpt: “The terms of the mutual agreement couldn’t have been clearer: mind-blowing sex, moral support when needed, hot milk chocolate and, the most important one, no feelings involved.

You could do that... right?”

Word count: 2.960k

Warnings: English not being my first language, (poorly written) smut (like, right below the cut. If you're younger than 18, don’t read this), angst, a hint of fluff if you squint.

Rebound Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: My first attempt ever at writing a self-insert piece. It was all Taylor's fault, since all of this started because I had Wildest Dreams stuck in my head, especially the bit that goes “his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in the room”... like, that's the only part this fic has in common with the song, but... yeah, this happened... if you decide to read this, I'd love to know what you think 💜

Tom whimpered, throwing his head back on the pillow. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

He was beautiful, messy curls plastered on his forehead, flushed cheeks, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, hands fisting the sheets so hard his knuckles had turned white, his chest, decorated with the trail of love bites you had left behind you, raising and lowering at a furious rhythm.

Absolutely gorgeous.

“Oh, am I?”, you smirked, blowing on the heated skin of his cock just to tease him a bit more. “Tell me, then…” You wrapped your hand around him, pressing soft kisses on his tip between every word. “How amazing am I?”

“You–”, he tried to answer, but the second he began to speak, you took him in your mouth and sucked hard, earning a strangled moan from him and causing his brain to go blank for a few seconds.

“Fucking hell, Me-y/n.”

You frowned, but immediately dismissed the weird bad feeling that was beginning to form in your stomach.

No.

He was about to say ‘Meg’.

He corrected himself in time, but he was about to say it. Again. For the 106th time, to be precise. Which, coincidentally, was also the number of times the two of you’ve had sex. Why you were being so accurate on keeping the count of how many times he would cry out his ex’s name while he was with you, you didn’t know.

It was normal. You weren’t his girlfriend, Tom wasn’t your boyfriend: you were just two friends using each other to forget someone else. You both knew it and were fine with it. The terms of the mutual agreement couldn’t have been clearer: mind-blowing sex, moral support when needed, hot milk chocolate and, the most important one, no feelings involved.

You could do that… right?

Yes. Yes, you could.

You kept sucking him off, using your hand for the part you couldn’t fit into your mouth, trying to focus only on the moment.

Only on him.

“Stop!”, he finally cried out, waving his arm desperately. “Please, stop! Oh God…”

You swirled our tongue around his tip one last time, then removed your mouth from it. But your hand remained there, still stroking him lazily.

“I thought you said I could be in charge tonight”, you fake-pouted.

“I did”, he breathed out.

“And that you wanted to finish in my mouth.”

“I changed my mind.” He squared his jaw. His eyes got even darker. “I want you.”

You let go of his cock, crawling back over his body, careful to avoid any contact. Now, you were eye-level with him, so close that you could count every single freckle on his face. You loved them.

Tom craned his neck to catch your lips, but you pulled back, grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “Fine”, you conceded. “Have me your way, then.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped: one second you were hovering over him and the next one your back was hitting the mattress, his mouth devouring yours, his hands grabbing at every inch of skin they could find.

“Such a fucking tease”, he growled in between kisses, as his lips quickly left yours to venture down your throat, looking for your sweet spot, smirking against it when you let out a high-pitched moan.

Found it.

“You enjoy it”, you murmured, lightly scratching the back of his neck just the way he liked.

“Oh, I do. But you know what I enjoy even more?”, he asked, sucking a hickey in that exact spot.

“Enlighten me.” You knew what he meant, but decided to act dumb to tease him even more.

“Turn over.”

“Since you want to be in charge so badly…” Pretending to be tired, you stretched under him, your breast brushing against his chest. “… why don’t you do it for me?”

Tom chuckled darkly, then gripped your waist and threw you on your stomach. Wasting no time, he raised your hips and entered you in one quick thrust.

You used the pillow under your face to suppress the long moan that escaped from your throat. Tom, on the other hand, didn’t care about being quiet.

“Fucking finally”, he growled, bending over so that his chest was touching your back. “Been thinkin’ about this since you answered my text”, he muttered, lips brushing over the shell of your ear. “You don’t know how hard it was for me to play following your rules, darling.”

You let out a small laugh. “Oh, you poor little thing”, you mused him. “Was it so difficult not to be in control for once?” You clenched around him to point out the last two words.

He moved your hair away from your neck, covering the soft skin in gentle kisses, the gesture surprisingly tender, especially considering he was buried balls deep in you. His breath tickled you as he spoke. “It was hell, darling.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You don’t know how beautiful you are.”

You held your breath and something inside your chest seemed to stop for a second. It wasn’t like Tom had never called you ‘beautiful’ before. In fact, he did that a lot, even during sex. It was nothing new, but this time… this time you could have sworn you heard something different in his tone. Something that was making your breath hitch and your stomach flip.

Something you most definitely shouldn’t be feeling.

“You’re just saying it.”

“I’m not.” One of his hands reached up for your chin to make you look at him. And as soon as you turned around, you wished you hadn’t. “You are beautiful”, he insisted.

It was as if the thing you thought you heard in his voice could now be read in his eyes… and it equally amazed and terrified you.

You couldn’t tell if it happened because he noticed something, but that sparkle went away in an instant, immediately replaced by his signature shit-eating grin. “Besides, I already have my cock inside of you, so you can’t say I’m doing this to bed you.”

“You idiot”, you scoffed, masking the sad relief that filled your chest at his words. You had no idea that relief could hurt this much…

His soft laugh echoed yours, then he pressed another kiss to your shoulder. “Now, where were we?”, he wondered, malice coating his voice as his hand came back on your hip. “Oh, right…” His knees parted your legs even more and he slowly pulled back, until only his tip was inside of you.

You held your breath in anticipation.

“I was about to fuck you.”

And with that, he dove in. Right from the beginning, he set a merciless pace, knocking the air out of your lungs with each deep sharp thrust.

You felt like you were on fire. It was always like this with Tom. There was something reassuring about it. Every single time he touched you, a warm feeling would spread all over your body, making you feel safe.

Making you feel at home.

Overcame with the sudden urge to kiss him, you turned your head, searching for his lips through half-lidded eyes. “T-Tom”, you stuttered, blindly reaching out for him. Your hand carded itself through his curls, bringing him closer, and you latched your lips onto his, kissing him like your life depended on it.

Tom returned the kiss with the same, if not even more fervour. That, combined with the incessant rhythm of his thrusts and the way his fingers flickered over your clit, triggered your released, your scream of his name getting muffled against his lips as you fell headfirst over the edge.

It didn’t last long though, as he broke the kiss like you just bit him. He gripped your wrist, causing you to let go of his hair, and slammed it against the mattress with such strength that it made you think it was his way to tell you not to touch him. Suddenly, his chest wasn’t pressed against your back anymore and his free hand wrapped itself around your neck, forcing your face into the pillow.

This was new. Not what was happening – he always used to take you from behind –, but the way it was happening. While all the other times Tom would jump at every single opportunity to caress you, hold you, and in general be closer to you, now it was as if he didn’t want to touch you any more than he deemed necessary.

It didn’t sit completely right with you, but with your thoughts still clouded by the aftermath of your orgasm, you didn’t give it that much of a thought.

Until it happened again.

“God, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you, Meg.”

You froze, mind instantly clear and pleasure forgotten like a long lost memory. It was as if someone had just stabbed you in the chest with an icicle, causing every trace of warmth to bleed out of your veins, leaving you completely numb, to be fucked like a soul-less, life-less shell.

And for the first time ever, being with Tom made you feel like you were freezing.

You said nothing, remaining still and hoping he would get it over with as quickly as possible.

Of course, it didn’t happen.

His rough pounding came to an abrupt halt as Tom noticed your absolute lack of reaction. He let go of your neck and wrist to touch your shoulder. “y/n…”

You didn’t know what hurt the most, if him saying your name or the concern in his voice. Tears welled up in our eyes before you could hold them back, and you hid your face in the pillow even more, trying your best not to sob.

“Darling, are you alright?” Tom was definitely worried now. He carefully slipped out of you, hissing slightly at the absence of your warmth, and laid on his side right next to your frozen-like body, his hand never leaving your shoulder. He gave it a delicate squeeze in an attempt to gain your attention. “Please, talk to me.”

When he received no answer, he started to panic, finally making you turn. The empty look in your eyes and the tears running down your cheeks felt like a slap across his face.

“Oh God, y/n.”

He pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your figure. “Shit… darling, are you alright? Did I hurt you? Was I too rough? W-why didn’t you use the safe-word?”

He was restless, shaking, his mouth whispering worried questions and pressing kisses on your forehead and along your hairline, his hands caressing every part of you they could reach, his legs tangling with yours so that he could get even closer to you. You couldn’t tell who he was trying to calm down, if you or himself.

You let him do all that without a single word, the physical contact you were craving mere minutes ago leaving you completely unfazed. The cold had taken over your body.

You felt nothing.

“y/n, darling, please”, Tom begged. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry, but please, please, tell me what’s wrong.” One of his hands came up to cup the side of your face, making you look at him, his thumb brushing over your cheek to dry the never-ending tears.

He looked desperate and you hated yourself for making him feel like that, but you just couldn’t find the strength to answer him.

“You haven’t finished”, you simply pointed out.

Your words left Tom confused for a few seconds, before he realized what you what you meant with that: he was still hard, his thick length pressing against your thigh. He got so worried he basically forgot about it.

“Y-yeah, but that’s not–”

When you spoke, your voice sounded completely different, deprived of any kind of emotion. “Let me help”, you cut him off, already wrapping your fingers around him. You pumped him swiftly, with almost mechanical gestures. It was as if your body did no longer belong to you.

Please, just cum. Think of whomever you want. Just cum and let me go.

Despite being entirely taken off by your actions, he was quick to react, taking your wrist. “What the fuck are you doing, y/n, stop it!” He held both your hands close to his chest, his forehead touching yours. “I don’t care about that now, I… I just wanna know what happened”, he added in a whisper.

You avoided his gaze, focusing on his freckles instead. Even through the tears blurring your vision, you could still count each single one of them. They probably were your favourite thing about him. You liked to think of them as little stars, and you had convinced yourself that counting them would bring you good luck.

Tom had burst into laughter the first time you told him, but then admitted that he thought it was a cute thing. Sometimes, he would even take the initiative: usually right after sex, he would lay on his back, pulling you on top of him, put his arms around you and ask you to count them, saying it helped him relax. He’d drift off to sleep at the sound of your whispers filling his ears, with your heart beating right against his.

But now… now you didn’t see stars.

“Please, love, I can’t see you like this.”

That single word, ‘love’, finally pulled you out of your apathy. It sunk into your chest, clutching your heart and cruelly squeezing it like a vice.

No…

All of a sudden, everything you couldn’t comprehend or identify had a name: the reason behind your tears, behind how much hearing that name had hurt you, behind how safe and warm he always made you feel, became clear.

No one had ever made you feel like that. Not even Ethan, who you were so convinced was the love of your life. With Tom, everything felt incredibly more intense. Up until this moment, you just blamed it upon the fact that your most recent heartbreak had basically reduced you to an affection-starved emotional mess, but things were different now.

Now that you were fully aware of how much you loved him.

“y/n–”

“Stop!”, you cried out, startling him as you pushed against his chest, detangling your limbs and getting away from him. “Stop saying that!”

Dumbfounded by that unexpected change, Tom only managed to sit up and watch you get up from his bed as if staying there could be dangerous for you, forcing your still partially unsteady legs to support you. Trying to ignore the empty feeling in your core and the mixture of your juices leaking off of you.

His eyes followed you around the room as you gathered your clothes and hastily threw them on. “y/n, what’s–”

“I said stop!”, you shouted, interrupting your movements to glare at him. You were panting hard, half-dressed and overwhelmed by all the emotions you could no longer suppress.

Frozen on the spot, Tom stared back at you, confused and helpless. For a moment, that gaze tempted you to throw your arms around his neck and forget about all of that, finding your legit place in his strong embrace…

But then you remembered the last time you saw him like that. The only time you saw him like that.

It was the night he showed up at your house way past midnight and cried on your shoulder. The night he ended up fucking your brains out on the pavement because your bedroom was too far. The night you both fell asleep like that: the few clothes you had managed to take off scattered around you, your hands in his hair and his cock still buried deep between your legs. It was the only night he looked into your eyes the whole time.

The night all of this started, right after Meg ended things with him.

Meg, the girl he would never forget. The one who broke his heart.

And now, just like that, you realized he had broken yours.

You resumed dressing, a humourless chuckle leaving your lips while tears kept spilling from your eyes.

As he heard that sound, Tom seemed to come out of his numb status. “W-what are you doing?” He scrambled off the bed, almost tripping over the sheets, reaching for his boxers and sweatpants.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”, you spat, zipping up your boots. “I’m leaving.”

He got dressed in record time. “Y-you’re not staying?”, he asked you after putting his shirt on, a terrified expression on his face as he followed you out of the bedroom like a lost puppy, not even noticing how cold the pavement felt under his bare feet, while you kept picking up your stuff right and left.

“No, Thomas, I’m not staying.” You threw on your coat and wrapped your scarf around your neck. “That’s kinda the point when someone’s leaving.”

You were being harsh. Unnecessarily harsh. You didn’t mean to, but you just couldn’t help it. Pain had taken control of your body, making you act like a wounded animal, thus leaving no room for any type of rational behaviour.

As you opened the door, he made one last desperate attempt. “B-but why? What’s wrong? What have I done?”

There was no need for you to turn around to know how he looked. You knew him so well you could picture him like he was in front of you: broken and disoriented, with messy hair and red-rimmed eyes.

And still in love with Meg. Still wrapping that name around your neck like a noose, until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

You needed to get away from this situation. You needed to get away from him.

“Nothing, Tom”, you spoke softly, heart sinking into your chest. “You did nothing.”

And with that, you left his house for the last time.

For good.

Part two -> here

A/n: ... so that was it. If you're reading this, thank you for arriving here 💜 let me know what you think, if you want~

(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)

[agushadow]

do y'all also have mutuals whom you’re actually a fan of? like everytime u see them on your dash u just,,,,, “u go mutual that’s my mutual!!!!! i love u mutual!!!! i can’t even believe we’re mutuals i don’t deserve u!!!! keep being u mutual!!!”

[melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx]

@mauvecherie-writes @cutetomholland @justapurrcat @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cecereads209 @worldoftom @woahitslucyylu @theficplug @vendettaparker @miyuhpapayuh @nebulablakemurphy @cherienymphe @waitimcomingtoo

[justapurrcat]

Darling 😭💜

[shellshocklove]

one: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, unrealistic description of art school?

word count: 4.1k

a/n: i hope you guys like this one too! feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

The snow squeaked under your shoes as you stepped through the doors of the arts building. The ESU campus square bustled with students, even in the January cold. You pulled your coat tighter around your body before you stuck your mitten clad hands in your coat pockets.

Continua a leggere

[justapurrcat]

I’m soft and weak and I need to pinch Peter’s cheeks rn... no srsly, seeing scenes in which he gets taken care of after NWH... it really hits different 😭💜

[shellshocklove]

prologue: thick skull | peter parker

pairing/AU: band AU & post!nwh - college!peter parker x female!reader

summary: your band, crimson goblins, just booked its first ever gig. there was just one problem. you didn’t have a guitarist.

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns

word count: 3.4k

a/n: idk why i’m so scared to post this but my tummy hurts. hopefully it’s something you’ll all like. feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Guess what!” Harry bounced in his seat, while he leaned forward putting his empty oyster pail down on the coffee table.

“What?” Elijah mumbled through a mouthful of noodles.

Continua a leggere

[justapurrcat]

OH YESSS BABYYY

Peter being mystery to us, a rogue Spider-Man and a guitarist all in one story? Sign me up, I love this alreadyyyy 💜💜💜

[jahayla-writes]

Aches and Loss : Tom Holland x Reader

Description: 2.1k wc, Tom Holland helps reader through the loss of her aunt. Hurt-comfort.

Warnings: mentions of death, funerals, Catholicism, and related topics.

Note: technically not a WIP, but was done to support @theslayerofthevampires 💜

“Tommy, is that you?” Y/N croaked.

Tom rushed down the hall, his heart sinking to the floor when he saw her.

Her eyes were red and teary, hands tangled in her hair, and tissues tossed across the coffee table.

“It’s me darling” Tom said softly, walking to her and kneeling.

“I’m glad you’re here” she admitted shyly.

Tom gave her a sympathetic smile, “I’m glad I’m here too. I’m so sorry y/n”.

Y/n sniffles and nodded weakly.

“I know that doesn’t mean much. Is there anyway I can help?” He asked, grabbing her left hand and lowering it from her tangled hair.

She shrugged, her eyes watching the way his lips met her hand before his other hand brought her right hand down as well.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tom wondered, kissing the back of her other hand.

Y/n let out a shaky breath and nodded slowly.

——

“That sounds like it was a lot of fun” Tom replied, his fingers softly untangling her hair as she finished the story about her aunt.

Y/n nodded, “she made sure we all had a good time”.

Tom hummed, holding her closer as she began to tear up.

“Are all of her kids coming?” Tom asked when y/n didn’t start up a new story.

She held out her hands and began counting on her fingers as she thought through who she knew was coming.

“I believe so, it’s a big family. I know her grandkids will be there too” y/n answered, watching Tom’s face for a reaction.

He nodded, glancing down as he felt her eyes on him.

Tom gave her a soft smile and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, “what is it love?”

“Are you okay with… going?” She asked.

“Is your family okay with me going?” He replied, stroking her cheek.

She nodded and gave him a small smile.

He grinned back, “and you want me there?”

“Yes, please “ she begged, her hand clutching onto his hoodie.

“Then of course I’ll be here darling” he promised, his thumb dancing over her cheekbone.

Her eyes lit up slightly as her lips curled, “really? You don’t mind?”

Tom furrowed his brows, “why would I mind?”

“It’ll be a lot of people. You’ve met my immediate family, but not my extended family. It’s a lot, not to mention…” she mumbled nervously.

He sighed and pulled her closer to his chest, “I would love to meet your extended family, no matter how many people that entails. I wish it were better circumstances for your sake darling, but that’s all”.

She sniffled and snuggled into his embrace, “some of them are marvel fans. Like big marvel fans”.

Tom chuckled lightly, “you’re a big marvel fan darling”.

Y/n playfully hit his chest and giggled, “you know what I mean Tom! Obviously they know we’re dating, but I don’t know how they’ll behave. I know the circumstances should prevent much from happening but-“.

“If something happens, it’s okay. Unless you’re worried I’ll be a distraction? I can always try a disguise, or-“ he offered.

She shook her head and leaned back to look him in the eyes, “no. I need my Tommy”.

Tom blushed and chuckled, his thumb back on her cheek, “you have me, always”

——

“I just didn’t think I’d lose her” y/n whispered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Tom frowned, “I know. I wish I could take the pain away from you”.

Y/n gave him a faint smile and rubbed her arms with her hands.

“One second,” Tom said, setting the plate of dinner he’d made her on the table.

He then lifted his hoodie over his head and held it towards her, “here”.

She bit her lip and sniffled, “t-than”

“Shhh sweetie, what happened?” He asked, sitting beside her and helping her put his black hoodie over her head.

She shook her head, “nothing. I just,… I’m grateful to have you, especially right now”.

Tom smiled tenderly at her and after she slipped her arms into the sleeves, he pulled her in for a hug.

“You’re not alone in this y/n,” he promised quietly, his warm breath hitting her ear.

“She would’ve really liked you” y/n mumbled, wrapping her arms around his torso.

Tom rubbed her back slowly, “I’m sure I would’ve liked her to y/n/n”.

She nodded against him, “I think so, I could see you guys getting along well”.

Tom hummed softly as he kept rubbing her back comfortingly.

“I wish you could’ve “ she sighed, “I’m sorry”.

“For what?” He asked, carefully tilting her back as he felt tears land on his chest.

Tom delicately stroked his thumb under her eyes to clear off the tears as they fell.

“Crying again, I feel like it’s been off and on ever since you got here” she explained.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, you can cry as much as you need. You don’t need to hold it in” Tom assured her, his heart breaking as she nodded and began crying more.

“That’s it” he whispered, afraid if he spoke louder his voice would crack sympathetically.

Tom held her tightly, whispering small comforting words as she cried into his chest.

——

“That was beautiful” Tom said, squeezing y/n’s hand as they exited the viewing area.

Y/n smiled softly over at him, noting how if it were different circumstances seeing him in his black suit would have made her want to take a million photos of him.

“Yeah, it was arranged really well, and it looks like everyone made it” y/n agreed.

“Your family all seems lovely by the way” Tom stated while leading her down the hall.

Y/n felt her face flush and a swell of pride in her chest, “thank you”.

He smirked to himself as he watched her reaction but shook it off and squeezed her hand, “of course”.

“So, I forgot to mention, my aunt was Mexican Catholic, so this service is going to be at least an hour long,” y/n informed Tom as they made their way up the steps.

Tom nodded, “okay, sounds good. Anything I need to know or do?”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand in thanks, “just help me?”

He turned to stand before her, tilting her head up so he could see her eyes.

Y/n blinked through her tears, letting her eyes stare into his beautiful auburn ones.

“I will be right by your side, the whole time. I promise” he told her softly.

——

“This whole weekend was beautiful, your family arranged a very special tribute to your aunt” Tom complimented, setting a bouquet of flowers on her kitchen counter.

As he filled it with water, y/n smiled softly over at him, “they really did. Everyone loved you by the way”.

She giggled quietly as she saw the blush creep up his face and redden his cheeks.

——

“Now y/c/n is the oldest of your aunt’s children, right?” Tom clarified as he looked through the photo album y/n brought out.

Y/n nodded “y/c/n is the oldest, and y/oc/n is the middle child. People confuse them all the time though”.

“That’s y/oc/n, right?” He asked, pointing to a particular person in the family photo of y/n and a few of her cousins.

Y/n smiled, “of course you’d not confuse them like the others”.

Tom blushed again but continued studying the photo album, absorbed in learning more about her aunt and family.

“Am I boring you?” She asked as she turned another page.

“No!” He blurted, chuckling a bit after, “no, I love seeing these photos. You look so cute”.

Y/n bit her lip bashfully and smiled at him.

“Besides, y/a/n was important to you, I want to know whatever you are willing to share about her “ he admitted.

——

“‘ey, ‘ey, love, shhh” Tom cooed, wrapping y/n in his arms as he blinked rapidly in an attempt to wake up more.

They’d been asleep for the night when he suddenly heard her crying.

She’d tried to hide the sound by pressing her face into the pillow, but he still heard.

Y/n quickly flipped over, facing Tom and gave him a sad look.

“I woke you?” She sniffled, rubbing her eyes.

Tom shrugged, “‘s not important. Did you have a bad dream?”.

“I wish” she groaned, scooting closer to him.

He tightened his grip, bringing her against his chest as he placed his lips to the top of her head.

Tom sighed, “talk to me darling. Why’d you wake up crying?”

“I had… a dream.. y/a/n was there and it was fun, we went to the park I told you about?” Y/n explained, pausing to see if her boyfriend was following along.

Tom hummed softly into her hair to let her know he remembered what she was referencing.

“But then I woke and… well…” she sniffled, tears dripping from her shut eyes and onto his chest.

“But then you woke up and reality hit” Tom sighed, wishing there was something more he could do.

She nodded faintly against his chest, “yeah”.

“I’m so sorry y/n, what can I do to help? Do you want to talk about it? Maybe take a walk? Or go for a drive?” He questioned.

“We can go for a drive?” She asked, leaning back to see his face.

Tom offered a small smile, “‘course, is that what you’d like to do?”

Y/n nodded and let Tom help her up from the bed.

——

“Thank you” y/n whispered into the night.

Tom pulled the hood of his hoodie up over her head as the wind hit his shoulders.

“Nothing to thank me for y/n, I’ll always be here to help you with anything” he vowed.

Y/n smiled over at him despite the fact it was pitch black outside and he likely couldn’t see it.

But, unbeknownst to her, the stars lit her face just enough for his attentive gaze to catch sight of her glimmer of joy.

Tom wrapped his arms around her and smiled as she snuggled into him before looking back out at the city lights.

——

“How does the water feel?” Tom asked, dipping one finger into the bath water he’d drawn for her.

“It’s nice” she mumbled, eyes closed as she tried to relax in the warm epsom salt filled bath.

Tom sighed in relief, pulling his finger back out of the tub before he stood up.

“Can you stay?” Y/n questioned weakly, her eyes peeling open to watch him.

Tom nodded, “I am, I just wanted to move positions”.

“I can reach your neck easier from here” he explained, tenderly setting his hands on her shoulders in a slow enough pace she had time to pull away or tell him no.

But instead she leaned into his touch and sighed.

“Tell me if it hurts too much okay?” He requested as he began carefully massaging her lower neck.

Y/n hummed lowly, sinking further into the tub.

——

“Let’s get you dried and into pajamas first, then we can get you back into bed” Tom said as he fought a laugh.

Y/n groaned but let him help her dry her body off with the towel she had wrapped loosely around her.

Well, it wasn’t so much him helping her as it was him doing the task for her; but he didn’t mind as she seemed much more relaxed now.

“Much better, now for your top, do you want new pajamas, or-“ he began, setting the now-damp towel on the hanger.

“Your hoodie?” She asked barely above a whisper.

Tom chuckled as he lifted her onto the countertop, “I had a feeling, one second darling”.

Y/n leaned against the mirror with her eyes closed, her legs dangling off the bathroom counter as she waited for him to return.

Tom stroked her cheek and shook his head softly when she didn’t wake back up.

He cautiously placed the hoodie on over her, making sure it was comfortably in place before stepping back.

While smiling softly at her sleepy state, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her back to her bedroom.

“To-Tommy?” She mumbled sleepily, her eyes still closed as he lowered her to the bed.

Tom smiled, “it’s me, y/n/n, just rest”.

“St-staying?” Y/n whispered, reaching out blindly for him.

Tom chuckled playfully, “always”.

He made his way under the covers before grabbing her hand.

“You’re not alone y/n, get some sleep” he whispered, kissing her forehead as her breathing slowed.

Tom Holland Navigation

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Tag list: @theslayerofthevampires @galaxyholland @bigbirdstwins @mcushvft @fishingirl12 @raajali3 @justapurrcat @natswifeysblog15 @directioner5life @ell0ra-br3kk3r @laylasbunbunny

[justapurrcat]

The hurt comfort I didn’t know I needed 🥲💔 brb going to cry my eyes out for a sec...

[justapurrcat]

Tiramisù Day | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader

Excerpt: “Ever since you’d moved in with them, that had become part of his routine, and now he could no longer imagine his life without your voice in it. Without you in it. He’d always stop everything he was doing to listen to you, closing his eyes and letting your sweet singing caress his ears and soul.”

Word count: 2.886k

Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, horny!Tom, my usual awkward dialogues.

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: Just a silly little something based on a dream I had (that most likely happened thanks to my conversations about dreams with @vendettaparker who also encouraged me to write this down and post it 💜). Something lighter to take my mind off of that emotional mess that Unscripted (which is in slowly coming together, btw) is, at least for a moment. And my humble way to wish you all Happy Holidays 💜

Tom knew you had been baking: you’d always sing whenever you baked. It was one of the things he liked about you. One of the many things he liked about you, if he had to be precise.

Ever since you’d moved in with them, that had become part of his routine, and now he could no longer imagine his life without your voice in it. Without you in it. He’d always stop everything he was doing to listen to you, closing his eyes and letting your sweet singing caress his ears and soul.

It had gotten to the point where all of his brothers and mates had started teasing him mercilessly, calling him a creep, while also trying to encourage him to finally ask you out.

Bloody Hell, even Tessa’s looks seemed to tell him to just open his fucking mouth and let those damn words out. He knew it was a stupid thought, though: Tessa would’ve never cursed, she was way too classy to do it.

At least I raised an exquisitely well-behaved dog...

But that day was different: for once, he had decided to join you, so that he could enjoy that lovely sound and – most importantly – your company, without the filter of several rooms between you. Who knew? Maybe he would’ve even followed that advice. It was a good day, after all, what could go wrong?

However, in the exact moment he stepped into the kitchen, all of his courage and optimism suddenly left his body, leaving him to stand there like an idiot, his heart stopping and his brain flat-lining.

... because how was he supposed to think straight – or to even think at all – when you were sticking your tongue out like that, cream on your face as you licked the spoon clean, using your fingers to gather what you had left behind?

In less than a second, he watched an entire cinematic universe – oh, the irony – of all the things he wanted to do to you.

At first, you were on your knees, eyes boring into his while you let him fuck your mouth.

Then you were straddling him, slapping his eager hands away from your breasts and hips, and forcing him to witness you touching yourself as you bounced up and down his cock, using him as a tool for your own pleasure.

Next thing he knew, you were bend over the counter, your legs shaking from the overstimulation as he ate you out for the seventh time in a row.

And then you were under him, lost in the pleasure, a crying and blabbering mess pinned down on the mattress, the headboard of your tiny bed hitting the wall with each thrust of his hips.

“There, Tommy.”

“Fuck me, Tommy.”

“Harder, Tommy.”

“Make me cum, Tommy.”

“I love you, Tommy.”

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy...”

It was all that and so, so much more. A mind-blowing marathon that left him so incredibly horny and ashamed.

It wasn’t like Tom had never had such thoughts, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’d had them about you... you were by no doubt his favourite fantasy, whenever he’d get the luxury of some alone time... but none of those thoughts had ever been that strong and... intense...

“Oh! Hey, Tommy!”, you chirped, immediately covering your mouth.

He cursed silently, now tormented by that nickname, the two syllables falling from your lips and going straight to his cock, wrapping themselves around it like soft silk...

“So unladylike, huh?”, you chuckled, embarrassment evident on your face despite your joking tone. That wasn’t exactly how you wanted your crush to see you. “Sorry you had to witness that.”

Oh, I’m not sorry at all...

“Oh wow, you’re a human being... outrageous”, he joked, trying to pull himself together. He even leaned against the doorframe, tilting his head to look cool.

Where the fuck is my Oscar?

“What are you doing?”

“Tiramisù”, you announced proudly, showing him the result of your work, and Tom stared at it longingly, his mouth starting to water.

First his heart, then his cock, and then his stomach: you really weren’t taking any prisoners.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to sound as natural as he could. “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s Tiramisù day.”

“Are you serious?”, he eyed you sceptically.

“You wound me, Tom”, you gasped like an Old Cinema Diva, bringing a hand to your chest. “You know me well enough to be aware that I’m always serious when it comes to food.”

That earned you an eye-roll, but then you both ended up cracking a smile. You just couldn’t stay mad at each other for too long, not even if it was just pretend.

“Okay, now we let this beauty rest for four hours”, you said, grabbing the tray and putting it into the fridge. Then you spun around, the satisfied smile on your face holding a power that could shatter a thousand hearts in the blink of an eye.

“You’re gonna have to wait until tonight to eat it.”

Too bad that there was only one heart to be shattered there, and all that power ran over it like a high-speed train. Tom’s mind went blank. Absolutely fucking blank.

“Can I have you in the meantime?”

“Mh?”

Shitfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckinghell!!!

“Can I have a beer in the meantime?”

There were many things Tom didn’t know.

He didn’t know how he could’ve said that incredibly stupid thing out loud right in front of you. He didn’t know which Saint up there in Heaven he should be thanking for making sure you didn’t hear that. He didn’t know how he’d managed to save himself, coming up with such a quick response...

But there was one thing he knew for sure... okay, maybe two.

One: he had almost ruined everything.

Two: he desperately needed that beer.

Your arched an eyebrow. “A beer?”, you wondered, rather perplexed. “Ain’t it a bit too early?”

“It’s never too early”, he muttered, heading towards the fridge. “... especially when I need to get my mind off of you.”

“Huh?”

His hand stopped mid-air as he was reaching for the handle, his blood turning to ice and making any other movement impossible for him. “What?”

“What did you just say?”

“What did I just say?”, Tom played dumb. Fucking Hell, he wanted to bite his own tongue off and spit it into the garbage can...

“You need to get your mind off of what?”, you repeated, putting special emphasis on that last word, a weird sense of anticipation filling your chest and lifting your shoulders.

Could it be...?

“Work.”

That answer felt like a punch in your gut and it took everything in you not to show your delusion... at least on your face, because it felt like the strings that were supporting your shoulders just got cut with a pair of rusted scissors.

“... you’re on a break, Tommy...”, was all you could say.

“Exactly.”

Shit, I sound like I’m drunk.

Tom looked at you, suppressing a gulp. Taking in your expression, he realized that you were probably worrying about him. Not that he could blame you.

He stepped away from the fridge, determined to avoid the trouble of liquid honesty. “You know what, you’re right.” Yes, it was better not to risk it: he was already making a mess while perfectly sober. “I’m going for tea. You want some?”, he offered with a smile.

You opened your mouth to protest, but then decided against it, not wanting to be annoying. “That would be nice, thank you”, you returned his smile, looking just as awkward if not more.

Tom nodded. It was the moment to say something nice. Maybe something about how now it was his turn to pamper you, since you’d just finished preparing the dessert... but he ended up saying nothing.

Apparently, that was the time his brain decided to be wise enough to keep him silent. So he simply raised a hand to stop you as you approached to see if he needed any assistance, and gestured you to sit down as he put the kettle on.

He immediately regretted it.

Oh, great, the good old caveman charm...

You did as he ‘told’ you, moving as if you were walking on eggs, as if you were scared that every wrong or exaggerated gesture might ruin that apparent calm atmosphere. But if someone had asked you why, you wouldn’t have been able to give them a coherent answer.

It was a normal situation, one you had experienced countless other times... then why the Hell were you so nervous? And why the Hell wouldn’t Tom look at you? Why the Hell wouldn’t he talk to you?

Oh, fuck... what have I done?

You bit down on your lower lip, resting your chin on your palms as you leaned over the counter, replaying your entire – and quite brief – interaction in your mind, and the only out of place detail you could find was that you had been mishearing almost everything he said... which, in hindsight might have been annoying to him. But how could you approach the subject?

“Hey Tommy, sorry that I kept turning everything you said into pick-up lines. My crush on you must’ve gotten a bit out of hand.”

... no, definitely not.

So you just watched him make tea in silence.

“This flower-ish one, right?”, Tom asked, without even showing it to you. “The box with violets all over it?”

“Yup.”

“You and your weird flavours”, he scoffed, but you knew he was joking.

“At least I’m not a monotone old granpa”, you played along, pretending to be offended.

“Watch your mouth, miss”, Tom replied, acting as an old man. “I’m a traditional old granpa.”

You rolled your eyes at him, not giving a damn that he couldn’t see you. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“You might help me sleep just fine.”

Again?! For fuck’s sake, Tom!

Again?! Why the fuck can’t you just be normal, y/n?!

“Why do you keep mumbling like that?”, you questioned him shyly, even though there was a tinge of frustration in your tone. A barely perceptible one, but it was there. “I can’t hear a word you say...”

“It’s nothing, I was talking to myself.”

Just like you had to keep your sigh to yourself.

A few minutes went by in religious silence, as you both waited for your teas to get ready, Tom never facing you once and you staring at his back so intensely you could’ve sworn you were about to open a hole in his shirt.

Then he finally turned around, placed the two mugs on the counter, and sat down right next to you. All of that, without saying a single word. So you were genuinely surprised when he was the one who broke the silence.

“How is it?”, he asked, before taking a sip.

“Sweet”, you murmured, keeping your head low as you stirred your tea with slow delicate movements, just like your grandma had taught you.

‘Back and forth, back and forth. No circles.’

“Of course it’s sweet.” Tom lightly nudged your shoulder with his. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Then why did you even ask?”, you bit back, narrowing your eyes and sticking your tongue out. It didn’t last long, though, the smile you couldn’t hide finding its legit place on your lips. “Here”, you raised the mug to his face.

“Mh... well”, he let out, after making a show of sniffing it suspiciously. “It doesn’t smell horribly.”

“Wanna have a taste?”

Tom nearly chocked on thin air. “Of what?”

“... the tea, Tom...” You blinked at him in confusion... and disbelief: was he really implying what you thought he was implying?

The burning red spreading on his cheeks and ears seemed to scream that ‘Yes!’ he did, and the sight made you gulp nervously, heat enflaming your face and making your palms sweat.

Only in that moment you realized how close you were. Had you always been? Had you moved towards each other without noticing?

But after all... did you really want to know?

“... what else?”, you asked breathlessly, and you didn’t miss on how his eyes fell to your lips, hypnotized by the way they moved.

“I’ve seen porn begin in the exact same way.”

Your heads both whipped towards the entrance at the same time, only to find Harry standing there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Harry”, Tom hissed, without even trying to mask his hostility.

But his brother didn’t seem to notice it at all. And if he did, he simply didn’t pay it any attention. “Whatever”, he waved his hand, then his wicked grin was replaced by a genuine smile. “I’m happy for you. About time. Just please, do me a favour and keep it down.”

Your eyes went wide, and you rushed to explain everything. “Oh no, Harry, we’re not–”

“We’ll keep you awake the whole fucking night if you don’t piss off.”

You looked back at Tom so quickly you almost got a whiplash, your jaw dropping to the floor.

“Oh, would you look at that: it’s time for my heavy metal playlist”, Harry said casually, pulling out his headphones. And just as casually, he proceeded to tell you: “Use protections”.

If Tom’s previous sentence had left you speechless, you were not prepared for the way he reacted to that warning.

“No!”, he jumped to his feet, his long curls bouncing in a way that made him resemble a Studio Ghibli character, and his hand missing the mug by mere inches.

“I’m becoming a father tonight!”

Those words knocked the wind right out of your lungs, echoing in your ears like an obsessive sound.

Harry gave him a sceptically amused look. “I think you have a confusing idea of how it works...”

“Shut the fuck up, you div, I know exactly how it works!”

“And you still suck at it”, the younger brother taunted him.

“I’m great at it!”, Tom bragged aggressively. “Just wait until tomorrow morning, and you can ask y/n directly!”

You felt like fainting and laughing hysterically at the same time.

What the fuck is going on?

“Sure I will”, Harry agreed without care, already pressing play on his phone. Without sparing the two of you another glance, he walked out of the room. “Can’t wait to meet the little monster, though”, was the last thing he said before he disappeared from your view.

Now that he was gone, Tom would look back at you and laugh... breaking your heart once more in the process. He was joking. He had to be joking.

“Don’t you dare call my baby a little monster, you beast!”, Tom yelled at him, a weird mixture of fury and admiration sparkling in his eyes. “They will have y/n’s eyes and they will be the most beautiful kid to ever walk this Earth!”

Oh fuck, he wasn’t joking.

In less than a second, a bubble of pure joy formed inside your chest, and then it kept growing, growing and growing, until it exploded with the strength of a supernova, sending tiny fragments of that wonderful feeling all across your body, reaching every single nerve.

Tom liked you. Your Tommy liked you.

“... so grandma was right: Tiramisù is an aphrodisiac”, you wondered, deciding to innocently tease him a little bit.

Tom froze, your voice bringing him back to reality.

... shit.

“y-y/n... I-I’m...”, he blabbered, slowly turning towards you, keeping his hands up and exposed, like he was under arrest, face completely drained of colour. “W-what you just heard... I-I didn’t...” He shook his head frantically, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry...”

You cut him off with an amused giggle. “Had no idea it could work by just looking at it.”

“Oh God...” He slumped down in his chair, folding his arms on the counter and using them to hide his face. “y/n, I’m so sorry!”, he whined in a small voice. “Please don’t hate me...”

“Hate you?” You laid a hand on his back, rubbing it gently to reassure him and he promptly leaned into your touch. “It’s quite the opposite, really...”, you went on. It wasn’t exactly the declaration you had been dreaming of, and yet, you came to the conclusion you wouldn’t have had it any other way. As weird as it was.

“Though I’m not on the baby-making page... yet”, you specified.

Tom’s head shot up, eyes big and round and eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “... what?”, he gasped. “Y-you–”

For the second time, you didn’t let him finish, closing the distance there was between you with a kiss. Despite the previous stumbling upon his own words, you found him ready, lips moving in perfect harmony with yours in a silent dialogue just for the two of you to hear.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m here. I’m here and I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You pulled away for the sole reason that you needed to catch your breath, but Tom was not of the same opinion as he chased you desperately, as if you were something vital to him.

“... you taste so sweet...”, he murmured, eyes still closed as he licked his lips.

“You and your weird flavours”, you mocked him, before he shushed you, drawing you back in for another kiss.

A/n: Here we are! I really hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think, if you feel like it~ love you 💜

Taglist: @hunnybunimdun @namoreno @nocturnalms @wildxwidow

(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)

[justapurrcat]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!hiking guide!reader

Synopsys: Finally free after a particularly demanding project, Tom is looking forward to enjoying a well deserved holiday of sweet idleness… until a local hiking guide catches his attention, throwing all his purposes out of the window.

Word Count: 10.277k

Warnings: English not being my first language, disgusting fluff, a pinch of angst because it’s me, shameless love at first sight, an easter egg maybe, Tom being stupid~

Group Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I’m super late with this one, but here it is, my work for @tshwritersnet’s summer writing challenge! While I’m not the biggest fan of how the result turned out, I had a lot of fun writing this (what can I say? I thoroughly enjoy having my leading men, especially Tom, do foolish things in the name of love...) and I really hope you will like it! 💜 please, consider letting me know what you think, feedback is always greatly appreciated! 💜

After leaving for college, coming back here for your summer holidays had become a religion for you, and even after so many years, the Bed and Breakfast owned by your uncles still remained one of your favourite places, with a special mention to its garden: you practically considered it the ‘symbol’ of your childhood, given all the time you had spent playing in there, waiting for your parents to come home in the evening.

It wasn’t a grand or highly renowned one, but it was beautiful and the same could be said about the building itself. It was a quite ancient edifice, no one would’ve given it the light of the day on a first look, but everyone fell in love with it the second they walked through the door.

The familiar rich scent of roses and jasmine, the very same ones your aunt had planted with your help, blended perfectly with the citrus aroma of the trees thriving in the backyard. It was so intense and captivating you could smell it from the outside, your heart growing at least two sizes because of that.

You were home.

And you were in a good mood, your heart still on cloud nine after having convinced itself you had met the love of your life on that very same day. Granted, not knowing his name nor how to find him again might’ve been quite a substantial hurdle – in hindsight, getting hit by Cupid’s arrow had made you kinda stupid –, but you didn’t want to think of bad things now: this was a small place, you could get lucky again…

But you were digressing.

“Hey, old man!”, you greeted cheerfully, bursting into the hall with a toothy smile and open arms, ready to crack your poor victim uncle’s bones with one of your devastating bear hugs, just like you had done with your aunt. It was the bare minimum after not seeing them for so long.

But your excitement died as soon as you took in the scene in front of you: no less than six strangers and a blue Staffy, most certainly a family, standing right by the reception desk, each one of them interrupting their current actions to turn their heads in your direction all at once, a surprised – which was an euphemism – look on their faces.

“Oh…”, was all you could let out, your palms beginning to sweat like crazy.

They had to be a last minute arrival, and you were pretty sure they hadn’t even booked their stay, since your aunt had reassured you that you were not going to bother, since there were no planned check-ins for the rest of the day. Which was the reason behind your rather informal – now turned ridiculous – entrance…

And then, of course, there was your uncle, the only one who didn’t bat an eyelash, too happy to see the niece he loved like a daughter to care. “Kiddo!”, he exclaimed, waving his hand with enthusiasm, and you thanked your good star that he didn’t call you ‘frog’ the way he did when you were a prepubescent girl who read too many W.I.T.C.H. comics.

“Come over”, he gestured for you to get closer, then returned his attention to his guests, quickly apologising for the abrupt interruption.

They all graciously reassured him, the older man – the father, you assumed – even making a joke on how hard to deal with young adults could be. Not exactly your kind of humour, to be honest, but so be it: you weren’t in the right state of mind to pay the due amount of attention to it.

Also because, in addition to all that was going on in your mind, you had also recognized a certain face among that group.

It was the cute guy you had met at the beach only a few hours earlier, those big soft brown eyes and the cute unruly curl falling back onto his forehead forever engraved in the back of your mind making it impossible to forget about him.

To be fair, you also remembered the impressively sharp jawline and his insanely gorgeous hands, with long fingers you would’ve loved to fit a glove, but those were way less romantic details to mention when ranting to your best friend about an idiotic circumstance of love at first sight, in which chatting with him for only a few minutes had felt like knowing him all your life.

Oh shit, from frying pan into the fire…

“I’m sorry…”, you gulped, quickly looking for an excuse to vanish as soon as humanly possible. You had been wishing to meet him again and that was what Fate had planned for you? You refused to believe it.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can come back later–”

“It’s alright, dear”, the red-haired woman kindly smiled at you, and despite your previous gaffe, it was a nice gesture that didn’t appear as if she was doing it out of pity. It was a simple thing, but at least it reduced your discomfort a little.

You returned her smile, trying to figure out why she looked kinda familiar as well, even though you were pretty sure you had only met her son… in fact, all of the family (dog included, of course) was giving you that unusual vibe. The cute guy himself had given you that unusual vibe on that very same morning…

“y/n is my niece”, your uncle announced proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders when you finally reached the desk.

You opted for a simple bow of the head as a silent way to say hello, not really wanting to worsen the situation. You had been lucky, better not to push it.

“Enjoying your holidays, young lady?”, the older man asked you and the faint hope you had of ceasing to be the object of the conversation turned to dust in front of your eyes. Because if you knew your uncle well enough…

“Not really”, he chipped in, jumping at the occasion to promote you. You loved him, you really did, and you understood he was doing it for your own good, but sometimes he really couldn’t read the room…

“Apparently, keeping her nose stuck in books for almost an entire year isn’t enough”, he continued. “She has to spend her summer getting lost in the woods.”

“I’m a hiking guide”, you rushed to explain, understanding your uncle’s intentions: he had purposely formulated a weird sentence just so that he could get you to talk and clear things up. Typical of that side of the family. “It’s my summer job.”

You were trying your best not to look directly at him, but your willpower seemed to keep failing you every once in a while: as a consequence, you didn’t miss the way his eyes went wide and his head snapped up, the curls bouncing adorably, when you mentioned your seasonal activity.

“We tried to convince her to work here with us: she’s great with clients, but it would’ve been a waste”, your uncle added, the slight regret in his tone mixing with pride. “These places need a good guide and she knows them like the back of her hand”, he announced, patting right between your shoulder blades and almost taking your breath away. For a not-so-young-anymore man, he was still quite strong.

“Authentic autochthonous blood here.”

You elbowed him in the ribs as an affectionate little revenge, your interactions with him and the surprisingly interested looks of the numerous family easing your pressure: maybe they weren’t thinking of your stupid entrance anymore.

“What can I say? I learned from the best”, you replied, not wanting to take all the credit for it, since he had literally taught you everything you knew.

“That’s music for my ears!”

Your head turned, following the direction of that voice, the movement way faster than you would’ve wanted it to be.

The guy you had met at the beach stared back at you, carelessly pushing one of his brothers aside to take a few steps forward. “I’ve literally been pestering my entire family to come here for that”, he said, the statement earning him a few perplexed blinks and tilts of the head from the rest of his family.

Not that you noticed, of course, far too gone in the hypnotizing fantasy his soothing voice elicited in your mind. Fuck, were you really that gullible?

Tom, on the other hand, noticed each single one of them.

“What?”, Harry questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

“Didn’t you say th–”

But Sam’s sentence was brutally cut off by an overly enthusiastic Tom. “That I’m dying to hit those paths”, the eldest declared firmly, his chirpy tone releasing a secret threatening aura in its echo. To anyone but you, of course. “I can’t wait. I love hiking!”

That wasn’t a lie: Tom loved being active and spending time outdoors, even better if immersed in nature.

However, he had just finished working on a pretty intense project that had taken a huge physical toll on him: the role had required him to lose quite a lot of weight and to look lean, almost fragile he would have dared to say, so he had been following a strict diet and significantly reduced his gym time.

And ever since he had set foot back home, he had been pestering his entire family – that part was painfully true. Only not about hiking. Hell, he didn’t even know the place they were going to was famous for its hiking paths up until now.

The only request he had made while they were still choosing where to go, was ‘a quiet, silent, private place, so preferably a small one, thank you very much’. He had barely paid any attention to Harry’s announcement regarding having found ‘the perfect place’.

“It has mountains, and the sea, and it’s quiet and then there are hiking paths and there’s a small Bed & Breakfast that might be just right for us, though I suggest not booking in advance, so our presence there doesn’t get leaked even before we get there or some shit like that…”

Tom had mindlessly hummed his approval, then stopped listening to him after ‘quiet’, the only word he really wanted to hear, completely missing the part that would’ve caused his healthier and much more energetic self to freak out from excitement.

For the last couple of days, his favourite topic had actually been how he would’ve spent this whole vacation doing absolutely nothing, sleeping in his bed, sleeping on the sand, sleeping on pool rafts, even sleeping on the flight to get there, which of course he had done.

That was what he had been pestering his family about, because Tom craved sleep. The dark bags under his eyes, his sagging shoulders and the lack of strength in his movements could testify it.

He hadn’t even resumed working out, a well deserved period of immaculate rest being all he could think of, so it was needless to say that he wasn’t prepared to walk in the slightest, let alone to hike.

But this was Fate reaching out, serving him the perfect occasion on a silver plate and how could Tom refuse it?

The smile you gave him felt like a thousand fireflies – not butterflies, fireflies – got released in Tom’s chest, filling it with such warmth and light it almost brought tears to his eyes. He was so whipped he couldn’t even tell himself to get his shit together.

While he was struggling not to pat his own shoulder for the brilliant idea his brain had just come up with, you were undergoing a similar type of struggle, the only difference consisting in the reason moving it: you needed to be serious, to look professional and reliable, while all you wanted to do was jump up and down for the entire hall giggling like a little kid and revelling in your unexpected luck.

After that, you were no longer going to complain about Fate’s plans regarding your sentimental life.

You cleared your throat and raised your chin, taking a step towards him. “Well you’ve found the right person, Sir”, you said, holding out your hand to him, the confidence in the gesture masking the fact that you were hoping it wouldn’t get sweaty.

The cute boy from the beach – he was so pretty you might’ve believed he was a merman, your mind briefly fleeting back to that local tale about a girl finding her soulmate to be no less than the King of the Ocean – smiled back at you, reaching out and squeezing your hand with no hesitation.

“Tom”, he introduced himself. “Please, call me Tom, y/n.”

Your name on his lips, his fingers touching yours, the hint of wink he sent your way… it was too much to handle.

As soon as your hands parted, your left one came up to your lobe, pretending to fix something about your earring, while in reality, you were just playing with it. It was an old habit of yours you had never found the way to get rid off.

From the outside, it looked like nothing but a casual mannerism, but you knew it was your heart’s personal method of letting your brain know that you were fucked.

Tom, you repeated it in your mind, looking forward to whispering it in the dim-light of your bedroom, later that evening, lying on that tiny mattress with your hand right above your heart.

Tom…

You could already picture that, practically witnessing yourself connecting those letters to every fibre of the muscle, tailoring its beat to that single syllable, while surrounded by flowers scent and inebriated on the enchanting afterglow his presence had gently laid upon you like it was a golden veil.

… and okay, to be completely honest, there might have been some room left to slip three fingers into your panties.

And honestly, no one could’ve blamed you for it. Not when he was standing there, with that charming smile, those dimples and that accent and–

Wait a second.

… and that was when it clicked.

Holy fucking shit, you were talking to Tom Holland.

“This is by far the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done.”

Tom rolled his eyes at Harry’s sentence, deeply offended at his brother’s lack of faith in his brilliant strategy. “Wow, thanks for the support.”

“I beg to differ”, Sam spoke up as he lazily pushed the shopping cart to keep up with the others. Tom was the one who had dragged them there, but of course, he had to be the one doing all the work. Of course. Because his movie star brother needed to buy things, but was ‘too tired’. Of course.

“See?”, Tom gloated, satisfied that he could rub it in Harry’s face. “That’s how a supportive brother’s supposed to act!”

Too bad this time he hadn’t taken into consideration that Sam might have been his brother, but he remained Harry’s twin, after all…

“He hasn’t done it yet”, Sam pointed out. “So, I would say this is the most idiotic decision he’s ever made.”

Tom’s smirk fell from his face all at once, like the corners of his mouth had been hanging by thin threads that his brother’s betrayal had brutally cut off. The other spawn of the Devil’s silent, yet eloquent bragging gaze added insult to injury.

Yeah, those two were definitely made of the exact same wicked, dreamless, heartless substance. So much for sibling’s love and brotherhood.

“Okay, fuck off. The both of you”, he spat, turning his back to them.

“It’s not our fault you’re a div”, Harry said simply.

“That’s it”, Tom raised his voice, as if that could silence him, at least in his mind. “I’m done listening to you.”

All he got in response was a scoff and a dry: “As if you ever bothered to…”

“And look how good that turned out to be for me”, Tom quipped back. “I’m famous, rich, and hot.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t forget modest.”

“Keep that attitude and I’m firing you.”

“Fine”, Harry agreed smugly. “Good luck figuring out which foot goes first when walking.”

“The one that will be shoved up your ass if you don’t quit it.”

Before Harry could reply and somehow make it even worse, Sam decided that it was time to stop making fun of the idiot his brother and actually try to knock some sense into that thick head of his. “Tom”, he intervened, trying to make clear that he was abandoning every hostility. “Come on, mate, you’ve met this girl once–”

“Twice”, Tom corrected him as if he had just heard an unspeakable profanity and Sam had to fight many urges all at once: resorting to annihilating sarcasm was on top of the list, but slapping his brother senseless was a close second.

“Okay, twice, if we count this morning”, he conceded, struggling to sound and appear calm: dealing with a stupid love-sick – had he mentioned insanely stupid? – full-grown adult while coming from a family which wasn’t exactly known for being slow to anger was exhausting. And he wasn’t even the eldest.

I’m too young for this shit.

“But still”, he tried to reason with him. “Don’t you think this is a little too much?”

Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, a terrifying determination burning in his eyes. “Nothing is too much when it’s about true love.”

Like he hadn’t even heard that, Harry ignored him completely: he had already made the wise choice of no longer being involved in this. He was on vacation, too, for fuck’s sake!

Sam wasn’t of the same opinion, his jaw dropping to the floor, his heart skipping a beat and not in the good way. “Oh my–”, he wheezed, running a nervous hand through his locks and tugging at them, and regretting not joining – more like running away with – Paddy as soon as he had announced he would go to the beach. “Tom, you don’t even know her!”

That didn’t impact Tom’s judgement in the slightest, a dreamy smile making its way to his lips, something that would’ve made his entire fandom go over-the-moon crazy, but that only scared the shit out of Sam.

“I have the rest of my life to find out.”

“And what if she doesn’t like you?”, Sam argued. “You know relationship aren’t made by just one person, right? It could happen.”

A few creases formed on Tom’s forehead, his smile giving way to a focused expression, indicating that, as much as he liked basking in the fantasy of you keeping him forever, he was actually taking that hypothesis into consideration.

“Then I know I’m never gonna love again”, he concluded after a while.

No, Sam wasn’t just scared, he was horrified. He stood there, watching Tom walk away, unable to take another step, as if his soles of the shoes had been glued to the floor. Until Harry passed by him with the cart.

“That was from Big Fish”, was all his twin muttered with a shrug of his shoulders, when he looked at him in a silent cry for help. “The ‘rest of his life’ bit, I mean”, he explained. “He wants to act like this crazy-for-love hero and he’s not even original…”

Sam looked at Tom, then again back at Harry, a disheartened expression on his face. “Have you ever seen him like this?”

“Frankly, I hoped I’d never have to.”

“I’m serious”, Sam insisted. “I’m worried.”

“And I’m disgusted”, Harry said in a plain tone, picking up an item and examining it, seeming totally detached from what was going on in a way that made Sam feel torn between shock and envy.

“Right”, Tom spoke up, catching his brothers’ attention. “Here we are.”

Sam gulped, afraid to ask what ‘here’ implied, but in the end he found the courage to do it. What could be wrong in a glimpse of hope? “What are we looking for?”

“Hiking equipment.”

“I give up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckingshit.

If someone had seen him – and thank God they didn’t, because it was so early that basically no one seemed to be around yet –, they would’ve thought Tom was running for his life. Which, at least in his perspective, was nothing less than the absolute truth.

He was almost going to be late. This was supposed to be the most perfect day, the date of a lifetime, the start of a completely new era and he was almost fucking going to be fucking late. Fuck.

And on top of that, Tom felt like he had never committed so many stupid mistakes one after the other. That was a new kind of sad record.

Only the night before, he was convinced he had prepared every single detail to perfection: brand new hiking shoes, comfortable clothes, sunglasses, his beloved Knockemstiff cap – for good luck –, sunscreen… still, he had somehow found the way to mess up.

The sleeping time had been so little he wondered if he had slept at all, and he was pretty sure the answer was no, since he couldn’t remember doing anything else that wasn’t daydreaming of the upcoming encounter. And of you, of course. Which, while in the moment sounded indeed very tempting, had turned out to be an unfortunate choice.

Said unfortunate choice had sent him into a spiral of desperation the second he had discovered those dark bags under his eyes: it had taken him an urgent FaceTime call with Rachael – with a lot of patience on her part, despite the ungodly hour –, almost thirty minutes and a good amount of concealer to finally stop looking like a bunch of bullies had ganged up upon him.

But as soon as he had fixed that problem, another one had come up: the time to get ready was significantly less than he had originally planned, and everything had been rushed, if not straight up forgotten.

So now he was going to face a hiking trip in the sun without a hat, sunscreen, nor glasses, having skipped breakfast, and with shoes that would’ve been the ideal, but were still in their stupid full break-in period.

The only positive thing was that his backpack was very light… the sole reason behind it being that half of the stuff that should’ve been there wasn’t.

His muscles were begging for mercy, his lungs quite not so figuratively on fire, like every breath was filling them with unbearably scorching air. But still, he didn’t slow down, pushing his body to its limit.

No. No, he couldn’t fuck this up.

Then he saw it: a cute lilac bucket hat was the first detail that brought your figure into view and his heart swelled inside his chest. You had your back turned to him, but Tom knew it was you even before he got to see your face, and not just because you had previously made plans to meet up at that time and place.

He didn’t know how to explain it, but he just knew from that small detail. Something foreign, yet inexplicably familiar – was he getting a Peter tingle in real life? Was this the sign that he had been playing Spider-Man for too long he was letting it consume his existence? –, was somehow making him aware of your presence in a way that he had never experienced before, as if you had been an extension of his soul, or more appropriately, he had been one of yours.

… or maybe he was just projecting because he was so worn out he was getting delirious. That could’ve been a valid explanation.

His crazy run gradually died out, morphing into a more relaxed walk: he had made it, he had got there on time, now he just needed to act like he had everything under control. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of a panic attack up until a few seconds earlier.

Tom quickly fished his water bottle and some tissues out of his backpack, using them to freshen up a bit before approaching you. It was hot, and he was going to get sweaty anyways, but first impressions did matter.

He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times as a final touch, then, after deciding that it could do, he inhaled deeply – he definitely needed it – and cleared his throat.

“Hey!”

You promptly turned around and if the word ‘radiant’ had been a person, your photo would’ve been slapped under the term definition on the encyclopaedia.

“Hey there!”, you waved at him, your heart bouncing happily like a kid having the time of their life on a trampoline. “You okay?”, you asked as he got closer, the slight red flush on his cheeks not going completely unnoticed by your eyes, despite the bubble pink filter clouding them.

“I’m great!”, Tom nodded as convincingly as he could – acting classes, baby – then rapidly looked for something else, a different topic to occupy your attention with. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you reassured him with a light shake of your head. “I just got here.” That one was a blatant lie, since you had arrived there almost half an hour in advance.

You wouldn’t have considered punctuality to be one of your strong suits, but anxiety usually compensated it quite well and that was exactly what had happened, with you waking up on your own thirty minutes before the alarm.

There was no need for Tom to know that, though.

“So… ready?”

“I was born ready, darling”, he confirmed, subtly waggling his unruly eyebrow at you and your stomach joined your heart on that carousel.

“Good, loving the spirit.” And loving that cute brow. “Wait…”, you paused, detecting the absence of something from his attire. “Where’s your hat?”

“My hat?”, Tom echoed you, transforming the initial gesture of touching his head into a less suspicious scratch of the back of his neck. “Oh… I didn’t bring one.”

“You wanna go back and get it? Or we can stop and buy one?”, you offered. “They sell them right–”

“No”, Tom cut you off, maybe a little more harshly than he wanted to. “Nonono, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”, you made another attempt, not wanting to put him at risk. A hat was one of the first things you always suggested to bring and you distinctly remembered doing the same while giving him instructions. It worried you a bit that he hadn’t followed your advice. “The sun is quite strong today.”

“It’s okay, darling, really”, Tom insisted, trying to convince both you and his mind. He couldn’t have you think of him as an idiot who kept forgetting stuff right and left. Which he was, by the way, but he absolutely couldn’t let that happen. That was when he decided to go all the way with it.

“Hats have been kinda bothering me, lately.” His heart broke a little, his beloved collection of hats of any sort wincing in pain because of that betrayal. But they would have to endure it, he decided: in case the room in his heart hadn’t been enough for you, he would’ve made more in his closet.

“So, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh… okay.” You weren’t exactly persuaded, but that was your word against his, and you didn’t wanna come off as overbearing. “Well, as long as you wore sunscreen, you won’t have any problems”, you informed him, positive to have ended that exchange on a good note. “Shall we go?”

Tom remained frozen for a few seconds, his lips getting thinner and turning upwards as his mind travelled back to the brand new bottle of sunscreen sitting still unopened on his nightstand.

Then he finally snapped out of it. “Lead the way, darling.”

Surely, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

It was the absolute fucking worst and he wanted to die.

His brother’s voice kept replaying in his mind, a bunch of ‘This is suicide, and not even that figuratively’ and ‘I told you so, idiot’ fighting for dominance carrying the banner of regret and shame.

If his morning tour-the-force had been a challenge for his body – Harry had teased him about contacting Vogue and proposing a the idea of a ‘GRWM while I’m in a Rush’ video –, this hike was straight up annihilating it, to the point he started to think he would disintegrate by the end of it, turning to dust and leaving no trace behind.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was pretty sure his feet would start bleeding anytime soon.

The only easy part about that pretence had been interacting with you: with every passing minute he felt himself falling harder and harder. From the outside, no one would’ve been able to tell that the two of you weren’t close friends, but instead two strangers spending time together (alone) only for the second time.

Chatting with you felt as natural as breathing and that did nothing but improve his first impressions, confirming you were it for him. You had to be.

And he would’ve loved to talk with you even more – he didn’t really know if that could be physically possible, but whatever –, hadn’t it been for his current shortness of breath.

Thankfully, once you reached a lovely little meadow – ‘careful, there are fairies here’ –, you proposed a water break and he gladly accepted. Playing it off as if he considered it a reasonable idea and not a desperately needed lifesaving miracle, ça va sans dire.

So you used the remaining of a fallen tree as a bench, sitting a tad closer than necessary and facing each other, Tom with his feet on each side of the trunk and you with your legs crossed.

You looked nothing short of adorable, slightly tired, but in a satisfied way and completely at ease, your inner dryad spirit thriving now that you were in your element.

“Everything good?”, you checked in on him.

Absolutely not, but you’re worth it.

“Fantastic, darling.”

And just right after he said it, his water ran out after two sips. And he cursed himself for the umpteenth time because he didn’t have a another one.

“Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek, internally debating whether you should say what you wanted to say or drop it, afraid he might be weirded out by it. “Y-you want some of mine?”

Tom blinked at you in total disbelief, his gaze traveling from your eyes, to the opened bottle you were shyly handing him, to your lips and starting all over again. Eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips…

Were you aware this was an indirect kiss?

His stomach did an Olympic somersault, pushing him down a spiral he was convinced he had finally abandoned: he felt like a bloody inexperienced teenager all over again. If sharing a bottle with you had such effect on him, how could he even fathom the idea of locking lips with you?

He was full of hope and courage up until a few seconds before, but where were they now that he needed them the most? Were they going to forsake him again at the crucial moment?

Unbeknownst to him, you were freaking out just the same, if not even more, your – conveniently back to a fifteen-year-old status – mind having the time of its life on the sappiest rom-com ride you could think of.

It’s an indirect kiss, it’s an indirect kiss, holy shit it’s an indirect kiss.

A seducing little voice came up from the depths of your brain, suggesting you to just go with it, skip the indirect stage and be as direct as you could. You silenced it, heart shrinking in the process.

“I can’t”, he refused, despite every fibre in his body yearning for it. “How are you going to–”

“I’m doing fine, and we can fill them up again later”, you countered, dissipating his doubts. “There’s also a natural spring where we are going.”

Tom gulped. “A-are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said a thing if I wasn’t.” That sweet, kind determination and the encouraging smile you shot him destroyed all his defences, effectively making him cave. The detail that he was dying of thirst was yet another factor that played in your favour.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He brought the bottle to his lips with such reverence he could’ve been mistaken for a pilgrim drinking holy water from a sacred relic. It was strange, but also cute, the instinct of pinching his cheeks and kissing him all over his face getting harder to be fought.

To distract yourself, you took a look around like you knew precisely what to search for. In fact, you did: whenever you escorted people on that path, the meadow never failed to be one of your stops, the view from there being one of your absolute favourites.

“See that spot over there?”, you extended your arm and Tom’s eyes followed the direction of your finger pointing at the top of a hill, where the ivy-covered rests of an ancient, majestic building towered over the valley.

“Yeah.”

“It’s an old manor”, you told him, turning back towards him and dropping your hand. “Well… what remains of it. But it’s really beautiful, one of the gems of this place. There’s even an old legend about it.”

Tom tilted his head to the side, curiosity causing his eyebrows to arch and his eyes to go round.

Just like a little puppy.

“What’s it about?”, he asked, genuinely interested. During the brief time the two of you had spent together, he had discovered that he liked listening to you. More specifically, he deeply enjoyed how invested you could get when talking about something you loved.

He could only wish one day you would talk about him in the same way…

“A doomed love”, you murmured with a wistfully fond tone, as if a wave of inexplicable nostalgia was washing over you.

“Many centuries ago, that castle was built to celebrate the union of two old families through marriage”, you began your tale just the way your aunt always did. “It was a lucky match, and, most importantly, it wasn’t forced upon them, which was the exception in times like those. The families thought of it only after they noticed how fond the kids were of each other. And took the decision when they witnessed that fondness grow into love.”

Tom just nodded along, getting lost in the new memories evoked by the sound of your voice. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the suggestion, maybe you were just particularly good at enrapturing people with your stories, but your words came to life in his mind.

You were laughing, dragging him by the hand, purple silk floating around you like you were a flower as you ran down a hall that seemed never-ending.

He begged you to slow down, and in all response you just teased him, accusing him of getting old.

Next thing he knew, he had you backed up against a wall, your hands in his hair as his lips devoured yours, only stopping to implore you to accept him as your husband.

“Promise me”, he heard himself say. “Promise me you’ll marry me.”

“I already have, My Lord”, you reminded him, bumping his nose with yours.

“Promise me again.”

“Only if you promise me first.”

“They should’ve lived there after getting married… but, right on the day of the wedding, he got called to war. Some say it was because the king wanted him dead, so that he could have his young bride all to himself. He was a disgusting little man, and it seems he did shit like that quite often.”

Your narrowed eyes and the hard line of your mouth conveyed clearly how you felt regarding that particular character – or person – and Tom couldn’t help but to agree with that sentiment, anger bubbling up in his stomach for that injustice like he had been the one wronged by that king.

He could see them clear as day: the tears staining your immaculate white dress while his own were burning in his throat…

The castle was already surrounded by soldiers who, officially, were there to escort him, but in fact, had to make sure he wouldn’t escape. And he had to leave at first light.

There was nothing the two of you could do.

“Would you run away with me?”, you sobbed.

“After the ceremony, the couple disappeared from everyone’s sight. Later that night, a maid found them, naked and cuddled up under the willow they had planted together when they were kids. They had taken those few hours for themselves, making love and exchanging wows…”

You murmured that last part like it was something dear and intimate to you and it sounded so similar to the plea you whispered in his ears.

“Please, come back to me…”

It was the first time he had touched you, and he knew all too well it was also going to be the last. Deep down, you knew, too.

“I will”, he mumbled on your lips. “I will.”

Only not in that life. It was painfully clear that he was going to meet his demise on the battlefield, and not at the hands of a feared enemy.

“It’s time to go, my love…”

“And then, he had to leave at dawn. Not even a week later, he died, after getting injured during battle.” Just like it had sent him in the past, now your voice brought Tom back to the present, pulling him away from the flash of a stabbing pain erupting in his chest, like someone had just…

“The girl refused all of the king's gifts and resisted all his lures, and eventually retired to a nunnery, where he couldn’t touch her. He broke his neck trying to climb up to her window.” You couldn’t hold back a little devilish smirk while saying that.

Tom unconsciously mirrored you: the old fucker had gotten what he deserved.

“But, even if they were miles away, they both expressed the same last wish: to be buried there under their tree, so that they could reunite in the afterlife”, you concluded.

“That’s…” Tom wanted to say something deep and meaningful, but nothing came to his mind other than a single adjective. “… sad.” He had no other way to say it, and frankly, he saw no point in forcing himself to come up with something different. Yes, it was a simple word, and it was enough.

“It is…”, you confirmed with a sigh. “There’s a silver lining to it, though.”

Tom hardly imagined how such a miserable story could have a silver lining, but that didn’t reduce his interest. And mentioning it had brought hope back into your eyes, so it had to be true.

“Legend has it that if a proposal takes place right under the willow, the wedding is gonna be an extremely happy one. Because the ghosts of the two lovers are gonna do everything in their power to protect the union they didn’t get to experience.”

That’s it, we’re definitely going there next.

“It sounds nice.” His own brain slapped the front of his head at how lame his response was. ‘Nice’. He had tried to control himself and his reactions so much it turned back against him.

Great job, Tom. Fucking great job.

“Yeah, that’s why my mom proposed to my dad there”, you confirmed, finally getting up and stretching your legs, preparing to walk again, fully reinvigorated by the hopeful ending that connected your family to that old tale.

Tom slowly felt all the blood abandoning his face: the pause had lasted so little and, by the looks of it, you seemed a bit too interested in that castle up on the hill. “And that’s where we’re going?”, he asked, trying to buy some extra time.

Had you changed your mind last minute? As much as he loved the idea of you guiding him to a super romantic place, he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it right now.

He stood up as well, anxiously waiting for the verdict.

“Oh no”, you shook your head, the wonderful movement of your head giving Tom some life years back.

Thank God.

“We’re doing something easier today.”

Easier?, Tom thought, gaze falling to the ground as he scratched his nape. He really needed to get back on track with his training. Before his last project, he would’ve faced that path with his eyes closed.

“We’ll be back in the late afternoon, that would take the whole day and a night of camping.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you both nearly sighed in delight, the invitingly romantic scenario of sleeping next to each other under a sky full of stars slipping past your logic walls.

“But it can be our next adventure if you feel like it.”

“Are you implying you want me to propose to you, darling?”

His dashing, pearly-white smile caught you more off guard than needed: one second you were looking – more like gawking in pure adoration without an ounce of shame nor self-respect – at him, and the next one you were tripping over your own feet the way kittens did because their little legs were still too short.

Absolutely pathetic.

But Tom had no time for your self-deprecating thoughts and stupid metaphors, because the instant he saw you losing your balance, he bolted towards you – the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him enough to make him forget about his current suffering, at least for a few moments –, a hand encircling your arm and the other one gripping your waist, effectively stabilizing you.

You let out a gasp – whether it was for the scare, his prompt reaction, or the feeling of his big, strong hands on your skin, you thought it was less humiliating not to find out – then forced yourself to laugh to shake all of that off.

“Not my most professional moment, huh?” You spoke before he could, quickly jumping at the occasion to change the subject dominating your mind.

The ghost of his question to check if you were alright was still laying on his slightly parted lips, but you blatantly ignored it. “Guess I’m a little out of shape”, you cackled, while the embarrassment was eating you alive.

Then you realized he hadn’t let go of you yet, so you rapidly freed yourself from his hold, clearing your throat and mumbling an awkward ‘thank you’.

“Every time I return here, it takes me a couple of days to fully get back on track”, you explained, taking a couple steps back. But then you saw how that innocent joke could’ve been perceived as the truth.

“Just kidding, I promise”, you clarified. “You’re safe with me.”

You were expecting a dry remark, a polite tight-lipped smile that had the word ‘incompetent’ written all over it, or maybe even the request of going back and getting a refund… but none of that happened.

Tom lightly tilted his head to the side, his eyes watering a bit, just enough for the sunlight to make it look like they were precious obscure gems, the tenderness you met in them making you weak in the knees.

“I have no doubt I am.”

“Here we are”, you announced, turning with a joyous smile and widening your arms, proud of that place like you had been the one helping Mother Nature design it. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

You resumed your hike, both still a bit shaken by the unexpected feelings that break had carried along, but refusing to bring them up, the unspoken agreement making your shoulders lighter and your hearts heavier, granting you a short-term relief that was, by no doubt, destined to fester and degenerate into pure torment in the long run.

“Yeah…”

Amazing, indeed.

“This is where the legend wants the lovers to have shared their first kiss.”

This time, instead of Sam’s voice, Tom had Harry’s ringing in his ears: he had exposed his Big Fish quote and now – the irony – he was in a scenario that might’ve looked like it had just popped out of that film and incorporated into that wonderful panoramic spot, the daffodils spreading until the edge of the cliff, their bright colour a vivid contrast to the azure blue of the ocean.

The pics he had found online while organizing the perfect plan didn’t make it an ounce of justice. However, he had to give credit to his past self: it truly was the ideal place for a first kiss.

“Stunning.”

You giggled at his comment, and even found the courage to take his hand, guiding him towards the centre of the field.

Tom just followed your lead, adoration shining in his eyes, your fingers intertwined with his giving him a sense of completeness he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe for literal centuries.

It might’ve sounded cheesy, but you looked like a fucking celestial vision. Tom had never been a religious zealot, and yet he could’ve sworn he had never been closer to an episode of mystical ecstasy.

“Stunning…”, he murmured breathlessly, and he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you, he truly meant it.

You stood there among golden flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze reminding him of little ladies in waiting attending to their queen. And then there was the ocean, glistening behind your lovely figure, its colour a perfect mirror of the clear sky above.

Tom could’ve sworn he had never seen anything or anyone that mesmerizing, that wild untouched scenery representing the perfect frame for the masterpiece that you were, the lilac hat making you stand out even more.

“You okay?”

It was weird: you were so close, and yet your voice sounded like it was coming from so far. But bloody hell, you were so pretty even with a concerned look on your face…

What on Earth could you be concerned about?

“Stunning…”, he repeated a third time in a faint voice, a dopey smile altering his features.

“Tom…” You let go of his hand, cupping his cheeks instead and he instantly melted into your touch.

Your heart sank to your stomach when you felt his skin burning against your palms. “I-I think you should sit down”, you stuttered, trying to think straight.

Fuck, he was not okay, how could you not have seen it?!

You grabbed him by the shoulders, needing to get a reaction out of him. “Do you want some water? I can go and get it…”, your voice broke, tears gathering in your eyes and getting caught in your lashes like pearls of dew. You were doing nothing to hold them back.

But he kept silent, his dark chocolate eyes staring at you, but slowly starting not to see you anymore.

“Tom?”

I’m back, my love…

The last thing he could register was your terrified scream of his name right before his body hit the ground like a bag of rocks.

“Tom!”

“Tom…”

“Tom? Oi, are you awake?”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, someone else was holding his hand, and he was lying on something soft that had every bone and muscle in his body sing joyous hymns.

Tom slowly blinked his eyes open, adjusting them to the light and taking in the surroundings of his room back at the B&B.

“He’s awake”, Paddy stated.

“Tom, darling”, his mother gasped, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Thank God…”

“Mom?”, he croaked out in a raspy voice. “W-where…” He knew where he was, so he probably needed to ask something different. “What…?”

“You… you fainted while you were hiking”, she informed him.

“What?”, he repeated, propping himself up on his elbows, two concerned Sam and Harry entering his field of view.

Nikki and Paddy wasted no time in helping him seat up, making sure he wouldn’t lose his balance and fixing his pillows, so that he could rest against them. His mother offered him a glass of water that he gratefully chugged down in less than five seconds. It didn’t help him much, but it was something.

Still processing what was going on – and it wasn’t easy with that pounding headache – Tom took a glance at the mirror hanging on the wall… and wished he hadn’t as soon as he did. The person staring back at him was his spitting image and at the same time, somehow appeared completely different.

The skin of his face and neck was an unhealthy shade of red, and no matter how much cream they had applied, it looked – and felt – like sandpaper, so dry that it was starting to peel on his nose. Not to mention the disastrous situation his hair was in, making him resemble an unkempt cat more than an actual human being.

Tom turned towards his family again – he could’ve sworn Paddy was there with them, but now he was nowhere to be seen… weird –, his brows furrowing interrogatively.

“H-how…?”

“Exhaustion because you were in no shape to do it?”, Sam spoke up before the others, his tone halfway between worried and mocking. “A fucked up sleep schedule you still have to fix? Sunstroke because you forgot to put a hat on and wear sunscreen, despite being pale as a ghost? I’d say you are spoiled for choice.”

Ghost…

“Where’s y/n?!”, he urged, feeling his whole body starting to tremble.

“In the hall, you moron.”, Sam scoffed. “You have her to thank for being here.”

You had saved him… at least that told him you were okay. That whatever he was going through had spared you.

“That poor girl…”, Nikki recalled, her voice laced with compassion and gratitude. “She called us and then carried you back so that your father and Harry could meet you halfway… she looked so scared.”

She carried me back?

Sam glared at Tom. “You probably gave her a belated heart attack.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a snort, managing to find humour even under such circumstances. “When they say aim for the heart…”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

“Is he, now? That probably could’ve made him smarter.”

“Boys, please–”

“I have to go to her!”, Tom yelled all of a sudden, breaking the calm reigning in the room.

“Fuck no, you’re not.”

“Sam!”, Nikki hissed, fearing that an aggressive approach might make her eldest son even more uncooperative. “Tom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, she tried to be the voice of reason. “You should rest–”

“No, I have to go and see y/n–”, Tom trailed off, and with a newly found vigour that surprised him first and then all the others, he discarded the covers and jumped off the bed, not even noticing that he was barefoot.

Dodging Harry, he stumbled upon the door, grabbing – or rather throwing all of his weight – onto the handle. He was ready to bolt down the corridor on his still wobbly legs, but the sudden appearance of you, standing right there in front of him, stopped him dead in his tracks.

“H-hey…”

You looked so small, so fragile and broken he felt his soul screaming at him to wrap his arms around you, hold you tight and never let you go.

“y/n…”

“Paddy must’ve told her.”

“I was wondering where he was…”

Not again. Don’t lose her again.

Two pairs of hands grabbed him just as his legs gave way, your terrified face slipping away from his vision while he almost sank into the floor.

“Holy shit!”, you jumped, immediately moving forward to do something. “Do you guys need help?”

“We can take it”, Sam grunted, struggling to handle his deadweight of a brother as him and Harry carried him back to the bed. “No worries.”

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Harry echoed.

You fumbled restlessly with the lilac hat in your hands, finding it hard to believe them without a doubt, Tom’s limp body digging a hole in your heart.

And it was all your fault…

Nikki stood up from her chair and came to your side, touching your shoulder. “It’s alright, my child, you’ve done enough”, she tried to calm you with a motherly tone. “Did you get some rest?”, she checked, gently guiding you inside the room.

You nodded absently, your eyes fixed on Tom who was recovering from his temporary faint, focusing om what was around him for the second time in less than five minutes.

He held his breath when he saw you and realised you were there, and that you were as real as he was.

This time, you didn’t greet him, remaining still as a statue.

“Uhm…” Hadn’t he already been the same colour of a lobster, Tom was sure he would’ve blushed violently, but now he couldn’t even tell the difference depending on how hot his skin felt, since it was constantly burning the way it usually did whenever he would get a fever. For that, he wasn’t going to complain: yes, he looked hideous, but at least his embarrassment wasn’t written all over his face, for once.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Nikki’s attentive gaze bounced back and forth between you and her son, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together to hide the hint of a smile.

Tom coyly turned to his family. “Could you guys give us a moment?”

Sam was about to question if that was appropriate, considering his state, but the silent look Nikki sent his way spoke volumes: ‘Don’t’.

So, they all nodded and quietly left the room without a protest. Only Harry felt the need to… well, be Harry.

“Don’t be fooled”, he warned you, fake-whispering. “He’s never this nice.”

Tom rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt, but chose not to comment on that, not letting his brother get to him.

“Please, have a seat”, he told you, gesturing weakly.

Much to his surprise – and he meant it in the best way possible – you made the bold decision to ignore the chair and instead sat on the bed, right next to him, your knuckles brushing against his, the soft noise amplified by the deafening silence.

You chewed down on your lip, then took a deep breath. “I know it might sound like a stupid question, but… how are you?”

“I’m good”, Tom nodded slowly, preferring to avoid any sharp movements. The effect of your presence was still stronger than his discomfort, though, a cheeky grin climbing its way up to his lips on its own account. “Not my best angle, I’m afraid, and I don’t have a lighting technician to make my face appear unbearably handsome, but I’m good.”

You didn’t laugh, your shoulders sagging and your head dropping between them.

“I don’t know how it…”, you babbled, your fingers torturing the hat. “How I couldn’t… fuck, I feel like an idiot.”

“What?” It was the third time he was asking the same question in less than five minutes: he really didn’t like that feeling. Just like he was appalled of hearing you say such things about yourself.

Why were you feeling like an idiot when he was the one who had originated that whole mess?

“I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve noticed that something was off and that you weren’t okay.”

“I’m an actor, darling”, he sighed. “Deceiving people is in my nature.”

Oh…

So he didn’t like you.

“Yeah, and keeping them safe should be in mine”, you argued, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Fuck… I’m sorry.” A sob shook your chest and you let go of the hat to bury your face in your palms, feeling the waterworks were about to start. “I’m so fucking sorry, this was all my fault…”

“No, y/n, no!”, Tom exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders, preventing you from standing up like he knew you were about to do. In fact, in the heat of the moment he drew you even closer. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t even think about it”, he pleaded as your front brushed against his, your breaths mixing together. “I’m the one who made a mess and pretended everything was fine, you couldn’t have known! You saved me.”

“Still…”, you stubbornly objected, your hand resting onto his chest a not so convinced attempt to tone down his sudden burst of emotion. “I should’ve–”

“No, y/n, please, listen to me.” He cupped your wet cheeks, handling your face with the same sweet care you had used towards him right before the accident.

“I wasn’t in the physical condition to go for a hike. Before I met you, my plan was to sleep throughout the entire vacation. To give you the idea, those shoes I wore were brand new… I got them right for the occasion. And this morning I skipped breakfast, I forgot to put sunscreen on and left my hat and sunglasses at the hotel and I overslept and I was running late. And I refused to buy a new hat because I didn’t want you to think I’m an idiot who keeps forgetting his own stuff… not to mention that the reason I barely slept last night is because I kept daydreaming about today and how I had to do my best to impress you… this was all my fault, not yours.”

By the time he was done with his monologue, he was out of breath and, despite not having uttered a sound, the same could be said about you.

Your parted lips slightly distracted him for a second – maybe more than a second –, but then Tom came back to his senses and did the right thing, letting go of you. He didn’t really want to, but he had to.

“You…” After his revelation, your thoughts were running wild, so fast you couldn’t keep track of them all. “… you wanted to impress me?”

“Uhm… yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then pushed his hair out of his forehead, the rebel curl falling back into place just to spite him. “I wanted to get you to say ‘Oh, I can see myself going out with him’ or some shit like that.”

“… why?”

“Because I like you”, he answered candidly, leaving your lungs yearning for air.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we first met…”, Tom confessed, cringing immensely at having to call it a crush, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? It wasn’t like he could just go: ‘Oh yeah, our first date wasn’t even over and in my head we were already choosing the flowers for your wedding bouquet while I was getting lost in the daydream of a past life with you that would make us soulmates’… no, that wasn’t even an option.

“Not at the hotel, but–”

“At the beach”, you completed the sentence for him with a soft smile.

“You–?”

“I remember.”

He had told you he’d just got there with his family, but that he needed a moment to himself. You had offered to leave, yet he had asked you to stay.

“A-and I wanted to get to know you, but like an idiot I didn’t even ask for your name or tell you mine…”, Tom recalled, not at all proud of himself. “But then we met again and… call me stupid, but it felt like destiny. And when you mentioned you were a hiking guide, that felt even more like a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah…” Tom felt like he was a kid who had just made a mess and was now accounting for it to his parents. “Think of it: you and I, on our own, walking side by side in such beautiful scenery. Spending time together, getting to know each other…” He remembered how he had described everything to his brothers within those same walls that were now witnessing his humbling defeat. “And then reaching a panoramic spot…”

… that would’ve been perfect for our first kiss.

“So, let me get this right…”, you tried to put order in your thoughts. “You did something you don’t like–”

“No wait, I do like hiking”, he rectified. “I just… wasn’t in the right shape to do it, I guess…”

“So you forced yourself to go through all that… only to spend time with me?”

“And now everything is ruined”, Tom whined pitifully. “I look hideous and in these conditions, hiking will be off-limits for me…”

He would have to give up on the haunted ruins, there was no way in the World his family was gonna let him go there or even step in that direction. It was all over.

“You know you could’ve simply asked me out, right?”

“Yeah, but now I won’t be able to join you and spend… wait, what?” He stopped, registering what you had just told him. “Wait, what?”, he repeated, incredulous. “You mean you would’ve said yes?”

“I means I would still say yes…”, you corrected his sentence, wiggling your eyebrows at him. “But for now, I think you should rest. I could show you the roses and jasmines I planted with my aunt, though, I’m very proud of them.”

He was too stunned to speak, not believing his unapologetic luck, and his jaw literally dropped.

“And you could use this.”

With his mind unable to summon a single coherent word, Tom just followed the course of your actions as you picked up your hat from your lap, smoothed its wrinkles and then placed it onto his head, leaning forward and bumping the tip of your nose with his and then even going as far as kissing it, while doing so.

“You look pretty in lilac.”

A/n: Yeah, that was sappy af and I’m not even sorry about it hehehe~ thank you for reading, love you! 💜

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 @liltimmyst @jahayla-parker @moniffazictress11 @spideysbae @vibesdontlie @raajali3

(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)

[justapurrcat]

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans | t.s.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x fem!hiking guide!reader

Synopsys: Finally free after a particularly demanding project, Tom is looking forward to enjoying a well deserved holiday of sweet idleness… until a local hiking guide catches his attention, throwing all his purposes out of the window.

Word Count: 10.277k

Warnings: English not being my first language, disgusting fluff, a pinch of angst because it’s me, shameless love at first sight, an easter egg maybe, Tom being stupid~

Group Masterlist

Tom Holland Masterlist

General Masterlist

A/n: I’m super late with this one, but here it is, my work for @tshwritersnet’s summer writing challenge! While I’m not the biggest fan of how the result turned out, I had a lot of fun writing this (what can I say? I thoroughly enjoy having my leading men, especially Tom, do foolish things in the name of love...) and I really hope you will like it! 💜 please, consider letting me know what you think, feedback is always greatly appreciated! 💜

After leaving for college, coming back here for your summer holidays had become a religion for you, and even after so many years, the Bed and Breakfast owned by your uncles still remained one of your favourite places, with a special mention to its garden: you practically considered it the ‘symbol’ of your childhood, given all the time you had spent playing in there, waiting for your parents to come home in the evening.

It wasn’t a grand or highly renowned one, but it was beautiful and the same could be said about the building itself. It was a quite ancient edifice, no one would’ve given it the light of the day on a first look, but everyone fell in love with it the second they walked through the door.

The familiar rich scent of roses and jasmine, the very same ones your aunt had planted with your help, blended perfectly with the citrus aroma of the trees thriving in the backyard. It was so intense and captivating you could smell it from the outside, your heart growing at least two sizes because of that.

You were home.

And you were in a good mood, your heart still on cloud nine after having convinced itself you had met the love of your life on that very same day. Granted, not knowing his name nor how to find him again might’ve been quite a substantial hurdle – in hindsight, getting hit by Cupid’s arrow had made you kinda stupid –, but you didn’t want to think of bad things now: this was a small place, you could get lucky again…

But you were digressing.

“Hey, old man!”, you greeted cheerfully, bursting into the hall with a toothy smile and open arms, ready to crack your poor victim uncle’s bones with one of your devastating bear hugs, just like you had done with your aunt. It was the bare minimum after not seeing them for so long.

But your excitement died as soon as you took in the scene in front of you: no less than six strangers and a blue Staffy, most certainly a family, standing right by the reception desk, each one of them interrupting their current actions to turn their heads in your direction all at once, a surprised – which was an euphemism – look on their faces.

“Oh…”, was all you could let out, your palms beginning to sweat like crazy.

They had to be a last minute arrival, and you were pretty sure they hadn’t even booked their stay, since your aunt had reassured you that you were not going to bother, since there were no planned check-ins for the rest of the day. Which was the reason behind your rather informal – now turned ridiculous – entrance…

And then, of course, there was your uncle, the only one who didn’t bat an eyelash, too happy to see the niece he loved like a daughter to care. “Kiddo!”, he exclaimed, waving his hand with enthusiasm, and you thanked your good star that he didn’t call you ‘frog’ the way he did when you were a prepubescent girl who read too many W.I.T.C.H. comics.

“Come over”, he gestured for you to get closer, then returned his attention to his guests, quickly apologising for the abrupt interruption.

They all graciously reassured him, the older man – the father, you assumed – even making a joke on how hard to deal with young adults could be. Not exactly your kind of humour, to be honest, but so be it: you weren’t in the right state of mind to pay the due amount of attention to it.

Also because, in addition to all that was going on in your mind, you had also recognized a certain face among that group.

It was the cute guy you had met at the beach only a few hours earlier, those big soft brown eyes and the cute unruly curl falling back onto his forehead forever engraved in the back of your mind making it impossible to forget about him.

To be fair, you also remembered the impressively sharp jawline and his insanely gorgeous hands, with long fingers you would’ve loved to fit a glove, but those were way less romantic details to mention when ranting to your best friend about an idiotic circumstance of love at first sight, in which chatting with him for only a few minutes had felt like knowing him all your life.

Oh shit, from frying pan into the fire…

“I’m sorry…”, you gulped, quickly looking for an excuse to vanish as soon as humanly possible. You had been wishing to meet him again and that was what Fate had planned for you? You refused to believe it.

“I-I didn’t mean to interrupt, I can come back later–”

“It’s alright, dear”, the red-haired woman kindly smiled at you, and despite your previous gaffe, it was a nice gesture that didn’t appear as if she was doing it out of pity. It was a simple thing, but at least it reduced your discomfort a little.

You returned her smile, trying to figure out why she looked kinda familiar as well, even though you were pretty sure you had only met her son… in fact, all of the family (dog included, of course) was giving you that unusual vibe. The cute guy himself had given you that unusual vibe on that very same morning…

“y/n is my niece”, your uncle announced proudly, throwing an arm around your shoulders when you finally reached the desk.

You opted for a simple bow of the head as a silent way to say hello, not really wanting to worsen the situation. You had been lucky, better not to push it.

“Enjoying your holidays, young lady?”, the older man asked you and the faint hope you had of ceasing to be the object of the conversation turned to dust in front of your eyes. Because if you knew your uncle well enough…

“Not really”, he chipped in, jumping at the occasion to promote you. You loved him, you really did, and you understood he was doing it for your own good, but sometimes he really couldn’t read the room…

“Apparently, keeping her nose stuck in books for almost an entire year isn’t enough”, he continued. “She has to spend her summer getting lost in the woods.”

“I’m a hiking guide”, you rushed to explain, understanding your uncle’s intentions: he had purposely formulated a weird sentence just so that he could get you to talk and clear things up. Typical of that side of the family. “It’s my summer job.”

You were trying your best not to look directly at him, but your willpower seemed to keep failing you every once in a while: as a consequence, you didn’t miss the way his eyes went wide and his head snapped up, the curls bouncing adorably, when you mentioned your seasonal activity.

“We tried to convince her to work here with us: she’s great with clients, but it would’ve been a waste”, your uncle added, the slight regret in his tone mixing with pride. “These places need a good guide and she knows them like the back of her hand”, he announced, patting right between your shoulder blades and almost taking your breath away. For a not-so-young-anymore man, he was still quite strong.

“Authentic autochthonous blood here.”

You elbowed him in the ribs as an affectionate little revenge, your interactions with him and the surprisingly interested looks of the numerous family easing your pressure: maybe they weren’t thinking of your stupid entrance anymore.

“What can I say? I learned from the best”, you replied, not wanting to take all the credit for it, since he had literally taught you everything you knew.

“That’s music for my ears!”

Your head turned, following the direction of that voice, the movement way faster than you would’ve wanted it to be.

The guy you had met at the beach stared back at you, carelessly pushing one of his brothers aside to take a few steps forward. “I’ve literally been pestering my entire family to come here for that”, he said, the statement earning him a few perplexed blinks and tilts of the head from the rest of his family.

Not that you noticed, of course, far too gone in the hypnotizing fantasy his soothing voice elicited in your mind. Fuck, were you really that gullible?

Tom, on the other hand, noticed each single one of them.

“What?”, Harry questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

“Didn’t you say th–”

But Sam’s sentence was brutally cut off by an overly enthusiastic Tom. “That I’m dying to hit those paths”, the eldest declared firmly, his chirpy tone releasing a secret threatening aura in its echo. To anyone but you, of course. “I can’t wait. I love hiking!”

That wasn’t a lie: Tom loved being active and spending time outdoors, even better if immersed in nature.

However, he had just finished working on a pretty intense project that had taken a huge physical toll on him: the role had required him to lose quite a lot of weight and to look lean, almost fragile he would have dared to say, so he had been following a strict diet and significantly reduced his gym time.

And ever since he had set foot back home, he had been pestering his entire family – that part was painfully true. Only not about hiking. Hell, he didn’t even know the place they were going to was famous for its hiking paths up until now.

The only request he had made while they were still choosing where to go, was ‘a quiet, silent, private place, so preferably a small one, thank you very much’. He had barely paid any attention to Harry’s announcement regarding having found ‘the perfect place’.

“It has mountains, and the sea, and it’s quiet and then there are hiking paths and there’s a small Bed & Breakfast that might be just right for us, though I suggest not booking in advance, so our presence there doesn’t get leaked even before we get there or some shit like that…”

Tom had mindlessly hummed his approval, then stopped listening to him after ‘quiet’, the only word he really wanted to hear, completely missing the part that would’ve caused his healthier and much more energetic self to freak out from excitement.

For the last couple of days, his favourite topic had actually been how he would’ve spent this whole vacation doing absolutely nothing, sleeping in his bed, sleeping on the sand, sleeping on pool rafts, even sleeping on the flight to get there, which of course he had done.

That was what he had been pestering his family about, because Tom craved sleep. The dark bags under his eyes, his sagging shoulders and the lack of strength in his movements could testify it.

He hadn’t even resumed working out, a well deserved period of immaculate rest being all he could think of, so it was needless to say that he wasn’t prepared to walk in the slightest, let alone to hike.

But this was Fate reaching out, serving him the perfect occasion on a silver plate and how could Tom refuse it?

The smile you gave him felt like a thousand fireflies – not butterflies, fireflies – got released in Tom’s chest, filling it with such warmth and light it almost brought tears to his eyes. He was so whipped he couldn’t even tell himself to get his shit together.

While he was struggling not to pat his own shoulder for the brilliant idea his brain had just come up with, you were undergoing a similar type of struggle, the only difference consisting in the reason moving it: you needed to be serious, to look professional and reliable, while all you wanted to do was jump up and down for the entire hall giggling like a little kid and revelling in your unexpected luck.

After that, you were no longer going to complain about Fate’s plans regarding your sentimental life.

You cleared your throat and raised your chin, taking a step towards him. “Well you’ve found the right person, Sir”, you said, holding out your hand to him, the confidence in the gesture masking the fact that you were hoping it wouldn’t get sweaty.

The cute boy from the beach – he was so pretty you might’ve believed he was a merman, your mind briefly fleeting back to that local tale about a girl finding her soulmate to be no less than the King of the Ocean – smiled back at you, reaching out and squeezing your hand with no hesitation.

“Tom”, he introduced himself. “Please, call me Tom, y/n.”

Your name on his lips, his fingers touching yours, the hint of wink he sent your way… it was too much to handle.

As soon as your hands parted, your left one came up to your lobe, pretending to fix something about your earring, while in reality, you were just playing with it. It was an old habit of yours you had never found the way to get rid off.

From the outside, it looked like nothing but a casual mannerism, but you knew it was your heart’s personal method of letting your brain know that you were fucked.

Tom, you repeated it in your mind, looking forward to whispering it in the dim-light of your bedroom, later that evening, lying on that tiny mattress with your hand right above your heart.

Tom…

You could already picture that, practically witnessing yourself connecting those letters to every fibre of the muscle, tailoring its beat to that single syllable, while surrounded by flowers scent and inebriated on the enchanting afterglow his presence had gently laid upon you like it was a golden veil.

… and okay, to be completely honest, there might have been some room left to slip three fingers into your panties.

And honestly, no one could’ve blamed you for it. Not when he was standing there, with that charming smile, those dimples and that accent and–

Wait a second.

… and that was when it clicked.

Holy fucking shit, you were talking to Tom Holland.

“This is by far the most idiotic thing you’ve ever done.”

Tom rolled his eyes at Harry’s sentence, deeply offended at his brother’s lack of faith in his brilliant strategy. “Wow, thanks for the support.”

“I beg to differ”, Sam spoke up as he lazily pushed the shopping cart to keep up with the others. Tom was the one who had dragged them there, but of course, he had to be the one doing all the work. Of course. Because his movie star brother needed to buy things, but was ‘too tired’. Of course.

“See?”, Tom gloated, satisfied that he could rub it in Harry’s face. “That’s how a supportive brother’s supposed to act!”

Too bad this time he hadn’t taken into consideration that Sam might have been his brother, but he remained Harry’s twin, after all…

“He hasn’t done it yet”, Sam pointed out. “So, I would say this is the most idiotic decision he’s ever made.”

Tom’s smirk fell from his face all at once, like the corners of his mouth had been hanging by thin threads that his brother’s betrayal had brutally cut off. The other spawn of the Devil’s silent, yet eloquent bragging gaze added insult to injury.

Yeah, those two were definitely made of the exact same wicked, dreamless, heartless substance. So much for sibling’s love and brotherhood.

“Okay, fuck off. The both of you”, he spat, turning his back to them.

“It’s not our fault you’re a div”, Harry said simply.

“That’s it”, Tom raised his voice, as if that could silence him, at least in his mind. “I’m done listening to you.”

All he got in response was a scoff and a dry: “As if you ever bothered to…”

“And look how good that turned out to be for me”, Tom quipped back. “I’m famous, rich, and hot.”

Harry rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t forget modest.”

“Keep that attitude and I’m firing you.”

“Fine”, Harry agreed smugly. “Good luck figuring out which foot goes first when walking.”

“The one that will be shoved up your ass if you don’t quit it.”

Before Harry could reply and somehow make it even worse, Sam decided that it was time to stop making fun of the idiot his brother and actually try to knock some sense into that thick head of his. “Tom”, he intervened, trying to make clear that he was abandoning every hostility. “Come on, mate, you’ve met this girl once–”

“Twice”, Tom corrected him as if he had just heard an unspeakable profanity and Sam had to fight many urges all at once: resorting to annihilating sarcasm was on top of the list, but slapping his brother senseless was a close second.

“Okay, twice, if we count this morning”, he conceded, struggling to sound and appear calm: dealing with a stupid love-sick – had he mentioned insanely stupid? – full-grown adult while coming from a family which wasn’t exactly known for being slow to anger was exhausting. And he wasn’t even the eldest.

I’m too young for this shit.

“But still”, he tried to reason with him. “Don’t you think this is a little too much?”

Tom stopped abruptly and turned around, a terrifying determination burning in his eyes. “Nothing is too much when it’s about true love.”

Like he hadn’t even heard that, Harry ignored him completely: he had already made the wise choice of no longer being involved in this. He was on vacation, too, for fuck’s sake!

Sam wasn’t of the same opinion, his jaw dropping to the floor, his heart skipping a beat and not in the good way. “Oh my–”, he wheezed, running a nervous hand through his locks and tugging at them, and regretting not joining – more like running away with – Paddy as soon as he had announced he would go to the beach. “Tom, you don’t even know her!”

That didn’t impact Tom’s judgement in the slightest, a dreamy smile making its way to his lips, something that would’ve made his entire fandom go over-the-moon crazy, but that only scared the shit out of Sam.

“I have the rest of my life to find out.”

“And what if she doesn’t like you?”, Sam argued. “You know relationship aren’t made by just one person, right? It could happen.”

A few creases formed on Tom’s forehead, his smile giving way to a focused expression, indicating that, as much as he liked basking in the fantasy of you keeping him forever, he was actually taking that hypothesis into consideration.

“Then I know I’m never gonna love again”, he concluded after a while.

No, Sam wasn’t just scared, he was horrified. He stood there, watching Tom walk away, unable to take another step, as if his soles of the shoes had been glued to the floor. Until Harry passed by him with the cart.

“That was from Big Fish”, was all his twin muttered with a shrug of his shoulders, when he looked at him in a silent cry for help. “The ‘rest of his life’ bit, I mean”, he explained. “He wants to act like this crazy-for-love hero and he’s not even original…”

Sam looked at Tom, then again back at Harry, a disheartened expression on his face. “Have you ever seen him like this?”

“Frankly, I hoped I’d never have to.”

“I’m serious”, Sam insisted. “I’m worried.”

“And I’m disgusted”, Harry said in a plain tone, picking up an item and examining it, seeming totally detached from what was going on in a way that made Sam feel torn between shock and envy.

“Right”, Tom spoke up, catching his brothers’ attention. “Here we are.”

Sam gulped, afraid to ask what ‘here’ implied, but in the end he found the courage to do it. What could be wrong in a glimpse of hope? “What are we looking for?”

“Hiking equipment.”

“I give up.”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckingshit.

If someone had seen him – and thank God they didn’t, because it was so early that basically no one seemed to be around yet –, they would’ve thought Tom was running for his life. Which, at least in his perspective, was nothing less than the absolute truth.

He was almost going to be late. This was supposed to be the most perfect day, the date of a lifetime, the start of a completely new era and he was almost fucking going to be fucking late. Fuck.

And on top of that, Tom felt like he had never committed so many stupid mistakes one after the other. That was a new kind of sad record.

Only the night before, he was convinced he had prepared every single detail to perfection: brand new hiking shoes, comfortable clothes, sunglasses, his beloved Knockemstiff cap – for good luck –, sunscreen… still, he had somehow found the way to mess up.

The sleeping time had been so little he wondered if he had slept at all, and he was pretty sure the answer was no, since he couldn’t remember doing anything else that wasn’t daydreaming of the upcoming encounter. And of you, of course. Which, while in the moment sounded indeed very tempting, had turned out to be an unfortunate choice.

Said unfortunate choice had sent him into a spiral of desperation the second he had discovered those dark bags under his eyes: it had taken him an urgent FaceTime call with Rachael – with a lot of patience on her part, despite the ungodly hour –, almost thirty minutes and a good amount of concealer to finally stop looking like a bunch of bullies had ganged up upon him.

But as soon as he had fixed that problem, another one had come up: the time to get ready was significantly less than he had originally planned, and everything had been rushed, if not straight up forgotten.

So now he was going to face a hiking trip in the sun without a hat, sunscreen, nor glasses, having skipped breakfast, and with shoes that would’ve been the ideal, but were still in their stupid full break-in period.

The only positive thing was that his backpack was very light… the sole reason behind it being that half of the stuff that should’ve been there wasn’t.

His muscles were begging for mercy, his lungs quite not so figuratively on fire, like every breath was filling them with unbearably scorching air. But still, he didn’t slow down, pushing his body to its limit.

No. No, he couldn’t fuck this up.

Then he saw it: a cute lilac bucket hat was the first detail that brought your figure into view and his heart swelled inside his chest. You had your back turned to him, but Tom knew it was you even before he got to see your face, and not just because you had previously made plans to meet up at that time and place.

He didn’t know how to explain it, but he just knew from that small detail. Something foreign, yet inexplicably familiar – was he getting a Peter tingle in real life? Was this the sign that he had been playing Spider-Man for too long he was letting it consume his existence? –, was somehow making him aware of your presence in a way that he had never experienced before, as if you had been an extension of his soul, or more appropriately, he had been one of yours.

… or maybe he was just projecting because he was so worn out he was getting delirious. That could’ve been a valid explanation.

His crazy run gradually died out, morphing into a more relaxed walk: he had made it, he had got there on time, now he just needed to act like he had everything under control. Like he hadn’t been on the verge of a panic attack up until a few seconds earlier.

Tom quickly fished his water bottle and some tissues out of his backpack, using them to freshen up a bit before approaching you. It was hot, and he was going to get sweaty anyways, but first impressions did matter.

He ran his hand through his hair a couple of times as a final touch, then, after deciding that it could do, he inhaled deeply – he definitely needed it – and cleared his throat.

“Hey!”

You promptly turned around and if the word ‘radiant’ had been a person, your photo would’ve been slapped under the term definition on the encyclopaedia.

“Hey there!”, you waved at him, your heart bouncing happily like a kid having the time of their life on a trampoline. “You okay?”, you asked as he got closer, the slight red flush on his cheeks not going completely unnoticed by your eyes, despite the bubble pink filter clouding them.

“I’m great!”, Tom nodded as convincingly as he could – acting classes, baby – then rapidly looked for something else, a different topic to occupy your attention with. “Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you reassured him with a light shake of your head. “I just got here.” That one was a blatant lie, since you had arrived there almost half an hour in advance.

You wouldn’t have considered punctuality to be one of your strong suits, but anxiety usually compensated it quite well and that was exactly what had happened, with you waking up on your own thirty minutes before the alarm.

There was no need for Tom to know that, though.

“So… ready?”

“I was born ready, darling”, he confirmed, subtly waggling his unruly eyebrow at you and your stomach joined your heart on that carousel.

“Good, loving the spirit.” And loving that cute brow. “Wait…”, you paused, detecting the absence of something from his attire. “Where’s your hat?”

“My hat?”, Tom echoed you, transforming the initial gesture of touching his head into a less suspicious scratch of the back of his neck. “Oh… I didn’t bring one.”

“You wanna go back and get it? Or we can stop and buy one?”, you offered. “They sell them right–”

“No”, Tom cut you off, maybe a little more harshly than he wanted to. “Nonono, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?”, you made another attempt, not wanting to put him at risk. A hat was one of the first things you always suggested to bring and you distinctly remembered doing the same while giving him instructions. It worried you a bit that he hadn’t followed your advice. “The sun is quite strong today.”

“It’s okay, darling, really”, Tom insisted, trying to convince both you and his mind. He couldn’t have you think of him as an idiot who kept forgetting stuff right and left. Which he was, by the way, but he absolutely couldn’t let that happen. That was when he decided to go all the way with it.

“Hats have been kinda bothering me, lately.” His heart broke a little, his beloved collection of hats of any sort wincing in pain because of that betrayal. But they would have to endure it, he decided: in case the room in his heart hadn’t been enough for you, he would’ve made more in his closet.

“So, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh… okay.” You weren’t exactly persuaded, but that was your word against his, and you didn’t wanna come off as overbearing. “Well, as long as you wore sunscreen, you won’t have any problems”, you informed him, positive to have ended that exchange on a good note. “Shall we go?”

Tom remained frozen for a few seconds, his lips getting thinner and turning upwards as his mind travelled back to the brand new bottle of sunscreen sitting still unopened on his nightstand.

Then he finally snapped out of it. “Lead the way, darling.”

Surely, it couldn’t be that bad, right?

It was the absolute fucking worst and he wanted to die.

His brother’s voice kept replaying in his mind, a bunch of ‘This is suicide, and not even that figuratively’ and ‘I told you so, idiot’ fighting for dominance carrying the banner of regret and shame.

If his morning tour-the-force had been a challenge for his body – Harry had teased him about contacting Vogue and proposing a the idea of a ‘GRWM while I’m in a Rush’ video –, this hike was straight up annihilating it, to the point he started to think he would disintegrate by the end of it, turning to dust and leaving no trace behind.

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much, but he was pretty sure his feet would start bleeding anytime soon.

The only easy part about that pretence had been interacting with you: with every passing minute he felt himself falling harder and harder. From the outside, no one would’ve been able to tell that the two of you weren’t close friends, but instead two strangers spending time together (alone) only for the second time.

Chatting with you felt as natural as breathing and that did nothing but improve his first impressions, confirming you were it for him. You had to be.

And he would’ve loved to talk with you even more – he didn’t really know if that could be physically possible, but whatever –, hadn’t it been for his current shortness of breath.

Thankfully, once you reached a lovely little meadow – ‘careful, there are fairies here’ –, you proposed a water break and he gladly accepted. Playing it off as if he considered it a reasonable idea and not a desperately needed lifesaving miracle, ça va sans dire.

So you used the remaining of a fallen tree as a bench, sitting a tad closer than necessary and facing each other, Tom with his feet on each side of the trunk and you with your legs crossed.

You looked nothing short of adorable, slightly tired, but in a satisfied way and completely at ease, your inner dryad spirit thriving now that you were in your element.

“Everything good?”, you checked in on him.

Absolutely not, but you’re worth it.

“Fantastic, darling.”

And just right after he said it, his water ran out after two sips. And he cursed himself for the umpteenth time because he didn’t have a another one.

“Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek, internally debating whether you should say what you wanted to say or drop it, afraid he might be weirded out by it. “Y-you want some of mine?”

Tom blinked at you in total disbelief, his gaze traveling from your eyes, to the opened bottle you were shyly handing him, to your lips and starting all over again. Eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips, eyes, bottle, lips…

Were you aware this was an indirect kiss?

His stomach did an Olympic somersault, pushing him down a spiral he was convinced he had finally abandoned: he felt like a bloody inexperienced teenager all over again. If sharing a bottle with you had such effect on him, how could he even fathom the idea of locking lips with you?

He was full of hope and courage up until a few seconds before, but where were they now that he needed them the most? Were they going to forsake him again at the crucial moment?

Unbeknownst to him, you were freaking out just the same, if not even more, your – conveniently back to a fifteen-year-old status – mind having the time of its life on the sappiest rom-com ride you could think of.

It’s an indirect kiss, it’s an indirect kiss, holy shit it’s an indirect kiss.

A seducing little voice came up from the depths of your brain, suggesting you to just go with it, skip the indirect stage and be as direct as you could. You silenced it, heart shrinking in the process.

“I can’t”, he refused, despite every fibre in his body yearning for it. “How are you going to–”

“I’m doing fine, and we can fill them up again later”, you countered, dissipating his doubts. “There’s also a natural spring where we are going.”

Tom gulped. “A-are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t have said a thing if I wasn’t.” That sweet, kind determination and the encouraging smile you shot him destroyed all his defences, effectively making him cave. The detail that he was dying of thirst was yet another factor that played in your favour.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it.”

He brought the bottle to his lips with such reverence he could’ve been mistaken for a pilgrim drinking holy water from a sacred relic. It was strange, but also cute, the instinct of pinching his cheeks and kissing him all over his face getting harder to be fought.

To distract yourself, you took a look around like you knew precisely what to search for. In fact, you did: whenever you escorted people on that path, the meadow never failed to be one of your stops, the view from there being one of your absolute favourites.

“See that spot over there?”, you extended your arm and Tom’s eyes followed the direction of your finger pointing at the top of a hill, where the ivy-covered rests of an ancient, majestic building towered over the valley.

“Yeah.”

“It’s an old manor”, you told him, turning back towards him and dropping your hand. “Well… what remains of it. But it’s really beautiful, one of the gems of this place. There’s even an old legend about it.”

Tom tilted his head to the side, curiosity causing his eyebrows to arch and his eyes to go round.

Just like a little puppy.

“What’s it about?”, he asked, genuinely interested. During the brief time the two of you had spent together, he had discovered that he liked listening to you. More specifically, he deeply enjoyed how invested you could get when talking about something you loved.

He could only wish one day you would talk about him in the same way…

“A doomed love”, you murmured with a wistfully fond tone, as if a wave of inexplicable nostalgia was washing over you.

“Many centuries ago, that castle was built to celebrate the union of two old families through marriage”, you began your tale just the way your aunt always did. “It was a lucky match, and, most importantly, it wasn’t forced upon them, which was the exception in times like those. The families thought of it only after they noticed how fond the kids were of each other. And took the decision when they witnessed that fondness grow into love.”

Tom just nodded along, getting lost in the new memories evoked by the sound of your voice. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the suggestion, maybe you were just particularly good at enrapturing people with your stories, but your words came to life in his mind.

You were laughing, dragging him by the hand, purple silk floating around you like you were a flower as you ran down a hall that seemed never-ending.

He begged you to slow down, and in all response you just teased him, accusing him of getting old.

Next thing he knew, he had you backed up against a wall, your hands in his hair as his lips devoured yours, only stopping to implore you to accept him as your husband.

“Promise me”, he heard himself say. “Promise me you’ll marry me.”

“I already have, My Lord”, you reminded him, bumping his nose with yours.

“Promise me again.”

“Only if you promise me first.”

“They should’ve lived there after getting married… but, right on the day of the wedding, he got called to war. Some say it was because the king wanted him dead, so that he could have his young bride all to himself. He was a disgusting little man, and it seems he did shit like that quite often.”

Your narrowed eyes and the hard line of your mouth conveyed clearly how you felt regarding that particular character – or person – and Tom couldn’t help but to agree with that sentiment, anger bubbling up in his stomach for that injustice like he had been the one wronged by that king.

He could see them clear as day: the tears staining your immaculate white dress while his own were burning in his throat…

The castle was already surrounded by soldiers who, officially, were there to escort him, but in fact, had to make sure he wouldn’t escape. And he had to leave at first light.

There was nothing the two of you could do.

“Would you run away with me?”, you sobbed.

“After the ceremony, the couple disappeared from everyone’s sight. Later that night, a maid found them, naked and cuddled up under the willow they had planted together when they were kids. They had taken those few hours for themselves, making love and exchanging wows…”

You murmured that last part like it was something dear and intimate to you and it sounded so similar to the plea you whispered in his ears.

“Please, come back to me…”

It was the first time he had touched you, and he knew all too well it was also going to be the last. Deep down, you knew, too.

“I will”, he mumbled on your lips. “I will.”

Only not in that life. It was painfully clear that he was going to meet his demise on the battlefield, and not at the hands of a feared enemy.

“It’s time to go, my love…”

“And then, he had to leave at dawn. Not even a week later, he died, after getting injured during battle.” Just like it had sent him in the past, now your voice brought Tom back to the present, pulling him away from the flash of a stabbing pain erupting in his chest, like someone had just…

“The girl refused all of the king's gifts and resisted all his lures, and eventually retired to a nunnery, where he couldn’t touch her. He broke his neck trying to climb up to her window.” You couldn’t hold back a little devilish smirk while saying that.

Tom unconsciously mirrored you: the old fucker had gotten what he deserved.

“But, even if they were miles away, they both expressed the same last wish: to be buried there under their tree, so that they could reunite in the afterlife”, you concluded.

“That’s…” Tom wanted to say something deep and meaningful, but nothing came to his mind other than a single adjective. “… sad.” He had no other way to say it, and frankly, he saw no point in forcing himself to come up with something different. Yes, it was a simple word, and it was enough.

“It is…”, you confirmed with a sigh. “There’s a silver lining to it, though.”

Tom hardly imagined how such a miserable story could have a silver lining, but that didn’t reduce his interest. And mentioning it had brought hope back into your eyes, so it had to be true.

“Legend has it that if a proposal takes place right under the willow, the wedding is gonna be an extremely happy one. Because the ghosts of the two lovers are gonna do everything in their power to protect the union they didn’t get to experience.”

That’s it, we’re definitely going there next.

“It sounds nice.” His own brain slapped the front of his head at how lame his response was. ‘Nice’. He had tried to control himself and his reactions so much it turned back against him.

Great job, Tom. Fucking great job.

“Yeah, that’s why my mom proposed to my dad there”, you confirmed, finally getting up and stretching your legs, preparing to walk again, fully reinvigorated by the hopeful ending that connected your family to that old tale.

Tom slowly felt all the blood abandoning his face: the pause had lasted so little and, by the looks of it, you seemed a bit too interested in that castle up on the hill. “And that’s where we’re going?”, he asked, trying to buy some extra time.

Had you changed your mind last minute? As much as he loved the idea of you guiding him to a super romantic place, he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle it right now.

He stood up as well, anxiously waiting for the verdict.

“Oh no”, you shook your head, the wonderful movement of your head giving Tom some life years back.

Thank God.

“We’re doing something easier today.”

Easier?, Tom thought, gaze falling to the ground as he scratched his nape. He really needed to get back on track with his training. Before his last project, he would’ve faced that path with his eyes closed.

“We’ll be back in the late afternoon, that would take the whole day and a night of camping.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you both nearly sighed in delight, the invitingly romantic scenario of sleeping next to each other under a sky full of stars slipping past your logic walls.

“But it can be our next adventure if you feel like it.”

“Are you implying you want me to propose to you, darling?”

His dashing, pearly-white smile caught you more off guard than needed: one second you were looking – more like gawking in pure adoration without an ounce of shame nor self-respect – at him, and the next one you were tripping over your own feet the way kittens did because their little legs were still too short.

Absolutely pathetic.

But Tom had no time for your self-deprecating thoughts and stupid metaphors, because the instant he saw you losing your balance, he bolted towards you – the sudden rush of adrenaline shooting through him enough to make him forget about his current suffering, at least for a few moments –, a hand encircling your arm and the other one gripping your waist, effectively stabilizing you.

You let out a gasp – whether it was for the scare, his prompt reaction, or the feeling of his big, strong hands on your skin, you thought it was less humiliating not to find out – then forced yourself to laugh to shake all of that off.

“Not my most professional moment, huh?” You spoke before he could, quickly jumping at the occasion to change the subject dominating your mind.

The ghost of his question to check if you were alright was still laying on his slightly parted lips, but you blatantly ignored it. “Guess I’m a little out of shape”, you cackled, while the embarrassment was eating you alive.

Then you realized he hadn’t let go of you yet, so you rapidly freed yourself from his hold, clearing your throat and mumbling an awkward ‘thank you’.

“Every time I return here, it takes me a couple of days to fully get back on track”, you explained, taking a couple steps back. But then you saw how that innocent joke could’ve been perceived as the truth.

“Just kidding, I promise”, you clarified. “You’re safe with me.”

You were expecting a dry remark, a polite tight-lipped smile that had the word ‘incompetent’ written all over it, or maybe even the request of going back and getting a refund… but none of that happened.

Tom lightly tilted his head to the side, his eyes watering a bit, just enough for the sunlight to make it look like they were precious obscure gems, the tenderness you met in them making you weak in the knees.

“I have no doubt I am.”

“Here we are”, you announced, turning with a joyous smile and widening your arms, proud of that place like you had been the one helping Mother Nature design it. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

You resumed your hike, both still a bit shaken by the unexpected feelings that break had carried along, but refusing to bring them up, the unspoken agreement making your shoulders lighter and your hearts heavier, granting you a short-term relief that was, by no doubt, destined to fester and degenerate into pure torment in the long run.

“Yeah…”

Amazing, indeed.

“This is where the legend wants the lovers to have shared their first kiss.”

This time, instead of Sam’s voice, Tom had Harry’s ringing in his ears: he had exposed his Big Fish quote and now – the irony – he was in a scenario that might’ve looked like it had just popped out of that film and incorporated into that wonderful panoramic spot, the daffodils spreading until the edge of the cliff, their bright colour a vivid contrast to the azure blue of the ocean.

The pics he had found online while organizing the perfect plan didn’t make it an ounce of justice. However, he had to give credit to his past self: it truly was the ideal place for a first kiss.

“Stunning.”

You giggled at his comment, and even found the courage to take his hand, guiding him towards the centre of the field.

Tom just followed your lead, adoration shining in his eyes, your fingers intertwined with his giving him a sense of completeness he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe for literal centuries.

It might’ve sounded cheesy, but you looked like a fucking celestial vision. Tom had never been a religious zealot, and yet he could’ve sworn he had never been closer to an episode of mystical ecstasy.

“Stunning…”, he murmured breathlessly, and he wasn’t just saying it to compliment you, he truly meant it.

You stood there among golden flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze reminding him of little ladies in waiting attending to their queen. And then there was the ocean, glistening behind your lovely figure, its colour a perfect mirror of the clear sky above.

Tom could’ve sworn he had never seen anything or anyone that mesmerizing, that wild untouched scenery representing the perfect frame for the masterpiece that you were, the lilac hat making you stand out even more.

“You okay?”

It was weird: you were so close, and yet your voice sounded like it was coming from so far. But bloody hell, you were so pretty even with a concerned look on your face…

What on Earth could you be concerned about?

“Stunning…”, he repeated a third time in a faint voice, a dopey smile altering his features.

“Tom…” You let go of his hand, cupping his cheeks instead and he instantly melted into your touch.

Your heart sank to your stomach when you felt his skin burning against your palms. “I-I think you should sit down”, you stuttered, trying to think straight.

Fuck, he was not okay, how could you not have seen it?!

You grabbed him by the shoulders, needing to get a reaction out of him. “Do you want some water? I can go and get it…”, your voice broke, tears gathering in your eyes and getting caught in your lashes like pearls of dew. You were doing nothing to hold them back.

But he kept silent, his dark chocolate eyes staring at you, but slowly starting not to see you anymore.

“Tom?”

I’m back, my love…

The last thing he could register was your terrified scream of his name right before his body hit the ground like a bag of rocks.

“Tom!”

“Tom…”

“Tom? Oi, are you awake?”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, someone else was holding his hand, and he was lying on something soft that had every bone and muscle in his body sing joyous hymns.

Tom slowly blinked his eyes open, adjusting them to the light and taking in the surroundings of his room back at the B&B.

“He’s awake”, Paddy stated.

“Tom, darling”, his mother gasped, reaching out to stroke his hair. “Thank God…”

“Mom?”, he croaked out in a raspy voice. “W-where…” He knew where he was, so he probably needed to ask something different. “What…?”

“You… you fainted while you were hiking”, she informed him.

“What?”, he repeated, propping himself up on his elbows, two concerned Sam and Harry entering his field of view.

Nikki and Paddy wasted no time in helping him seat up, making sure he wouldn’t lose his balance and fixing his pillows, so that he could rest against them. His mother offered him a glass of water that he gratefully chugged down in less than five seconds. It didn’t help him much, but it was something.

Still processing what was going on – and it wasn’t easy with that pounding headache – Tom took a glance at the mirror hanging on the wall… and wished he hadn’t as soon as he did. The person staring back at him was his spitting image and at the same time, somehow appeared completely different.

The skin of his face and neck was an unhealthy shade of red, and no matter how much cream they had applied, it looked – and felt – like sandpaper, so dry that it was starting to peel on his nose. Not to mention the disastrous situation his hair was in, making him resemble an unkempt cat more than an actual human being.

Tom turned towards his family again – he could’ve sworn Paddy was there with them, but now he was nowhere to be seen… weird –, his brows furrowing interrogatively.

“H-how…?”

“Exhaustion because you were in no shape to do it?”, Sam spoke up before the others, his tone halfway between worried and mocking. “A fucked up sleep schedule you still have to fix? Sunstroke because you forgot to put a hat on and wear sunscreen, despite being pale as a ghost? I’d say you are spoiled for choice.”

Ghost…

“Where’s y/n?!”, he urged, feeling his whole body starting to tremble.

“In the hall, you moron.”, Sam scoffed. “You have her to thank for being here.”

You had saved him… at least that told him you were okay. That whatever he was going through had spared you.

“That poor girl…”, Nikki recalled, her voice laced with compassion and gratitude. “She called us and then carried you back so that your father and Harry could meet you halfway… she looked so scared.”

She carried me back?

Sam glared at Tom. “You probably gave her a belated heart attack.”

Harry couldn’t hold back a snort, managing to find humour even under such circumstances. “When they say aim for the heart…”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hit your head.”

“Is he, now? That probably could’ve made him smarter.”

“Boys, please–”

“I have to go to her!”, Tom yelled all of a sudden, breaking the calm reigning in the room.

“Fuck no, you’re not.”

“Sam!”, Nikki hissed, fearing that an aggressive approach might make her eldest son even more uncooperative. “Tom, I don’t think that’s a good idea”, she tried to be the voice of reason. “You should rest–”

“No, I have to go and see y/n–”, Tom trailed off, and with a newly found vigour that surprised him first and then all the others, he discarded the covers and jumped off the bed, not even noticing that he was barefoot.

Dodging Harry, he stumbled upon the door, grabbing – or rather throwing all of his weight – onto the handle. He was ready to bolt down the corridor on his still wobbly legs, but the sudden appearance of you, standing right there in front of him, stopped him dead in his tracks.

“H-hey…”

You looked so small, so fragile and broken he felt his soul screaming at him to wrap his arms around you, hold you tight and never let you go.

“y/n…”

“Paddy must’ve told her.”

“I was wondering where he was…”

Not again. Don’t lose her again.

Two pairs of hands grabbed him just as his legs gave way, your terrified face slipping away from his vision while he almost sank into the floor.

“Holy shit!”, you jumped, immediately moving forward to do something. “Do you guys need help?”

“We can take it”, Sam grunted, struggling to handle his deadweight of a brother as him and Harry carried him back to the bed. “No worries.”

“Yeah, it’s fine”, Harry echoed.

You fumbled restlessly with the lilac hat in your hands, finding it hard to believe them without a doubt, Tom’s limp body digging a hole in your heart.

And it was all your fault…

Nikki stood up from her chair and came to your side, touching your shoulder. “It’s alright, my child, you’ve done enough”, she tried to calm you with a motherly tone. “Did you get some rest?”, she checked, gently guiding you inside the room.

You nodded absently, your eyes fixed on Tom who was recovering from his temporary faint, focusing om what was around him for the second time in less than five minutes.

He held his breath when he saw you and realised you were there, and that you were as real as he was.

This time, you didn’t greet him, remaining still as a statue.

“Uhm…” Hadn’t he already been the same colour of a lobster, Tom was sure he would’ve blushed violently, but now he couldn’t even tell the difference depending on how hot his skin felt, since it was constantly burning the way it usually did whenever he would get a fever. For that, he wasn’t going to complain: yes, he looked hideous, but at least his embarrassment wasn’t written all over his face, for once.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Nikki’s attentive gaze bounced back and forth between you and her son, eyes narrowing and lips pressing together to hide the hint of a smile.

Tom coyly turned to his family. “Could you guys give us a moment?”

Sam was about to question if that was appropriate, considering his state, but the silent look Nikki sent his way spoke volumes: ‘Don’t’.

So, they all nodded and quietly left the room without a protest. Only Harry felt the need to… well, be Harry.

“Don’t be fooled”, he warned you, fake-whispering. “He’s never this nice.”

Tom rolled his eyes so hard his head hurt, but chose not to comment on that, not letting his brother get to him.

“Please, have a seat”, he told you, gesturing weakly.

Much to his surprise – and he meant it in the best way possible – you made the bold decision to ignore the chair and instead sat on the bed, right next to him, your knuckles brushing against his, the soft noise amplified by the deafening silence.

You chewed down on your lip, then took a deep breath. “I know it might sound like a stupid question, but… how are you?”

“I’m good”, Tom nodded slowly, preferring to avoid any sharp movements. The effect of your presence was still stronger than his discomfort, though, a cheeky grin climbing its way up to his lips on its own account. “Not my best angle, I’m afraid, and I don’t have a lighting technician to make my face appear unbearably handsome, but I’m good.”

You didn’t laugh, your shoulders sagging and your head dropping between them.

“I don’t know how it…”, you babbled, your fingers torturing the hat. “How I couldn’t… fuck, I feel like an idiot.”

“What?” It was the third time he was asking the same question in less than five minutes: he really didn’t like that feeling. Just like he was appalled of hearing you say such things about yourself.

Why were you feeling like an idiot when he was the one who had originated that whole mess?

“I should’ve paid more attention, I should’ve noticed that something was off and that you weren’t okay.”

“I’m an actor, darling”, he sighed. “Deceiving people is in my nature.”

Oh…

So he didn’t like you.

“Yeah, and keeping them safe should be in mine”, you argued, voice breaking on the last syllable. “Fuck… I’m sorry.” A sob shook your chest and you let go of the hat to bury your face in your palms, feeling the waterworks were about to start. “I’m so fucking sorry, this was all my fault…”

“No, y/n, no!”, Tom exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing your shoulders, preventing you from standing up like he knew you were about to do. In fact, in the heat of the moment he drew you even closer. “Please, don’t say that. Don’t even think about it”, he pleaded as your front brushed against his, your breaths mixing together. “I’m the one who made a mess and pretended everything was fine, you couldn’t have known! You saved me.”

“Still…”, you stubbornly objected, your hand resting onto his chest a not so convinced attempt to tone down his sudden burst of emotion. “I should’ve–”

“No, y/n, please, listen to me.” He cupped your wet cheeks, handling your face with the same sweet care you had used towards him right before the accident.

“I wasn’t in the physical condition to go for a hike. Before I met you, my plan was to sleep throughout the entire vacation. To give you the idea, those shoes I wore were brand new… I got them right for the occasion. And this morning I skipped breakfast, I forgot to put sunscreen on and left my hat and sunglasses at the hotel and I overslept and I was running late. And I refused to buy a new hat because I didn’t want you to think I’m an idiot who keeps forgetting his own stuff… not to mention that the reason I barely slept last night is because I kept daydreaming about today and how I had to do my best to impress you… this was all my fault, not yours.”

By the time he was done with his monologue, he was out of breath and, despite not having uttered a sound, the same could be said about you.

Your parted lips slightly distracted him for a second – maybe more than a second –, but then Tom came back to his senses and did the right thing, letting go of you. He didn’t really want to, but he had to.

“You…” After his revelation, your thoughts were running wild, so fast you couldn’t keep track of them all. “… you wanted to impress me?”

“Uhm… yeah.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then pushed his hair out of his forehead, the rebel curl falling back into place just to spite him. “I wanted to get you to say ‘Oh, I can see myself going out with him’ or some shit like that.”

“… why?”

“Because I like you”, he answered candidly, leaving your lungs yearning for air.

“What?”

“Yeah, I’ve had the biggest crush on you since we first met…”, Tom confessed, cringing immensely at having to call it a crush, but he didn’t have much choice, did he? It wasn’t like he could just go: ‘Oh yeah, our first date wasn’t even over and in my head we were already choosing the flowers for your wedding bouquet while I was getting lost in the daydream of a past life with you that would make us soulmates’… no, that wasn’t even an option.

“Not at the hotel, but–”

“At the beach”, you completed the sentence for him with a soft smile.

“You–?”

“I remember.”

He had told you he’d just got there with his family, but that he needed a moment to himself. You had offered to leave, yet he had asked you to stay.

“A-and I wanted to get to know you, but like an idiot I didn’t even ask for your name or tell you mine…”, Tom recalled, not at all proud of himself. “But then we met again and… call me stupid, but it felt like destiny. And when you mentioned you were a hiking guide, that felt even more like a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah…” Tom felt like he was a kid who had just made a mess and was now accounting for it to his parents. “Think of it: you and I, on our own, walking side by side in such beautiful scenery. Spending time together, getting to know each other…” He remembered how he had described everything to his brothers within those same walls that were now witnessing his humbling defeat. “And then reaching a panoramic spot…”

… that would’ve been perfect for our first kiss.

“So, let me get this right…”, you tried to put order in your thoughts. “You did something you don’t like–”

“No wait, I do like hiking”, he rectified. “I just… wasn’t in the right shape to do it, I guess…”

“So you forced yourself to go through all that… only to spend time with me?”

“And now everything is ruined”, Tom whined pitifully. “I look hideous and in these conditions, hiking will be off-limits for me…”

He would have to give up on the haunted ruins, there was no way in the World his family was gonna let him go there or even step in that direction. It was all over.

“You know you could’ve simply asked me out, right?”

“Yeah, but now I won’t be able to join you and spend… wait, what?” He stopped, registering what you had just told him. “Wait, what?”, he repeated, incredulous. “You mean you would’ve said yes?”

“I means I would still say yes…”, you corrected his sentence, wiggling your eyebrows at him. “But for now, I think you should rest. I could show you the roses and jasmines I planted with my aunt, though, I’m very proud of them.”

He was too stunned to speak, not believing his unapologetic luck, and his jaw literally dropped.

“And you could use this.”

With his mind unable to summon a single coherent word, Tom just followed the course of your actions as you picked up your hat from your lap, smoothed its wrinkles and then placed it onto his head, leaning forward and bumping the tip of your nose with his and then even going as far as kissing it, while doing so.

“You look pretty in lilac.”

A/n: Yeah, that was sappy af and I’m not even sorry about it hehehe~ thank you for reading, love you! 💜

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 @liltimmyst @jahayla-parker @moniffazictress11 @spideysbae @vibesdontlie @raajali3

(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)

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I really, really hate how awful I am in regards to keeping in contact with others. I want healthy and fulfilling relationships with my friends, but it’s very hard for me to wholly invest myself. I want to talk to you, but it’s difficult for me to muster the energy to do so sometimes. I want to hang out with you, but isolation also sounds nice right now. I’ll read your texts, but I’m not necessarily in the mood to reply at the moment. Then I feel anxious attempting to reach out when I do have the energy and I am in a good mood because I feel like I pushed you away and you dislike me now, so I usually remain isolated. I feel selfish because of it. And I feel like a bad friend.

[justapurrcat]

Tagged by @cutetomholland ty bb 💜

search your name + core + aesthetic into pinterest and make a moodboard

Tagging: @silkscream @pbnjparker @thollandsdarling and whoever wants to do this 💜

[justapurrcat]

Baby Penguins and Popping Legs | p.b.p.

Pairing: college!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Excerpt: “Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.”

Word Count: 8.977k

Warnings: English not being my first language, possible typos, fluff, a bit of angst, silly dialogues, throwing up (not graphical), NWH spoilers, Tom!Peter (aged up)

A/n: And here it is! My Valentine gift for you (one day late bc it’s me)! Written for @venomsilk’s Valentine Bingo~ thank you for giving me the occasion to write this 💜💜💜 I received Card 1 - SFW and I went with the third vertical row (college + bed sharing + meet ugly). Happy (belated) Valentine’s day to you all, and I hope you enjoy this!

Penguin Crush Masterlist

Peter Parker Masterlist

General Masterlist

You winked at Mira from across the over-crowded room. The guy she was talking to was completely mesmerized by her, and rightly so. She looked like a goddess, the accent of gold you had put above her eyeliner wing bringing out the little flecks in her eyes.

You raised your cup with a proud nod of your head: the poor girl deserved a break. And, in all honesty, you did, too. The latest group project had been – to say it nicely – an absolute fucking nightmare, with the two of you ending up doing all the work and the other three assholes making a fool of themselves in front of the whole class, because they couldn’t even be bothered to take a quick look at the part of presentation that had been prepared for them – that you and Mira had prepared for them –, leaving you and your friend to pick up the pieces and save the situation.

So, even if you weren’t that much of a social animal, you had accepted to go with her at the party in what was commonly known as the Osborn dorm.

Bringing the cup to your lips, you realized your drink – a sad and plain water because you were a sad and plain lightweight – was almost finished, so you made your way through the crowd, heading towards the kitchen and finding it surprisingly empty... except for one person, a guy with his back turned to the entrance.

Your heart leaped in your throat: you would’ve recognized those curls anywhere, since you kept staring at them almost everyday in class.

Mira had mentioned that he might have been there tonight, and you would’ve lied if you’d said that wasn’t one of the main reasons that convinced you to go. And she knew you well enough to know that giving you that information from the very beginning would be a winning strategy.

You had no idea how, but Peter Parker seemed to sense your presence despite the music covering almost every other sound and he turned around so quickly you almost lost track of his movements. “Oh!”, he gasped.

He was dressed in the same way he would dress everyday to attend class, with jeans and a plaid shirt over a t-shirt with a pun on it. Mira would occasionally make fun of them, but you found them cute. Today, it was an art one, with a pizza drawn like the Vitruvian Man. Your favourite so far, probably.

Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying, and failing, to push back the rebel lock that would always fall back on his forehead. “Hi!” His rosy cheeks and nose told you that he had probably been drinking a bit, but overall he looked like he was doing okay.

“H-hi!”

“Hi...”, he repeated, shooting you a breath-taking smile. “I’m Pet–” That was all he managed to let out because, next thing you knew, he was hunched over, one hand on his knee and the other one resting on the wall, throwing up everything he had in his stomach.

“Holy shit!” You jumped back at the sudden turn of events, scared and a bit disgusted, but concern washed over you immediately after, so you rushed to his side to help him, grabbing his arm so that he wouldn’t lose his balance. Your free hand went to support his forehead, moving the loose curls out of the way. “How much did you drink?!”

To his credit, he did try to answer you, but he just couldn’t, too busy pouring his soul out on the alcohol-stained floor.

You tried to keep calm, but deep down you were panicking, and it felt like being trampled by a bunch of runaway horses. However, you never let go of Peter, not even when your arms started to hurt, not even when, right after the vomiting stopped, he literally slouched on you with his eyes closed, in a way that made you fear he was about to faint.

You gasped, the unexpected weight of his body threatening to make you fall. “It’s okay, it’s okay...”, you said, talking to yourself more than to him. “You’re okay, I got you.”

The poor guy just hummed against your ear and you sighed in relief: it wasn’t much, but at least he wasn’t unconscious.

“Okay, I must get you away from here”, you shouted, throwing his arm on your shoulders and wrapping yours around his torso, another completely unexpected detail distracting you for a spilt-second.

You had noticed his arms before, and Mira had spent an entire afternoon teasing you after hearing your first comment about them.

“You bet he’s great at giving hugs?”

“What?” You muttered, purposely ignoring her knowing look, and instead focusing on getting her eyeliner done. “I wouldn’t mind being cuddled by him.”

“He does give off extremely cuddly Golden Retriever vibes”, she conceded.

“So what’s wrong with me wanting to hug him?”

“Nothing, sweetie”, your friend said with a reassuring tone, looking at you like she was staring at a kitten. “It’s just... you’re so cute”, she gushed. “A hug is not the very first thing I think of when looking at a guy’s arms, you know?”

“I’m touch-starved, okay?”, you pouted.

“Touch... girl, you’re the perfect combination between a hedgehog and a porcupine that got high on a cactus”, Mira countered. “You despise the idea of people touching you.” To furthermore prove her point, she lightly pinched your hip, snickering when you flinched and scrunched your nose at her.

“Mira! The eyeliner!”, you scolded her. Thankfully, she had caused no damage. “You can be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

She smirked, blowing you a kiss. “It’s part of my charm. But you see what I mean? You’re worse–”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Worse than my cat”, you cut her off. “But I... I get the feeling it would make him blush and get all giggly...”, you explained, already starting to beam like an idiot as you pictured the scene in your mind. “I wanna make him blush and get all giggly...”

Mira clicked her tongue in fake annoyance, this time doing her best not to move too much. “Oh God... spare me.”

But you were already getting lost in your daydream to care. “I wanna count his frecklesss!!!”, you whined. “And pinch his cheeks and–”

“Give him the best head of his life, I get it, I get it.”

... but there seemed to be something more because apparently, he wasn’t as skinny as he looked, always covered with those sweaters and flannels that were too big for him...

Fuck, y/n! This is not the time!

You considered moving him to the garden, but it was freezing and you had no idea where his coat was. In his state, you knew he wouldn’t have been of any help in trying to find it and you didn’t want him to catch a cold. Plus, he probably needed to lay down, drink a lot of water and rest for a while.

So, you eventually guided him out of the kitchen and dragged him up the stairs, your yelled comforting words gradually lowering as the boomy music got more and more muffled, until they quieted down to soft whispers.

“Trust me, you’re gonna be fine, okay Peter?”, you mumbled encouragingly, rubbing his back in gentle motions, while you tried to find an empty room, the unequivocal moans alternated with loud snores not really making the task easier.

Peter sniffed the air a few times, like something was bothering him.

“You need to stop for a second?”, you offered, apprehension lacing your tone.

He just nodded and you stopped helping him lean back against the wall.

“Everything okay?”

Peter scrunched up his nose, narrowing his gaze, those adorable little wrinkles that lived in your mind rent-free forming at the side of his eyes. “You smell...” He stopped for a second, studying you attentively, like he was looking for the right adjective. “... weird.”

“W-well, I–”

“I don’t like it.”

You were absolutely taken aback by that, your mouth dropping open in embarrassment and dismay. What a lovely first interaction with your crush. That perfume... you had picked it out just for him... only for him to tell you that you stank. “Oh...”

Fighting the urge to sniff your wrists to check how disastrous the situation was, you attempted a chuckle but it came out weak and dry. Right now, you just wanted to do the opposite and bawl your eyes out. “O-okay...”

Peter tilted his head to the side, a blissful smile on his lips as he closed his eyes and relaxed against the wall. But then he immediately jumped up, almost giving you a heart attack. “Nonononono wait!”, he blabbered, grabbing your outstretched hands not to fall. “It’s your perfume, I meant your perfume!”, he rushed to explain, causing you to blink in confusion, wondering why he felt the need to specify that, because what else could ‘You smell weird. I don’t like it’ mean?

Oh God, was he implying that you smelled like you hadn’t showered?

“It’s your perfume that’s bad, your skin smells amazing!!!”, Peter yelled, distracting you from that trainwreck of thoughts.

“Wha–how the fuck do you know how my skin smells?!”, you questioned. If his previous words had been confusing, you had no idea how to describe these new ones.

“I have a fifth sense!”, he whispered, tapping the tip of his nose.

You opened your mouth to reply – what exactly, you didn’t know – but something, or rather someone, cut you off before you could even speak.

“Dude, what kinda weird sex ritual is that supposed to be?”

Your head whipped in the direction of that voice, only to find Harry Osborn standing a few feet away from you, a cup in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“He said sex”, Peter giggled like a school-girl.

Harry ignored him. “Are you into this, y/n?”, he asked you mockingly. “Are you gonna chop his head off once you’re done?”

“You’re not helping, Osborn”, you hissed, but it didn’t seem to impress him.

“Wasn’t trying to”, he replied plainly, taking a sip of his drink. “Have fun with your weird sex.”

“Sex”, Peter repeated. “Yes, I like sex. Sex is fun.”

“He’s shit-faced!”, you pointed out with horrified indignation on behalf of the drunk boy next to you.

“I haven’t done much of it, but I’d love to do more–”

Harry just shrugged. “A condition that never stopped me. That’s actually when I perform at my best.”

“So, you’re telling me that you need to get into an altered state to know what a clit even is?”, you asked, venom dripping from your every word.

“I know what a clit is!” Peter announced proudly, and you just knew, even without looking at him, that he had that impossibly adorable expression he had whenever he’d give an answer in class. It went without saying that it was always the correct one. “And even where it is!”

Harry brought a hand to his chest, his smirk faltering a little. “... that hurt, y/n.”

“I can show you, if you want–”

“Good”, you dead-panned, trying not to let your thoughts linger on what Peter just said. “Now, kindly fuck off if you can’t help me.”

You faced him again and he was already staring at you with a dopey smile.

“Fuck. You said fuck”, he told you, like he was spilling a secret. “You look cute when you say fuck.”

You were just about to say something, but, for the second time that night, Harry interrupted you. “Last room on the left.”

You gave him an interrogative look.

“It’s mine”, he explained casually. “You’re lucky, I changed the sheets this morning.”

You furrowed your brows. Harry wasn’t a complete asshole, but he wasn’t exactly the most generous person you knew either, so it was fair to say that that sudden kindness was taking you by surprise. “And where are you going to sleep?”

The grin reappeared on his lips and he ran a hand through his hair. “Bold of you to assume I wanna sleep, lovie.”

You rolled your eyes at the pet-name as he began to make his way towards the stairs, but a sense of regret for your mean words caught up with you. You bit the inside of your cheek. “Harry...”, you called, then waited for him to turn around.

“Mh?”

“... thank you.”

Harry winked, raising his cup at you and Peter. “Cheers!” Then he downed what remained of his drink in one-go and resumed walking away.

“Okay...” Finally, you returned your full attention to Peter, who was looking at you expectantly like an excited puppy. And you noticed that, despite the support of the wall, he was still holding your wrist, his delicate touch on your skin making your cheeks and ears heat up.

But you got out of that moment, and reminded yourself what you were actually doing, so you guided him to Harry’s room, shutting the door behind you, the mess you found inside not being a surprise to you. But at least, the bed was made. Not in the best way, sure, but it was and it even looked clean.

A positive thing, right?

“Careful...”, you warned Peter, slowly helping him towards the bed. “Here you go... just sit down, okay?”

With a pained groan, he plopped down on the mattress, resting his elbows on his knees, shoulders and head sinking in exhaustion.

You stared at him for a moment, your hand itching to caress his curls, but you decided against it. “I’m gonna go get you some water.”

“NO!”, Peter screamed, scaring the shit out of you. He grabbed your wrists just like he had done before, giving you an imploring look. “Don’t go! It’s too dangerous!”

“Peter”, you attempted to calm him. “I’ll be back in a second–”

The desperation in his eyes quickly turned into confusion. “How do you know my name?!” And then, said confusion merged into panic. “Shit!”, Peter yelped, his voice going up an octave. “How did you find out?!”

“Peter, we’re in the same class–”

He shook his head frantically, closing his eyes when the motion gave him a headache. “I’m not Peter!”

You kept quiet for a while, not really knowing how to reply. “... okay?”

“I’m Spider-Man.”

“Sure you are”, you snorted.

Peter’s eyes shot open again, and holy shit did the boy look offended. “It’s true!” He made a motion with his right hand, pointing it towards the wall with his palm facing up, the gesture reminding you of the way to say ‘I love you’ in sign language. “Look! Psst! Psst! Psst!”

Nothing happened and he frowned, observing his naked wrist like there was something wrong with it. He tried with his other hand. Still nothing.

“Shit, they don’t work...”, he muttered in disappointment, then looked back at you. “But I am Spider-Man, I swear!”

“Anything you say, Pet–Spider-Man”, you smiled, correcting yourself last-second.

“It’s fine”, he slurred, returning your smile... but kinda overdoing it: the corners of his mouth raising so much that he almost closed his eyes. “You can call me Peter. Just because I like you”, he conceded, but suddenly brought his finger to his lips. “But don’t tell my Guy in the Chair.”

You solemnly traced an imaginary ‘x’ on our mouth. “I promise I won’t.”

“Good”, Peter nodded, positively impressed by your loyalty. “Because he would be dead jealous.”

You bit down on your lip lightly, an idea you hadn’t took into consideration forming in your mind at his words. “Is he your boyfriend?”, you asked cautiously.

“He is... was my best friend”, he specified, frowning a little, like something crossed his mind. But he dismissed it immediately. “But I have to admit: he is cute.”

A wave of relief washed over you, even though it was not definitive. Sure, he had told you that he wasn’t romantically involved with this guy, but he didn’t go into the details. As far as you knew, there could’ve been someone else. But at the same time, him not saying anything else gave you a semblance of hope: maybe it meant that there wasn’t anyone else? But then again, he was drunk enough to firmly believe he was Spider-Man, so...

“The room is spinning”, Peter pointed out, taking a look around and bringing you back to reality. “Is this your house? You have a spinning house?”

“Yes, I designed it myself.”

“That’s so cool!!!”

You scanned the room, hoping that Harry could have some unopened water bottle lying around. Lucky for you – maybe the universe was trying to help you, after all –, he did, and you immediately grabbed it, silently apologized to its owner, and offered it to Peter, who impressively downed it in one go. Not without thanking you first, of course: even drunk, he still conserved his polite manners.

Good. Hydration? Done. Now, a lot of rest.

“Do you want to lay down?”, you asked, taking the now empty bottle from his hands. “Here”, you patted the mattress. “C’mon.”

“Wait.”

“What is it?”

Peter tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, but when you didn’t seem to understand, he explained what he meant. “I don’t have my pajamas with me.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem”, you reassured him. “Just take off your shoes.”

He took a moment to process your suggestion, then simply did as you told him.

Surprised by how smoothly things were going, you went to throw away the bottle, but as soon as you turned around whatever you were planning to say next got reduced to an incoherent mixture of sounds. “What are you doing?!”

You had no idea how he could’ve done it so rapidly, but Peter had already removed his plaid shirt, which had been carelessly thrown on the chair, and he was just in the middle of finishing to do the same thing with his pants. “Jeans are uncomfortable to sleep in”, he stated, completely unfazed by your reaction, and by the fact that he was left in his t-shirt, underwear and socks. It was like he wasn’t even realizing it.

You were left speechless until he pointed at your dress, no trace of malice in his voice. “That looks pretty uncomfortable, too.”

Trying to overcome the embarrassment, you forced out a nervous laugh. “Oh, it really isn’t–what the fuck?!”

He didn’t. He fucking didn’t.

His t-shirt was now covering your whole head like a bridal veil, the delicate scent of his cologne invading your nostrils...

You took it off to protest and immediately regretted doing it, the sight in front of you hitting you like a punch in the gut and making breath itch in your throat.

The young man in front of you looked like he’d literally just been carved out of a marble block. The dim light of the bedside lamp followed the well-defined shape of his broad shoulders, it traced the outline of his muscle onto the smooth skin, like a chisel moving on its own account to give life to a perfect Renaissance sculpture.

You gulped, totally absorbed in contemplation and Peter scooted back a little until he was sitting in the middle of the bed with his legs crossed. “You can use it.”

“W-what for?”

“Sleeping”, he replied like it was obvious.

“I don’t need to–”

“Are you leaving?”, he asked in all seriousness. Or at least, all the seriousness his drunk state could allow him.

Your answer, or rather lack of told him everything you needed to know. “Why?”, he murmured weakly. “Please, stay with me.”

Your hands clenched onto the soft fabric like it was a rope and you were about to fall into the void. “Peter, I really shouldn’t...”, you tried to reason with him.

Your most rational part told you that it was probably the overabundance of alcohol in his system talking through him and causing all that sudden sadness... and yet there was something in his eyes. Something that silently captured yours, making its way into the deepest part of your soul and grabbing your heart in its hold.

It wasn’t your first time seeing it: whenever he thought no one was paying attention to him, the light in his eyes would die out, eclipsed by a melancholy that made his happy façade crack. You did pay attention, though. You always did.

Peter Parker, the lovely guy with a kind word for everyone, was alone. Even when he was with other people, he was alone. And it wasn’t a normal loneliness, oh no: it came from within, the way monsters of the past did, ready to jump at his throat at the smallest display of weakness.

His eyes watered with tears and he outstretched his hand for you to take. He looked lost, frightened even, as he repeated your name, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Please.”

You sighed, giving in. “... okay.”

“Yaaaaay!!!”, Peter exulted in a complete shift of emotions, throwing his hands up in the air and agitating them in every direction. “This is the best party ever! Psst! Psst! Psst! Psst! Fuck, I really need to fix these things...”

“Right”, you went along. “While you... fix them” – whatever that means – “I’m gonna go change. I’ll be right back.”

Luckly, he didn’t protest, so you grabbed your purse and locked yourself in the bathroom, leaning against the door as you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

What the Hell are you doing, y/n?

You took your sweet time in there, removing your make up, brushing your teeth – you thanked your past self for making the wise decision of always carrying make-up wipes and a travel toothbrush in your bag, just in case of emergency –, and washing your face as calmly as you could, like everything was perfectly fine.

Like your crush wasn’t right on the other side of the door in just his underwear and socks, waiting for you to change into his shirt to sleep next to you, sharing the same bed.

Holy shit...

When you came back, tugging onto the hem of the shirt to make sure it covered you enough, you found Peter jumping onto the bed like a little kid, the difficulty of movement from before nowhere to be seen. “Ha!”, he exclaimed, making poses and uncoordinated combat moves, his curls bouncing wildly at his every movement. “Who are you calling little kid now, huh, Mr. Falcon?!”

It’s like watching a baby penguin tripping over his own feet...

He dodged another imaginary blow, then shoot another imaginary web at another imaginary enemy. “Bet you weren’t expecting that, Mr. Winter Soldier!”

God, I love this idiot.

“This will teach you!” He was charging his new attack when he noticed you standing there by the door. “Oh, you look so pretty!”

“Thanks...”, you smiled shyly, leaving your dress on the chair, on top of Peter’s clothes, and placing your shoes on the floor. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yes! I’m winning! Just like in Berlin!”, he announced proudly, but he stopped all at once, creases forming on his forehead as other memories returned to him. “... wait, I didn’t win back then, did I? ... that fucking little wingy robot bitch yeeted me through the glass roof...” There was a bit of resentment in his voice, but his words made so little sense than they made maintaining a straight face extremely hard for you. “But, hadn’t it been for that, I would’ve won!”

“I believe you”, you nodded. “But maybe it’s better if you lay down? For real, this time.”

“But those two...”

“They look pretty beaten-up to me”, you finished his sentence, getting on the bed and standing next to him to lay a hand on his shoulder. “See?”, you gestured, trying to sound convincing. “They’re retiring.”

“Oh, you’re right...”, he agreed, then he raised his hand and...

Was he really making the ‘Whatever-You-Massive-Loser’ gesture from Camp Rock?

“Suck on that, you losers!”, Peter yelled, confirming your doubts. The overflowing enthusiasm took a toll on him, what little remained of his balance vanishing into thin air and his legs giving up under his weight.

“Be careful!” Moving on instinct to help him, you ended up meeting his same fate as you both fell back on the bed, your hands still holding his arm.

Peter didn’t even bat an eye, still busy gloating about his victory. He seemed good.

And despite the initial fear, you were good, too. Thankfully, neither of you had hit the wall with your heads or any of your limbs, nor had you fallen off, so it had been harmless. But it was always better to be sure. “Are you okay?”

“Heroes never get hurt”, he said, taking his eyes off of the ceiling to look at you and making finger guns. “And friendly neighbourhood super-heroes even less.”

“Right.” You let go of his arm, fixing your-his shirt to cover your thighs. “Because you’re Spider-Man.”

He blinked a few times. “How do you know?”

“I have a fifth sense that allows me to read minds”, you joked, tapping your temple to imitate him, but you doubted he would remember what he had told you in the hallway. And it turned out you were right: he didn’t remember, your latest shocking revelation being the only thing dominating his thoughts.

“Oh my God, really?”, he marvelled, covering his mouth with a hand. “What am I thinking now?”

“That you’re Spider-Man.”

“No way!!!” He got so excited that he sat up, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ and eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “You’re really good!”

You prompted yourself up on your elbows, releasing a quiet giggle. “What can I say? It’s a talent of mine.”

“You should make a business out of it”, Peter told you seriously.

Staring back at him with puckered lips, you fidgeted with your hands, mostly picking at your nails, to keep them busy from grabbing his face and pulling him in to cover his cheeks in kisses. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“But please don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Okay”, you confirmed.

“Pinky promise?”, he asked you, offering you his little finger.

You sat up too and were about to cross your legs when you remembered what you were wearing, so you settled for resting your back against the headboard and interlocked your little finger with his. “Pinky promise.”

“Great.” His satisfied smile faded away as he tilted his head to the side, inspecting your hands. “... what are we promising?”

It took everything in you not to boop his adorable red nose and to keep a neutral face. “That we’re going to sleep.”

“Together???”, he gasped, cupping his own cheeks like he was afraid they could somehow run away. “Like hugging and holding hands?”, he suggested. “Can we hold hands? I wanna hold your hand.”

“Thought you were supposed to be a spider?”, you reminded him.

Peter straightened his back and you couldn’t have described it better than by comparing him with a Golden Retriever expecting to be petted. “I am a spider!” Even his expression made you think of that. Mira was always scarily accurate when creating her metaphors.

“I know, I know”, you playfully held your hands in front of you. “It was a stupid joke, Spider-Man.”

“Call me Peter”, he said, pointing at himself. “You can call me Peter.”

“Okay, Peter.”

“Peter?”, he wondered, as if he wasn’t the one who had mentioned that name in the first place. “Peter likes you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but that tiny fragment of hope that sparked in your chest was just as rapidly eclipsed by the darkness of reason. Like you’d told Harry not even an hour ago, Peter was shit-faced. So shit-faced he could’ve told you anything.

Nice try, y/n, here’s your friendly neighbourhood reality check.

“Well...” You lowered your gaze, tracing the lines on the palm of your hand like you always did before touching an important topic. “I like him, too.”

“Nonono”, he shook his head. “He likes likes you. That poor boy’s whiiiiiipped.” He emphasized his last words by using his arm to draw an imaginary arc that you assumed was supposed to physically show you how much he was into you.

“Is he, now?”, you smirked, indulging in that daydream a bit.

You were convinced he didn’t even know what he was talking about... but there was nothing wrong in words, right? Also, you liked the sound of his voice. You liked listening to him. Even if he was blabbering nonsensically.

Peter took a look around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in and gestured you to do the same. “Violets are his favourite flowers because of you”, he whispered in your ear. “But don’t tell him I told you.”

“Your secret is safe with me...” You stopped mid-sentence, wondering if you should really add what you were dying to add or if it would be better to just keep it to yourself. Then, mainly encouraged by the fact that the hungover was going to erase all of his memories anyway, you decided to let it out.

Even if it was just for tonight...

“I like like him, too, by the way.”

“You do???” He pulled back with an incredulous yet ecstatic glint in his eyes, frantically moving his arms just like...

Just like a baby penguin.

“I do”, you confirmed.

“No. Shut. Up. Shut. Uuuup.” He stressed each word with an energetic slap on his thigh, then let himself fall back on the mattress, lying on his side with his cheek resting in his palm. “Tell me more.”

“He always has the right answer for everything and has a quirky eyebrow that is simply the cutest thing ever”, you began listing, mimicking his position. “He’s so impossibly kind to everyone, to the point that it’s almost irritating how he never gets mad over anything.”

That particular detail made Peter cackle, the action being right on cue, considering what you were about to say next.

“And then he gets those tiny wrinkles at the side of his eyes when he smiles”, you continued dreamily, enchanted by the reality of what you were describing happening in front of you.

“He doesn’t smile much, because he’s too busy blushing and pouting when he’s concentrating on something... but whenever he does...”, you recalled fondly. ”I see sparks fly everywhere. I wish I could see him smile more.”

There it was again, that sadness cracking Peter’s carefree mask. Like every other time, it was there for a fleeting moment, yet, like every other time, it was enough for you to notice it. “He doesn’t have a lot of reasons to smile lately...”, he trailed off, his eyes seeing something else, something that wasn’t there, his lips pressing into a hard like. Now, there wasn’t just sadness, but a shadow of anger as well. The kind of anger people often address at themselves, caused by the firm belief of not having done enough. Of not being enough.

What happened to you, Peter Parker?

All of that slipped away when your face reappeared in Peter’s sight. The clouds of the past had tried to keep you from him failing miserably. “But he smiles when he thinks of you”, the boy said. “He wants to bring you swinging around the city.”

“Swinging sounds quite fun”, you observed with a certain interest.

“Of course, you two will have to cover your faces because otherwise people will recognize you”, he recommended.

“Of course.”

“It would be dumb not to do that.”

“Very dumb.”

“And then...” Peter held his breath and made a pause for dramatic effect, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “He wants to find the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss you there as the sun sets.”

You both hated and loved that you could already picture it. “I like it. It’s romantic.”

“And the kiss, I must tell you about the kiss!”, he urged.

“Tell me about the kiss.” There wasn’t a trace of irony in your tone, this time.

“He wants it to be so perfect that your leg will pop! Just like it happened to Princess Amelia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi in...” He snapped his fingers repeatedly, frowning more and more at each snap, the title he was looking for running away from him and hiding in the deepest, most secluded corners of his mind with no intention to come out. “... what was it called?”, he finally gave up.

“In The Princess Diaries.”

“Yeah! That one!” He scoffed in annoyance. “No one could ever remember something like that! It’s so complicated!”

You raised an eyebrow. “But remembering Princess Mia’s full name isn’t?”

“It would be high treason not to”, Peter declared firmly.

“I suppose you’re right”, you agreed with a giggle, lying on your back, but still not dethatching your gaze from his.

“Peter likes you so much when you laugh, you know?”, he said, scooting closer and raising a hand up to your face.

You held your breath as his fingertips traced your features like gentle feathers: the baby hairs along your hairline, the curve of your brow, the bridge of your nose, you cheekbones, the line of your jaw, the shape of your mouth...

“He wanted to sketch you on his notebook, but he’s shit at drawing, so he just gave up.” His voice was soft, even softer than his touches. “Harry Osborn saw it and said that it was too stalker-ish and that he should just grow a pair and talk to you.”

You licked your lips, feeling your mouth running dry. “My friend Mira keeps telling me the same thing.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“Super-hearing”, he hummed, fingers brushing over the shell of your ear.

“Oh... right.” You released a breathy chuckle, Peter’s simple gesture enough to threaten your sanity. “I keep forgetting who I’m talking to.”

The confusion was back on Peter’s face, as he looked over his shoulder and craned his neck to check the room. “Who are you talking to?”

You pointed at his chest, careful not to touch him. “The guy who stole my heart”, you whispered, but he had no trouble hearing you.

You didn’t exactly know what type of response you were expecting – to be completely honest – you had no clue about it. But, in contrast to his previous ones, Peter’s reaction was calmer... and yet, surprisingly stronger. His chocolate eyes went wide, shining like they had been filled with little diamonds, worthy rivals of his radiant smile.

“I could return it...”, he considered, resting his palm on your cheek, his face hovering over yours, the light coming from the little light on the nightstand filtering through his curls. He was enchanting. “If you promise to return mine.”

“We have a deal.”

“And a date?”

“And a date, of course.”

“I like the shape of your nose”, he mumbled, bumping the tip of his nose against yours.

“Thanks”, you replied softly. “I like your left eyebrow.”

It happened fast, so fast it took you a while to understand what was going on, but next thing you knew, Peter’s lips were on yours.

It fell on you like a cascade of rose petals, mesmerizing and intoxicating, and your eyes fluttered shut on instinct as you melted, letting him kiss you. His hand was still cupping the side of your face, the rebel curl on his forehead tickling your skin.

That simple, innocent contact, no more than a peck, felt like floating in a pool of liquid golden light. As if it were endowed with a will of its own, one of your legs bended, effectively popping, the sparkles of countless fireworks spreading under the miles and miles of surface of your skin.

What the fuck are you doing, y/n?!

Peter pulled away, looking like he was on cloud nine, and flashed you a tender smile as a single tear slipped from his eye, gravity attracting it to the enflamed skin of your cheek. “Can you hold me?”, he asked.

Before you could do or say anything in response, his arms gave out, making him collapse on top of you and thus blocking half of your body under his, his head falling on your chest, your heart beating right against his ear. It was so loud you could hear it in your ears, but it didn’t seem to bother him, soothing him like the sweetest lullaby.

Holy shit...

Struggling to process everything that just happened, everything that was happening right now, and trying not to think of what would happen once the night would be over, you didn’t sleep a wink, with his warm skin glued to yours, his arms and legs unconsciously wrapping themselves around your frame and his face snuggling into your chest.

Peter’s soft snores and cute little sleeping noises kept you company for the entire night as you watched the hours go by through the gradually changing shades of colour of the ceiling, the only sensible action you had managed to do being outstretching your arm to turn off the light.

Peter Parker kissed me...

At one point, you dared to touch his hair, gently playing with those soft curls, following the rhythm of his breathing. It helped you and, slowly, you calmed down... but still couldn’t fall asleep, afraid that everything would turn out to be just a dream.

... and my leg popped.

In that tiny dorm room, you lost track of time, a time that stopped and then started again, it speeded up and then slowed down, it skipped forward and jumped backwards, eventually flattening out, transforming into a calm, silent, yet vibrant personal solar system, its brightest star covering the majority of your body with his and you feeding off his warmth and light.

I’m fucked...

“y/n?”

Your entire body stiffened as you returned to planet Earth and the dimension of time freed itself from your distortions.

You looked down, locking gazes with a very much awake and equally lost Peter who was staring at you.

“H-hey...”

The poor boy didn’t reply, but he blushed violently when, thanks to the perspective, he realized he was touching your boobs. With his cheek, yes, but it was still touching.

With a loud gasp, he removed himself from over your body, crawling back and quickly standing up, panic and shame fighting on his face. “W-where... why are we... why am I... why are you...”, he blabbered, gesturing at himself, the room, you, the bed, anything he could think of. “What happened?”

“Nothing!”, you rushed to deny, getting out of the bed, too, only on the opposite side. “Nothing, you were drunk and I tried to help you and Harry Osborn let us use his room”, you explained, taking a few steps back with your hands raised, but then you felt the need to specify something else, just to make things clear. “To rest, he let us use his room to rest.”

“B-but we were hugging...”, Peter argued weakly. He was about to add the ‘almost naked on top of you wearing his shirt’ part, but decided against it. It wouldn’t have been gentlemanly. Just like staring at your naked legs coming out of his shirt definitely wasn’t gentlemanly.

“Apparently, you get especially cuddly when you’re drunk...” It was supposed to lighten the mood, but the effect you were hoping for was nowhere to be seen.

It sounded better in my head.

“... b-but I promise, nothing happened.”

Peter took a look around, spotting his clothes and your dress on the chair, his shoes abandoned on the floor like he’d kicked them off in a rush, the sheets that looked like someone had been jumping on the mattress...

“Nothing?”

“Nothing”, you confirmed.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Peter’s eyes flicker to your chest for a moment.

“You’re lying.”

“Wait.” Your eyebrows knitted together, while you blinked at him. “How do you–”

“Oh God, oh shit! You’re making that face!”, he cut you off, whining in dismay, and then, without even waiting your answer, he began walking back and forth, his restless hands now tugging at his messy curls, now slapping his cheeks, now rubbing the back of his neck. “You always make that face when you don’t wanna give bad news to people”, he kept going, pointing a trembling finger at you.

He knew it wasn’t nice, and that May would’ve rightfully scolded him for such manners, but this situation was a fucking mess. He might’ve made a fucking mess. “Look at that cute little wrinkle between your eyebrows! I’ve done something bad to you, haven’t I?” He was running miles by now, basically digging a trench in the floor with his nervous pacing.

“What?!” Understanding what he was implying, you shook your head so hard it almost hurt. “No no no!”, you cried out, the shock caused by his words making you feel like you’d just got slapped across the face. “No, Peter, absolutely not!”

He stopped abruptly, making you stumble back, his squinting eyes flashing to your chest and then to your face. “Your heart is racing.”

“How do you know what’s happening to my heart?!”

“y/n.”

A long, cold shiver ran down your spine, a Peter Parker you’d never seen before standing a few feet away from you. His back was straight, making him appear a bit taller, everything about his posture screaming authority.

Like a true super-hero.

“Please, just tell me what happened.”

“Uhm... uh... we talked.”

“About what?”

“The weather”, you blurted out.

“y/n.”

You sighed, head sinking between your shoulders. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined you would look back at your first kiss with him. “About the fact that... you like me.” Your voice was so low a breath of wind could have effortlessly covered it. “And then about our hypothetical first date. You have some cool ideas.” You dared to crack a smile while telling him that. “You said that you want to bring me swinging around the city.”

“Swinging?”

“Because you’re Spider-Man.”

“I’m–” To say that Peter straight up died and came back to life in less than the blink of an eye wouldn’t have done justice to the turmoil happening inside of him because of your sentence.

He had told you his most unspeakable secret, the secret he had altered realities to restore... the one he had sacrificed everything for. It had taken him so long to recover and move on, to create a new life for himself, but he had made it.

And it had taken him even longer to allow himself to accept his feelings for the girl in his class. Feelings that had bloomed and blossomed in the frozen valley of his chest with the strength of a snowdrop. Only, it wasn’t a snowdrop, it was a violet, the same you had gifted him a few months ago...

And now, he had ruined it all before it could have the chance to begin. He had put you at risk: he was already losing you, even though you weren’t his to lose.

Well done, Peter Benjamin Parker, this is a record even for you.

But then he remembered something... something that made him want to face palm himself so hard it would leave the trace on his face and at the same time lifted his entire body, filling it with hope. He had told you about his alter-ego while being completely wasted. And then there was the tiny smile you had given him while saying it...

Maybe he was safe. Maybe you were safe.

And that was all that mattered.

“Oh...” He masked his sigh of relief with a breathy laugh. “Right.”

Seeing him react like that gave you a little more confidence. “And that you want to find – and I’m quoting you here – the highestest roof with the prettiestest view of the city and kiss me there the way they do in The Princess Diaries, as the sun sets”, you resumed your description of the previous night. “You know, with... the leg thing”, you specified, unable to resist the temptation to re-enact the movement.

“The pop”, he nodded, remembering how much May loved that movie and especially that sweet little detail. Peter had never wanted to admit it out loud, but it had grown on him, too. She would’ve been proud of him using it as a pick-up line. “Romantic.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Then what?”

“You...” And now came the hard part. What was it that you’d just thought about confidence? “You... kissed me.”

Peter choked on thin air, a strangled high-pitched shriek coming out of his throat. “I did what?!”

“But I swear I didn’t kiss you back!”, you hurried to reassure him. “You fainted right after you did, and then I swear we just slept!”

“We just slept?”

“Yes.”

Once more, he looked at your chest and then at your face, in what had become a solidified pattern during this brief conversation. What in the World was wrong with your chest???

“You’re lying again”, he stated.

Unbeknownst to him, that sentence sorted the effect of a time machine on you, sending you back to the previous day, right before the party, on that first glorious lazy morning after weeks of pure Hell on Earth.

You carefully sipped your well deserved hot chocolate, observing Mira through the steam as you did so. “Who...”, you began timidly, still shielding part of your face behind the mug. “Who did you say’s gonna be there?”

“Just ask me what you really wanna ask me, will you?”, she smirked, sly as a cat as she looked up from her latte.

You let out a sigh, aware that the cover was blown. “... fine. Is he gonna be there?”

“He?! Girl, you can just say Peter Parker, y’know?”, she laughed, her voice echoing off the walls of your cosy bedroom. “What?”, she asked, after noticing your deer-caught-in-headlights expression. “It’s not like the guy has super-hearing or something...”

“Sometimes I think he does”, you muttered, only half-joking, thinking about how Peter Parker always seemed to be extra-aware of what was going on around him, despite his repeated attempts at hiding it...

“Nah”, Mira dismissed that hypothesis, waving her hand in front of your face, the way she would always do to help you erase worries from your mind.

That was a relax day: she wasn’t going to let anything spoil it for her best-friend.

“You’re just being paranoid because you have a crush on him”, she affectionately nudged your shoulder with hers. “We all get paranoids when we have a crush.”

You loved Mira to bits, and it was extremely rare for her to be wrong about something... but, coming back to the present, with Peter Parker still staring at you and expecting answers, and apparently aware of the rhythm of your heart, a tiny part of you started to think that this could be one of those few exceptions.

“Uh...” You clenched and unclenched your fists, nails sinking into your palms each time. “You slept. I couldn’t.”

His determination seemed to back down, leaving the place to a genuine surprise. “You stayed awake the whole night?”

Your blood turned to ice, a sharp contrast to the fire raging on your cheeks and temples. “I didn’t do anything weird, I promise!”, you whimpered.

“I know you didn’t.” Sensing your raising terror, Peter grabbed your shoulders, lightly squeezing them to help you calm down. The idea of hugging you crossed his mind, but he chased it away: it might’ve done worse and he didn’t want to overwhelm you any further.

“I believe you”, he said, repeating it as many times as you needed, until the furious beating in your chest returned to its normal pace, until your frail body stopped shaking. “I believe you.”

He led you towards the bed and made you sit there, afraid that your legs would betray you, and sat next to you, letting go of your shoulders only when you nodded reassuringly at him, silently telling him that you were okay. “And I know you’re a good person.”

You closed your eyes and took a couple of deep breaths, placing your cold hands on the sides of your burning face. “Fuck, I’m sorry...”, you chuckled humourlessly.

“No. I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at him with confusion written all over your face. “What for?”

“For this”, Peter gestured between your bodies. “I didn’t want to upset you... and for last night, too. I must have been... a handful.”

“Oh no, it’s fine”, you replied, shaking your head. “Are you feeling any better now?”

“Yeah... thanks to you.” Just to flex a bit, he made a big a big show of touching the tip of his nose with his right index and the with his left one. It was a silly thing, but it managed to get a small laugh out of you, so he was proud of it.

“I did nothing, just brought you here and gave you some water... you recovered quite quickly, but you did it all by yourself.”

“Perks of being Spider-Man.” He looked at his shirt, a coy smile crawling its way onto his lips. “You look cute in it.”

“I like the joke”, you smiled back, but it fell as soon as you realized that, in all likelihood, it was a polite way to ask you to return it. “Right, uh... I’ll go change and give it back to you.”

You stood up and began to make your way in direction of the bathroom, but an unexpected hand gently wrapping itself around your wrist halted your actions.

“Wait...”, Peter spoke softly.

You sat down again when he tugged on your hand, fingers moving to interlock with yours. You let them. “What is it?”

“Last night I was...” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “I was absolutely shit-faced and I can’t remember a thing... I want to apologize.”

“Peter, I told you, there’s no need–”

“Please, let me finish”, he begged, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Shit, I don’t know how to say this...”

You waited patiently, letting him search for the right words.

“Oh, fuck it, seize the moment, right? I like you”, Peter rambled quickly. “Like like you”, he clarified. “And I’ve liked liked you for a very long time. Ever since you complimented my shirt – you know, the Find x one –, making that joke about Charles Xavier wanting to know my location, and then offered me one of the violets you’d picked saying it was International Give Everyone You Meet a Flower Day.”

“Oh God, that”, you let out with a pathetic sigh, covering your face with your hands as the painful memory resurfaced in your mind.

You wanted to be happy for what he’d just revealed to you, most importantly because he was sober now, but you also wanted to dig a hole in the ground and bury your head in it. Why did he have to bring that out?

“I was hoping you’d forget about it by now, it was so embarrassing!”, you confessed, voice getting muffled against your palms. “It was probably one of the worst jokes I’ve ever made in my entire life. And I actually wanted to give you the whole bouquet and ask you out, you know? But then I panicked last second and came up with that stupid excuse.”

“I could kinda tell it was an excuse...”, he admitted. “Y-you ran away and didn’t give a single flower to anyone else. I couldn’t even thank you. The joke was fun, though.”

“It wasn’t!”, you groaned. “Professor X would have no problem finding out your location if he wanted to. It was so stupid!”

“It was adorable.” Not without a few difficulties, he removed your hands from your face, holding them in his and placing them in his lap, fingers caressing your palm like he had seen you do so many times.

You kept your gaze fixed on them, feeling your heart melt.

“And yesterday night I... I actually wanted to talk to you and tell you all these things... but I made the mistake of following Harry Osborn’s advice about liquid courage and I ruined it.”

In the end, you found the strength to raise your head and dared to look at him again. “Never follow Harry Osborn’s advice unless you’re looking for trouble.” Another wise suggestion coming from Mira.

“Right...”, Peter agreed. “I had to learn it the hard way.”

A few minutes went by like that, in the calm of a silent room. The morning light filtered through the shading, casting a golden halo around Peter’s curls and transforming the brown in his irises into pure amber.

“But I meant what I said”, he tentatively said, after a while. “All of it. I’d really love to take you on a date.”

“Minus the swinging part, right?”, you asked, faking a disappointed pout.

“I’m sure I can figure something else out...”, he replied smugly. “I-if you want to, of course”, he added, not wanting to put any pressure on you.

You tapped your chin. “Well, I happen to be free tonight.”

“Just one thing...” Cautiously, he scooted closer to you, until his hip was attached to yours, one of his hands moving up your arm, brushing your shoulder, and then the column of your throat. “Suppose that on said date I kissed you...” Grinning wickedly when you tilted your head back to accommodate him, he reached for your lips and caressed them with his fingertips. “Would you kiss me back?”

You hummed, delivering a feather-light peck on his thumb. “Only if you promise it’ll make my leg pop again.”

“Wait, I made your leg pop?!.”

Part two -> here

A/n: If you got here, thank you so much for reading this! And again, a huge thank you to @venomsilk for giving me these prompts, I had so much fun writing this! Love you all, and see you next on... you-know-what pt.6 😏💜

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Peter Parker taglist: @omegadumb42069 @spideyspeaches

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