Tom Holland x Reader | smut (18+ only below the cut)
Summary: Entry for @worldoftom ’s writing challenge #lolbrosgetsicktoo. Based on the following prompt:
» NSFW! Tom has some tummy issues and misses y/n's bday party. He is feeling really sad about it, so after the party is over he video chats with her. She asks him if he'd like to see all the presents she got for her bday. He says yes. Turns out she also got some sexy lingerie. Cheeky Tom, now feeling a bit better, asks her if she can put them on for him to watch. And she does. note: it can be either sexy video chat time or 'i'll be over at yours in a bit, don't take that off’
Words: 1.3k.
Warnings: very explicit sexual language, heavy dirty talk, phone sex, masturbation.
“Hi, handsome,” you purred sweetly at your phone.
“Hi, gorgeous,” Tom smiled sleepily at you. His hair was sticking out in every direction and his naked chest had crease marks from having stayed in bed all day. You smiled softly when you thought about how cozy he looked right now. You had just finished tidying up downstairs. After winding down from the party, doing your skincare, and putting on your softest satin robe, your entire body tingled with the urge to cuddle right up against your warm boyfriend. You cuddled your pillow tighter instead.
“How are you feeling now?” You asked him sympathetically.
Tom had come down with a stomach bug not twelve hours before your birthday party, unfortunately. It had started as body ache and fatigue but quickly developed into violent vomiting. You had stopped at his place earlier in the afternoon to drop off medicine, mint tea, and some light, homemade soup. Unfortunately, though, he hadn’t recovered by the time your party started. You could tell he looked well, however, not as pale and tired as he had looked before.
“So much better, love,” he said. “The tea you brought me really soothed my stomach and I was able to sleep and eat this afternoon.”
“I missed you today, love,” Tom pouted, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it.”
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “These things happen. Do you want to see the presents I got?”
“Yes!” He cheered. “Let’s see them.”
Excitedly, you gathered all boxes and bags and packages that your friends and family had brought to you and proceeded to show Tom your gifts. You pulled out gift cards, jewelry, clothes, and books. Tom smiled with love in his eyes as he watched you talk about your gifts and how much fun you had with your loved ones.
“Oh,” you exclaimed suddenly, “and Olivia got me some beautiful lingerie from the place she works at!” You waved the baby pink lace around in front of the camera and Tom’s eyebrows shot up.
“Wait!” He sat up against the headboard and licked his lips quickly. “Let me see it.”
You chuckled and set the pieces down on the bed. You sat up as well and positioned your phone on your nightstand so you could show off the pretty fabric with both hands. You picked first the bralette, holding it up with each of your pointer fingers hooked under each of the straps so Tom could see its shape perfectly. The lace was incredibly delicate and thin. Tom’s breathing picked up and his mouth watered at the thought of you wearing it. He thought about how your nipples would be visible right through the material. He thought about your hard nubs poking out in arousal. He thought about running his tongue over them, over the lace, sucking and wetting your brand new lingerie as you thrashed in pleasure under his mouth. And then you set the bra down and picked up the lacy thong the same way and Tom had to grope himself to relieve some pressure. His lips parted in awe. His eyes were dark and you chuckled at his aroused state.
“Holy shit, that’s tiny,” Tom breathed out gruffly. The lace on the panties matched the bralette’s and it was held together by the thinnest spaghetti straps he had ever seen. He was dying to see them stretched out over your hips. He squeezed his erection in his boxers once and groaned.
“You okay, baby?” You chuckled.
“No,” he groaned again. “Put that on for me, darling? Please?”
“Ooh,” you singsonged, “You want me to put on a little show?” You picked up the lingerie again and pulled off the tags. “But I thought I was the birthday girl?”
Smiling devilishly you sneaked a hand under your robe and pulled your underwear off, only to slowly slip the dainty thong up your smooth legs. You teased him, pulling the lace slowly and hiding it under your silky robe. You turned around then, sat on your knees with your back to him, and let the robe slide down your arms to pool around your waist. You let him watch your naked back as you put on the bra. Even though he was completely silent, you knew he was attentively watching your every move.
You turned your head to the side to glance at him over your shoulder and felt arousal shoot down your core at once. Tom had repositioned his phone to stand farther away but in between his legs. You could see him propped against the headboard, his naked chest rising and falling as he breathed raggedly, his abs clenching, and an impressive tent as his erection poked hard against the material of his boxers.
“Baby,” you purred seductively, “is that for me?” He groaned in response and grabbed and squeezed himself over his boxers.
“You know it is, darling,” he replied gruffly. In a quick movement, he removed his underwear completely, showing off his thick erection. It was your turn to drool. You wanted nothing more than to fall mouth-first right on his dripping cock. You watched hungrily as he took himself in hand and started to stroke slowly, lightly. “Turn around for me, love.”
You did turn around and untangled your robe to finally show him all that you had to offer. You ran your hands up and down your thighs, stroked the skin on your hips right underneath the straps of your thong, and up your torso until you cupped your breasts. Tom cursed and started stroking himself harder as you massaged your own breasts, getting more and more turned on. You pinched your nipples and moaned. He cursed again.
“Pull your tits out, darling,” he groaned, “let me see.” And you did it. You pulled the lacy cups down and continued to tease yourself. “Good girl,” Tom moaned, “so good- ah.”
His praise and the wet noises of the frantic movements of his hands were driving you insane. Your whole body was burning in arousal and you couldn’t help but slide a hand down your body and into your panties.
“Yeah, darling,” he murmured, “play with your wet little clit for me.” His hand was flying over his erection now. He was incredibly wet too and you couldn’t take your eyes off him. “You love watching this cock get wet for you don’t you?”
You nodded eagerly, your own hand working fast on your pussy.
“I know you do, darling. You love sitting on it too. Always want to sit on it, every chance you get.”
“Fuck, Tommy!” You cried. “I want it so bad.”
“God,” he groaned, “I’m not gonna last. Get on all fours for me, darling. I want to see your ass swallow that tiny piece of lace you’ve got on.”
You turned around like he requested. Then, you arched your back, spread your knees apart, and slid down onto the bed slowly so he could see the thong slide up between your pussy lips. You heard his moans get louder and the pleasure it elicited in you had you grinding your throbbing core on the sheets.
“Holy, shit,” he panted, “you’re unreal, love. I’m gonna come- ah, fuck - and then I’m gonna drive over there and absolutely rail that hungry pussy.”
And then he came on a loud moan and you turned your head to see him shoot up and onto his own hand. You watched attentively as his cock spurted white all over his abs. You were about to express how badly you wanted to lick him clean when he sprung from bed in earnest and grabbed his phone.
“I’ll be there in fifteen. Keep my pussy wet for me, love.”
GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!
A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.
“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.
Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.
Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”
Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”
And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”
Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”
Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”
“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”
It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.
He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.
“When life was beginning, I saw -”
“When life was-”
“When life was be-fuck!”
“When life was beginning, I saw you.”
Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”
“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”
You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.
“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand.
“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.
You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.
“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.
Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!”
“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.
“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”
Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”
“The whole crew?”
Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.
Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”
“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-
Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”
Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.
“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.
“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”
A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way.
“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.
“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.
Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.
You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”
Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.
“You have a beautiful laugh.”
You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”
“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”
You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”
By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again.
“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.
“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.
The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.
“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics.
You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.
It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you.
Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.
Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”
The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.
A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.
You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.
The scene wasn’t working.
The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.
“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”
And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”
Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”
Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”
“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.
“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”
Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”
Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.”
Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.
“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.”
They’d been over this already twelve times today.
“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”
Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?”
Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”
Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.
Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”
And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”
When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”
Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”
“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”
“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”
“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”
“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.
“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”
“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”
Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer.
“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”
“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”
You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.
Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.
“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”
Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.
The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”
“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time.
He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.
Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?
“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”
Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”
He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”
Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”
You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.
It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.
Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after.
“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”
“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”
“What?”
“Lovebug.”
Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”
“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”
And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.
It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.
“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.
“Alright, everyone take five.”
“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.
“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.
Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.
“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.
Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.
“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”
When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.”
Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.
“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”
“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.
“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”
“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.
“What did they say it was?”
“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.
Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.
“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”
“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.
“I just miss you, that’s all.”
“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene.
“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”
Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.
pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU
a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3
ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.
summary: peter gets a sore throat.
w/c: 3.8k
warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter
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there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.
taking care of his body.
with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.
you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.
and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.
You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.
“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.
“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.
“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.
You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.
Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.
“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.
Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.
“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.
“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.
“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.
“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.
“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.
“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.
You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.
“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.
“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.
“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.
You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”
“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.
“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.
“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.
“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.
Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.
When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.
“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.
“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.
“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.
“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.
“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.
“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.
“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.
“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.
“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.
You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.
“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”
You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.
~
A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?
“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.
“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.
You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.
“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.
“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.
“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.
~
You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.
There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.
“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.
“How are you feeling?” you ask.
“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.
“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.
“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?
The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.
After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.
It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.
He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.
Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.
You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.
Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.
“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.
“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.
“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.
“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.
“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.
“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.
“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.
the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.
“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.
“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.
“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.
“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.
“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.
“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.
“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.
“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.
Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.
「 contents: mature language + handjob ━━━━━ word count: 2.4k 」
: a.n : hiya! it's been long since i last posted something but here i am! this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo writing challenge. be gentle with me please, i'm really awkward writing in second person but i really wanted to make this gender-neutral.
: prompt : Harrison injures his right hand. He’s sexually frustrated, and his left hand just isn’t doing the job. Reader notices something is up with her poor roommate, and asks if there’s anything she can do to help. Even though they haven’t been anything more than friends up to this point, reader offers to “give him a hand,” or whatever of her other body parts he likes.
For two weeks Harrison had had his right hand clasped in a splint from taking a rather nasty fall from his skateboard. The night he had come home from the park with his jeans ripped on the knees and his hand clutched to his chest you hadn’t wasted a second to start taking the piss out of him at the clear picture of him eating shit at the skatepark but when he let out a pained groan after trying to take his jacket off your laughter died down and worry settled on the pit of your stomach.
His hand turned out to be badly sprained and well, the next couple of weeks had been spent in him trying to navigate his days with his non-dominant hand and with the initial panic of your roommate hurting himself gone you resumed the lighthearted piss-taking. Although he laughed with you at the jokes you made you could see how it really bugged him that he wasn’t as useful and agile with his right hand being in mandatory rest. “Told you, H. Whatever you have trouble with I can give you a hand.” You reminded him waving both your hands in front of you in a somewhat mocking manner.
“Yeah, heard you the first time.” He grumbled while struggling to button up his dress shirt. “Damn it.” The blonde cursed under his breath when his fingers seemed to not be working properly. That was enough for you to put your cup of tea down on the breakfast bar to walk up to him taking over the task he was growing frustrated with. He sighed defeated, letting his hands drop to his sides allowing you to close his shirt for him.
“Really, Harrison. I don’t mind helping you out.” The reassurance prompted Harrison to nod in understanding, running his fingers through his hair clearly irked by his situation. As if after you repeating it ninety-nine times before hadn’t sunk into his brain until the hundredth. “There you go, all done.” You patted his chest a couple of times then stepped back away from him to grab your mug again watching him leave the flat in a hurry after thanking you. You had been joking about what happened to him but you really felt bad for him, Harrison was a very active and independent guy who rarely asked for help and now that he was close to useless at doing simple tasks you could see how much it troubled him.
In the evening when he returned home he headed directly to the bathroom barely uttering a greeting back when you welcomed him, the sound of the running water splashing around let you know he was running a bath, you sighed at the fact that he had beaten you to run one for yourself though you were still busy making dinner for the both of you you didn’t duel much on it. About thirty minutes had passed since he went in for his bath and you figured it’ll be enough time for him to be about done with it to come out and eat, hence you walking up to the end of the hallway to knock on the door to make him aware that the food was ready.
However, the noise of water splashing a bit too aggressively accompanied by Harrison’s angry cursing made you believe something was wrong. With not much time to think you tried for the door and found it unlocked, swinging it open swiftly. “Are you okay!?” You asked in a panic, eyes wide when you saw the walls dripping and the floor flooded with soapy water. “Are you hurt?” You insisted, daring to step inside the room, bare feet coming in contact with the wet ground making comical splashing sounds.
“Yeah-no. I just…” He frantically tried to gather the few bubbles that floated on the scarcely-filled tub, bringing them closer to his body to cover himself a little.
“You just what, H?” Your voice still held concern and he noticed, finally looking up at you with seemingly pleading eyes. “You need help with your back or what is it?”
“No, y/n.” He huffed, brushing his wet hair back with his splinted hand wincing a little with the action. “This time you really can’t help me, alright? Just, let me get dressed.”
“Harrison, I told you I don’t mind help—” You started but was soon cut by the blonde’s voice rising above his usual level.
“I need a wank! That’s what I need. And my fucking left hand ain’t cutting it anymore.” Harrison blurted out a bit worked up, breathing heavily with cheeks burning hot showing in a bright crimson colour that stood out against his milky skin. Your mouth closed immediately after he acknowledged his problem, a warmth crept up your neck settling comfortably on the apples of your cheeks as your fingers toyed aimlessly with the hem of your oversized bed t-shirt. He wasn’t looking at you anymore, he had thrown his head back on the edge of the tub and covered his eyes with his injured hand while the other was under the water.
The way the muscles of his arm were flexed made the heat of your cheeks travelled to new places that could be labelled as inappropriate. Boldly, you stepped further into the room your steps marked by the sloppy meeting of them with the soaked tiles, not knowing exactly how you conjured the confidence to do so. “I-I don’t mind... helping,” You stuttered out, stopping right by his side. Wide eyes hanging on the young man’s hidden face that was instantly revealed as soon as those words left your lips.
“What!? Don’t be silly, y/n. I could never ask you to do that.” He sat up, making starts to get up but you stopped him by placing a hand on his bare shoulder keeping him inside the tub.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” You gave him a sincere smile, irises dancing between his crystal clear ones as you waited for him to accept or decline your proposal. Harrison’s teeth clenched as he swallowed thickly making his jawline look even sharper. When he delayed in giving you an answer you felt as if you had overstepped his boundaries and panic began to invade you fast.
“Okay.” He agreed with a nearly imperceptible wobble in his voice. “But don’t look at it. It’ll make me feel less guilty if you don’t know what it looks like.” The chuckle he let out was nervous and awkward, causing you to match it with one of your own as you nodded your head.
“Okay, I won’t look.” You declared, pressing your lips together before sinking to your knees right beside the bathtub sitting comfortably on your folded legs. Taking in a deep breath you reached for his left forearm with your right hand, eyes focused on the edge of the porcelain trying your best not to look down as you let your hand trail down his arm ultimately meeting his own hand under the lukewarm water. “Let go.” In a soft voice, you requested. Harrison exhaled through his nose prompting you to shift your gaze from the tub to his face, sending him a reassuring nod and a faint smile, those sufficient for him let you hold him inhaling a tad sharply when you did.
With your hand now wrapped around his girth, you started to give him slow and long rubs with a fairly firm grip. Since your eyes were still on him you saw him sigh, momentarily closing his eyes with the first few strokes, his lips pressed together as he breathed through each caress you provided. It was hypnotising seeing him in that way: head thrown back, eyes closed, flushed face, brows pinched together; adding to all of that he was completely naked and splattered with water droplets. Your tongue darted out to wet your suddenly dry lips, swallowing thickly at the scene in front of you, subconsciously your grasp on the man’s erection tightened enough to make him let out an involuntary moan that echoed throughout the tiled room, travelling through your ears and finding a new home deep inside your brain.
Again, —you thought— do it again. You now craved his pleasure noises, with a new goal you lifted yourself from your sitting position back into your knees so you could move your arm at a faster pace, wrist twisting every now and again succeeding at drawing more moans out of your roommate. A whimper left your throat when your arm started to grow tired from the motion and the pressure of the ceramic edge underneath it prompting Harrison’s eyes to shoot open and you swore you felt him twitch against your palm. “S-sorry, my arm got sore.” You let out an embarrassed laugh when your eyes met his, your whole face burning hot.
The aching of your arm combined itself with the soreness of your knees forcing you to stand up and let go of Harrison in the process, with little time to think twice you swung your leg over the edge of the bathtub soon followed by the other before you found a comfortable new position straddling the blonde’s bare thighs. The weight of you coming into the water raised the level of it, permitting it to soak the bottom half of your top, Harrison’s eyes never left your figure as you moved that much closer to him, his stomach was a little sucked in as if he was holding in his breath. “Is this okay?” You quizzed, noting that you sitting on him might be too much.
“Ye-yeah.” He breathed out in a hurry. You proceeded to resume your ministrations now with a better angle and an additional hand to give your right one a minute of rest. The movement of the water around you both and Harrison’s heavy breathing was the only things that could be heard in the bathroom of your quiet flat. The view was intoxicating; chiselled chest heaving, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, jaw slacked, pink lips parted and eyes screw shut. You found it next to impossible to reap your gaze from the guy in front of you, the way he was reacting to your touch was rapidly becoming your favourite thing and you wanted more of him, your thighs tightened over his when he let out a particularly loud moan and you had to blink a few times to try and restore your morality without much success.
“Are you close?” Your voice filled the air around you, it surprised both of you for you didn’t know you had it in you to ask such a question when you were trying to keep your composure in front of the man. Harrison’s eyes were half-opened and on you the second you asked, the intensity of them draw you in closer and closer to his face until your forehead was pressed against his tentatively. Soon his healthy hand was back under the water only this time it landed on your bare thigh gripping it tightly, the simple touch causing your breath to match his ragged one, mixing together from the close proximity of your faces.
“Fuck, don’t stop.” Harrison ordered with a deep groan as his body began to tense up underneath you. You took the cue and doubled your efforts with both your hands subconsciously whispering encouragements eliciting louder moans from him. His poorly hand came up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place —as if you really had the intention to move away— while his high very evidently approached. “Fuck, y/n.” The blue-eyed boy moaned in your face luring a whine out of your throat at the sound of your name being called in such a way.
“Cum for me,” You encouraged him, nudging his nose with yours silently prompting him to look at you, and he did. Hooded eyes fixed on yours mere centimetres away that you could feel his lips ghosting over your own teasingly, warm breath fanning over them. “Harri, c’mon.” A whisper was all you could manage at that moment. Your own throat had grown dry and you had to suppress the mewls that threatened to leave your chest when you started to feel his cock twitching in your hands. A loud grunt got stuck in the man’s throat the moment he toppled over the edge, his length spasming in your grip as you so clearly sensed it unload under the now cool water, the temperature of the liquids contrasting against your skin when his seed landed on your hands as it sank.
Harrison’s body shuddered with each slow stroke you gave him to help him ride his orgasm, moans continued to fall from his parted lips. He swallowed, finally releasing your neck from the clasp to be able to relax back in the tub letting out a long and deep sigh of content. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed the moment he pulled away but it was for the best, you couldn’t be wishing for him to do something for you when you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself.
That was when it hit you, the position you were in wasn’t appropriate at all, it didn’t matter how willing you were to be his second self surely giving him manual relief was a step too far. So with overwhelming shame, you let go of him, leaning to the side to take hold of the edge of the tub, pulling yourself up to your feet in a daze. The water that dripped down from your soaked t-shirt far too noisy in your ears as they buzzed with the adrenaline that still coursed through your body, the wet fabric sticking to your skin making you self-aware that it was now see-through so you hurried to the railing stuck to the wall and grabbed one of the towels, quickly wrapping it around your waist.
Embarrassed, you started for the door, holding the doorknob ready to leave the room, “Di-dinner’s ready.” You acknowledged shyly, the tremble in your voice giving your remorse away. You frantically shuffled on your feet stepping out of the room and closing the door behind you. There was a weird feeling in the pits of your stomach, you knew you felt embarrassed of what had just happened yet, that wasn’t it, it was almost like a craving. A craving for his touch and that made the shame feel ten times worse. You marched to your room locking yourself in, forgetting about your dinner plate that was sitting on the kitchen counter, your hunger long gone. Though, despite the mortification, there was a new much problematic sort of appetite tingling deep inside you and the throbbing between your legs made it much too hard to ignore.
【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this piece ♡ 】
A/N: This is for @worldoftom ‘s #lolbrosgetsicktoo wc!
beta read by my bestie @welivewelovewelaugh 🥰🥰
WC: 6k!
Pairing: College!Peter Parker x Reader
Summary: No amount of alcohol could get Peter Parker drunk. His university fellows are baffled and have an ongoing bet - who could give him the worst hangover possible. Cut to next day when he wakes up highly disoriented and extremely hungover! You help him feel better and maybe make him confess to a few drunken feelings he might have spilled!
Masterlist || Taglist
Groaning when you inevitably got bored scrolling through tumblr, you nearly chucked your phone across the room in frustration.
Finals were over and spring break was nearby. You had no work to do other than your daily chores of cleaning up your dorms or some random community services or going to parties. You wouldn't say that you've been to many parties in the three years of your college, a frat party here and there when you walked in on a booming backyard, trivia nights with your girlfriends maybe.
You weren't a party animal, to say the least, even if you tried "bringing out the beast", you failed. But that couldn't be said for your best friend- Peter Parker.
You've known him since high school, both of you being former students of midtown high. When you applied for college, you didn't know that you would end up rooming with the shy nerdy guy who built legos in the music room. You were surprised at first, but overcame it when you realized that you weren't going to be rooming with a stranger. You might not have interacted with him much other than when you sat with MJ, but he was still a familiar presence to you.
College really had changed your relationship with Peter. He was now your closest friend and possibly a lot more than a friend.
"How is it that he gets to drink the same amount as us and he still doesn't wake up hungover?" Michelle groaned, holding a palm over her eyes as she leaned back on the couch, trying to ignore the booming sounds of pop music playing in the background.
Sure, You weren't keen on going to parties, but Michelle and Harry were and they had to practically drag you and Peter to come with them, so you were sitting on the couch while MJ nursed an early hangover, watching as Harry lazily twerked against Peter.
You watched with an amused eyebrow as you saw a semi-drunk Harry try to kiss Peter, who was trying very hard to not let that happen. MJ snickered as she saw her boyfriend being a goofball with Peter.
"Maybe it's something to do with his weird spideryness." You shrugged, snorting as Peter let Harry do what he wanted to. You spared MJ a look, she didn't look happy, but then again, she probably had a headache the size of Canada.
"It's not fair. How much do you think it takes for Parker to get drunk?" She grumbled, eyes shining with mirth as if she had an epiphany. Turning to you, she took your hands in her, practically buzzing with an energy that surprised you, "What if… look I know you have morals and stuff but… what if the first person to get Parker drunk… gets whatever? If he agrees to do this? Obviously. "
"I don't think I can get drunk Michelle." Peter said, appearing in your sight with Harry leaning against his shoulders. His hands were wrapped around Harry's waist as he moved away from his prying lips, "jeez MJ, I thought you were my friend."
"That's not possible. You had to have gotten a little drunk at some point. You have your limits too."
"Hmm, I mean, Mr. Stark never really let me get blackout drunk-"
"-cause he's a dad-"
"- cause May would have killed him." He glared, before continuing, "so I don't really know my alcohol tolerance."
"Peter, MJ, I love you both but can't we just look at the bright side? Be happy that with Peter not being able to get drunk we'll have a permanently sober designated driver with us?" You insisted, ignoring the indignant "hey!" Peter gave, heart thudding at the thought of possibly hurting Peter. You knew MJ was just curious as Peter was, but the thought still didn't sit right with you.
"Come on Y/n! Don't be a killjoy, it's a harmless experiment, I wouldn't want to hurt your boyfriend on purpose." MJ rolled her eyes in true Michelle fashion, blood rushing to your cheeks as you sputtered.
"Peter's not my boyfriend!"
__________________________________
"I know what you're thinking right now. I wouldn't have agreed with her if I didn't want this. And she would back away too." Peter reassured you.
Rolling over your twin bed, Peter touched your knee, bunching up the fabric of your plaid pajama bottoms to get your attention. You had been purposely avoiding him that night. But you were roommates, and it was getting increasingly difficult for you to ignore him when he was not even two feet away from you.
"What now?" You groaned, throwing your head back in exasperation as you looked up from the book you were reading- A brief history of time, furrowing your brows at his pouty expression. You rarely got upset, so he could tell by your expression that you were bored and not salty about his and Michelle's childish endeavors.
You were always an open book for him, having known you for long enough to read your micro-expressions. It warmed your heart that he knew each and every one of your ticks, a familiar feeling of fondness growing inside you.
"Do you remember last month, when I took you to Mr. Stark's wedding?" He asked, biting his lip as your cheeks flamed at the memory. He nuzzled into your thigh as you felt yourself getting warm from the flashes in your head of the month-long stay in Venice.
He had asked you to be his plus one, and though every outward feeling expressed in that duration was purely platonic, your internal feelings were anything but. And there was this time when things got sexually awkward for both you and Peter when you saw each other in custom-made fancy dresses that were probably more expensive than your tuition fee.
That night had been lost between the two of you ogling each other and drinking your weight in both alcoholic (him) and non- alcoholic (you) drinks. You wouldn't be able to forget that night even if you tried to. The after-party had been particularly wild. Who knew the Avengers were such jokers when not around the media?
Staring at you, he waited for an answer as he awkwardly cleared his throat when you nodded.
You and Peter had never had secrets, ever since your roommates had traded places, you rooming with the pretty brunette instead of your ex-roommate. And it was no secret that he was attractive. And standoff-ish (which you later found out was because of being a certain masked vigilante).
He was too attractive, in fact, a magnetic force to behold within the girls, gays and enbies. The force had managed to pull at your heart, somewhere between freshman and sophomore year of your college, leaving no place for mercy.
Your brain fogged up just looking at him, and the thoughts in your head in the middle of the night were hovering between a fine line of sexual and intimate. Just like your friendship during the wedding.
You always wondered if crossing the line of your friendship would ruin you before the anticipation of potentially ruining the entire relationship would.
"-earth to Y/n! Hey whoa! You're gonna say something or what?" He laughed, holding you by your shoulders as you nearly bashed your head to his, the touch of his freezing cold palm bringing you back from your pondering.
Shaking your head, you leaned against the headboard, shoulders brushing against his for a moment before nodding, when Peter said, "so remember how Ms. Widow, Mr. Rogers and I had a drinking contest?"
"Yeah, obviously how could I forget?" You snorted, an intuition of the direction this conversation was going in making you queasy. He was staring at you intently, urging you to continue.
"You drank your body weight in champagne, and were the only one not hungover the next day, or even nearly as drunk as you should have been." You smirked, remembering the day he had barely been buzzed. Mr. Stark had looked simultaneously impressed and disgusted at his protege winning against Black Widow and Captain America.
"Well body weight is exaggerating it, it wasn't that much, Nat and Steve are just lightweights." He said, lips lifting up in a smug expression.
(His very kissable lips. You've thought of kissing your best friend before. A lot in fact. You spent a lot of time imagining what kissing him would feel like, how his lips would move against yours and how his hand would feel on your skin.)
You snickered, hiding your mouth behind your hand to stop yourself from snorting again.
"What's so funny?" He whined, pouting with his hands folded underneath, sweater paws making him look really fucking adorable.
"You just called Captain America, an enhanced super soldier 'lightweight'" you said, laughing at his cute pouty expression. As his face slowly morphed into a smile, you pushed out your tongue, squinting your eyes at him in a playful manner, "He was probably just being nice."
"Well, Dr. Cho did say my metabolism rivals Steve's." He shrugged, feigning indifference, but you could see the slight color of his cheeks say otherwise.
"Keep telling yourself that Parker." You said, nudging his shoulders and placing your head on them. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, you sighed as he wrapped his arms around you, the rush of adrenalin his touch brought making your heart beat rapidly.
"Maybe we should try testing it." He suggests slyly, fervently pushing you so you would face him.
"Peter, I told you before, I don't like the sound of this." You grimaced, picking up the discarded book beside you.
"But it would be fun! I think we should do it for science." He shrugged. Your eyes widened, turning to touch his shoulder, your mouth forming an O at his words.
"Please tell me you're joking." You said finally, "because I know for a fact that Michelle definitely was!"
He looked at you as if to say Of course I'm not! I'm completely serious!
Shaking his head in a 'no', he confirmed your suspicions.
"Peter this could be dangerous! A lot of things could go wrong, you could get alcohol poisoning!" You insisted, scoffing as he unleashed his most powerful weapon at you, "oh no no no! Don’t you make puppy eyes at me Parker I'm not going to allow you to drink into oblivion!"
"But-" he started, you quickly interrupted him, holding a hand in front of his face.
"No buts unless it's yours!"
He blushed at your comment, ignoring you once again, "but what if we do it in a controlled environment?"
"And what, pray tell, according to you is a controlled environment for testing your alcohol tolerance?"
"A frat party?" He suggested, curling in on himself as you glared at him, "I mean look at it this way! The host will be responsible for us, and I've been to frat parties before! Everyone is curious as to why I'm the only person who leaves the party completely sober, I could leave drunk for once and test my limits! It's a win-win!"
"For someone who has a 4.9 GPA, you're incredibly stupid and reckless and out of your mind!" You grunted, folding your hands under your chest. Huffing a breath, you took to fluffing your pillow, bringing the duvet closer to your chin as you buried yourself inside.
You and Peter practically slept on the same bed anyway. You were used to it by now. Definitely not the weirdest things you did as roommates.
"I think that's mostly because I've been Spider-Man most of my teenage life so what's one time getting drunk? I just want to be normal for once!" He gritted out.
Gosh this boy increased your blood pressure like no one did.
"You could do other things to be normal! Do weed, join the softball team, heck have sex with a new girl every day for all I care! Alcohol is dangerous in one way or another, Peter. You don't know what you're getting yourself into." You scoffed, turning your back to him.
"Well I wouldn't know how bad it is for me would I? I don't even know if it affects me at all! This is science Y/n! It's not like I'm gonna get addicted to a pint of alcohol." He scoffed.
Biting your lip, you could practically hear his scowl, closing your eyes and willing your brain to go to sleep at a reasonable time for once. Sighing, you turned to look at him, lips pressed in a thin line, "Never mind, you shouldn't have brought it up. Good night Peter."
"Yeah, whatever, good night to you too." He sighed, dejectedly getting under the covers and switching off the lights, not bothering to tidy up the room.
A few minutes that felt like hours passed in silence. Neither of you moved, both stubbornly staying in your places on the bed, the tension in the room palpable and thick enough to cut through with a knife.
Peter was a restless sleeper, never still even when deep in the throes of sleep and finally, you heard the rustling sounds of his sheets as he scooted closer to you, pressing a featherlight kiss to your head and smoothening down your hair in a silent apology. Closing your eyes in the darkness, you let the silence encompass you, and finally, you fell asleep, regret deep in your chest, both of your breaths evening out.
__________________________________
"Hey Parker! Hey wait up!" He heard one of the dudes from the football team come up to him, out of breath as he tried to catch up with Peter. He looked ruffled, like he had been running his hands through his hair all morning.
Peter shuffled in his place, looking at the man in front of him, a wary expression on his face as he gave him a once over.
Peter had seen him around a lot, not surprised to see Johnny Storm of the fantastic four in the same university as him, it was probably the doing of Reed Richards. He was particularly fond of Peter, hoping he would be a good influence on brother-in-law.
You had mentioned him before too- he was in your ethics class and sat next to you. Peter remembered you mentioning that he had hit on you multiple times and that you briefly had had a crush on him too. Peter could see why, Johnny Storm was everything a woman would want- tall, handsome and smart. And most of all, not an asshole.
His blue eyes shone with intelligence and his perfectly windswept blonde hair framed his sharp jawline. Peter hated him.
Well not really, Johnny Storm was very hard to hate, he was almost too nice. No, Peter envied him and how even he found himself sporting a sizable crush on the quarterback in front of him.
"You were saying something?" Peter blinked, a flush rising up his cheeks as the blond grinned, holding onto the straps of his backpack as he bounced on his heels.
"Yeah actually. You okay there bro? You look a little flushed." Johnny asked, slapping his hands on Peter's back, walking forward towards their class. The only class that he and Peter shared.
"Uhm, yeah it's the heat. The heat is making me… hot. It's very hot today." Peter stuttered, clearing his throat as he walked alongside him.
Did he mention that Johnny's body temperature was very high? As Spider-Man, Peter had rarely collaborated with Johnny Storm. In fact, the fantastic four, as the general public had named them, rarely met up with the Avengers. They preferred staying on their own.
Not to mention that Tony wasn't a big fan of him either.
"You sure it's the heat man? You really don't look good." He asked again, grimacing when he pointed at the sheen of sweat on Peter's forehead.
"I- I'm fine Johnny. I'm sweating cause I'm standing beside a human furnace, give me a break." Peter rolled his eyes, lips twitching in a barely perceptible smile.
"Aww now you're just flattering me Petey." He snickered.
"I'm not flattering you, your body temperature is literally four degrees higher than a normal human." Peter deadpanned, ignoring the boy's snickers.
"Anyway, that's now why I'm here." Johnny said, continuing with his babbling, "so you know how Josh is hosting a party tonight?"
"Yeah? Like he does almost every day?" Peter said, rolling his eyes as he settled on his desk.
"You know what I mean Pete. Anyways, you're invited." He smirked, holding his head high as if smug that he had managed to invite Peter Parker. Not that he had agreed to it.
"Interesting… Did he put you up to invite me? Is this some kind of trap?" Peter felt his stomach churn, but his spidey sense was silent as ever, so he figured that they were just being nice for once.
"Well… he doesn't really know that I invited you." He grimaced, placing his bag next to Pete.
"Oh. Then why are you inviting me?" Peter asked.
"Because I want you to be there. And y/n too." He muttered the last part, cheeks aflame.
"So you want y/n to be there?" Peter said, raising an eyebrow. He smirked, looking at Johnny's burning cheeks, feeling a faint pang in his chest that he didn't like the feeling of when he realized that Johnny might be up to setting himself up with you.
"Okay yeah, I do want her to be there." He sounded as flustered as he looked, "I don't want to rush though! I just figured, since you're her bestie and all, you might know if she's… interested?"
"I'll let you know." Peter said, giving him a tight lipped smile. It was the fakest smile Johnny had ever witnessed.
__________________________________
"So you're saying that a hot quarterback wants me to come to a frat party?" You raised your eyebrows, nodding slowly as you took in what Peter was saying, "and you said yes?"
"Well I didn't say yes, but you could! We could conduct our experiment, this is our chance Y/n." He said, his voice in an excited whisper as he looked at you with his bambi eyes.
"MJ, you started this, now you handle him," you deadpanned, looking at the aforementioned girl sitting beside you, nodding enthusiastically.
"Yeah dude I won't let a scratch come on your boyfriend." She smirked, high fiving Peter- who seemingly didn't notice the "boyfriend" thrown by her and were both now jumping on the bed like five year olds.
"You're the rational one here Em! You're not supposed to encourage him!", You rolled your eyes, muttering a "he's not my boyfriend" as an afterthought, but neither of them seemed to be noticing you, too lost in the excitement.
Fiddling with the straps of your dress, you flexed your fingers nervously, fixing the hem of the dress for the millionth time.
"Do I look okay?" You fidgeted, applying your lipstick, widening your mouth to check if there was any on your teeth.
"You look hot as fuck, Parker won't be able to keep his eyes off you." Michelle snorted, leaning unhelpfully against your bed. She looked gorgeous as ever.
"Michelle!" You groaned, elongating her name as you flushed at the thought of Peter, "stop joking, tell me really."
"You've never fretted about a dress this much before. Why do you care now?" She asked, face held in a smug expression as you stuttered.
"W-well. I want to look presentable. Johnny Storm is gonna be there." You said, holding your head high for managing to convince her with your lie.
She didn't look very convinced.
"You sure it's only about Johnny Storm?" She asked, eyebrows raised and a somber expression on her face.
"Yeah. Definitely." You said, not believing your own words. You looked at the mirror again, your face tight in a grim expression.
All these years, you had tried dropping hints to him, and he didn't seem to pick up a single sign. You tried so hard to move on, but your schoolgirl crush soon turned into yearning, one that made you sick to your stomach. You were so tired of waiting. Yet, you persisted.
Maybe he felt the same way? Maybe it was you, who missed the subtle looks he sent, the nights spent in the dark, the drive-thru coffee at midnight. It had got to mean something, right?
(Or maybe it was the both of you, stubborn idiots who were oblivious to the obviously requited feelings.)
"I've seen it before. The thing you and Parker have." She said, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. Getting up with a huff, she hurriedly fixed your hair a little, standing behind you with her hands on your shoulders, giving them a light pat, "You look amazing y/n/n, let's go now."
"Yeah, can't wait to see a drunk and giggly Peter." You chuckled, picking up your heels and wearing them, picking the door behind you.
Turns out, you were late to the party, even by party standards, because Peter was already looking a little flushed and giggly, smiling at you with a goofy expression. Harry looked completely sober for once, and Johnny was looking a little uneasy, a grimace set on his pale face.
"Why am I here again?" You grimaced, scrunching your nose when someone drunkenly stumbled past you.
"To test Peter's alcohol tolerance." She said, distracted by her search for Harry probably.
"Someone started before Michelle and I could come huh?" You smirked, crossing your arms as you saw Peter snap his head up, his eyes lighting up when they landed on You.
"Y/n! O em gee you're here!" Peter said, holding up a shot glass full of amber liquid, a strong smell of alcohol around him.
"Uhh, Pete I think you've had enough to drink, let's take a break right buddy?" Johnny said, trying to take the shot glass from his fingers, struggling to do so and giving up when he found out that they were stuck to Peter's fingers.
"Don' be a killll- ugh, boomer, Storm, I'm having fun here." Peter said, his speech slurred as he rolled his eyes, huffing when he tried to stand straight.
"I think he's right Pete," you winced, looking at Harry for help. You widen your eyes when you didn't see him anywhere, looking around to see him trying to woo MJ, who was holding him up by his waist as she made her way here.
"Thank you sweetheart, see, even the pretty lady agrees." Johnny smirked, our heart pounding at his compliment.
"Do not f-flirt with her! She's my pretty lady!" Peter scowled, pouting at the man.
"Okay jeez Pete, don't get all possessive over your girlfie now!" He chuckled.
"I'm not his girlfriend." You grumbled.
"She's kinda hot though." Peter muttered, giving you a cheeky grin. Folding your arms, you held your ear to your shoulders, shuddering at the loud music and bright lights. You couldn't imagine what it felt like to Peter, if his senses were dialed up or dulled by the alcohol in his veins.
"I'm standing right here Parker." You said, raising an eyebrow to chortle his blunt confession.
"I wonder what you'll feel like under me." He said, slurring a little bit, your breath hitching at his straightforward words, trying not to envision them.
"Well you won't be feeling me anytime soon, you're drunk." Turning to the blonde, you said in a hushed voice, "How much has he had?"
"Enough to make him giggly and redder than his spider suit. And super horny about you." He shrugged, side eyeing to see if anyone had heard him. Apparently not.
"Shh! Don' say that out loud! What if- what if they…" Peter said, slumping down and catching you with surprise, mumbling something incoherent about "Mystery man" or something.
"Oh god! Hey don't fall asleep you dork!" You grunted, taking a hold of him as Johnny helped with the other side.
You were surprised to feel his muscles against you, and boy was he firm. You knew he was muscular, but right now as you tried to lift his dead weight, you realized that he was 90% muscles. He didn't budge and then suddenly perked up, catching you off guard.
"You're really pretty." He said, looking at Storm and holding a hand against his flaming cheeks, making you giggle as you looked at Johnny's amused expression, "like sooo tall an- and handsome. So pretty."
'Um, thanks Pete, I appreciate it." He nodded, looking at you for help. You shrugged, pursing your lips at a silent apology, all while trying not to laugh at Peter's babbling.
You were glad you left the party, a little bummed that you didn't get to drink any, or even stay and flaunt your pretty dress, but Peter was reeking of alcohol and you were glad you came out of there.
MJ had texted you an apology and that she was driving Harry home. You had told her that you didn't mind, while trying to hold a dancing Peter in place.
"Ugh, you're lucky you're cute and I'm dragging your drunk ass back home instead of leaving you there at the party." You grumbled, struggling to open the latch of your door.
"You're cuter." Peter mumbled. You freeze on your spot. He didn't get the cue, continuing with his babbling, "so cute, bet you'd look better without your cute little panties on."
"Peter! Oh god you're such a hoe-" you startled, flushing at his words.
"Hoe for you only sweetheart." He interrupted, leaning in to kiss your mouth. You recoiled, the smell of alcohol hitting your nose, as he backed away at the last minute as if reconsidering, "n-no I'm drunk. I want- want to be sober an' treat you right."
"Mmhm, obviously. How would you treat a lady right when you're drunk yourself." You rolled your eyes, curling your hand on his shirt.
"Wanna treat you like my homework." He grumbled. Raising an eyebrow in question, you looked at him with confusion.
"Like your … homework?"
"Do you all night an'- and bang you against my desk." He giggled, holding your waist and burying his face there.
Snorting at his attempt at dirty talk (it was working), you closed the door, plopping him on your bed. Turning to get water, you were stopped when he held your hand, his grip tight.
"You think I'm cute?" He whispered, looking at him with burning cheeks.
Settling him on his bed, you held him straight when he tried to curl up, holding his face to your waist so he wouldn't fall.
"I think you're pretty amazing," you mumble.
Looking at you with glossy eyes, holding onto your fingers as he looks down, unable to meet your eyes, "you're- you're my best gi-... friend."
Pausing for a moment, you purse your lips, watching his eyelids droop as he fiddled with his shoes. Helping him undress from his scratchy tee, you watched him with sad eyes, running your hands through his soft hair, chuckling when he made a purring noise.
You're my best friend.
Those were his words. You didn't let the sting in your chest get to you, reminding yourself that your best friend was drunk out of his mind. That must be some really strong booze to get Peter Parker drunk. And apparently horny too.
"Wrong hole Pete." you smiled as he tried to fit his head through the hand of his nightshirt, gently lowering his hands and helping him in.
"That's what she said." He grinned, as if he hadn't just friend zoned you a minute ago. You felt anger spike in your chest, but dismissed it, guilt overtaking due to his lost expression. He looked young, without any worries of the world on his shoulders, and very inebriated.
A drunk man's words were a sober man's thought right? At least you knew now that he didn't feel the same way for You, a crushing weight on your chest making you stumble. You cursed the duality of this man, one second he wanted to fuck you against his desk, and next he friend zoned you.
Climbing in your own bed, you made sure to cover him first, pushing back his soft chocolate brown curls, the ones you loved playing with, leaving a kiss on his forehead.
__________________________________
Peter woke up with a groan, a headache pulsing behind his eyelids and a rotten, dry taste in his mouth. Grimacing, he clenched his eyes as the light hit his eyes, his sensitive eyes telling his brain to shut up. Smacking his lips, he gingerly lifted his head, looking at his bedside table to see a glass of water and a tablet on the top, a note with "eat me! :)" written on it.
Smiling, he picked up the pill and ate it dry, gulping down the water with a newfound thirst.
"Slow down tiger, don't want to puke that all up huh?" You said, appearing from the shower with your hair wrapped in a towel, another towel wrapped around your naked body.
"W-what?" He asked dumbly, clearing his throat to dismiss the thoughts in his head. He couldn't think much past the pounding in his head and nausea churning in the pit of his stomach like a sick whirlpool.
He watched as steam curled from the bathroom, your condensation soaked body disappearing into the kitchen before appearing with orange juice, placing it in his open hands. Looking at you now, you looked so different than his best friend, as if there was some shift in your relationship.
"Close your mouth, you'll catch flies." You smirk, a hand on your hip as you look at him, using your other hand to close his mouth. He took a big gulp of the drink, not feeling much as he gulped down to calm his racing heart. blush rose to his cheeks as he looked you up and down, watching as you move around the apartment, your body wiggling with some random tune in your head.
His musings were interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone, the sound sending daggers to his brain.
"Y/n?" He asked in a small voice, ignoring his ringing phone. You didn't seem to have heard him, so he cleared his throat, hoping to get it louder this time, "Y/n?"
"Hmm? Everything okay? You nauseous?" You asked, whooping as you removed the towel from your head. Sometime during your dancing adventures, you had changed your clothes, when he didn't know.
You were wearing your strawberry pajamas and a Spider-Man t-shirt, the sight making him flustered.
"What happened yesterday? After I got drunk?" He asked, slamming the alarm of his phone. The screen would have cracked was it not specifically designed for spider babies with super strength.
"What do you mean?" You asked, suddenly going still.
"Did.. Did I do… something?" He asked softly, watching as your shoulders go stiff, not noticeably, but he knew you.
"You mean sex? No. You were too drunk and I'm a good friend so no, we didn't have sex." You smile tight lipped.
"Oh. Good. Uhm, you- did I say anything else?"
You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before saying, "Not really. Nothing that's important."
The tension in the air increased tenfold, and he wondered if he had ended up confessing his feelings for you and that you didn't feel the same, or worse, friend zoned you.
"Oh. Okay."
"You should probably have raw eggs. And toast, lots of toast, for the uh, hangover. You were pretty drunk yesterday dude." You chuckled.
He scrunched his nose in disgust, thinking about the disgusting array of hangover cures.
"Actually just take this coffee. Pretty sure the eggs one is bogus." You nodded, handing him over hot coffee, which he took gratefully.
"Yeah, old wives tale huh?" He chuckled, inhaling the scent of the scalding hot coffee, nearly burning his tongue off when he took a sip. The sweetened concoction made the weird taste in his mouth disappear. Looking at you over the cup, he took a deep breath.
"What did I really say?" He asked, placing the cup at his bedside.
"You confessed your undying love and affection to me." You deadpanned, loudly sipping your own coffee.
Eyes widening, he sat up straight to see if you were joking, "really?"
"Yes Pete," you said slowly, walking towards you with cat-like grace, bending at his eye level and caressing his hair, "You looked me in the eye, and told me that I'm your best friend."
Releasing a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding, he sagged back on the headboard, only to snap back right up when he saw your clenched jaw and glazed eyes.
"Please tell me you're joking." Peter said after a while, holding his hand out for you to hold. You didn't hesitate to take his hands, plopping down beside him, putting your head on his shoulder.
Wrapping his hands around You, he kissed your forehead and said, "Well… I did mean it."
"Nothing better than getting friend zoned by your best friend you're in love with within a day, right?" You sniffed, giving him a watery chuckle.
"If it makes you feel any better, I'm in love with my best friend too." He said, pursing his lips in silent laughter. You closed your eyes, trying not to look at his dimples.
"Didn't know you were in love with Ned." You joke, kissing his red cheeks.
"Oh yeah totally. That's totally who I mean." He said, pausing for a moment to turn to you, "I love you too, by the way."
"As a best friend?"
"No dummy!" He exclaimed, giving a laugh that reverberated with your heartbeat. The laughter that was a melody to your ears, "sure, you're my best friend. But I want to be more."
"Really?" You ask, biting your cheek to keep yourself from smiling.
"Yes, really."
"Is this where we kiss? Or do you prefer me under you?" You snicker, remembering the events that occurred last night.
"Oh my god, did I really say that?" He shrieked, hiding his face in his hands as you laughed, rubbing his back when he groaned in pain.
"You did Pete. Gosh you're so horny when you're drunk." You chuckle, hiding your face in his back, enjoying the way his muscles ripple under your face.
A feeling of euphoria washed over you as you both stopped laughing like maniacs, a huge weight lifting off your chest.
"So… wanna make out?" He asked, holding your face tenderly with one hand, the other snaking to your waist.
"Take me out to dinner first." You whispered, eyes landing on his lips, scooting forward.
"You sure you're patient enough for that?" He smirked, lips now ghosting over yours. You were sure he could hear your heart beating frantically, sweat pooling on your brows and the inside of your palm.
"I'm not." You said, biting the bullet and plunging forward to capture his lips in yours. The kiss was slobbery and hungry, his fingers snaking into your hair and the other hand squeezing your waist as he pulled you on his lap. Groaning for air, you gave a chuckle, massaging his scalp to alleviate some tension you knew was there.
Slumping back in relief, he buried his head in your chest as you continued to rub his head, using your blunt nails to scratch his scalp. It felt therapeutic, playing with his smooth hair.
"Hi." He whispered, licking his lips as he looked at you with your favorite bambi eyes.
"Hi. Boyfriend." You chuckle, liking the way the title sounded on your lips.
"Girlfriend." He smiled, going back to his initial position.
__________________________________
"You look happy today." MJ observed, a smirk tugging at her lips.
You slumped your shoulders, holding your books to your chest like a lovesick puppy. Nodding, you smiled at her, "Yeah. I'm very happy."
"Ooh. How's your boyfriend? Is he hungover? I didn't see him around today." She said, eyeing you from her periphery, expecting you to give her the same "he's not my boyfriend" answer. You, however, surprised her today.
"My boyfriend's doing great, thanks for asking Emmy." You smirk.
Hey everyone! Welcome to the lolbrosgetsicktoo writing challenge masterpost! A massive thank you to everyone who has sent in prompts and to those who have already posted their fics <3
If you'd like to write one, click on this link and select a prompt that you would like to write for. Please don’t send me an ask to claim a prompt.
Anyone can claim a prompt as long as they commit to do their best to write a fic! If you need to opt out of the challenge or in case of any other issue, check the FAQ and/or contact me.
There's no longer a deadline to post fics. Take your time!
While you work on your fic and whenever you choose to post it, please be mindful of the General Rules and the FAQ linked below. Any questions you have, just let me know. Have fun!
☆ Resources
» Challenge Rules || » Frequently Asked Questions
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Fics
Below, you will find every fic that has been posted for the challenge. Happy reading!
HARRISON OSTERFIELD
» second self [18+] by @soft-haz – warnings: mature language + smut
prompt: NSFW! Harrison injures his right hand. He's sexually frustrated, and his left hand just isn't doing the job. Reader notices something is up with her poor roommate, and asks if there's anything she can do to help. Even though they haven't been anything more than friends up to this point, reader offers to "give him a hand," or whatever of her other body parts he likes.
» Fevers and Tea by @thegirlintheswivelchair — warnings: sickness - fevers, sniffles, etc, “secrets”, flufffffffff, some mutual pining, more fluff.
prompt: You and Harrison work at the same newspaper, but not in the same division. The only moment you're together is during your tea breaks, which you have coordinated by now given that you're both secretly into iced tea. (If his work partner! slash best mate!Tom ever found out, he'd have both your heads on a platter.) One day, however, Harrison doesn't show up in the lounge room. And then again the next day. And the next. Where is he? And why is Tom also nowhere to be found when you set yourself on a quest throughout the whole office building? What can you do for them?
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PETER PARKER
» Lovesick and a little bit drunk by @spideyspeaches – warnings: drinking
prompt: No amount of alcohol could get Peter Parker drunk. His university fellows are baffled and have an ongoing bet - who could give him the worst hangover possible. Cut to - next day when he wakes up highly disoriented and extremely hungover! You help him feel better and maybe make him confess to a few drunken feelings he might have spilled!
» cough cough by @kickingn-ames – warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter
prompt: Non-superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick.” Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.
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TOM HOLLAND
» puppy love by @lauras-collection – warnings: fluff, tessa as a stray, tom almost fainting
prompt: SFW! Tom came back recently from filming and is doing poorly. His new neighbour (could be a doc, could be a vet) - who he doesn't know of - helps him get better after he kind of face dives on his kitchen floor (this could be changed) when she came over to introduce herself. Fluffy, sweet soft? Idk writers choice! Just not angsty please 🥺 thanks!
» work with me by @wizkiddx – warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies
prompt: "Would you quit complaining and just get in the bath already?"
» Laced [18+] by @flower-cage – warnings: mentions of sickness/vomit, explicit language, smut
prompt: NSFW! Tom has some tummy issues and misses y/n's bday party. He is feeling really sad about it, so after the party is over he video chats with her. She asks him if he'd like to see all the presents she got for her bday. He says yes. Turns out she also got some sexy lingerie. Cheeky Tom, now feeling a bit better, asks her if she can put them on for him to watch. And she does. note: it can be either sexy video chat time or 'i'll be over at yours in a bit, don't take that off’
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Prompts
Below, you will find every prompt that was submitted to the challenge, separated by character and rating. If a prompt has already been claimed by a writer, it will be crossed off (like this).
Please note:
SFW! means that the fic should not have mature content
NSFW! means that the requester requires smut
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PETER PARKER PROMPTS
» SFW! "No, that's because your nose is stuffed"
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» I like hurting my favs lol who doesn't. Anyways- migraines are the worst aren't they🥺🥺 those little buggers they hurt so much and with Peter's metabolism, he won't even be able to take painkillers cause they will only be metabolized without effect 🥺
» "you're a cutie, even when you're sick”
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TOM HOLLAND PROMPTS
» SFW! Tom recently lost his beloved wife/fiancée / long-time gf. He's consumed in grief and misery and a path of self destruction. No one knows how to help him, the only answer was you but you're gone forever. Until one day, when you come back in your ethereal ghostly form to take care of him move past his grief and give him a closure that he so badly needs. (Very very angsty please!)
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» Tom is sick on your birthday, but still wants to spoil you.
» You both have the flu and attempt to take care of each other.
» Your best friend Tom has a fever so you take care of him. While feverish, he confesses that he really really likes you. But once the morning comes and he is feeling much better - he doesn't remember what he said. And yes - angst!
» "Oh!! Bloody hell!!! NOT AGAIN!!!!!" - where Tom gets food poisoning (or stomach flu) while shooting the latest spider man film.
» Tom self diagnosis himself as sick. He's got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he'd get hit by the *love-bug* again. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!
» Sick!Tom with some sort of stomach bug. Reader works in medicine (doctor, nurse, etc.) and Tom tries to pretend he isn’t sick because reader takes care of people all day.
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» NSFW! Tom hurt his knee so you cuff his jeans for him and 👉👈
» NSFW! Tom hurt his back while doing stunts, so yn decides to give him a massage.
» NSFW! A royal AU where prince!Tom is sick and a kitchen maid (or any young maiden) - who have the hots for each other - helps him get back to his feet. Aka steamy saucy forbidden sex!!
» NSFW! FRIENDS AU! Tom is sick but won’t admit. (Like Monica) and he wants to have sex but y/n (gf) wont! So he tries and seduces her with all the stuffy nose and congested voice etc!! Cue in lots of humour and smut in the end because why the hell not!!
» NSFW! It's snowing!! Toms car breaks down in the middle of nowhere when he was on his way back home. He's finally able to get home and ends up poorly the next day. It's up to his wife to make him feel better somehow
Hey everyone! Here’s a list of potential questions you may have about the lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge. They’re divided in three categories: generic questions, questions about prompts, questions for writers.
» Challenge Rules || » Claim a prompt!
Generic Questions
I want to take part in lolbrosgetsicktoo! What do I have to do?
That depends! First, think of a prompt related to the concept "your fave is minorly ill and whiny, and y/n has to deal with everything else." Second, until March 1, you can submit your prompts to the challenge via this form. [no longer available] Third, you will be able to claim a prompt and write a fic based on it. Then, all you need to do is post your fic whenever you feel ready to share it to the world. Please check the full rules to know more.
Do you have a list of all the deadlines?
Sure thing! Here you go:
Date to start sending prompts: February 4, 10pm
Deadline to send prompts: March 1
Date to start claiming prompts: March 2, 10pm
Deadline to claim prompts: April 1
Deadline to post your fic: May 31 whenever you want!
This is in London time zone. Use this website to check the time difference.
Are there any “forbidden” AUs or genres?
No. All AUs are welcome, as well as all genres (generic, fluff, angst, crack fic, etc.) and all ratings (g, pg, restricted, nc-17, etc.). Please be mindful of the following age requirement: Some writers don’t feel comfortable with minors interacting with mature content such as smut. As a mod for this challenge, I ask everyone to respect each writer’s wishes.
Are there any “forbidden” characters?
You can send a prompt for any real person or fictional character, but please make sure they don’t fall under any of the restricted themes: abuse, assault, anti-LGBTQA+ behavior or claims, incest, murder, racism, self-harm, suicide.
I’m not in the Tom Holland fandom. Can I still take part in the challenge?
Of course! Everyone is welcome :) spread the word in your fandom if you think the challenge will be interesting to your friends and acquaintances!
I don’t want to take part in the challenge, but can I reblog the post?
Please do! Reblog this post and spread the word. You never know who might see it and be interested in it.
Is there a place where I can see all the prompts that were sent in?
Of course! Check this post for a full list of the prompts. Eventually, there will be links to the fics that were written for them!
Is there a place where I can see all the fics that were written for the challenge?
Of course! Check this post because it will include all the fics that were posted, as well as any prompts that weren’t claimed.
Someone is sending me hate on my blog :(
I am very sorry to hear about this. Regardless of whether it is related to the challenge or not, feel free to contact me via ask or dm if you need to talk about it. You can also reach out to a friend you trust that you feel comfortable talking to. You don’t have to go through this alone <3
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Re: prompts
I want to send a prompt! What do I have to do?
From February 4 and until March 1, you can send a prompt and it will be made available for the writers’ consideration. Edit: not accepting any more prompts!
Can you remind me what’s the deadline to send a prompt?
You can send your prompt until March 1. Edit: not accepting any more prompts!
Does my prompt have to be x reader aka a reader insert?
No way! You can request a fic to be written in the third person instead of a reader insert, and hopefully the writer who likes your prompt won’t be put off by it.
What kind of prompts should I *not* send?
Please don’t send prompts about covid-19, cancer, or other major illnesses. Also, please don’t send prompts related to any of the restricted themes: abuse, assault, anti-LGBTQA+ behavior or claims, incest, murder, racism, self-harm, suicide. Every writer has their own no-go options, so please respect their choice to not write something you would be willing to read about.
Are there any age restrictions?
Yes. Considering that some writers don’t feel comfortable with minors interacting with mature content, I ask everyone taking part in the challenge to respect each writer’s wishes. In order to do this, the form created to send prompts includes a step to confirm your age in case you want your prompt to include smut. I will also try to verify this via ask or dm.
Can I send more than one prompt?
Yes, you can! Use the form as many times as you would like. However, please bear in mind that there’s no guarantee that all prompts will be claimed by a writer.
How will I know if you received my prompt?
I will send you an ask or dm to confirm your prompt was well received. Bear in mind that I may not see your prompt right away. If you don’t hear from me within 48 hours after you send it, please send me an ask or dm.
If I send a prompt, do I have to claim a different one and write a fic?
No. This challenge isn’t an exchange, so you won’t be asked to write anything in return.
How can I know if my prompt was claimed?
You can check this post and see whether it’s been crossed-off or not. If it looks like this example, congrats, your prompt has been claimed and a fic will be posted soon!
If a writer claims my prompt, will they know it was me who requested it?
No. I will not reveal to the writers who requested a prompt that they claim. However, after the fic is posted, you can tell them you sent it!
If my prompt gets claimed, will I know who’s writing the fic?
No. I will not reveal which writer claimed which prompt. After the fic is posted, I’ll send you a link to the fic via ask or dm so you can read it.
How will I know when the fic written for my prompt has been posted?
I will reach out to you via ask or dm to let you know that your fic has been posted!
Do I have to do anything after the fic written for my prompt has been posted?
It would be very kind of you to acknowledge the fic, especially by leaving a comment and reblogging it onto your own blog. Remember to always support the content creators you like! They will appreciate it.
I didn’t like the fic written for my prompt :( what now?
I’m very sorry to hear that. I ask you to respect the writer who worked on your prompt given that they put their own time and work into the fic. Be civil about it. Click the back button and proceed to read another fic that you think you’ll like. And please do not send any hateful messages about it to the writer or anyone else. Don’t like, don’t interact.
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Re: writers
I want to claim a prompt and write a fic! What do I have to do?
Click here and claim one of the available prompts. After you claim it, you can write a fic of any length, any AU and any rating to post on your blog. Be mindful of the challenge rules before you post your fic.
How will I know I have successfully claimed a prompt?
I will send you an ask or dm confirming so. Bear in mind that I may not see that you claimed a prompt right away. If you don’t hear from me within 48 hours after you claim it, please send me an ask or dm.
When can I start writing my fic?
From the moment you receive my confirmation, get to writing! If you don’t hear from me within 48 hours after you claim a prompt, please send me an ask or dm to check on it.
Do I have to write x reader aka a reader insert?
Of course not! If you claimed a prompt requesting a fic to be written in the third person instead of a reader insert, please respect that requester’s wish. If your prompt doesn’t mention any requirement, feel free to write in the way that makes you the most comfortable.
Can you remind me what’s the deadline for posting a fic?
You can post your fic until May 31 whenever you want!
If I claim a prompt, will you tell me who requested it?
No. I will not reveal who requested the prompt you claimed. However, after the fic is posted, the requester might tell you it was them!
If I claim a prompt, will the requester know I’m writing it?
No. I will not reveal which writer claimed which prompt. I think this makes it more fun and it might also avoid potential hate towards any writer or any requester.
How many writers can claim the same prompt?
One! Only one writer per prompt, please. This way, more people might see their prompt come to life!
What happens if two writers claim the same prompt?
This will only happen in case of technical problems with the form. In any case, if two writers claim the same prompt, I will contact the person who claimed it last (based on the order in which the notification was received) and ask them to claim a different prompt.
Is there a minimum or maximum word count?
Nope! You can write anything from 50 words to 500,000 words. And huge kudos to you if you write 500k! ;)
Are there any restricted themes?
Yes. As stated before, here are a few restricted themes: abuse, assault, anti-LGBTQA+ behavior or claims, incest, murder, racism, self-harm, suicide.
Any requirements I need to consider when I post my fic?
Please make sure you use the tag #lolbrosgetsicktoo when you post. Also, if you can, send me a dm saying that you’ve posted it! It will be much faster that way.
Can I write smut?
To a certain extent, yes. When you claim your prompt, it will state whether the requester wants smut or not. If they do not want smut, please respect their wish. If they don’t mind that it includes smut, you can write smut at your own discretion. If the prompt is nsfw, it means I have confirmed with the requester that they are not a minor; this is a requirement given that some writers aren’t comfortable with minors reading their mature content.
What happens after I post my fic?
First, the person who sent the prompt you claimed and wrote for will be alerted that your fic was posted. Then, I will read it, reblog it with a small comment, and add it to a masterlist on my blog for everyone to find it!
I posted my fic and I’d like to know who requested the prompt I claimed. What can I do?
I won’t reveal who the requesters are. They are at liberty to disclose that information themselves if they read and interact with your fic. Other than that, I will not let you know who they are.
OK, now that I’ve written my fic, can I claim another prompt?
Sure! All you need to do is send me proof that your fic is completed (for example, a link to the post) and then you can claim another prompt.
So. Here’s the thing 👉👈 I started writing my fic, but I’m stuck and can’t write the rest. What can I do?
No worries! Writer’s block is a big 🤬 and I’m very close friends with them, so what happens next is negotiable. If the person who requested the prompt doesn’t mind, you can either “release” that prompt; this means that you will no longer have to write it for the challenge and it will be available for another person to claim it. Or if you prefer and the requester doesn’t mind, you can keep the prompt and post your fic at a later date! In this case, if you’re both comfortable with it, I’ll let you know who the requester is and you can speak with one another to settle this.
Can I add my fic to my own masterlist?
Of course! You’re in control of your own blog, so please do.
Oh no! All the prompts have been claimed, but I’d still like to write a fic!
Unfortunately, there won’t be another round of prompts, so if all of them have been claimed, the challenge is officially closed. Hope you manage to snatch one next time ;)
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If you still have any questions, please send me an ask!
