summary: when MJ gets sick the day after her wedding, a non-refundable, all expenses paid honeymoon to a lodge up in the mountains waits for her. but she gets sick, and asks you and your biggest enemy to take her and Harry's place.
pairing: enemies to lovers! fake dating! peter parker x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT!! a bit angsty, fluffy, mentions of heights, mentions of cheating! i also did not proofread so sorry for that.
word count: 12.1k (2.8k of smut) you can tell i got carried away....
authors note: HEAVILY inspired by the Unhoneymooners!! THIS CAN be read as a generic Peter Parker fic, use ur imagination! I wrote this with Tom in my head but you can read it for Andrew or Tobey! There's a short flashback to the trip to Europe in FFH, but there's no mentions of villains or anything, so it literally can just be taken as a class trip (Gwen, Ned, Felicia, Betty, MJ, Mary Jane, Harry Osborn etc. are all in this) There's TWO mentions of web-shooters, but that's about all <3
MJ and Harry were getting married, this was a big deal. Way bigger than any of the plans that you had come up with for the past few months. You had spent day on top of day helping MJ and Harry plan their honeymoon, plan everything for their wedding. Harry was loaded and upon that, MJ felt like she needed to do something special for him that didn’t involve taking his money. She always felt like she had to make up for the things he’d buy her, even though she deserved them all.
So, when MJ had asked you to help her win a contest that consisted of an amazing, in the mountains, all expenses paid (undefendable) holiday resort, that just happened to fall a day after their wedding, you obviously agreed to help her. The two of you had won after hard months of signing paperwork, calling places, buying burner phones to help you get a better chance at this holiday. You won.
Everything was already handled, all they had to do was simply show up.
Harry was ecstatic that she went out of her way to do all this for him. But what they weren’t ecstatic about was what happened when the wedding ensued.
You heard a knock on the bridal suite’s door, opening it to find Peter Parker. The boy you had known for too long, the boy you hated and the boy who hated you. It simply was to put that you just didn’t like each other – or maybe it was the fact that the whole of High School and the whole of college the two of you were simply trying to fight for the top spot, and now you both had to share the spotlight at your two best friend’s wedding. You were too similar, never using that to get along, but it was some stupid competition that had never and probably would never die out.
You rolled your eyes as you met his, “What can I do for you, Parker?”
His eyes cascaded over you – usually, he would expect for you to be wearing something hideous, like most bridesmaid dresses were. But MJ was different, she had picked out simply the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen on you, and he was taken aback for a moment. A stain dress in the colour of coral red sat on your skin, the V-line cutting way too deep that it almost reach your stomach, your shoes were white, and your hair wasn’t done yet, but he could tell everything just worked on you. You were the maid of honour and had he have not seen MJ yet; he probably would’ve thought you were the most beautiful person at the wedding.
But Peter didn’t know what he was thinking, so he shook himself out of his daze, meeting your eyes after almost a second, “Harry just wanted to me to see if MJ was alright,”
“He could’ve texted me.”
“Right, but he wanted me to see for myself,”
It bothered you a little that Harry didn’t trust you to tell Peter the truth – but he was slightly right, Peter would’ve texted you and you would’ve told him to fuck off. Harry had his reasons, you suppose.
You opened the door wider, reluctantly letting Peter inside, “Whatever,”
MJ smiles as Peter walks into the room, “Hey, Pete! What’s up?” Her face immediately turns to worry, “Is something wrong with Harry? Did he run away? Ohmygod, he probably ran away.”
Peter’s eyes widen, “Nonononono! Everything is fine, Harry just wanted me to see if you were okay.”
MJ lets go of her breath, “Oh! Well, I’m fine. Is he okay?”
“Great,” Peter confirms, “Well, that’s all, I’ll see you guys at the ceremony then.”
You watch Peter leave as Betty perks up, “At least Harry didn’t leave you.”
Gwen and Felicia both let out a gasp, “Betty!!”
“What?” She lifts her hands up in surrender, you and MJ locking eyes and laughing at your friends.
*
Thankfully, the ceremony goes smoothly and you’re currently watching MJ and Harry dance in the middle of the dance floor. You honestly couldn’t be prouder of your best friend. The dance was soon over and now it was time for you and Peter to give your speeches. You locked eyes with him as you stood where the microphone was, the gaze speaking volumes.
My speech is much better than yours.
You wish it was.
You cleared your throat as you felt all eyes on you – a pro at public speaking you had quickly become over your academic years, speech memorised, you knew you would ace this.
“When I had first met the bride and the groom, I thought oh god, what have I gotten myself into. I thought that twice in the same year,” You chuckle, “When I met MJ, I always knew she was destined for great things. For love. She deserved it and I knew that. But I’m not quite sure she did.”
You paused for a moment, meeting her soft smile. She was happy today. Her hair in a braid and veil over her head, the white dress she’d spoken down on oh so long ago graced her skin.
You laughed in familiar memory, “When MJ and I first talked about getting married – Which we both thought would happen to me first.” The guests laugh with you, “MJ had told me she wanted a black dress. I asked her why and she told me that it would match her soul. But today she’s wearing white. Today I see that her soul has been made brighter, made lighter. Her eyes sparkle with love every time she sees Harry. It was four years ago that MJ let herself fall in love. Regardless of Harry’s obvious pining over the past… eight years?” You question yourself, which gains another laugh, “But you got the girl, Harry, and you got the love you deserve, MJ, the love you both deserve. Congratulations.”
You wrap up your speech, feeling pride bubble up in your stomach, Peter’s eyes meeting yours and you could sense the feeling that he knew he was fucked. But you were wrong, the ‘fucked look’ Peter had on his face quickly turned into a mist of mischievous. You were fucked.
“I have never loved anyone.” Peter speaks, “Well, I have but not truely, I’ve had crushes, girlfriends. But I started to lose hope. I started to feel myself get lost. When I met Harry, we instantly clicked, and, no, this is not me professing my love for him.”
A laugh from the audience – even a slight snicker from you.
“I introduced him to our friends. I introduced him to MJ, and when Michelle walked away from us after making some sarcastic comment about death and destruction in our society, Harry turned to me and said, ‘I’m going to marry that girl,’… Maybe that’s when my hope in love restored. I watched Harry pine over someone for at least four years of his life. Continuing on, never having eyes for anyone else but MJ. He never pressured himself on her. He never asked her out – and, although, he claims he made the first move… I’m not one hundred percent sure that’s actually true.”
Peter sighs, turning to face both Harry and MJ. Tears in their eyes… something that you hadn’t done… It didn’t matter about winning and losing anymore, though, you were just happy they were happy and besides, Peter would not let you forget that he made them cry and you didn’t.
“Thank you… Thank you for restoring hope in love, if not just for me… for everyone here.” Peter lifts his flute of champagne, “Congratulations.”
Everyone claps for Peter, and you can almost feel tears welling in your eyes too. The speech had moved you, to say the least… God, you hated to admit that.
Peter’s eyes glanced over you and all he could do was smirk.
You rolled your eyes, turning your attention to the meal on your plate.
*
The next morning you were getting text after text, your phone essentially waking you up if not for your alarm going off two minutes after you could barely open your eyes. You opened your eyes to see twenty-five missed calls from MJ and fifty missed calls and over one hundred texts from Harry. You sat up, your hair a mess and wearing an oversized t-shirt you got from Italy on that school trip. Peter had actually bought it for you. You couldn’t remember why, but it stuck with you.
Immediately, you got out of bed and hurried up to Harry and MJ’s room in the elevator. You furiously knocked on the door wondering what had happened… if they were dead. Your knuckles were getting red and swollen from how hard you were pounding on the door. You went to hit the door again but met with Peter’s face.
“God, why the fuck are you here?” You question Peter as you barge into the room, finding Harry pacing back and forth in the middle of their penthouse, “Where’s MJ?” You questioned her, now husband.
“Throwing up in the toilet.” Harry spoke, “She’s got fucking food poising, the chef fucked up her steak last night and now she’s going to be here for about five days.”
“But what about your honeymoon?” Peter questions, “Didn’t MJ work her ass off to get that holiday for the two of you?”
MJ walks into the room, trash can in hand.
“Babe, what are you doing away from the bathroom?” Harry asks running over to her side again.
“I need to talk about the honeymoon… okay, I just, take it guys. You both need time off. The Bugle has you doing numbers, y/n. They have been for three years, let yourself relax, you have like ten thousand holiday days.”
“No, I can’t-” You’re interrupted.
“Yes. You can.” She groans, clutching her stomach, “…and Peter, you go too. You’re fucking Spider-Man, if that isn’t a cry for a time away, I don’t know what is.”
“But New York-” He’s interrupted.
“New York will last five days.”
You let out a dry laugh, “Regardless of whatever this is, MJ, I am not, going on a holiday to a resort in the mountains alone with Penis Parker.”
The nickname had to sting – You knew it did by the way Peter looked at you afterwards.
“God, you are such a bitch!” He groans, “All you do is fucking take the piss out of me, if you don’t want to go, then I’ll go on my fucking own.”
“Way to be a good role model for the children of New York.”
“At least I am a role model. You work for someone, and you are someone that only has shit falling out of her mouth.”
The irony of MJ’s vomiting interrupting Peter’s last comment made you chuckle slightly, but also rest a hand on your best friends shoulder as Harry looks at the two of you with an apology in his eyes. Even though there’s nothing to apologise for.
MJ groans, “Please, just do this. Y/n, you worked your ass off to ensure I got this, and if you don’t go that means all those months were put into nothing. I can’t have that happen. Harry and I can always pay to go back, but I know if I don’t ask you to do this now, you will never let yourself go on a holiday. You will never treat yourself.”
You feel guilty and you know she’s right. You’d probably never let yourself go. You never did. Even when you guys would go out partying, Jameson would always call you and order you around to do things for him and you had to comply otherwise you would get fired from the only job that actually paid you. You weren’t as lucky to get a job at Oscorp like Peter had, even if Norman knew you both, he took Peter based on the results of his application. You couldn’t fault Norman for being fair… your project just wasn’t as good as Peter’s, and you had to face that. So, no, you would never let yourself relax. Not as long as you worked for Jameson. A job that could disappear from under your feet in seconds.
She turns back to Peter, “How many times have you come to my window all beat up, begging for Harry and I to patch you up? How many times have you wished for a normal life, Peter? Remember the trip to Europe? You were constantly telling Ned how you just wanted to live. Without the responsibility of being Spider-Man? Well, guess what Peter, that’s never going to happen, and you know that, but, dude,” She coughs, “Take the five days to at least try to live that life. You might both hate each other, but you’re missing the point where it’s a resort, up in a mountain with skiing and skiing and hot cocoa all just five minutes away from you. You don’t have to spend any time together.”
Harry holds her hair up as she throws up her food once more, patting his wife’s back he looks at both of you, “C’mon guys, it’ll be good for you both – we all know that. There’s no point in lying to yourselves.”
“Okay, sure, but doesn’t Peter have a girlfriend he can take? What happened to that Mary Jane girl?” You query as Peter’s eyes meet yours, his jaw clenched.
“She broke up with me.”
“That is rough,” Your sarcastic tone wasn’t hidden. You didn’t feel sorry for the guy.
He lets out a dry chuckle, “What about you and Eddie Brock?”
Your gaze snaps, “Fuck you, Peter.” He knew that Eddie had cheated on you, everyone knew that Eddie cheated on you. That was before he skipped town to San Francisco, you hadn’t seen him since.
He chuckles, “You wish.”
You make a gagging noise, and it makes MJ throw up, you cover your mouth, “I’m so sorry,”
When she’s done, she just lets out a small laugh, before groaning again, “You two are going, end of discussion. You both need it… please.” She looks up at you with pleading eyes, “This is the least you could do.”
You and Peter exchange a glance, “…Fine.” You speak in chorus.
“When’s the flight leave?” Peter questions.
Harry looks at his phone and then the two of you, “Tomorrow at ten,”
“Great…” You mutter, turning and leaving the room.
*
Somehow you and Peter had come to an agreement that he’d pick you up from your apartment the next day and drive you both to the airport. You weren’t complaining though because it would mean you wouldn’t have to keep your car at the airport for extra cost. You were okay with that. What you weren’t okay with was having to share a room with Peter, a car, sit next to him on the plane. Spend a whole five days with him but you were trying to look on the bright side… you’d already spent eight years knowing him, what’s five more days?
You heard a knock on your door, slipping on your backpack and dragging your suitcase to the door, opening it, to find Peter standing there. It was cold in New York, of course it was, it was winter… You had no doubt it would be colder up in the mountains. You and Peter were both wearing coats, but he looked pristine; clean and his hair was styled to fit that, but you knew that his natural curls would come out later, they always had.
You and Peter were trying to make the best of a bad situation. What had occurred to you both, was that there really wasn’t a reason for competition on this trip. So ultimately, there wouldn’t really be any arguments… right? So, you were trying to be nice to Peter. But the two of you couldn’t even do that.
“Ready to go?” Peter asks.
“Stating the obvious?” You quirk an eyebrow, etching your head to your suitcase, “Let’s just leave. You drive like a grandma.”
“I do not drive like a grandma.” Peter says offended as he follows you into the elevator, pressing the button to the ground floor.
“Yes,” You let out a dry laugh, “You do… you’re slow and always so cautious.”
“That says more about you than it does about me.” Peter’s eyes meet yours with a smirk playing on his lips.
You shake your head as the elevator doors open. Dragging your bags to Peter’s car which is parked on the side of the road. He pops the trunk, and you slide your suitcase next to his and when you see it, you can’t help but laugh.
“You do not have a suitcase with spider-webs on it.”
“What about it?” Peter asks getting into his seat, starting the heat so that the car would be warm for the both of you – he didn’t hate you that much, and technically speaking, he would also be affected.
“You bought your own merch!” You say between laughs, snorting.
“Technically, it’s not. It’s just spider-webs.”
“Whatever, Insect.”
Peter rolls his eyes at the nickname, watching you as you settle into your seat, peeling off your jacket to reveal your navy Henley, which you had paired with a pair of jeans. He thought you looked pretty. Just like he had at the wedding. But he shook all thoughts out of his head. You were you and he wasn’t supposed like you… not anymore.
Peter peeled off his own coat. You watched as the familiar blue shirt appeared, “You still have that?” You questioned the spider.
He smiles hesitant, “Yeah, it was still good, still fits, so I didn’t wanna get rid of it, y’know?”
“…Oh. Yeah. I get that.” You say and face the window of the car as Peter starts to drive.
Peter watched you take pictures with MJ and Ned, he was going to approach but it wasn’t long before Ned walked away with Betty and Brad gave you a sweet smile, offering to take a picture of the two of you. Pigeons starting to fly on MJ’s arms. Harry laughed at his crush, but Peter just watched from afar.
You could only smile at Brad. You were possibly one of the nicest people Peter had known, but, you and Peter had this rival thing, and you weren’t so nice to him, so he had to bite back. He wanted to tell you that, he wanted to tell you that he had a crush on you. But that was impossible. He couldn’t do that. You’d think he was crazy.
The only people that knew about Peter’s crush on you was Aunt May Peter had opened up about his crush on you to her. She thought it was sweet but hated how you disliked her sweet boy.
Peter watched as Eddie walked up to you, MJ and Harry going over to a stand to get some gelato, Peter thought it was great he was trying to get closer to MJ. Flash and Ned arguing over something Peter couldn’t hear, Gwen and Betty snickering at the way Mr. Harrington dropped his camera into the ocean and yet his focus was all on you and Eddie. Eddie talking you up.
“What do you think of this photo? Should I post it?” You questioned the boy in the leather jacket.
He smiled, giving you a charming glance, “I think you look beautiful.”
You bite your lip, “Thanks, Eddie.”
Peter could feel something brewing in his stomach, gripping the present he had bought you in his hand – knowing it was no use to try and get closer to you. Try to tell you what he felt. You clearly liked Eddie and Eddie liked you. Peter would come nowhere close in comparison. Peter wasn’t the guy you liked – Peter was the guy you hated… and he knew that would never change.
Ned and Harry came up beside Peter, “What’cha doin’?” Ned questions.
Peter slides the gift box back into his pocket, “Nothing…” A glance back to you and then back at his friends, “… Just deciding if I want gelato or if I should take the MJ route and have a cup of espresso.”
You watched Peter and his friends walk up to the gelato stand. You were in a good mood, so you figured you’d join them. Talk to them. You were only trying to be nice. When you finally caught up, you noticed the flannel Peter was wearing looked very fit on him, snug. He filled it out well. At this point you had no idea he was Spider-Man. Maybe if you had, the muscles would make more sense… but that was later on in the trip, and you were only at the beginning.
“Shirt looks good, Parker.” You smiled, turning to the vendor, “Mango, please?”
Peter had decided then and there that he was never getting rid of that shirt… He also decided that Mango was now his favourite flavour of gelato.
The memory had stuck with you and Peter. You weren’t sure if he remembered it, but you definitely did. It was one of the nicer exchanges you and Peter have had over the many years you’d known each other. You don’t know why, but it was something you thought about often. Like, every time you saw him your mind would immediately think about that memory. It was strange… and the blue shirt, god, it brought it all back.
You didn’t know how you felt about Peter during the trip to Europe. You were talking to Eddie. You had feelings for Eddie. You had ended up with Eddie for the rest of high school, and two years into college before finding out he was cheating on you almost half the time you were together. It broke you… honestly, it did. You always wondered what could’ve been if you set your hatred aside and changed things on that trip, confessed to yourself that you had a slight crush on Peter.
The whole reason you had ended up with Peter on that bridge in Prague was because he wanted to talk and instead of telling you about his crush, or his need to stop the feud… he confessed he was Spider-Man, you asked him why he would tell you something like that. He told you everyone in your friend group knew from Gwen to Ned. You were slightly offended that everyone knew before you – You were the girl Peter disliked the most in the whole group. Part of you was hurt by that. Part of you understood.
You still thought about that night on the bridge, what would’ve happened if you had just listened to your gut and kissed Peter. But you didn’t feel that way about him anymore. You didn’t think so, anyway. Regardless, he definitely did not feel the same.
*
The car ride to the airport wasn’t as long as you had expected it to be. Peter played the radio the whole time and you could hear him laughing quietly at some of the segments, specifically, the one where people would call in and do the quizzes to win a cash prize. You wanted to suggest Peter call, since he was muttering all the right answers to the questions, but you could assume he’d already tried that before… and even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t listen to you anyway.
“We’re here.” Peter spoke as you pulled into the parking spot Peter would be paying for over the next five days.
“Stating the obvious once again.”
“Get out of the car, y/n.” He speaks deadpanned.
“Gladly.” You give a sweet smile, before dropping it and opening the door.
The two of you were only at the domestic airport, so there wasn’t really much to do. You had gone through baggage check, ID check, all of that and now the two of you were munching on McDonalds that you had offered to pay for. You played with the ring on the middle finger of your left hand. Peter was on his phone. He had finished his meal rather quickly. He looked up at you, he could sense you were staring at him. You didn’t know you were.
“What?” He questions you, putting his phone down flat on the table.
You snicker, taking a bite of your McChicken, “You just ate that really fast, like, super fast… have you ever considered entering a hotdog eating contest or something?” You sounded so stupid. But you didn't notice that until after you had spoken.
“One: no. Two: they’re a waste of food. There are people starving on the streets and then there are people who eat them just for other people’s entertainment.” Peter stole a fry from your box.
You pursed your bottom lip, “Huh,” You shrug, Peter goes for another fry, but you slap his hand away, “If you’re really that hungry, go grab yourself another meal.”
Peter rolls his eyes, “Fine, I’ll be back in a sec.”
“You won’t be missed.” You wave.
The next few moments were kind of a blur to you. It felt like you blacked out if you were being honest, because the moment you met eyes with Eddie from across the airport and the red headed girl standing next to him, he smiled. He had the audacity to smile at you. He wasn’t with the girl he had cheated on you with… Good to know that was over, but he was with a familiar face. Eddie and his girlfriend also had the audacity to walk over to you. Noticing what he was doing, you decided you were going to be the bigger person, smile, and be nice. Even though you had every right not to be, it was four years ago.
Once you had got a good look at the girl with him… your jaw almost dropped. He was now with Mary Jane Watson. You could not contain your shock, wide eyes as they approached you with a sight you never thought you would see.
“Ohmygod!” You smiled, “Hi, Eddie. Hi, Mary Jane.”
“Oh, it’s just MJ,” She corrects. You’d like to roll your eyes, for your MJ. But you know she would rather you didn’t.
“…Right.” You smile so hard your jaw hurts, “So what brings the two of you here?”
“Well, we’re headed to Vermont… Beautiful lodge there. We’re excited to go skiing and such.”
Your jaw almost dropped again, Vermont as in the same Vermont you were going to, “Which lodge?” You questioned, praying, it wasn’t the same one that you were going to.
“Stowe.” He smiles, Mary Jane’s hand gripping to his.
The awkwardly loud laugh that didn’t sound like a laugh at all just slipped out, and so did the next words that came out of your mouth, “Well, my fiancé and I are headed there too funnily enough.”
“Is he around?” Eddie asks his eyes scanning the area.
All in a short moment Peter comes back and you know exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, “Baby! You’re back!” You cheer.
Peter looks shocked for a moment, but when his eyes land on both Mary Jane and Eddie who both cannot contain their shock, whilst your back is turned to them, you quickly slip the cheap ring that you were toying with earlier onto your ring finger. It didn’t look like an engagement ring... Not at all. But if they asked, you’d just say the two of you were waiting to pick together. Peter met your eyes, and you give him a panicked look, and he immediately understood what was happening.
Peter’s arm slips around your waist, “Hi,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. You want to jump away from him, as if his touch was fire, but you had to suck it up.
“Hi.” You try to smile genuine, and you kinda do, feeling Peter’s warm eyes on you with a smile on his face was new, “I was just telling Eddie and Mary Jane here about how we’re going up to the lodge to celebrate our engagement! Turns our they’re going to the same place as us.”
You want to cry.
“Wow.” Peter says in shock, “It’s good to see you both,”
The look on both their faces does not disappoint. The last time they saw you and Peter, you were constantly at each other’s throats and now it appeared as though you were not. When the dynamic between you hadn’t changed at all.
What you also didn’t know was how long-ago Mary Jane and Peter had broken up. You could assume about a year and a half ago, maybe a year, but you weren’t so sure. All you knew is that you had to make this even more convincing.
“Well, we should catch up while we’re at the lodge…” Eddie speaks whilst him and Mary Jane exchange a look, clearly interested in the story of how you and Peter ‘ended up’ together.
“Sure will!” Peter speaks, poison in his voice.
The couple walks away and once out of earshot Peter shoots you a look, “What the fuck was that y/n.”
You bury your face in your hands, “I have no clue, Peter! I panicked! It’s not every day you see your ex and your ex together going to the same place as you.”
Peter sighs, “Yeah, I know… but now we have to pretend we’re dating each other.”
*
The plane was also unpleasant but who was surprised? It was an hour and a half squished next to Peter. You sighed as you got comfortable in your seat, you had the isle and Peter had the window, some random guy had the window – you felt bad for him because if he needed to go to the bathroom, he couldn’t just stick to the roof like Peter… but then again, it was an hour and a half… so, not that long.
There was only one way this trip could get worse, you cursed every god there was, you cursed every relative that came before you. You were petrified and when Peter saw who was in the aisle seat next to you, Peter grabbed your hand.
Mary Jane laughs, “Funny seeing you guys!” She takes her seat next to Eddie.
Eddie waves awkwardly, clearly not anymore impressed by this by you.
You turn back to Peter, your hand still gripping his. His veins were popping, due to the shortness of the flight there was nothing for you and Peter to do to avoid Eddie and Mary Jane in full. There was no TV so you couldn’t indulge in a movie and by the time the flight had begun to take off, you realised you had left your book in your bag above, unbothered to grab it.
You smiled at Peter, “So…”
“So…”
You and Peter had never actively sought out a conversation, every spit usually came naturally. The two of you probably would’ve already been throwing insults at each other if it wasn’t for Eddie and Mary Jane sitting in the seats next to you.
“The shirt is nice.” You commented. Slapping yourself for mentioning it again.
He chuckles noticing your regret, “We haven’t really talked in a while, have we?” Peter questions.
You take a step and move back in your seat, placing your head on Peter’s shoulder, your hands still connected. If Eddie and Mary Jane didn’t believe this, you were shocked, because for a second you did.
Peter freezes under the sudden contact, he was so close to you it kinda scared him. He felt the weight of your head get heavier as then he noticed your eyes then closed. You had fallen asleep. Peter took the next step and slipped his head over yours. Your hands still gripped together as you both napped for an hour and a half.
The plane landed and it jolted you and Peter awake, Eddie and Mary Jane were obnoxiously loud and when it came to picking up baggage. You could visibly roll your eyes – but you could feel theirs on you and you didn’t want to seem rude. First time in forever.
You and Peter find your rental car, getting through baggage claim quickly just fast enough to escape Eddie and Mary Jane. When you and Peter finally got in the car, you both let out a breath of relief. They hadn’t talked to the two of you, but they were impossible to ignore and avoid. It made your skin crawl.
“Fuck…That.” You speak aloud for the two of you.
“Yeah…” Peter lets out a large breath, seemingly, the two of you had been unaware of holding one.
Peter started to drive, “They were so fucking loud.”
You groan, “Tell me about it! How can two people make that much noise and kiss so much.”
He lets out a loud laugh, “They looked like animals, honestly.”
You chuckle, forgetting what the dynamic was before you. The two of you were actually like friends. It was nice and it was familiar, at the beginning, you and Peter were close. But that was before you let academics get the best of you both. It sucked. Peter was quickly made your rival – your enemy, and both of you being competitive helped nothing at all. It was draining for the both of you. On top of decathlon, on top of chemistry, bio and physics, on top of doing the same major at school, both of you with a minor in journalism. It sucked. Constantly putting yourself against him. Sometimes, you wonder if you could’ve just put it aside for a moment, maybe worked together, the two of you would actually be friends rather than frenemies???
The laughing died out for a short moment before Peter got serious, “Sucks that they have each other, though.”
You stare out the window, “Tell me about it…” You trail off, “When did Mary Jane break up with you?” It was a daring question and maybe you shouldn’t have asked, but it felt right to ask in the moment. It felt like something you should talk about.
Peter’s breath is pressed from his cheeks, “Year and a half ago,” You were right, “Nothing really happened though.” He shrugged.
It affected him more than he let off and you knew that. Peter wasn’t being subtle, but he wasn’t, and you weren’t going to press on it anymore. The two of you weren’t that close.
*
“HOLY FUCK THERE’S A HOTTUB!” You almost scream, probably way too excited, through the room, Peter runs out to meet you, his hand running over the edges of the machine.
“I will be taking full advantage of this.” Peter mutters under his breath as you watch him walk back into the room.
It was a pretty standard honeymoon room. There was a heart made of roses on the bed – something you thought only existed in the movies, flutes of champagne sprinkled around the room as if this was a totally normal occurrence and a tray with wine and pamphlets that showed a couple activities the two of you could do in the snowy mountains. There was a couch and a TV, and you were sure one of them would be sleeping on the couch… and that someone wouldn’t be you.
“I’m taking the bed,” Peter smiles as he jumps onto it, a large smile on his face.
Your face contorts in anger, “So chivalry is really dead.”
He laughs, “Don’t be so mad, you’re not a spider, you don’t fight crime every night and I’m sure the same kind of back pain you’re in, doesn’t even come close to mine.”
You hadn’t noticed it, but Peter got close to you, the two of you now staring each other down and Peter’s toying smirk on his face – something you didn’t miss, not at all. You could feel his breath on your face, and you couldn’t pull your eyes away.
You scoff, unable to come up with something to defend yourself, clearly flustered by what Peter had done, “Fine. I’ll take the couch tonight. But we have four nights here, Penis, so you best believe that I’ll be sleeping there tomorrow night.” You grab a pamphlet for a manicure and pedicure that took place on the second floor of the Lodge, “Now, if you don’t mind, I will be going to get pampered,”
“Won’t be missing you.”
“As if I will.”
Your mani-pedi went by way too quickly. Your toenails were now a soft pink colour, and your fingernails were now the same. You had settled for something natural. Deciding that you didn’t really want them to stick out. The Lodge was warm, so you were walking around in the salons robe that they had provided you with and a pair of slippers they had slipped on your feet to make sure that your toenails dry.
You bumped into Eddie and Mary Jane, it felt like the hundredth time today and you wanted to scream. It was five thirty in the afternoon, god forbid, if you could catch a break.
Mary Jane and Eddie smiled, wearing the same robe and slippers, but they had clearly just come from the massage portion of the lodge. You thought about getting one, but you were trying to drag all the free stuff over the five days.
“Funny seeing you here!” Mary Jane smiles, and you match her sweet. The ‘engagement’ ring around your finger, “I’ve been meaning to ask but can I see your ring?”
You could’ve let yourself fall into anger, who the fuck asks something like that? You only make your smile wider kill her with kindness, “Sure! It’s not my actual ring, we only did get engaged a few days ago and Peter wanted me to go with him to pick one… He’s a dream boy.”
Mary Jane’s smile slithered in and out of consciousness, “Are you sure we’re dating the same Peter?”
“Pretty sure,” You let your eyes circle her figure. Showing her the ‘ring’ Peter had proposed with, “Yeah, it’s one of my mom’s rings.”
Eddie’s gaze fall over it – it wasn’t a lie. It was your mom’s ring, just not her engagement ring, “Well that’s nice.” He says short, “We should have dinner tonight, catch up.”
You could tell that they were ‘catching on’ to your lie. It was hard lying to two people that had known you for a long time at some point in your life. Because they both knew details about you and Peter that you didn’t know about Peter or Peter didn’t know about you. You’d cursed yourself for calling this an engagement. But it was the first thing that came to your head, and you were honest, the moment you said it. The moment Peter looked at you, you knew that it was a fuck up on your part.
That’s why you knew the next words that came out of your mouth were your next fuck up, “We’d love to!” You turned on your heel before calling out to the pair, “We’ll eat at the restaurant downstairs.”
“Six-Thirty!” Mary Jane called.
“Can’t wait!”
You practically ran to the room, your slippers clacking onto the floor. When you made it into the elevator, the number of times you had clicked the button to your floor was a lot, but you knew it wouldn’t make the elevator go faster – not at all. But you were.
You slammed the door open to the room, sliding your key as quickly as you could. Fumbling at first, Peter jumped at how you burst into the room.
“Fuck!” Peter’s breath heaved.
You nodded carefully, “You are going to be… mad at me. Again.”
“What did you do, y/n?” Peter questioned. He was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of sweats, and for some reason, he was still wearing his web shooters… and it was hot. You pulled your gaze away from the sin but couldn’t stop thinking about it as you met his eyes.
“We have dinner with Mary Jane and Eddie in an hour.”
Peter gets mad, his fists rolling up, his knuckles turning white, “God, y/n, don’t you know how to shut the fuck up?” His voice is raised.
“GOD! I’m sorry! I panicked.”
“That’s all you do, panic! You can’t say no? You always have to be the best? You always have to just go and talk.”
“Shut up Peter.” You sigh, “All you ever do is complain about me! All you ever do is question me! All you ever do is talk shit about me. Well, I’m over it. I am over it. You’re coming to that dinner tonight.”
“And what if I don’t want to Y/n? What if I leave this place? There’s no use in being here with you, I’m not actually your fiancée. I’m not sure anyone would ever want to be.” Peter spoke. Venom falling from his tongue.
Tears welled up in your eyes, “Fuck you.” Your voice was barely over a whisper. You grabbed your makeup bag walking into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you.
Peter regretted yelling at you. He wasn’t going to lie. He wasn’t a heartless monster. The two of you were in this weird position, Peter didn’t know what was going on, let alone you. He couldn’t fault you for panicking. He didn’t know why he was so mad at you. You had looked so cute in your white robe and your slippers. Maybe he was a monster.
He sighed, knowing you’d spend most of your time in the bathroom, he got up and made his way to his luggage, putting on a nice dress shirt and a pants. He wanted to make you feel better. He needed to apologise.
You walked out of the bathroom, a pout on your face, your hair was done, and you wore makeup that complimented your skin. You looked beautiful and Peter regretted that he had made you upset. He regretted it so much.
You looked up at Peter, your gaze met with his, you smiled careful, nervous, taking in the fact that he had gotten ready for dinner with your ex’s, “You got dressed.”
“Yeah… I felt bad.”
“You felt bad?” You asked.
“…Yeah, I… felt bad?" He was now questioning himself.
The two of you didn’t say anything more as you grabbed a dress from your suitcase, it had long sleeves and it was plain back, had a short cut. You thought it was pretty… and so did Peter. You went to the bathroom and slipped it on, appearing outside, your zipper undone. Your arms too short to reach the back.
“Can you zip me?” You asked Peter as you came out of the bathroom.
“Y-yeah.” He muttered quickly walking over to you, his fingers running against the zipper, against your back as he pulled it up. You could hear his breath quicken. You could feel yours do the same.
Once the zipper was done, you had to cast a remark, Peter was being too nice, “Get off me, Penis.” Your voice cut and Peter only laughed.
The nickname hadn’t stung as much this time.
*
The two of you showed up to the restaurant, meeting Eddie and Mary Jane, hand in hand, you gripped his, “Hi!” The two groups smiled at once as you took a seat across from the couple.
After a few minutes of pouring wine and decided what you wanted to eat. Eddie and Mary Jane gave you sweet smiles.
“So,” Mary Jane took a sip of her wine, “How did the proposal happen?”
You looked over at Peter, expectant, he hadn’t said anything, so you took over, “Well it was very sweet, Peter was so romantic. There were rows of flowers and-”
“And obviously, they were your favourites, I had planned the whole thing out. Under the stars, on my knees waiting for her on the beach. I love her so much.” Peter spoke, his tone was earnest and honest. He was speaking from the truth, “I was so happy when she showed up, her favourite song played in the background, even if it is some alternative stuff, it was her. She walked in and she was like ‘Peter what’s this’ and I was like ‘I love you so much and I want to be yours forever’ and blah blah blah.”
You took a large swig of wine and so did Peter.
Eddie smiled, “Well I’m glad everything worked out for you too, you had this whole feud going on when we were in school together.”
“Kept it going whilst Peter and I were together.” Mary Jane added, “What happened? How did that change?”
You decided to take the lead on this one, squeezing Peter’s hand in confirmation, “Well, I really wanted it to be over. I was tired and I could tell Peter was too. So, we became friends and we started hanging out more. Genuinely enjoying each other’s company and I realised maybe all these feels I had been bottling up weren’t hate at all… So, I kissed him, and he kissed me back.”
Your words were truth? Mostly? You weren’t sure. Maybe you did like Peter. It didn’t take much for you to know that you actually hadn’t hated him. The feud was over, and you had no idea who had won. Maybe both parties.
“Y-Yeah… I actually liked her back in Europe.” Peter confessed, stupidly at that, “Had this whole plan to tell her and everything, but she liked you. So, I said something else.”
You quickly connected the dots… That night on the bridge Peter was going to tell you that he had a crush on you. Your mind was blown, your jaw could’ve dropped, and you wanted to cry – all of this could’ve been all over so long ago. You shook it off and actually started to enjoy dinner with Peter.
The two of you started to get along and it was not unwelcomed.
*
The next day, you woke up in the comfortable pillows of the couch – which was probably just as comfortable as the bed. Peter startled you as he came out of the bathroom.
“I think I’m going skiing today,” Peter announces.
You chuckle, remembering the night before, the way you looked at Peter had changed, “Okay,”
“Do you, maybe, wanna come with?”
“Depends, is this just your plan to push me off the mountain and let me fall to my death?”
“No.” Peter rolls his eyes, “I had a good time last night, and while we’re here I was thinking that maybe we could try and get along? There’s no point in arguing and we’re here for another four days.”
You nodded, quickly agreeing to his plan, “Okay.” You smiled softly.
You and Peter quickly got dressed, putting on ski pants and puffer jackets to keep you warm. You put on your snow boots and began to become warm. The only thing you were wearing underneath your jacket was your Henley, which was honestly, all you needed. You slipped a beanie onto your head, and you could feel the thick socks and gloves you wore heating up your feet and hands. You felt like an oven.
You also carried a pair of goggles. The two of you walked out of the lodge, “I don’t ski a lot, but I am quite good," You confess.
Peter smiles, “Good, I was kinda hoping we could go on the larger slope.”
“That’s all good with me!” You smile sweet. It was good, this dynamic with Peter. You knew it would most likely go down the drain once you got back to your normal life. The life where Peter was your enemy.
You and Peter sat on the ski lift as it pulled you halfway up, “The view is beautiful,” You mutter quietly, warm, and snug in your getup.
Peter looked out at the view, nodding in agreement, “You can say that again.”
You and Peter sat in silence for a moment before the loud bang and the swing of your cart scared you, grabbing onto his hand. Suddenly, the two of you were not moving. Suddenly, the two of you were now stuck who knows how far up into the air.
“Holy fuck,” You groaned after about a half hour of somewhat awkward silence, “I can’t believe we got stuck.”
“I’m sure we’ll be back down soon enough,” Peter tries to comfort you.
You roll your eyes, “You know something that annoys me about you?”
“Shoot, you’re gonna say it anyway.”
“That you’ve got this false positivity. Nobody’s that positive, Penis.” You sigh, “It’s like you put all your shit on me, right?”
Peter’s silent for a short moment, “What can I say, you bring out the worst in me… we’re supposed to be getting along.”
“Maybe that’s just not in the books for people like us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not.”
“But you are!” Peter sighs, “We’ve been doing this for so long, it’s like a second nature to us and fine! Maybe, I do have false positivity, because I have to, y/n.” His voice drops, “Do you know the kind of toll being Spider-Man has on you?”
You laugh, “Using your Spider-Man card? Really, Peter? That’s low.”
“It’s true, y/n.” He shifts in his seat, “Every day, I see people die and I try to save as many people as I can, but sometimes that doesn’t work. So, I try to be positive, keep my spirits up, because I know if I stop, I’ll stop pulling my punches.”
You felt bad for a moment, going to speak but Peter had interrupted you.
“Arguing with you… as stupid as this sounds, fuck, it gives me an outlet. You are my outlet from all the shitty things in the world.” Peter’s eyes go soft and so do yours.
You honestly wanted to cry, “I’m your safe space?”
He huffs, “Don’t make this weird.”
“I’m not making this weird!” You laugh.
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not!” You laugh again, Peter deadpanning you, “It’s not stupid, Peter,” you say biting your lip, trying fighting a smile.
Peter thinks this is the cutest thing in the world, but he’s trying to act somewhat mad at you even if it’s not working. You know he’s not. Your faces have now drifted dangerously close to each other. Your smile faded as you felt Peters breath on yours, the world around you stopped. The wind wasn’t blowing, you could feel yourself lean in closer. Your heart pounding in your ears. You had no idea what was happening, and it didn't feel wrong... that’s why you kept moving closer.
Peter’s heart was thumping vigorously in his chest, feeling nothing but his heartbeat, the feeling of your eyes on his lips. He had no idea who had moved in first. Maybe it was both of you. Maybe it was him. Maybe it was you. But you were close. Close to him.
Your lips finally tangled together. Your gloves held his face as you could feel the soft of him, they were cold at first, but heat took over, Peters arm around your shoulder. The both of you lost in the moment, heads titled at the just the right angle as if they were made to fit each other. Your teeth nipped at his lower lip, his tongue sliding into your mouth, was slow, and warm. Taking a second to breathe, your lips still touching, barely apart, taking a second to breathe, just as you were about to lean in once more, the conveyor belt started to move again, starling both you and Peter away from each other, both of your lips slightly swollen.
Finally, up the top of the hill, letting go and sliding down the mountain. The kiss not being mentioned again the rest of the afternoon.
*
There was awkwardness.
That was the only way to describe it.
You and Peter tried to talk but every conversation was short lived. Your minds only on the one thing that had happened earlier.
Once you finally got back to the room, you decided you needed a moment to yourself. Slipping on your bathing suit, grabbing a towel and a bottle of wine – that you honestly, probably wouldn’t even touch, not because you didn’t want to, but because you had no idea what would happen if you weren’t sober.
The cool air hit you, chilling your spine, almost regretting coming out here, sliding into the water made it all worth it. You let out a small moan as you sunk deeper into the warm water, you weren’t sure whether or not you should turn the bubbles on, so you left the tub the way it was.
Your short-lived peace was soon interrupted by the one person who had caused the storm, the door to the outside open, Peter meeting your gaze.
“Shit, I didn’t realise you’d be out here.”
You smiled softly, “It’s okay… you can stay, if you want.”
Peter nodded. Your eyes gracing his skin, he was toned and the muscle in his arms shifted and flexed as he pulled into the warm tub, his moan of delight a sound that made you bite your lip and the way his collarbones appeared above the water made your heart pound, they were sharp, just like his jaw.
“Let’s play a game,”
“What kind of game?”
You shrugged, “I would suggest truth or dare, but I don’t really wanna leave the tub.”
Peter lets out a dry chuckle, “Then just pick truth.”
You quirked an eyebrow, “And what about you, Spider-Man?”
“I’ll probably be doing the same.”
Your breath hitched against air, matching the steam rose from the tub, “…So we just play for truth.”
“I’m good with that.” Peter’s voice was hoarse, deep.
“Okay.” You say, “I’ll go first… That stuff you said at dinner, about me, was it true?”
Peter nods slowly, “It was… I liked you. But when we got to that bridge, I panicked, you clearly liked Eddie and I was planning on telling you about my whole situation anyway afterI told you I liked you… I just- I just skipped a step.”
You frowned, “Pete…I liked you. On that trip to Europe. I liked you.”
Peter’s eyes widened, “You did?”
You nodded, “I- I was battling with whether or not I liked you, or Eddie. If you would’ve told me…”
“At least you know now.”
“Yeah…”
Peter clears his throat and clears the air, “My turn.” He smirks, something that you have missed, “The kiss. What did it mean?”
You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. But the question remained in the air. What did it mean?
You were so focused on hating Peter you never really looked at it. How Peter made your stomach flutter once upon a time and although you were much older than you were when he had liked you, he still made your stomach do summersaults when he’d wink at you after a mean remark, trying to look smug, trying to impress whoever was watching. How at the wedding you had felt his gaze all over your body in your dress but decided to ignore it because you loved the way it felt and how turned on you were. How you wanted to grab him by his stupid blue shirt and plant your lips on his. How you wanted to feel every inch of the boy sitting across from you and you were way too blind to even bat an eye at how you felt because you were too busy coming up with expressions that would make him say ‘fuck you’ instead of ‘fuck me’.
You knew exactly what it meant.
The water closed in on your skin, drops of it shined under the soft light of the tub. Peter watched as you pushed yourself up to move closer to him. His gaze felt like it had at the wedding, admiring the way your boobs hung off your chest. You didn’t mind, not one bit. How when you got so close to him, his eyes moved from your lips to your own.
“Everything.”
And just like that your lips were pressed onto his again, it was heated, you felt hotter than you should as you were now seated on Peter’s lap, feeling his hands run all over your body, even if they were accompanied by the hot of the water, you could feel how they imprinted onto your skin. You and Peter pulled apart for a moment, foreheads touching, breath on breath.
“I want you.” Peter admitted, his hands running up your body to cup your face.
“‘M all yours,” You murmured.
“Then let’s take this inside?”
You nodded, excited, nervous? You weren’t sure.
You removed yourself from Peter’s lap, exiting the hot tub, feeling the cool air hit your skin once more, your nipples perking from the cold. Something you were sure Peter would love. You chuckled at the thought.
Peter’s hands slide up your wet body, undoing the string to your bikini, pulling you close against his bare chest, his hands running up to squeeze your tits as your face falls into the crane of his neck, kissing his neck. Peter’s head falls back as he moans. You feel Peter’s hands run down the rest of your body, feeling his desire in his touch.
When you and Peter turn to face each other, your lips in contact, moving in sync as all you can do is feel the overwhelming sense of his body and touch, longing for the moments that his hands sit on your body to last forever. You moan against the kiss as the two of you fall on to the bed. You feel Peter’s body weight over you, and his board-shorts are in the way of what you really want. The weight of Peter on you just makes everything feel like a thousand. You can’t imagine what sex must feel like for Peter, probably better than what it feels for you, everything feels turned up for you, but everything is constantly turned up for him.
Peter’s arms were strong as they held you in place, and you felt your stomach burn with fire, you shook your head at what you were thinking but you know that just about now, Peter would do anything for you.
“Peter,” You stopped him nipping at you, your words some kind of disturbance in the fire, “Do you have that web dissolver stuff?”
Peter’s smirk was something honest, something that was different from every other time he had smirked at you. From every time this kind of smile meant something rude or mean and unwanted. It was knowing. It was wanting.
“I do…” Peter brushed your lips together, his breath full on your face, smelling like peppermint.
“Web me up, Peter.”
Peter’s gaze became darkened as his pupils dilatated, and he pressed his lips onto yours to seal the deal. You were excited and nervous. You always wonder how it must feel to be tied to a bed, but rather then… this was with Peter. Someone who had webs. Someone who was stronger than most men on earth. You were still lying down but your hands touched the bedhead, Peter discarded his boardshorts, they landed in a wet squelch on top of your bathing suit in the other room. Peter was now standing there naked, wearing his web shooters on his wrists and you thought it was one of the hottest things you had ever seen. Peter in the suit was wow… but the Peter out of it? God, you were so happy you had him all to yourself tonight, that he had you.
Peter’s webs quickly connecting with your wrists a force that made you a little scared, but Peter sensed how you were feeling and quickly came over placing his lips to yours, “You’re alright,” He coos softly, and you feel yourself flush.
You lean forward to press your lips to his, but Peter quickly moves back, “You’re not in control anymore, y/n.” His breath is hungry on your ear.
His kisses start moving down your body as he probably places hickeys everywhere he can probably think of. His lips end up between your tits and for a moment you think he’s going to mark his territory on your right boob, his breath hovering overing the nipple. But you squirm as he moves lower down your body, feeling an itch in your spine.
Peter’s mouth doesn’t press kisses anymore, his breath just hovers until he gets to your pussy, hot all over it. You feel yourself so wet, and Peter knows it too, he can smell it. He could smell your arousal all the way back in the hot tub.
Peter’s finger grazes the lips, he slides a finger near your clit, rubbing in soft, slow circles and you let out a soft moan, it was quiet and careful. It came out kinda broken, but all the same, you were giving into him. You hated that you couldn’t run your hands through his hair, but that made his touch all the more intoxicating. It only made you want him more than you ever had before.
Peter’s thumb continued to circle your clit, slowly, but surely, he begins moving his finger faster around your nub. You let out a small whimper of pleasure. Peter moves his finger away replacing it with his tongue, lapping at your pussy, tasting how wet you are, running miles around your clit as you moan sweet. Peter almost cums because of how you taste, because of how you moan. But he refrains himself from doing so. Peter’s tongue feels so good around your clit, flicking his tongue so perfectly, knowing how to make you feel good about yourself. Your back moves up slightly but not quite… that is until a finger gently slips into you, your clit pulsing as you feel Peter move his finger in and out of you pressing onto your g-spot. Your moans filling the air as Peter inhales a sharp breath because of how beautiful they sound to him, and they would make him blush if he didn’t breathe. They would make him smile. His fingers move faster as they pleasure every inch of your body, your back arching and your spine shivering because you can’t touch him. You want to touch him. You want to run your fingernails down his back, you want to run your fingers through his hair and push his tongue harder onto your clit, let him press against your body so heavily, so needily. Let him fuck the shit out of you so hard that you forget your own name. That you can’t walk the next day.
Your moans become louder as Peter fills you up, every inch of you with his large and rough hands. Putting his strength to good use. You can tell he’s holding back on his strength for the better of you. Scared of hurting you. Scared of making you hate him again. Because although this was desire, although this was the two of you lost in something you didn’t know much about. This relationship unclarified, this relationship rocky. There is a part of you that both understands that there’s this spark in both of you, this connection, this feeling and it makes you want to scream his name and only his name. You needed all of him.
You needed Peter to fuck you, and there was only one way you could possibly get that from him, get him to fill you with his cock and everything that came with it. You wanted him to cum inside you. You didn’t care right now. Your head so lost in something you’ve never known before. You’d obviously had sex before, but nobody had ever made you this hungry, nobody ever made you had a need for their touch. Nobody ever made you feel this good.
You tried to force down your next moan in order to speak, but it was no use, you were completely and utterly underneath Peters stupid spell… after a moment you gathered some composure?
“Peter.” You spoke again, breaking up what he was doing, he came up to meet your gaze, “I wanna feel you… all of you.” You said smiling somewhat bashfully, sweet, and shy.
Peter’s lips hovered over yours again, and you were only more turned on but also hating the fact that you couldn’t touch him. That you couldn’t leave marks on the back of his skin, that even though Peter had given you so many hickeys that you’d probably look like you had chicken pox the next day. You hated that you couldn’t mark yourterritory, much like Peter had marked his.
“…and unweb me.” You chuckled lightly.
Peter smiled softly, so close to your face that you feel his chuckle graze your lips, “One sec.”
Peter left the room for a moment and as you sat there webbed up you could feel yourself start to get nervous – what if you weren’t good enough? What if you didn’t feel good enough? Doubts started to flood your mind, but as Peter came back with a vile of web dissolver… the way he looked at you made you relax. Know that you were enough. Know that everything was okay. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Like you were all he wanted. Everything he wanted to devour and eat. Everything he needed. You were like his drug, and you could see it in his eyes. The way his pupils dilate and the way he licks his lips when he sees you webbed up for him on the bed.
He lets out a dry chuckle, “You sure you want me to unweb you?” He jokes, moving closer to you, a kiss nipping at your neck.
You moan softly as he presses a kiss to this one spot on your neck, one that makes you get goosebumps all over, “I need to feel you, Peter.” You say serious.
He nods running the serum over your hands as the webs immediately dissolve, it takes a moment but then the dissolver is gone, and it feels as if it was never there in the first place.
You run your hands over Peter’s chest, finally feeling his biceps, his abs. The way they were so defined. So created by everything that made him, him. You wanted to lick them. You wanted to devour and leave hickeys on every ab that sat so perfectly on his chest. But you also needed his cock in you. Your body feeling the ache of his hands away and the way your stomach felt like pits of fire as his hands ran all over you.
“How bad do you need me?” He questions you, another kiss to that one spot on your neck.
“Bad, Peter.” You gulped carefully, “I wanna ride you and I never want to stop.”
Peter could only smile, “Fuck… you are perfect.” He groans, lying down on the bed. His cock hard, wanting you and your touch and only yours. He needed you and you needed him. You positioned yourself carefully over his dick, as you feel it enter your pulsing hole that ached for any part of Peter you could possibly get.
You let out a loud moan that shook the room as you placed your hands onto both Peter’s thighs, your fingernails digging into them as he also let out a moan. You moved carefully at first, feeling his cock on your g-spot was like a dream for both of you. Long gone in the feeling of desire as he watched your tits bounce on your chest as you try to move around his cock. Your hips grinding over every part of his lower abdomen. His cock fills you. It’s large and long and god, the way Peter holds onto you as you grind, makes you want to cum. Makes you want him to cum all up inside of you. Feeling every last bit of Peter.
Peter watches you intently, loving the sight of you riding his cock. But you’re getting tired, and Peter can sense it. Quickly, he flips you over and places his lips onto yours as you lean into it. Feeling grateful, that Peter, was once again, taking over. You could hear the crunch of the bedhead as Peter held onto it, grunting as he moved in and out of you. His strength holding him up, making his biceps pop out of his arms and his veins pump. He felt strong and so did you as you took every inch of Peter. You took him hard as he pound in your wet pussy. Your nails dug into his back, scratching him as the two of you move. Leaving red streaks all over his back. Needing more.
The only sounds that fill the room were the two of you moaning, the way the bed move underneath you and the way he hit your g-spot. The way you were everything he needed. The way he was all yours. The way you were all his. It made you both lost. The sound of your moans both getting louder and louder. Needier and needier. Kisses becoming sloppy and hungry and all the two of you knew how to do. The only thing that felt right in that moment.
It felt animalistic, it felt hot. You felt so strongly of desire and Peter was only all the more turned on by the smell of how wet you were, the smell of your pussy. How it filled his nose and every breath he took. Only focusing on you. Only focusing on how perfectly your tits bounce as he move your body. Your body felt like it was made of liquid, moving so flawless, so effortlessly. Both of you unable to differentiate where everything started and where it would end, because both of you were only tangled up in each other’s limbs, you felt nothing but Peter. His skin underneath the nails. His desire filling your mouth as your tongues tangle themselves in each other just like your bodies.
You couldn’t feel yourself, you felt hungry, you felt needed. You weren’t in any state of mind to do anything but this. Peter’s cock felt like it was burning your pussy. The way he gripped the headboard said it all. The way he wasn’t letting himself go and this was only not even a quarter of how good he could make you feel. He was a force of nature.
You could feel yourself in a desperate need to cum. Desperate for Peter to cum inside you and both of you were getting closer to the edge and you both knew it. You could feel the burning pit of familiar fire burning in your stomach. Although this was not desire, this was a burning pit of a knot that needs you to feel some sort of release. That needs you to let go of everything that has built up inside of you.
“Peter, I’m gonna cum.”
It almost never happened. A rare occurrence. Something so slim that both of you would have to work toward separately, “Me too.”
“Please cum inside me, Peter,” You moaned wanting him all.
The two of you were reaching your point at the same time. Something so unrealistic – much like this pair of people sleeping together was happening. You could feel Peter’s cock twitch in your hole, still pumping you out as you grappled onto Peter’s back for dear life, feeling the pleasure and release all through you, all over Peter’s cock. You could feel him twitch in you once more, a signal that he had just cum all inside you. Your grunts and moans calmed down as Peter slowed down, pumping you still, riding each of you off of the high. Your juices mixed together. Feeling nothing but each other.
Peter’s body falls beside yours as the two of you try and heave breaths that sit in your throat.
“Holy shit.” You murmur against the thick air that quickly disperses. Leaving you and Peter in nothing but silence.
You turn to him, “I don’t want this to be like a one-time thing, Peter… It meant something.”
“I know, that’s why, we’re gonna get you cleaned up and tomorrow, I’m going to spend the day with you.” Peter kisses your collarbone, “…and then take you out for dinner. A proper date. Something that we never got to do. A relationship that we never got to have.”
You smile pressing a peck to Peter’s soft lips. Both of your lips swollen and your clit still pulsing from the aftershock of everything that had just happened between the two of you.
“I’d like that.”
--
hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you'd like to request something from me click HERE <3
if you were reading for andrew or tobey today, i only write for tom, sorry guys <33 !! if you'd like to request a NEUTRAL Peter fic i'd be happy to do that :)
authors note: requested by anon! hope you enjoy bestie.
A = Aftercare (What They’re Like After Sex)
Steven loves to take care of you, although, you take care of him most of the time, Steven feels like this is something he can do. Clean you up, rub your feet, a massage. He loves cooking for you and brushing your hair after the two of you have sex.
B = Body Part (Their Body Of Theirs and Their Partner’s that they like)
Steven loves his fingers. It's kinda weird, he thinks, that that's the body part he loves the most. But he loves remembering how you curl around his slender and long fingers. It's not that he loves them but he loves the memory of you.
He loves your thighs. He loves how they're his pillows. He loves resting his head on your thighs after a long day at the museum or coming home after a long mission. He loves being crushed by them too, especially, whilst eating you out. He loves it.
C = Cum (Anything to Do with Cum; basically, I’m Nasty)
Steven Grant loves it when you cum on his face, and he also loves it when he comes on your thighs. He loves your thighs, he'll never shut up about it. He loves it when you ride his thighs. He's just a thigh man. spreading his cum all over your thighs after he pulls out is something he quite enjoys seeing.
And as for cumming on his face, he loves the taste of you.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty Self Explanatory, A Dirty Secret of Theirs)
He loves getting pegged. The two of you have only done it once or twice and he'd be too embarrassed to tell you, but he loves getting pegged by you.
E = Experience (How Experience are They? Do They Know What They’re Doing?)
Steven isn't as experienced as Marc is. He's only had a few girlfriends and you're his longest girlfriend. You're definitely more experienced than he is and sure, sometimes he doesn't know what he's doing but you help him learn.
F = Favourite Positions (This Goes Without Saying)
Steven loves cowgirl. It's intimate and it lets the two of you be close to each other. He loves holding you and keeping you close. He loves being able to kiss your neck and nip at your ear whilst the two of you fuck. It's sweet and soft.
G = Goofy (Are They More Serious In The Moment? Are They Humorous? Etc.)
You and Steven can barely keep it together sometimes. Sex with Steven is something that gives you a straight shot of serotonin. Sometimes he'll make a sarcastic remark and make you laugh and sometimes his clumsiness takes over and the two of you end up rolling off the bed (but that usually leads to sex on the floor).
H = Hair (How Well Groomed Are They? Does The Carpet Match The Drapes? Etc.)
Steven doesn't really care, if we're being honest. Grooming isn't much of his concern. You don't care. He doesn't care. He's got much more on his mind than shaving.
I = Intimacy (How Are They During the Moment? The Romantic Aspect)
Steven is such a romantic. When he gets the chance he'll light candles and cook you something before hand. If it's spur of the moment he calls you "Honey" or "Sweetheart". As I mentioned earlier, he holds you close and loves to just have you near. He loves holding you.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)
He does it a lot. He can't help it. Your job takes up a lot of his time and when he's away from you he always misses you. He also misses your body and the thought of you. So he gets off. Usually to a picture of you or he'll send you a message and although you're at work... you'll take the time to text him back, or sneak into the bathroom to take a picture of something he can get off to.
K = Kink (One or More of Their Kinks)
Steven has a huge praise kink. His lack of experience doesn't help and it makes him insecure. But Steven needs to know he's doing a good job and that's exactly what you give him. You give him the praise and reassurance he needs. You don't even mean to do it sometimes.
L = Location (Favorite Places to Do the Deed)
He likes his bedroom. He likes the safety and the intimacy that it can bring. I don't think he'd ever really try to do it in public. Maybe with some convincing on your part, but he likes the plush of the mattress and just being able to be intimate with you and take your time with him.
M = Motivation (What Gets them Turn on, What Gets Them Going)
He loves it when you hold his waist or his hand. When you leave soft kisses on his neck. Or when you play with his hair as the two of you sit on the couch and watch tv... Steven just loves you and he could honestly get turned on by anything you do.
N = No (Something They Wouldn’t do, Turn Offs)
ageplay. NO WAY. or Pet stuff. Steven doesn't like that. It's just something he'd never do. He doesn't really have a reason for it, other than it'd make him uncomfortable.
O = Oral (Preferences in Giving and Receiving, Skill, Etc.)
i will literally preach this for all of oscar isaac's characters BUT OH MY GOD DOES HE LOVE GIVING IT TO YOU. ALL OF OSCAR ISAACS CHARACTERS LOVE TO EAT PUSSY. that is a hill i will die on, i swear.
But yes, Steven Grant loves to eat your pussy and hear you praise him as you run your fingers through his hair.
P = Pace (Are They Fast and Rough? Slow and Sensual? Etc.)
Steven is slowwww and sensual. I keep repeating it but he loves to hold you and he's slow with it. He loves to hold you close.
Q = Quickies (Their Opinion on Quickie, How Often, Etc.)
Steven could do it, but he doesn't like to. It's usually more pleasurable for you than it is for him. He loves having time with you.
S = Stamina (How Many Rounds Can They Go For? How Long Do They Last?)
Steven cums fast, but can go for ages. He can cum again and again and again until there's no more cum left in his cock. But he's getting better with his stamina.
T = Toys (Do They Own Any Toys? Do They Use Them? On A Partner or Themselves?)
The two of you own one strap-on and that's what you used to peg him that one time. The two of you don't use it. But, he wants to.
U = Unfair (How Much Do They Like To Tease?)
It's usually you doing the teasing. But Steven likes those sarcastic comments. They usually make you laugh, but when you're doming him it's kinda hard to when you just want to fuck him and he's making it hard.
V = Volume (How Loud They Are, What Sounds They Make. Etc.)
STEVEN IS LOUUUDDDDD he loves moaning against you and loves to grunt and he's very vocal.
"FUCK YES!" "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE" are some of his most common sentances.
W = Wild Card (A Random Headcanon For The Character)
cockwarming. he loves cockwarming. when the two of you are too tired, the two of you love to do it.
X = X-ray (Let’s See What’s Going Under Those Clothes)
HE'S HUNG GUYS! steven doesn't really give off those BDE vibes traditionally because he's so timid and small in his own confidence and in himself. but you've taught him how to own it.
Y = Yearning (How High Is There Sex Drive?)
Steven doesn't get too horny too often, but when he does it's always worth it. the two of you are more of a cuddle couple than one that loves to fuck.
Z = Zzz (How Quickly They Fall Asleep Afterwards)
He falls asleep quite quickly, if it's not the afternoon and he can't seem to just take care of you, you don't mind. he doesn't get much sleep and you just want him to get some rest.
hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you’d like to request something from me / if you’d like to be added to my taglist!!
REQUEST HERE | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3
summary: Marc is hunting you down... and yet when it comes time to kill you. He doesn't want to.
pairing: marc spector x tomb raider!fem!reader
warnings: slight angst and fluff.
word count: 1.6k
Grunting, your fingers hold onto the ice-picks as you pull your body up. Your grunt is not missed, and your body is starting to hurt, but the adrenaline is the only thing keeping you going in the tough of the warm cave. You’re sweating and you can’t seem to help it. You’re so close to that artifact and your walkie-talkie isn’t connected... you’re too far below ground. You’ve got people on you too. People that are after you. In particular, you’ve got Marc Spector after you – one of the most notorious assassins and mercenaries out there. You finally get to the top, flopping on your back, coughing up the dirt of the cave.
Your tank top is dirtied brown and your cargo pants too. You’ve got a gash in your side that cuts through your tank tops. Because two would protect you, you thought. Your boots are soaked with water and your hair is wet. You’ve been through hell, and you just needed a minute to lay down. You’re still alert; hand on gun. Pickaxe still in hand. You’re not letting go of your weapons. No way.
You sit up and you meet eyes with him. The man who is here to kill you. Will he succeed? You’re not totally sure. He would’ve killed you by now if he wanted to. You take your gun out of its holster and run forward, your fist tries to connect with his face, but he dodges and then your gun tries to hit his head and he dodges again. He tries the same, but you end up dodging it too.
You’re panting – your stamina is letting up for a short moment. Before you build it back, and you’re a little too late as he grabs your waist and tackle him to the ground, “Shit.” You mutter, he’s pinned you down and you look into his eyes, “Just do your job, please.”
“That willing to give up?” Marc questions, “Put your gun down.”
“No! Why would I do that?”
“Put your gun down.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”
“So, would I. Now, put your gun down.”
You give in and let go of your gun, your pickaxe lays on the other side of the room. You let go of your breath, “Look, I’m just trying to get this artifact... I don’t know why so many people want me dead. So just do us all a favour.” You say softly.
Marc can see it in your eyes, how you’re so tired of this. How you’re so over being chased. He looks down at your side and sees the gash that sits in your side, Marc stands pulling you up with him, “Sit down.” He says quietly and you do as he says. You don’t know why you’re not fighting back. You don’t know why you don’t go straight for your gun and shoot him anyway.
Maybe he has a sixth sense. Maybe he’ll know. Maybe you... maybe you won’t die?
He pulls some medical stuff out of a pocket in his cargo pants, “I thought you were here to kill me?” You speak softly as he pulls up your shirt, making you groan.
He shakes his head, “Not today.” He says quiet, “Not today...”
“Why not?” You question through gritted teeth as he wraps you in bandage.
“Don’t feel like it.” He simply states.
You scoff, “Isn’t there a big bounty on my head you can earn?”
He sighs, “Yeah, but I’m not desperate.” He shrugs, finishing the wrap around your waist.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I feel like it.”
“I’m not going to make myself easy to find.”
“You weren’t in the first place.”
“So why not just kill me now?”
“Do you want to die?” He raises his voice.
You shake your head, “No... I don’t... but it’s better than constantly running, is it not?” you question him, “It’s better than running from all these people and it’s my mistake because I was the one who accidently let out that I’d be looking for the Ushabti.”
He shakes his head, “They were keeping tabs on you long before that, they knew you would look for it... we just – they just didn’t know where.”
He hands you some water, “It’s not poisonous?” You question softly, you didn’t want to die. Not to something stupid like this.
He chuckles, “Do you see any other source of water?”
You shake your head, “Promise?”
“Promise.” He takes it from you and takes a sip himself to prove it. You take the bottle back and take a deep sip, “I don’t want to kill you.”
You look up at him, “Not because you just don’t feel like it?”
He shakes his head, “No... no... you’re too pretty. To kill.”
You scoff, “So if I was ugly, you would’ve killed me?”
He laughs shaking his head – you like his laugh, “No. I wouldn’t’ve... I only kill people who do the wrong things, and you haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Ah, so you think you’re above your morals of killing people?” You question him.
“Don’t act like you didn’t take lives getting to where you are right now. Don’t act like you haven’t killed thousands of men. You are feared.” He speaks angrily, and he’s right.
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
“And what do you think I’m doing? If I don’t kill you. I die. That’s the deal I made.” He sighs, “They convinced me you were terrible.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
“Neither are you.”
“I am.”
You look up at him, “No. You’re not... you’ve had chance after chance to kill me. I could be a terrible person for all you know and maybe they’re right. But you’re letting me go. You’re letting me live.”
Marc looks deeply into your eyes and your stomach does a backflip. Maybe you’re hazy from the injury that sits in your side. Maybe you’re just smitten because he saved you or because he called you pretty. Not many people who are sent to kill you would just do that. But you sense that he’s different. That’s he’s got a rational side to him. There’s a scarf around his neck, but he is not dirty, and he is not wet. Not like you. He is not covered in dirt and sweat. He simply stands there clean. Probably taking the known course to this hell of a cave you’ve found yourself in. He stares into your eyes, and you can feel tears well up in his eyes. He knows what you’re feeling right now. That sense of relief.
As you look over his face and his perfect hair, you see a beautiful man. You see a man who is taken by his trauma. A man who is not his past mistakes and a man who just wants to be loved. You feel sorry for him. You feel sorry for everything that is him and you want to hold him. You want to put your hand on his face and tell him that everything will be okay.
... but he is supposed to be the enemy. You can’t do that. You cannot do any of that, simply because he was sent after you to commit crime and you are working for yourself. Committed to finding the Ushabti of the Egyptian God Ammit. So that you can destroy it. Let nobody else near her power.
“What do you want, Marc?” You ask him, “Why do you work for these people? Do you want Ammit to rule over everything and everyone? Do you want her to take everyone under her control. Judge everyone and determine their lives by the things they might do in the future? A future that is not set in stone. All I want is to destroy the Ushabti. All I want is to protect people.”
“I work for them because I owe them debts. I work for them. I work to kill because of the things that I have done in the past. Because of the things that bind me to them. I don’t want that either. But I have to fight for it because my life is on the line.”
“Or you could help me.” You say simply. Pressing your hand to his face like you had desired to do, “You could help me, and you can fight against them. Against the people that want to kill. You don’t have to be that person, Marc.”
He wants to flinch away from your hand, but it’s warm – there’s a connection that’s built between the two of you in these past few beats of a moment, in this past half of an hour. He can’t seem to pull himself out of your grasp.
Somehow, you can convince him that he is not terrible, and he’s only talked to you briefly, somehow... he feels like he can fight against them because of your words, because your words bring him comfort... more than anyone has in the longest in his life.
Carefully, he places his hand amongst yours, needing into its warmth. Even though there is dirt and blisters on your hand, he does not care. He just wants to feel your touch.
“If I help you... we would have to keep running, you’re tired of that.”
You chuckle, “Just because I’m tired of it, doesn’t mean it will stop.”
He nods, “Why do you want my help? You can ask anyone.”
“You spared my life. You are a renowned assassin and mercenary... and yet, I want your help not because of your skill... but because we want the same things.”
Marc feels needed by you. By the girl who raids tombs and caves. By the girl who is an archaeologist. By the girl who he knows so much about because they forced him to learn. Yet, she is not her past. He knows that and so do you. You are not the victims of the people you take the lives of – and neither is he. The two of you are similar.
The two of you are one in the same.
“Okay...” Marc says softly, “I’ll help you.”
hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you’d like to request something from me / if you’d like to be added to my taglist!!
REQUEST HERE | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3
summary: Marc is hunting you down... and yet when it comes time to kill you. He doesn't want to.
pairing: marc spector x tomb raider!fem!reader
warnings: slight angst and fluff.
word count: 1.6k
Grunting, your fingers hold onto the ice-picks as you pull your body up. Your grunt is not missed, and your body is starting to hurt, but the adrenaline is the only thing keeping you going in the tough of the warm cave. You’re sweating and you can’t seem to help it. You’re so close to that artifact and your walkie-talkie isn’t connected... you’re too far below ground. You’ve got people on you too. People that are after you. In particular, you’ve got Marc Spector after you – one of the most notorious assassins and mercenaries out there. You finally get to the top, flopping on your back, coughing up the dirt of the cave.
Your tank top is dirtied brown and your cargo pants too. You’ve got a gash in your side that cuts through your tank tops. Because two would protect you, you thought. Your boots are soaked with water and your hair is wet. You’ve been through hell, and you just needed a minute to lay down. You’re still alert; hand on gun. Pickaxe still in hand. You’re not letting go of your weapons. No way.
You sit up and you meet eyes with him. The man who is here to kill you. Will he succeed? You’re not totally sure. He would’ve killed you by now if he wanted to. You take your gun out of its holster and run forward, your fist tries to connect with his face, but he dodges and then your gun tries to hit his head and he dodges again. He tries the same, but you end up dodging it too.
You’re panting – your stamina is letting up for a short moment. Before you build it back, and you’re a little too late as he grabs your waist and tackle him to the ground, “Shit.” You mutter, he’s pinned you down and you look into his eyes, “Just do your job, please.”
“That willing to give up?” Marc questions, “Put your gun down.”
“No! Why would I do that?”
“Put your gun down.”
“If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it already.”
“So, would I. Now, put your gun down.”
You give in and let go of your gun, your pickaxe lays on the other side of the room. You let go of your breath, “Look, I’m just trying to get this artifact... I don’t know why so many people want me dead. So just do us all a favour.” You say softly.
Marc can see it in your eyes, how you’re so tired of this. How you’re so over being chased. He looks down at your side and sees the gash that sits in your side, Marc stands pulling you up with him, “Sit down.” He says quietly and you do as he says. You don’t know why you’re not fighting back. You don’t know why you don’t go straight for your gun and shoot him anyway.
Maybe he has a sixth sense. Maybe he’ll know. Maybe you... maybe you won’t die?
He pulls some medical stuff out of a pocket in his cargo pants, “I thought you were here to kill me?” You speak softly as he pulls up your shirt, making you groan.
He shakes his head, “Not today.” He says quiet, “Not today...”
“Why not?” You question through gritted teeth as he wraps you in bandage.
“Don’t feel like it.” He simply states.
You scoff, “Isn’t there a big bounty on my head you can earn?”
He sighs, “Yeah, but I’m not desperate.” He shrugs, finishing the wrap around your waist.
“Why are you helping me?”
“Because I feel like it.”
“I’m not going to make myself easy to find.”
“You weren’t in the first place.”
“So why not just kill me now?”
“Do you want to die?” He raises his voice.
You shake your head, “No... I don’t... but it’s better than constantly running, is it not?” you question him, “It’s better than running from all these people and it’s my mistake because I was the one who accidently let out that I’d be looking for the Ushabti.”
He shakes his head, “They were keeping tabs on you long before that, they knew you would look for it... we just – they just didn’t know where.”
He hands you some water, “It’s not poisonous?” You question softly, you didn’t want to die. Not to something stupid like this.
He chuckles, “Do you see any other source of water?”
You shake your head, “Promise?”
“Promise.” He takes it from you and takes a sip himself to prove it. You take the bottle back and take a deep sip, “I don’t want to kill you.”
You look up at him, “Not because you just don’t feel like it?”
He shakes his head, “No... no... you’re too pretty. To kill.”
You scoff, “So if I was ugly, you would’ve killed me?”
He laughs shaking his head – you like his laugh, “No. I wouldn’t’ve... I only kill people who do the wrong things, and you haven’t done anything wrong.”
“Ah, so you think you’re above your morals of killing people?” You question him.
“Don’t act like you didn’t take lives getting to where you are right now. Don’t act like you haven’t killed thousands of men. You are feared.” He speaks angrily, and he’s right.
“I did what I had to do to survive.”
“And what do you think I’m doing? If I don’t kill you. I die. That’s the deal I made.” He sighs, “They convinced me you were terrible.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
“Neither are you.”
“I am.”
You look up at him, “No. You’re not... you’ve had chance after chance to kill me. I could be a terrible person for all you know and maybe they’re right. But you’re letting me go. You’re letting me live.”
Marc looks deeply into your eyes and your stomach does a backflip. Maybe you’re hazy from the injury that sits in your side. Maybe you’re just smitten because he saved you or because he called you pretty. Not many people who are sent to kill you would just do that. But you sense that he’s different. That’s he’s got a rational side to him. There’s a scarf around his neck, but he is not dirty, and he is not wet. Not like you. He is not covered in dirt and sweat. He simply stands there clean. Probably taking the known course to this hell of a cave you’ve found yourself in. He stares into your eyes, and you can feel tears well up in his eyes. He knows what you’re feeling right now. That sense of relief.
As you look over his face and his perfect hair, you see a beautiful man. You see a man who is taken by his trauma. A man who is not his past mistakes and a man who just wants to be loved. You feel sorry for him. You feel sorry for everything that is him and you want to hold him. You want to put your hand on his face and tell him that everything will be okay.
... but he is supposed to be the enemy. You can’t do that. You cannot do any of that, simply because he was sent after you to commit crime and you are working for yourself. Committed to finding the Ushabti of the Egyptian God Ammit. So that you can destroy it. Let nobody else near her power.
“What do you want, Marc?” You ask him, “Why do you work for these people? Do you want Ammit to rule over everything and everyone? Do you want her to take everyone under her control. Judge everyone and determine their lives by the things they might do in the future? A future that is not set in stone. All I want is to destroy the Ushabti. All I want is to protect people.”
“I work for them because I owe them debts. I work for them. I work to kill because of the things that I have done in the past. Because of the things that bind me to them. I don’t want that either. But I have to fight for it because my life is on the line.”
“Or you could help me.” You say simply. Pressing your hand to his face like you had desired to do, “You could help me, and you can fight against them. Against the people that want to kill. You don’t have to be that person, Marc.”
He wants to flinch away from your hand, but it’s warm – there’s a connection that’s built between the two of you in these past few beats of a moment, in this past half of an hour. He can’t seem to pull himself out of your grasp.
Somehow, you can convince him that he is not terrible, and he’s only talked to you briefly, somehow... he feels like he can fight against them because of your words, because your words bring him comfort... more than anyone has in the longest in his life.
Carefully, he places his hand amongst yours, needing into its warmth. Even though there is dirt and blisters on your hand, he does not care. He just wants to feel your touch.
“If I help you... we would have to keep running, you’re tired of that.”
You chuckle, “Just because I’m tired of it, doesn’t mean it will stop.”
He nods, “Why do you want my help? You can ask anyone.”
“You spared my life. You are a renowned assassin and mercenary... and yet, I want your help not because of your skill... but because we want the same things.”
Marc feels needed by you. By the girl who raids tombs and caves. By the girl who is an archaeologist. By the girl who he knows so much about because they forced him to learn. Yet, she is not her past. He knows that and so do you. You are not the victims of the people you take the lives of – and neither is he. The two of you are similar.
The two of you are one in the same.
“Okay...” Marc says softly, “I’ll help you.”
hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you’d like to request something from me / if you’d like to be added to my taglist!!
REQUEST HERE | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3
authors note: requested by anon! hope you enjoy bestie.
A = Aftercare (What They’re Like After Sex)
Steven loves to take care of you, although, you take care of him most of the time, Steven feels like this is something he can do. Clean you up, rub your feet, a massage. He loves cooking for you and brushing your hair after the two of you have sex.
B = Body Part (Their Body Of Theirs and Their Partner’s that they like)
Steven loves his fingers. It's kinda weird, he thinks, that that's the body part he loves the most. But he loves remembering how you curl around his slender and long fingers. It's not that he loves them but he loves the memory of you.
He loves your thighs. He loves how they're his pillows. He loves resting his head on your thighs after a long day at the museum or coming home after a long mission. He loves being crushed by them too, especially, whilst eating you out. He loves it.
C = Cum (Anything to Do with Cum; basically, I’m Nasty)
Steven Grant loves it when you cum on his face, and he also loves it when he comes on your thighs. He loves your thighs, he'll never shut up about it. He loves it when you ride his thighs. He's just a thigh man. spreading his cum all over your thighs after he pulls out is something he quite enjoys seeing.
And as for cumming on his face, he loves the taste of you.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty Self Explanatory, A Dirty Secret of Theirs)
He loves getting pegged. The two of you have only done it once or twice and he'd be too embarrassed to tell you, but he loves getting pegged by you.
E = Experience (How Experience are They? Do They Know What They’re Doing?)
Steven isn't as experienced as Marc is. He's only had a few girlfriends and you're his longest girlfriend. You're definitely more experienced than he is and sure, sometimes he doesn't know what he's doing but you help him learn.
F = Favourite Positions (This Goes Without Saying)
Steven loves cowgirl. It's intimate and it lets the two of you be close to each other. He loves holding you and keeping you close. He loves being able to kiss your neck and nip at your ear whilst the two of you fuck. It's sweet and soft.
G = Goofy (Are They More Serious In The Moment? Are They Humorous? Etc.)
You and Steven can barely keep it together sometimes. Sex with Steven is something that gives you a straight shot of serotonin. Sometimes he'll make a sarcastic remark and make you laugh and sometimes his clumsiness takes over and the two of you end up rolling off the bed (but that usually leads to sex on the floor).
H = Hair (How Well Groomed Are They? Does The Carpet Match The Drapes? Etc.)
Steven doesn't really care, if we're being honest. Grooming isn't much of his concern. You don't care. He doesn't care. He's got much more on his mind than shaving.
I = Intimacy (How Are They During the Moment? The Romantic Aspect)
Steven is such a romantic. When he gets the chance he'll light candles and cook you something before hand. If it's spur of the moment he calls you "Honey" or "Sweetheart". As I mentioned earlier, he holds you close and loves to just have you near. He loves holding you.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)
He does it a lot. He can't help it. Your job takes up a lot of his time and when he's away from you he always misses you. He also misses your body and the thought of you. So he gets off. Usually to a picture of you or he'll send you a message and although you're at work... you'll take the time to text him back, or sneak into the bathroom to take a picture of something he can get off to.
K = Kink (One or More of Their Kinks)
Steven has a huge praise kink. His lack of experience doesn't help and it makes him insecure. But Steven needs to know he's doing a good job and that's exactly what you give him. You give him the praise and reassurance he needs. You don't even mean to do it sometimes.
L = Location (Favorite Places to Do the Deed)
He likes his bedroom. He likes the safety and the intimacy that it can bring. I don't think he'd ever really try to do it in public. Maybe with some convincing on your part, but he likes the plush of the mattress and just being able to be intimate with you and take your time with him.
M = Motivation (What Gets them Turn on, What Gets Them Going)
He loves it when you hold his waist or his hand. When you leave soft kisses on his neck. Or when you play with his hair as the two of you sit on the couch and watch tv... Steven just loves you and he could honestly get turned on by anything you do.
N = No (Something They Wouldn’t do, Turn Offs)
ageplay. NO WAY. or Pet stuff. Steven doesn't like that. It's just something he'd never do. He doesn't really have a reason for it, other than it'd make him uncomfortable.
O = Oral (Preferences in Giving and Receiving, Skill, Etc.)
i will literally preach this for all of oscar isaac's characters BUT OH MY GOD DOES HE LOVE GIVING IT TO YOU. ALL OF OSCAR ISAACS CHARACTERS LOVE TO EAT PUSSY. that is a hill i will die on, i swear.
But yes, Steven Grant loves to eat your pussy and hear you praise him as you run your fingers through his hair.
P = Pace (Are They Fast and Rough? Slow and Sensual? Etc.)
Steven is slowwww and sensual. I keep repeating it but he loves to hold you and he's slow with it. He loves to hold you close.
Q = Quickies (Their Opinion on Quickie, How Often, Etc.)
Steven could do it, but he doesn't like to. It's usually more pleasurable for you than it is for him. He loves having time with you.
S = Stamina (How Many Rounds Can They Go For? How Long Do They Last?)
Steven cums fast, but can go for ages. He can cum again and again and again until there's no more cum left in his cock. But he's getting better with his stamina.
T = Toys (Do They Own Any Toys? Do They Use Them? On A Partner or Themselves?)
The two of you own one strap-on and that's what you used to peg him that one time. The two of you don't use it. But, he wants to.
U = Unfair (How Much Do They Like To Tease?)
It's usually you doing the teasing. But Steven likes those sarcastic comments. They usually make you laugh, but when you're doming him it's kinda hard to when you just want to fuck him and he's making it hard.
V = Volume (How Loud They Are, What Sounds They Make. Etc.)
STEVEN IS LOUUUDDDDD he loves moaning against you and loves to grunt and he's very vocal.
"FUCK YES!" "PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE" are some of his most common sentances.
W = Wild Card (A Random Headcanon For The Character)
cockwarming. he loves cockwarming. when the two of you are too tired, the two of you love to do it.
X = X-ray (Let’s See What’s Going Under Those Clothes)
HE'S HUNG GUYS! steven doesn't really give off those BDE vibes traditionally because he's so timid and small in his own confidence and in himself. but you've taught him how to own it.
Y = Yearning (How High Is There Sex Drive?)
Steven doesn't get too horny too often, but when he does it's always worth it. the two of you are more of a cuddle couple than one that loves to fuck.
Z = Zzz (How Quickly They Fall Asleep Afterwards)
He falls asleep quite quickly, if it's not the afternoon and he can't seem to just take care of you, you don't mind. he doesn't get much sleep and you just want him to get some rest.
hi tysm for reading! my requests are open! so, if you’d like to request something from me / if you’d like to be added to my taglist!!
REQUEST HERE | ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST OR YOU CAN SEND AN ASK <3
a short little drabble bc i've been feeling quite down recently, most of this came from my emotions and thoughts so sorry if it's a little too real, but anyway, im all good now.
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader.
warnings: angst, fluff, allusions to anxiety and depression. can be read as any peter!
word count: 1.1k (short, sad and sweet)
Peter took an interest in you.
It was kind of unbelievable to you at first because you didn’t like yourself at all. You didn’t like the way you looked. You didn’t like the way you talked, ate, whatever you did. You didn’t like.
It was weird, you felt like you were weird. You felt like you were too nerdy, and loud. You felt like you were too much like one of the guys to even be seen as a romantic option.
You blended into the crowds, and you just never believed that anyone could like you or you never felt like you were pretty or feminine – despite the tons of compliments. You always felt like you were someone who was just too... boyish. Someone who was just too you.
You were friends with heaps of people, people who had previously bullied you. People who were nice to you. People that had been there for you for a long time. Everyone knew who you were – but you weren’t part of the popular group, you were simply just known.
That’s what sucked the most too. No matter how much you tried. No matter how much makeup you put on – you never felt like anyone could ever love you or want you. You felt like nobody would ever look your way in public and think you were beautiful and pretty. You felt like no boy would whisper to his friends ‘oh, she’s cute.’ Just like you did to your friends about them.
The guys that knew you were simply just friends. All of them fist bumping you and joking with you, all of them treating you like them. Your friends all told you that you have the upper hand because that’s something you have in common with all of them. The comics, the movies, the tv shows.
But that’s not true... at least you didn’t think it was.
That’s how you viewed yourself for a long time. Crying when anyone close to you found someone to love... and you felt happy for them. You did. But part of you wished that was you. Part of that wished that was you getting kissed on the neck or holding hands or calling or talking to.
Part of you wished that was you and you can’t help your jealousy, you can’t help it at all... it’s something so natural. You wished you didn’t get jealous of your friends like that. You wished you had something like that so you wouldn’t... but you hadn’t.
Despite your friends telling you that you’d find someone or that they’d find someone for you, you simply believed you were unlovable. You couldn’t seem to believe that anyone would ever look your way.
Until he did. Until Peter.
Peter looked at you. Peter loved you... Peter holds your hand and Peter kisses your neck. Peter simply just plays with your hair and records everything the two of you do and makes little vlogs out of it. Peter kisses you all the time. Peter kisses you at school and Peter kisses you when you come over. Peter kisses you in class. Peter kisses you when he says hello – and goodbye. Peter loves to have his lips on yours and kiss your forehead. Peter sees you.
Peter never thought he’d be as lucky to have someone like you. Even though you never could understand why he was with you – sometimes he’d have to reassure you, telling you he’s real whilst you cry into his chest after a nightmare.
You were so scared to be alone, and he soothes that.
He understands.
He understands the doubts about yourself you had in the past and he understands that you need to be touched and hugged. He lets you cling onto him like he’s your own personal tree and you’re a monkey, clutching onto it for dear life. Because sometimes when you let go, you’re afraid he’ll disappear.
You’re afraid he’ll leave you.
You could never look at yourself. You could never see yourself like Peter sees you. He showers you in compliments and heartfelt messages. He swings you to the top of the empire state building when you need a moment to breathe, or he takes you to the park when you just need to sit.
You have issues and the both of you know that, yet he doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t leave you. Instead, he stays... all the time. Even when you get into an argument. Even when he’s tired. He comes back from patrol and climbs into your bed.
He notices the little things about you. He notices the way your nose turns red when you cry. He notices the way your lips puff up when he kisses you for too long. When the two of you make out, he find out that you’re a little ticklish and he noticed the way you’re a little sensitive.
He knows how you love to be domed in the bedroom and just let yourself lose all that control you fight so hard to have all the time (and you know how rough he likes to be with you, fucking all of your pain away), but he takes care of you whilst he does it and after... and before. He takes care of you all the time.
Maybe that’s what you needed and somehow the earth gave it to you. Something in the world gave him to you. Especially when you needed him the most.
He loves you for who you are. No matter your boyish mannerisms and no matter the way you’re friends with everyone. He loves you with and without makeup and sometimes he’ll let you do it for you. He loves you no matter what you look like or how your hair is done. He sometimes lets you wear his suit. He loves you and it’s incredible.
He’d never dare leave you.
Peter looks over at you with a soft smile, placing his hand over yours, you didn’t realise you zoned out like this. You look over at the TV and see Die Hard playing and the flashing lights of the Christmas tree bring you back to real life, “You okay, baby?” He asks you.
You nod softly, “Yeah, I was just thinking.” You smile.
He wiggles his eyebrows, “About me?”
“Don’t be so full of yourself.” You roll your eyes, “You think they’re asleep?”
Peter nods, “I checked not long before I came down.” He smiles softly, “Just you and me.”
You lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, clinging for dear life, “Good.”
For one last moment you think.
You think about Peter.
You think about your kids.
You think about his love for you.
Peter Parker loves, loved and will continue to love you in all your glory and in all yourself.
a short little drabble bc i've been feeling quite down recently, most of this came from my emotions and thoughts so sorry if it's a little too real, but anyway, im all good now.
pairing: peter parker x fem!reader.
warnings: angst, fluff, allusions to anxiety and depression. can be read as any peter!
word count: 1.1k (short, sad and sweet)
Peter took an interest in you.
It was kind of unbelievable to you at first because you didn’t like yourself at all. You didn’t like the way you looked. You didn’t like the way you talked, ate, whatever you did. You didn’t like.
It was weird, you felt like you were weird. You felt like you were too nerdy, and loud. You felt like you were too much like one of the guys to even be seen as a romantic option.
You blended into the crowds, and you just never believed that anyone could like you or you never felt like you were pretty or feminine – despite the tons of compliments. You always felt like you were someone who was just too... boyish. Someone who was just too you.
You were friends with heaps of people, people who had previously bullied you. People who were nice to you. People that had been there for you for a long time. Everyone knew who you were – but you weren’t part of the popular group, you were simply just known.
That’s what sucked the most too. No matter how much you tried. No matter how much makeup you put on – you never felt like anyone could ever love you or want you. You felt like nobody would ever look your way in public and think you were beautiful and pretty. You felt like no boy would whisper to his friends ‘oh, she’s cute.’ Just like you did to your friends about them.
The guys that knew you were simply just friends. All of them fist bumping you and joking with you, all of them treating you like them. Your friends all told you that you have the upper hand because that’s something you have in common with all of them. The comics, the movies, the tv shows.
But that’s not true... at least you didn’t think it was.
That’s how you viewed yourself for a long time. Crying when anyone close to you found someone to love... and you felt happy for them. You did. But part of you wished that was you. Part of that wished that was you getting kissed on the neck or holding hands or calling or talking to.
Part of you wished that was you and you can’t help your jealousy, you can’t help it at all... it’s something so natural. You wished you didn’t get jealous of your friends like that. You wished you had something like that so you wouldn’t... but you hadn’t.
Despite your friends telling you that you’d find someone or that they’d find someone for you, you simply believed you were unlovable. You couldn’t seem to believe that anyone would ever look your way.
Until he did. Until Peter.
Peter looked at you. Peter loved you... Peter holds your hand and Peter kisses your neck. Peter simply just plays with your hair and records everything the two of you do and makes little vlogs out of it. Peter kisses you all the time. Peter kisses you at school and Peter kisses you when you come over. Peter kisses you in class. Peter kisses you when he says hello – and goodbye. Peter loves to have his lips on yours and kiss your forehead. Peter sees you.
Peter never thought he’d be as lucky to have someone like you. Even though you never could understand why he was with you – sometimes he’d have to reassure you, telling you he’s real whilst you cry into his chest after a nightmare.
You were so scared to be alone, and he soothes that.
He understands.
He understands the doubts about yourself you had in the past and he understands that you need to be touched and hugged. He lets you cling onto him like he’s your own personal tree and you’re a monkey, clutching onto it for dear life. Because sometimes when you let go, you’re afraid he’ll disappear.
You’re afraid he’ll leave you.
You could never look at yourself. You could never see yourself like Peter sees you. He showers you in compliments and heartfelt messages. He swings you to the top of the empire state building when you need a moment to breathe, or he takes you to the park when you just need to sit.
You have issues and the both of you know that, yet he doesn’t shy away. He doesn’t leave you. Instead, he stays... all the time. Even when you get into an argument. Even when he’s tired. He comes back from patrol and climbs into your bed.
He notices the little things about you. He notices the way your nose turns red when you cry. He notices the way your lips puff up when he kisses you for too long. When the two of you make out, he find out that you’re a little ticklish and he noticed the way you’re a little sensitive.
He knows how you love to be domed in the bedroom and just let yourself lose all that control you fight so hard to have all the time (and you know how rough he likes to be with you, fucking all of your pain away), but he takes care of you whilst he does it and after... and before. He takes care of you all the time.
Maybe that’s what you needed and somehow the earth gave it to you. Something in the world gave him to you. Especially when you needed him the most.
He loves you for who you are. No matter your boyish mannerisms and no matter the way you’re friends with everyone. He loves you with and without makeup and sometimes he’ll let you do it for you. He loves you no matter what you look like or how your hair is done. He sometimes lets you wear his suit. He loves you and it’s incredible.
He’d never dare leave you.
Peter looks over at you with a soft smile, placing his hand over yours, you didn’t realise you zoned out like this. You look over at the TV and see Die Hard playing and the flashing lights of the Christmas tree bring you back to real life, “You okay, baby?” He asks you.
You nod softly, “Yeah, I was just thinking.” You smile.
He wiggles his eyebrows, “About me?”
“Don’t be so full of yourself.” You roll your eyes, “You think they’re asleep?”
Peter nods, “I checked not long before I came down.” He smiles softly, “Just you and me.”
You lean into him, wrapping your arms around him, clinging for dear life, “Good.”
For one last moment you think.
You think about Peter.
You think about your kids.
You think about his love for you.
Peter Parker loves, loved and will continue to love you in all your glory and in all yourself.
summary: Tom Holland hates you and you don't know why. Yet, you've had a crush on him for almost all your life despite the known fact. When Tom needs a place to stay because of filming... Tom changes... and so does your relationship.
pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under cut), pretty angsty, fluff, tom being an a-hole, some corny moments and not proofread either.
word count: 15.2k (A LONG ONE, i literally could not stop myself idk what happened.)
extended smut warnings: p in v (protected), fingering, oral (fem), that's pr much it, very vanilla tbh but it was their first time so nothing too flashy.
PROLOUGE – "FIVE WEEKS."
You and Tom had been through a lot to get to the point you were at today. Sometimes thinking about it makes you burst out crying when he’s away because you miss him so much that your heart aches for him... and if he doesn’t answer your texts, you’re miserable. It’s like there’s a part of your heart that’s missing.... you simply can’t live without Tom.
But it wasn’t always that way.
Not at all.
There was a time where you preferred to live without Tom. You understand why he had acted that way, because he had told you... but now it’s strange to think about the before. The before of your relationship. The before of him loving you – because truth be told, you always loved him. From the youngest age you ever could.
You inhaled a deep breath as you sat at the dinner table with the Hollands – family friends. Your parents got along swimmingly. You were closer to Harry and Sam, always hanging out with them as kids – the three of you were like glue, stuck side by side. Paddy was a kind boy, but the two of you didn’t have too much to talk about because of the age difference, though, the two of you did bond over video games, always making an effort to play the new ones when they came out. Whether it be over the console or in person. Your job as a history teacher allowed you to have a flexible schedule.
Albeit you and Tom were the closest in age, with you being a year younger than him. The two of you were supposed to get along. That’s all your parents wanted. But for some strange reason, you could never really crack him, like you had the others.
You were a single child and Dom, and Nikki were like your second parents. You lived next door, so there wasn’t a time where you didn’t see the Hollands. Not a day in your life hadn’t gone by where you didn’t sit next to Tom on the bus, despite, him telling you to leave him alone. You weren’t friends and you were so sure that you never would be.
You wanted to be his friend. But thirteen-year-old you didn’t understand the concept of hating someone like Tom hated you. It made you doubt yourself. Constantly thinking you were in the wrong, apologising after every other sentence because you were always afraid of offending someone.
You met Tom’s eyes from across the table, wanting to say something, but knowing he’d just shoot you down anyway. You were both adults now, it was silly that he couldn’t put this hatred aside. You didn’t even know why he hated you. He just did. It was always like you were a thorn in his side.
“So, how’s work...?” You question him – he’d just started filming No Way Home.
Your students always went crazy when you told them you knew Tom. Working in a high school down in London, teaching teenagers, you always heard people go crazy over these things - going to the premieres because you were supposed to be close with the actor was cool. You enjoyed the movies – just sucks you’re only invited as a curtsey and not because he wants you there.
It was crazy that you had Zendaya’s phone number in your phone – she actually likes you, yet Tom puts up that same front when he’s around his friends. You like to pretend it’s real, even though you know it’s not. Even though it’s far from it.
He shakes his head, “What’s it to you?” He shrugs, his tone sharp – it makes you jump a little, but you just look back down at your food.
You sigh, “Nothing, just- just trying to make conversation.” You fight through your sadness, flashing him a small smile. The pang in your heart was like a knife.
Like every single time he had ever shut down a conversation with you, it was like a knife to the fucking heart.
You had feelings for Tom. It was fucked up because he was always mean to you. But you loved Tom before you even knew what the word really meant. You had other boyfriends and they all loved you... but it wasn’t the same. You knew Tom would never love you back, and you tried to move on, but it was no use. No matter how many mean things he could say to you, you’d always look past it... because it’s him.
He hadn’t always been meaning, it mostly started when you got into High-School. You were thirteen and he was fourteen. You had no other friends, so you’d follow Tom around. He’d always push you away, though. It sucked, because even if you, Sam, and Harry were all close, they weren’t old enough to be in the same grade as you, so... you were all alone.
You weren’t popular in school, not like Tom was. Yet, everyone knew who you were by association. Some of the girls at school were jealous of you, and some of them made fun of you. But you just ignored it – you didn’t have very many friends in high school. University, was, however, a turning point. You met your best friend Angel who worked in the same faculty as you. You’d been teaching for four years, and you loved it so much more than you could ever have imagined.
You stand from the table, your plate banging, creating a loud noise, everyone’s attention turned to you, “Sorry... ‘M gonna go grab another drink.” You say softly, turning to the kitchen. You stepped inside, making your way to the fridge where you put your glass to the water and ice dispenser.
Taking a sip of the water, you placed your elbows on the counter, “Get it together, y/n.”
“You alright, darling?” You heard the familiar voice, as you turned to face Nikki with a soft smile.
“Perfect.” You say with reassurance, but it doesn’t really cut through the sadness of your tone.
She pouts, “What’s wrong? Is it Tom?”
You nod, tears brimming your eyes, “It’s so stupid, I’m twenty-four years old, you think I’d get a grip, right?” A dry chuckle escapes you without another thought, “I know not everyone can like me... but I’ve known him for all my life.”
She places a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry... I wish I could change it. Change him. I don’t know why he acts so cruel towards you. He’s not a hateful person.”
You nod, “That’s what sucks the most... I know he’s not. He’s kind, he’s charming, he’s sweet. He helps people and he doesn’t need an ulterior motive. He’s someone to look up to, but I’m the exception.”
She pulls you into a hug, “I’m sorry, hun.”
You shake your head against her hold, “Don’t be... It’s not your fault.”
You’re sitting in your room after your chat with Nikki, thinking about your talk with her. It’s painful. You’re laying back flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’m old enough to deal with this’. Is all you can think to yourself, it’s all you can muster the courage to believe. That this is all your fault, and you were the burden in Tom’s life. You must’ve done something to make him hate you and you can’t think about what it is... honestly, it makes you miserable.
His hair looks soft, and his arms look warm, but his heart is cold toward you... and yet, you still want to find yourself twirling around those strands of brown curls or cuddled up in his arms. Your attraction to him was what would kill you.
You always thought you and Tom would be endgame. When you were sixteen, you thought Tom hating you would just be a phase. You tried to congratulate him on him being Spider-Man, and he was nice to you then, but that hadn’t last long at all.
Your childhood room was a sight for sore eyes. One of the walls was pink and your bedsheets were a bright blue. You came over quite frequently, so your parents figured they’d just leave it the way it was – posters of Anakin Skywalker and all. You turned to plunge your face into the pillow below your head.
A knock on your door makes you jump but you don’t budge, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Harry speaks from the other side of the door.
“Come in!” You call, flipping yourself back over.
Harry steps into the room with a soft smile as he stares at your figure, “Get up you big baby, they need you downstairs.”
You sit up slowly, a suspicious glare in your eyes, “What for?”
“You’re not gonna like it.” He says simply, grabbing your hand.
“What for, Harry?!” You question your friend once more as he pulls you down the stairs back to the dining table where Tom’s head is in his hands. Everyone is staring at you, “What’s going on?” You ask everyone.
Tom opens his mouth, “Well, there’s a few scenes we’re doing here in London for the new movie... and I need a place to stay.”
You scoff, looking down at Tom with shock, “And nobody here can offer you that but me? What about Haz!”
“Too far from set.”
“What about your parents!”
“Y/n if I could stay with my parents I would.”
“Harry, Sam?” You look over to them, desperately needing help.
“No can do, we live on campus.” They respond with a pitiful glance.
“And what makes you think I’d help you after the way you treat me?”
He sighs, “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question, Tom!”
Nikki places a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n, please take this into consideration... maybe the two of you will end up bonding.”
“Over what?” Tom asks his mother, “I’m only doing this because I have to. Not because I want to.”
“Thomas! Stop being rude!” His mother scolds him.
You look back into Nikki’s eyes, tears brimming, “Fine... I’ll... I’ll do it.” You look down at your fingers, toying with the paint on your nails, picking at them, “How long are you filming here for?”
“Five weeks.” He says quiet.
You and Tom were in your car driving back to your place in London. It was a three-hour car ride from your neighbourhood to your current place and there was some traffic. Tom spotted your lanyard hanging off of your mirror, covered in a different array of pins from your favourite movies and a couple keys. Tom knew you were a teacher. But sitting in your car staring at your life from the inside was different to just looking at you from the outside.
Tom saw you every few months, today was just a random family dinner because Tom was back in the UK and his parents insisted on it. He usually saw you on your birthday and you saw him on his, and Harrys and Sam and Paddy’s, basically, you were there for everything... Christmas included.
Tom knew why he hated you back in Primary school, he knew why he hated you back in high school. Now? He wasn’t quite sure. He was a grown man. He could get over it. But it was weird... but that was only because he made it weird.
You were honestly lucky you had a spare room. It’s not like you wanted Tom to be here. You didn’t want to live with someone who would make your life miserable... but maybe Nikki was right, maybe you’d be able to patch things up with him.
The radio was the only sound in the car, apart from the wheels on the road, and the tension in the air was thick and tense. Like someone was waiting to snap – you had a backbone too. You fought back too. Even if you had some feelings for him, it’s not like you don’t resent him; resent everything he says to you.
The bump of your driveway had approached. Your house was quaint, Tom’s bags in the boot of your car, “I’ll carry your bags inside just... open the front door.” You told the boy as you turned your car off, handing him the keys.
“It’s fine, I can take care of my own bags.” He shrugs.
You turn to face him, “Tom, please. Just go inside.”
You don’t say anything else before getting out of the car. You’ve got shit to do and the fact that it was a Sunday night didn’t help either – you had assignments to finish marking and your deadline was in a few days. That’s why you were glad you had a spare room that was prepared. Not because you didn’t want to set up – you were nice, you wouldn’t have him fend for himself. But because you couldn’t afford to help him at this current moment.
Tom doesn’t argue with you anymore than he already had. Probably regretting asking you to stay here already.
The door was unlocked as Tom turned the key opening the door and locating the hallway light. Waiting for you in the doorway. His two carry ons in your hands, awfully heavy for one person... but he was staying for five weeks.
WEEK ONE – OPENING UP.
After getting Tom settled into his room an showing him around a bit – which was quite awkward, you found yourself getting changed and heading backdown stairs to sit at your kitchen table, which was a mess to say the least. Sprawled with papers and papers of assignments and old exams. Your laptop looked like it was on its last life, and you did too.
Sitting down, you placed some earbuds into your ears getting ready for a long night of marking papers.
Tom walked downstairs to find you, and saw you, legs crossed hunched over, red pen in hand. He didn’t want to disturb you, but the bathroom was out of toilet paper. Tom approaches you slowly. It was different now. There was no reason to be rude to you or mean... you gave him a place to stay. But it was his nature, and Tom couldn’t help it.
You’re slightly startled, “What?” you question him taking out an earbud.
“Your bathroom is out of toilet paper.” He sighs.
“No, it’s not.”
“Don’t believe me? Go take a fucking look for yourself.”
You take out your headphones throwing them down onto the table with a huff, making your way upstairs and into your bathroom, opening the cabinet where you keep your toilet paper... seeing that you are out. Downstairs was hopeless too.
“Fuck...” you mutter softly, “Well, I’d better go get some then, maybe do the grocery shopping too.”
It wasn’t too late at night, nine thirty to be precises, and supermarkets wouldn’t be closed at this time. Most shops weren’t. You grab your keys from your kitchen table and the grocery list from off of the fridge – Tom following behind you.
“What’re you doing?” You question him, tone full of spite. The hallway was dim and staring into his eyes only made you fall harder – no matter the fact that he resented you.
He rolls his eyes, “What does it look like I’m doing, Bunny?”
You get mad at the nickname – it’s what he used to call you in school, because you were timid and quiet. You didn’t have very many friends and Tom took advantage of that. Making you feel smaller than you were before. Trying to push you away – purposely pushing you away.
“Don’t call me that.” You say as you open your front door.
The ride to the grocery store is short. But Tom looks at you as you drive. Thinking about all those times he called you Bunny as a kid. Thinking about all the times he had made you cry. Tom also thought about the first time he saw you after he finished filming Civil War and Homecoming. He hadn’t seen you in a long time and when he did... you were different.
You were more mature. Your hair was longer, and your smile had been brighter. Your style was more evolved, and you strayed away from the cringey t-shirts with those weird quotes. He watches the light of the street on your face and watches how you’re so focused when you drive. Tom hadn’t realised you drove a manual when he got in the car, but now he had seen, and he was slightly impressed – not many people can still do that.
He thinks about how you were teenagers, how you used to follow him because you had no one and he would push you away. How he didn’t want to be your friend. Getting that slight closer insight into your life makes you more 3D and even though he’d known you his whole life he didn’t want to know you.
You could feel his eyes on you, but when he turned away you felt like something is missing. You shook the feeling off as you pulled up to the grocery store. You parked the car and stepped out looking at your list.
“...So do you wanna divide and conquer or do you want to do it together?” You questioned Tom, “We’d get it done faster if we divide and conquer but I don’t really care,”
Tom takes a deep breath before nodding, “We should do it together then.”
You give lipped smile, “Sure.”
Grabbing a trolley, the two of you make your way into the aisle, “So, what’s first?” Tom questions you, his elbows on the trolley as he pushes.
“Well, I need milk and eggs, so we can head to the freezer aisle,” You lead him over, “Now that you’re staying with me, I should probably double up, huh?” You laugh and Tom chuckles.
“Bacon?” He questions looking over at the fridge.
“Sure.” You nod softly.
As the two of you continue you found yourselves becoming more civil. Tom hadn’t been rude since the dinner earlier and something about all this domestic crap made your stomachs warm. The two of you continued through the aisles, collecting things on your list. Tom pushed the trolley as you grabbed things and put it inside. It was a nice system and although Tom had his hood up just in case, it was kinda nice to be spending time with him like this. It was sweet. He was being sweet.
Part of you hoped it was all just a dream, that you’d wake up and realise it was all in your head despite knowing it’s real. Tom’s never been like this towards you, and you don’t know exactly why that’s changed. You want to know why it’s changed.
When the two of you reached the counter, you pulled out your wallet, but Tom had already paid off the hundreds dollar worth of groceries that would keep you both well fed for most of the next five weeks.
You let out a groan as you slam your pen onto your kitchen table, Tom looks over from the couch at you with worry, standing up to join you at your table, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s it matter to you?” You snap, “It’s not like you’d care.”
Tom sighs, “C’mon, Y/n... I know you better than this. I know that you bottled up your emotions. I’ve seen it all my life.”
“Wonder why.” You mutter under your breath before looking up at Tom – he heard you, but decided not to press on the issue, “I’m fine, Tom, really. Drop it.”
He shakes his head, grabbing the paper in front of you, letting out a low whistle, “and I thought I was bad in school.”
“Hey!” you wack him from across the table, “History isn’t Jeramiah’s best subject, but he does really well in everything else... just mine.”
Tom senses how upset you are, looking over at you with a frown, “I’m sure you’re a good teacher.”
“I know I am!” You raise your voice, “I know I’m a good teacher, okay? Everyone tells me that!”
He looks at you with sadness as you yell, but he keeps his mouth shut as you deflate again, “Just sometimes... I look at kids like Jeremiah and I think to myself, why are you doing so good in everything else... but my subject? Is it me? Is it him? Does he need help? Do I need to change the way I teach.”
Tom smiles softly, “Remember when we were in high school, and there was this massive history test, and I was failing history, so you offered to help me... I was mean to you, but you really helped me... I never told you, but I passed that test.”
“You did? You never mentioned it, so I thought you failed or something, but you passed! I know it was like ten years ago but I’m proud of you, Tom! You struggled with that so much.”
He gives a bashful smile looking down at his lap, “See, if you could teach me, you can teach anyone... maybe he just needs a little push!”
You look at Tom across from the dinner table with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, Tom.”
Opening up Tom felt good... but it also felt horrible. Like you were giving him leverage against you... but you ignore the feeling.
WEEK TWO – GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
Tom had been on set for the past few days, and he was right, you barely saw him. The conversation the two of you had the week before had settled into your head. Tom had really brought you some words of comfort, he’d come home late and tired, so he’d see you working on marking the homework you had set, bidding you a short hello before heading over to bed.
Something about him not talking to you or something about you not seeing Tom had been weird. The first week he had been living with you had been much more prominent. He’d been around more – sometimes he’d cook, or you’d come home, and the house was clean, bathrooms and all.
Living with Tom... it hadn’t been as bad as you expected it to be. He was kinder, sweeter – he was finally treating you the same way he treated everyone else. With warmth. With the love in his heart, you knew he had – but you could only wonder why he was doing this. Why he had changed all his views from the past in the past seven days.
Tom had a day off today and offered to drive you to school, “Thanks for driving me.” You smile at Tom, “You didn’t have to do this.”
He scoffs, “Please, you’re impressive, you deserve a break even if it’s for a few minutes to work.”
You feel flush at Tom’s words, “What do you mean ‘impressive’?” You quirk an eyebrow.
He shrugs, “I dunno, your life just seems so hectic.”
“Not as much as yours Mr. Peter Parker.” You sigh, sinking into your seat a little bit, “I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure from people who don’t even know you.”
“Exactly the point.” Tom smiles softly, “They don’t know me, and I don’t know them... sometimes, I get nightmares of the paparazzi, flashing lights and I feel like I can’t move... like all lights and eyes are on me and if I do something wrong then my life will be over.”
You look over at Tom, your expression sorrow, “People aren’t perfect, Tom. You’re not a perfect person.” You try to offer a smile, but he just keeps his eyes on the road as he comes to a stop.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Miss L/n!” Was called out to you by one of your students as you sat at your desk, “Who dropped you off this morning?”
Ellie – a sweet girl, but way too invested in her teacher’s love lives, “Just a friend.” You answered somewhat honestly.
“What was his name?!” India questions you.
You sigh, “If I told you, I’d have to fail you.” Your students go wide eyed and shut up about the topic – if you told them Tom Holland had driven you to school, they’d react in a crazy way when he came to come get you again. Your phone buzzed, “Get back to work guys!”
Is it alright if you come on set with me? It’s on the way to pick you up and if I drop you off, I’d be late.
Tom’s text is followed by another text.
If not, that’s okay, I’ll risk getting in trouble for you.
Something about his text sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he was just being nice, but god, was it working. Was he buttering you up like this. It was worth it, all the things you were feeling, even if your heart would get ripped out of your chest once again. Like it did every single time. You smile down at your phone regardless.
You liked this new Tom. You liked the way he was treating you and even if it was just for a few weeks, you appreciated that he didn’t go out of his way to make your life hell while he lived in your house... He was a good house guest.
Sure... I’d love to see the movie magic.
Tom smiles down at his phone as he sits in your living room, anxiously waiting picking you up from school. It’s all he can think about. Seeing you again.
Tom’s mind was going crazy. He’d never felt this way for you before, but in living with you he’s learnt more about you than he has in the past twenty years of his life. He feels his heart get warm around you, but he also feels all this guilt for treating you like shit since you were in high school. He was stupid. It was all stupid. He had no reason... but he did. He was insecure of you.
When three o’clock rolled around, you ran out the doors of the school, not wanting to make Tom any late to set than he already was. You jumped into the car, which shocked Tom but you didn’t want to be late... you also didn’t want your students to see Tom driving.
“Do you want to be late to your job?” You scoff.
He chuckles, “What is with you?”
“Just drive, Tom!” You raise your voice.
As the two of you get moving you finally relax. You didn’t want to tell Tom why you were so insistent on leaving. Why you needed to go so bad, “My students, they asked who dropped me off this morning.”
“Oh.” Tom whispers, “What’d you tell them?”
“A friend dropped me off...”
“Cool.” He mutters softly.
“They know I know you, but I didn’t want you to be swarmed, y’know?”
“I... appreciate that.” Tom nods.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
The air between you and Tom had shifted over the past week. It was strange and weird, and you hated it, but you also wanted this so bad. You think back to how you were at dinner last week and all you could think about was how broken you were over him. How your heart ached for him to just like you.
Tom’s set really wasn’t too far from your school, as promised, but you could understand why he would’ve been late if he dropped you off home. In fact, you were kinda glad you came to see Tom work.
“You can hang out in my trailer, or you can sit on set if you want.” He says softly, staring into your eyes.
You feel your stomach go warm, “That sounds good to me.” A smile takes over your face as you get out of the car, slightly nervous.
“I’ve gotta head to makeup so, you can come with me if you want.”
“I’d like that... to be fair, right now I don’t really want to leave your side in fear of getting lost.”
You trail behind Tom feeling odd in your blouse and pencil skirt, his smile graces the set as you can see people still putting things together and people running around with purpose, and it was admirable. How this whole world worked. You’ve spoken to Tom’s castmates multiple times. Jacob was quite nice and Haz introduced you to him – even though Haz and Tom are best friends, he always was the one to apologise on his behalf or tell Tom to stop when he was being too mean to you. You two stayed in contact a lot. You had first met Zendaya at the Homecoming premiere, and a couple times after that when she was at some of Tom’s birthday parties, which you went to only because of Harry, Sam and Haz. Other than the fact that your parents made you go.
Walking into makeup you were met with the sight of Zendaya sitting in her makeup chair and her eyes light up as she sees you, “Hey, Y/n!” Her smile is warm – she is beautiful.
You smile back at her, “Hi, Z.” Your face feels warm as she reaches over to give you her hand since she can’t exactly give you a hug.
“What’re you doing here?” She questions you as she looks over at Tom who’s getting himself set in his chair.
“Well, Tom’s staying with me during the whole five weeks you’re out here... I’m closer to set than most hotels and Tom’s a friend, so we decided I’d do him a favour.” You bite your lip nervously.
Tom smiles, “An absolute darling, we went shopping the other day...” Tom speaks but you zone out as you stare at him, looking at him with all the love in your heart that you can possibly even muster. He’s beautiful as he gets his face pampered with blood and cuts. Purple bruises and a bloodshot eye. How can he still look so pretty like this? Dishevelled, beat up. It’s not real, maybe that’s why – because you know it’s not real.
Tom turns to you, “Y/n?”
His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, making you blink a few times before sending him a smile, “Yeah?”
“Do you mind spoilers?”
You shrug, “Not really... I kinda love them. It makes the final part more exciting if I’m being honest.”
Watching Tom work was... it was sexy, to say the least. How he did flips and his own stunts, hooked up to the wires, but also immensely focused and that suit... it was making you feel things you hadn’t felt before. How you could still see the outline of his abs through the thin material. The set wasn’t on a normal movie set, like concrete buildings. It was outside, so the darker it got, the colder it would get too. Zendaya and Jacob weren’t in this next scene, so they were sitting with you, as you marked a couple papers you had brought in your bag with you, watching as you marked the answers with ease.
“So, how’re things with Tom?” Zendaya asks you out of nowhere and you look up in surprise, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.
“What do you mean?” You question her, with a slight shiver as her and Jacob look to each other before looking back at you.
“It’s just that he’s been... nicer.” Jacob shrugs, “We’ve seen how he’s treated you.”
You stop holding your breath, sinking into Tom’s chair a little, “God, I don’t know... it’s like he’s an alien or something... he’s been living for me for two weeks and he’s been nicer to me then, than he has ever been in my whole life.” You sigh, “He’s not a bad person... he’s just bad to me.”
You watch Tom as he does another flip, chatting with the crew, laughing, and you don’t feel yourself smile, you don’t feel yourself get warm. But you are anyway. You are hopelessly in love with him and the way he’s treating you isn’t helping. He’s not supposed to make you fall harder for him. He’s supposed to be mean – remind you that it’s not okay to feel the way you do for him. But he’s not sending you any bad signs anymore.
You don’t notice that Jaxob and Zendaya are being called back to set until Jacob places a hand on your arm, “Come by set more often... we like having you here, Y/n.” He smiles.
“Thanks, Jacob.” You grin as he walks over to Tom with a smile.
Zendaya wraps her arms around you from behind, “Don’t be afraid to send a message, okay? I know we don’t know each other well, but I want to get to know you better.”
You rub her arm with a small smile, “That... that means a lot.” You nod against her, as she lets go, the warmth of her body leaves you all alone with your homework once more. You flick through them again. A shiver running down your body once more.
Pulling out your phone you notice the time: Seven O’clock, it reads. You sigh as you question when Tom will be done. But it seems the universe is answering that question for you as he walks over to you with a proud smile.
“How’d you like that?” He questions you.
The chatter in your teeth is barely there, but it’s noticeable when you talk, “G-Great, Tom, you did really well.”
“Holy shit, let me get you a jacket and then we’ll head out of here. I got what I needed for the day, so, I’m not needed here anymore.” He smiles.
He pulls you back to his trailer which is warm, “Maybe I should’ve sat in here.” You laugh.
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have had the chance to see some of the movie and my incredible stunts.”
“Your ego always this big?” You question, your tone playful.
He looks back at you, holding one of his hoodies, “Only when I feel this great, bunny.” He winks. The nickname catches you off guard. Not because he said it, but because of how he said it. His tone full of endearment and charm. His voice wasn’t cutthroat rude, like it usually was... and it was certainly an adjustment for you.
You take the hoodie from his hands, sliding it over your head, “Thanks.”
“I’m gonna be a bit longer cause I gotta get out of the suit and stuff, but you can stay in here.” He smiles and you nod. Leaving you all by yourself in the trailer, you flop onto the bed that sits in the corner.
Sleep takes over, your vision going black, as you fade off into the realm of dreams.
Tom walks back into his trailer, all snug in another jumper and a pair of sweatpants. He looks at you, his eyes are soft. He looks at how peaceful you look; he hears your soft snores echo in the room. He sees how you just collapsed. Your things on the table, how tired you must be. He commends you for your work. He knows you have hard days. He sees that in your moods and your laughs, how sometimes you’re not fully there or zoned out. How your fingers are often stained with red ink.
Tom doesn’t realise it, but he feels himself smile down at you. Brushing some of the hair out of your face to get a better look at you. How you still look so beautiful. How you’re still the kindest person he knows – how despite how rude he had been to you; you always went out of your way to be nice or help him anyway. All he feels is guilt.
All he feels is guilt because of how easy it is to like you. All he feels is guilt because you’ve given him a place to stay. All he feels is guilt because he treated you like shit when he could’ve had a good friend. All he feels is guilt because he let some stupid feelings get in the way when the two of you were younger. All he feels is guilt because he was the insecure one. All he feels is guilt because it was never your fault. All he feels is guilt because you weren’t the one to hate... it was him; he should hate himself – he does hate himself.
All he feels is guilt, as he carries you back to the car.
WEEK THREE – THE PAST & THE PRESENT.
Your presence on set had become a lot more noticeable in the afternoons. Usually, it was just to get a better change of pace and mark somewhere unfamiliar rather than your shitty kitchen table which you had cried at, a number of times. Zendaya was also pretty good with History, and she has some well enough knowledge to help you sometimes.
That’s where you were at right now, you and Zendaya, sitting in Tom’s trailer as you both hold red pens, “Do you have a favourite student?” She questions you as the two of you draw ticks and crosses.
You laugh, “I’m supposed to say that I don’t, but there’s this group of girls in year eleven that have my heart... they picked history, so they’re so passionate about it. They make conversation with me. They love to learn about me, and they also love to learn the content. They’re good at the subject and they brighten my day when they walk in the room.”
You sigh, “Given, there’s kids like that in every grade... it’s tough to find the ones who know what their passions are. Some people don’t know, and that’s okay.”
She smiles, “That seems nice. They seem lovely... how’d you know you wanted to become a teacher? I always kinda knew I wanted to do acting, from a young age I was a performer... dance recitals, drama school...” She trails off.
You chuckle, “It was actually after helping Tom... he was never the best at school, he wasn’t awfully bad, but history was his worst subject. I was fourteen and I always had my head in that kind of stuff. I think I’ve seen every single documentary that the History channel has put out in the last thirty years.” You shrug, “Given I do have time for other stuff... I found myself interested. So, when Tom needed help because he was failing History at the time, he came to me for help.”
You bite your lip softly, “I had a massive crush on him...” You brace yourself for the truth, “I have a massive crush on him... had for a long time, but he was always so mean to me, but regardless, I helped him anyway. I’d never say no to him. Even now. But I helped tutor him and it worked... I only found out that he passed a couple weeks ago, ‘cause he told me. But I didn’t know if he had at the time... all I knew is that I enjoyed teaching him. Regardless of all the spite that came out of his mouth whilst I did.”
Zendaya grabs your hand from across the table, “From what I can tell, Tom’s really changed.”
You nod, hesitant, “He... he has, but part of me doesn’t want to believe it.” You look down at her hand wrapped around yours, “I don’t want to get my hopes up when he goes back to how he was.”
“You think he will?”
“I... don’t know.” You let out a huff as she lets go of your hand – deciding not to press the issue any further. A breeze blows through the window, “Fuck it’s cold...” You laugh.
Zendaya laughs too, the two of you spending time in each other’s company – she feels like a good friend. A real friend.
Tom was sat in your room, staring at all the posters around. John Wick on your wall, and Anakin Skywalker too. You had one of Thor and another of Poe Dameron. He thought it was kinda creepy, but the posters he had in his room weren’t any better. In comparison to the photos, he had with his friends, he couldn’t see very many of yours, except for a photo of you, Harry and Sam at the beach without Tom. Your smile was bright and so were his brothers. Tom’s jaw clenched at the picture, but his thoughts were interrupted at you walking into the room.
As he swivelled the desk chair over to face you, he caught sight of your shelves. How they were littered in history books – both Modern and Ancient, and the other side of your room had posters of different artefacts that you had gotten from the British Museum. He thinks you go there way too much, but what does he have in the say?
You set down a cup of water for Tom as you grab a couple of the books off of your shelf, “So I’m not quite familiar with what you’re doing in as much depth as you probably are, but you said it was Ancient Egypt, so I know a lot about that. We can look at the syllabus and some extra books that I’ve got lying around and if information doesn’t really sink in now, I can email you a couple documentaries.” You catch yourself rambling as you look down, your voice slightly hushed, “...If you want... sorry.”
Tom looks at you, and you can’t see the way his eyes are soft as he stares down at you. He didn’t know how you did it. You were only fifteen and knew so much about this stuff. He thinks about how he knows so much about soccer and rugby. How he knows so much about Marvel... though you’re the same in that region – he honestly doesn’t know how you intake so much information into your brain.
Tom never truly hated you. He just had resentment toward you. It was stupid and he’d never tell you why because of that. At some point, it just became easier to keep shooting insults at you – it became a second nature... and he was honestly surprised when you had agreed to help him because if he was being honest, he’d never do the same for you... so he wondered why you said yes when you had every right to say no... but he never asked. It didn’t seem worth it like that... Not then anyway.
Tom scoffs, crossing his arms, “Doesn’t matter, I just need enough information to be able to pass.”
You nod softly as you read over the curriculum, getting up and grabbing a couple books from your shelf, bringing them back to the table as Tom takes out his own textbook, “Oh good! You brought your textbook.”
He furrows his eyebrows, “Why wouldn’t I? I asked you to help me study, didn’t I?”
You feel your face get hot, “Right... yeah... sorry.”
“Stop apologising, it’s annoying.” He sighs opening his textbook to the information he knows you need. You go to open your mouth to apologise but keep it shut as he hands you the textbook, your eyes skim over it.
Tom eyes skim over you as you do so. He watches how you read, your eyes flicking, how fast you go. How pieces of hair fall in front of your face and how it takes everything not to brush them away from your eyes so he can see them better. He felt weird as he watched you. He felt his stomach flutter and his heart pound... he felt nervous too. Like if he got something wrong, you’d make fun of him or tease him or hold it against him. But he also knew you were way too nice to do that. As he watches you highlight a couple sentences in the textbook and pull out a book on Ancient Egypt with different coloured tabs.
As you flip through the book, he also notices different pen colours littered throughout and he feels his cheeks go warm. To desperately get rid of the flush, he takes a sip of his water. You slam the two books down in front of him, “I guess we can start here... how much do you know?”
“Barely anything...” He sighs, air escaping through the thins of his lips. The air is different now, as you reach over to turn on the lamp. The sky outside getting darker as you smile softly.
“Let’s get started then.” Your smile brightens your bedroom, as Tom looks at you, his face is in slight scowl, but his heart is in full flip.
Tom thought about that day quite frequently, when he looked you from across the dinner table. When he shot something mean at you... and the other day, when he carried you to the car. Zendaya saw what he had done, and she knew that your worries about Tom hating you when this was all over were just your paranoia. Your trust issues with Tom. But anyone watching the way Tom looks at you knows that he won’t. That he simply just cannot bring himself to hate you again.
Tom was on set today whilst you were in class, and you received a message from Zendaya, a photo of him on set with her and Jacob. It was cute, and you found yourself missing Tom. Unfortunately for you, you forgot that you were teaching your Year Eleven class.
“Miss L/n, what’re you smiling at?” Ellie questions you.
You sigh, “Something a friend sent me.”
“That same friend who drove you to school?” India asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
You deadpan them, “Girls, do your work.”
Cali pipes up, “C’mon miss! Please just give us any insight.” She basically groans.
“Like I told you last time, if I tell you, I’ll fail you.” You chuck them a playful glare, “But for your information, he’s a very close friend.”
“Do you like him?” Ellie asks.
You let out a soft sigh, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t... now do your work!”
The girls go back to doing their work and the only thing on your mind is getting home to Tom. You think about his scent – how he smells of wood and oak. Cinnamon and mint. It makes you want to melt – it also makes your thighs clench just thinking about him. How he comes back all sweaty from a run as you sit at the kitchen table and he walks through the front door, shirt sticking to his chest. You bite your lip as you look down at the papers in front of you, furrowing your eyebrows to make it look like you’re frustrated with the content in front of you – like you’re focused. But really? Your mind is anywhere else but here.
Tom promised you a movie night tonight... sure, he was a little late, but he was still here, “Sorry. I got caught up on set doing an extra tape.”
You laugh, taking a piece of popcorn, “Tom, I told you, it’s fine... you don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
He shrugs, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
You chuckle, “And I know that, and it’s okay... really, Tom.” You wrap your arms around his torso – it catches you both off guard, but it was nice, and it was warm, and his strong arms surrounded you.
The two of you pulled away, clearly both flustered and just sat on the couch next to each other. Your legs were crossed and so were Toms, each having your own bowl of popcorn. You had picked the movie – you chose John Wick. Tom laughed as he saw Keanu’s face come onto the screen.
“What?” You question softly, “You don’t like my choice?”
“No...No. Nothing like that.” He sighs, calming himself down, “I just remember you used to have his poster in your room and knowing you, you probably still do.”
He was talking about your childhood home, and you smiled, remembering how you had The Matrix and John Wick on your wall, “Shut up... he’s cute.”
He raises his eyebrows in consideration, “He is an attractive man, but there are other options.” He shrugs, “There are other actors.”
You don’t know what Tom is talking about but when you turn back to face the screen the air is tense. You ignore it, though. Only focusing on the movie – or at least, you’re trying to. But the air is too thick and tense to ignore.
Tom looks at you whilst you watch the movie. Your face with a smile as you watch John Wick slaughter.
“Y/n, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie!” Sam groans and earns a slap from his twin brother.
“Yes, it is, Sam.” He rolls his eyes.
“Sam, you literally cannot say that it’s not. It’s set a Christmas time and sure it’s an action movie, but there are Christmas songs and items. There’s a villain – it fits the whole criteria of a Christmas movie.”
Sam rolls his eyes at you, “Whatever... Christmas movies are supposed to be wholesome.”
“Yeah, well sometimes Christmas needs murder.”
“You are soooo fucked up,” Harry laughs as you sit down in between the two twins.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Shut up. The movie’s starting.” You hush them.
It’s not long before Tom joins you guys, sitting down. He doesn’t say anything, but you haven’t seen much of him since he graduated high school and went off to America to film his new movie. You were proud of him, but you’d never tell him that. He wouldn’t take the compliment, non the less if it was you.
Tom grabbed a drink, and you stood up and followed, like an idiot, “How’s America?” You asked as you grabbed a cup from their shelves, filling it up with water.
“Why do you care, y/n?” He questions you.
“Because we’re meant to be friends, Tom.” You mutter softly, “I’m tired of you hating me.”
He scoffs, “Well, guess what, Bunny it’s not gonna stop, I don’t like you. I hate you... and it’s never going to stop.”
You can feel your eyes brim up with tears, “What did I do to you, Tom?”
“What didn’t you do?”
WEEK FOUR – ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.
“Come on a run with me.” Tom says as he sits down at the table.
You look up at him, “Tom.”
“What?! You have a day off today, public holiday... I’ve got a day off today, because I’ve got a day off... so come on a run with me.”
You laugh, “Tom! I do not run.”
“Okay... then, a jog.” He takes note of your face, “A brisk walk?”
“You’re not gonna give this up, are you?” He shakes his head with a smile, “Fine... I’ll go on a jog with you... jog.” You give him a pointed look as you make your way up the stairs.
Tom feels himself smile wider; he thinks about you all the time now. When he’s on set. When he’s off set. When he’s at home. When you’re at school. When you’re next to him. He thinks about you all the time.
He thinks about every single part of you. He thinks about your smile. He thinks about your hair, the way you smell. He thinks about how you smell just after you shower, he thinks about how your hair is wet, he thinks about how beautiful you look with and without makeup. He thinks about how beautiful you look when you cried over movies. He thinks about you all the time. Every second of the day – even when he shouldn’t he does.
When you come back down the stairs, you’re wearing a pair of tights and a sports bra, a jacket over your shoulders, your hair was in a ponytail, and he thought you looked stunning. He felt his cheeks flush as he watched you walk out of the house.
“C’mon, Mr. Parker!” You called with a laugh.
“What? You like Peter Parker better than me?”
You shrug, raising your eyebrows, “So what if I do?”
He pretends to get a shot to the heart, “You wound me.”
You laugh as the two of you begin to jog, it was silent, and your neighbourhood was quite private, so Tom was fine to run around here without really being seen. He was glad you lived in the suburbs. The two of you jogged step in step.
You stopped at a nearby park, heaving your breath, “How the hell do you do this every day?”
He laughs as the two of you sit on a park bench, “I have to... I’ve had to for a long time.” He sighs as your eyes meet his, “Ever since I started, I’ve had to push myself more and more every day, yeah, I used to do gym all the time – we both know that. But it makes me tired and sometimes I wish I could just stop... but when I do, I feel guilty for it. For not working out and pushing myself.”
You nod, “I... can understand that. Your job looks hard. Everyone thinks acting is so easy, and then you go on set, and you see that it’s anything but.”
He smiles over at you, “You’re right... It’s not easy, but I’m grateful for what I do. What I can do. I’ve got a good life. A good family...” He takes your hand, “Good friends... if I can call you that.” He sighs, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. Every day for the past four weeks, I’ve felt nothing but guilt. You’ve always been so kind to me, and I treated you like shit... I don’t have anything to defend myself with because I can’t. What I did was wrong.”
You nod solemn, “You’re right, what you did was wrong.” You tell him softly, “You tormented me, you made me cry every day, there wasn’t a day where Haz didn’t apologise on behalf of your shitty actions...”
Sighing you look over at him, his hand still in yours, “I just... I’m scared you’re going to go back to the way you were before all of this. Before living with me. I don’t know why you changed but I’m scared you’re gonna change again, Tommy.”
Now it was your turn to use his childhood nickname. When he was eleven, he yelled at you to stop, and you did. But it almost slipped out so many more times after that. Unlike your nickname, his didn’t have a bad omen connected to it.
Tom flushes red as you use the nickname, not out of anger, but because he was embarrassed and flustered, “I’m not gonna change, y/n.” His eyes are soft, his features match yours as he pulls you in closer towards him, “I promise... I won’t change.”
When the night rolled around, you found Tom pulling you around the streets of London, he wore a white t-shirt that hugged his figure nicely and a pair of black jeans and a denim jacket. He looked good... really good, to say the least. You loved how simplistic he could be. You loved how cute he was when he smiled.
“What are we gonna eat?” You questioned him softly, but it came out as more of a whine as your stomach let out another call for help.
Tom looked at you, his eyes flicking over your figure once more, jumper and jeans. How you fit so perfectly in anything you wear – active wear to the pencil skirt and blouse you wear to work. He hadn’t noticed it and neither had you, but you’d basically been living in the hoodie Tom had given you when you first visited set. It held his scent, and it was a jumper from the set of No Way Home itself. But it was a reminder of him you were happy to have.
“Well, we could go for Chinese, or we could go for Indian.” He suggests but you stop and pull his hand back as the two of you walk.
“Ice-cream. I want ice-cream. Sticky, creamy, Turkish ice-cream, Tommy.” You practically beg, “Please. Please. Please.”
He laughs looking down at your pleading eyes... and he can’t resist. He can’t resist you because you are perfect in every single way. You are sweet. You are helpful. You don’t lose your temper as easily as he does, and you are worth way more than Tom could ever imagine for himself and although all he wants is you. He doesn’t think himself worthy enough because when you look at the past – he’s not. He’s not worthy of you. But you want him anyway. You’d never tell him that... and he’d never tell you either.
As he watched you happily eat your ice cream with a smile, Vanilla flavoured, and sweet. He eats his own chocolate, basking in the immense flavour that it brings and even though the two of you should be eating proper food, Tom can’t blame you for making him get it... because it’s good. As he watches you eat your ice-cream, he feels himself shift. Thinking about you.
Thinking only about you. Think about how you’d taste. He knows he shouldn’t let his mind go there. Not when he’s right here with you and can’t have you. Won’t let himself want you.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the sounds you’d make when you moan. He thinks about how well his cock would fit inside of you, giving you pleasure. He thinks about how easy it would be to make you cum with his tongue over and over and over again. Making you scream his name and bask in the flavour of him. He thinks about the way your eyes should stare into his as he fucks you fucking senseless. Over and over and over again. He wants to feel you cum over and over and over again.
He shuts down his thoughts as fast as they come on. You’d never think of Tom like this – that’s what he convinces himself. But he doesn’t know that you have. That you’ve thought of him pounding into you so hard you can’t seem to find yourself walking the next day. You want to feel his tongue on your clit, devouring you like it should be his last meal on earth – the last thing he eats before he plummets to his certain death. You want to feel his tongue on your thighs and his cock inside of your tight dripping cunt. Sometimes it’s all you can think about.
Especially when he’s on set. Doing backflips in that godforsaken suit you’ve seen almost every day for the past three weeks. The suit turns you on, you won’t lie. You can’t lie to yourself. It’s been impossible... and you’ve been damned from the start.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving next week.” You say quietly, “I almost don’t want you to go.” You laugh.
“I almost don’t want to leave.” He confesses, “I don’t want to leave.” He licks his ice cream.
“So where are you headed next?” You question him.
“Atlanta.” He nods softly, “That’s where the rest of the movie will be filmed, as well as New York, but that’s in the last few weeks of filming anyway.”
You chuckle, “Part of me knows that if you would’ve just continued to be mean to me, saying goodbye would be much easier.”
He shakes his head, “I just... I don’t know... I couldn’t do it anymore. Seeing more of your life snapped me out of it. Getting to know you better, snapped me out of it. I knew you but I didn’t know you and now I do.”
You look over at him, “Tell me what’s really changed, then.”
“Well, for instance, you sing in the shower.” He chuckles at your wide eyes, “Don’t worry it’s endearing... you also go down for snacks during the middle of the night. I buy shit and you eat it!” He laughs at your wide eyes once more.
“Don’t worry, I don’t care about cookies too much.” He shrugs, “You also pick at your nail polish all the time. Your fingers are never the same colour for more than one day.”
You laugh, “In my defence, I get anxious.” You shrug.
“Better than biting them off.” He smiles.
You lick your ice cream, “Exactly.” You grin back at him.
But it all dawned on you for real... He was leaving next Sunday, and that was it. You wouldn’t see him for a while. Not if he didn’t stay in contact with you. You wanted him to... so you told him, “Are you gonna text me? Are you gonna call?”
He looks over at you with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Is that what you want?” He asks you, “I’m not even sure I’ve got your number.”
“Pass me your phone.” You roll your eyes, punching in your number and texting him, “There... now you can reach me anywhere in the world.”
WEEK FIVE – OLD HABITS (DON’T) DIE HARD.
It was unfortunate that the two of you just so happened to have a bad week on Tom’s last. Filming for Tom was dragging out longer than ever, he hadn’t had a day off this whole week, and it was Sunday night... he wanted to see you and yet, you were stressed to. Neither of you had time for each other.
The marking of hundreds of tests from Exam Week had just begun and you were being pressured by everyone around you to be done. To get your work done. You had no time for you and no time for Tom. All you wanted to do was spend time with him and yet, if you did you think you would explode.
Not because of him – but because of the immense stress. He would do the same if he was being quite honest... and really? Truly? You had been putting Tom on edge. He didn’t know why. He was tired and honestly? He was just over everything. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted space... but when you’re living with someone else you don’t get much of that. Especially in a house as small as yours, where the living room connects to the dining room and the kitchen and the only other space, he has is upstairs where your room connects to his and one bathroom.
Tom started to avoid you and you started to avoid Tom – both of you in fear of pushing each other away with your words. So, you just ended up spending less time together.
... whoever thought that would be why you and Tom avoided each other?
You would’ve done so if he treated you like shit for five weeks. You would’ve avoided him... but he made his way into your heart. He really made his way into your heart. He lodged himself in there and you did the same to him. It was stupid and dumb and all you wanted was to cry in his arms because of how much work you were doing. How late you would be staying up and he wanted to do the same.
But as this chapter’s called Old Habits (Don’t) Die Hard... they don’t. They don’t die hard. Not at all... and it’s unfortunate you had to find out this way.
You and Tom ran into each other on Sunday night. The last night he was spending here, and you’d barely seen him all week. You missed him... bad.
Just looking at him was enough to make you cave. Enough to make you want to wrap your arms around him – but his tone... it cut, and it cut sharp. A tone you never thought you’d hear from Tom again. One he promised you he wouldn’t use ever again.
You were friends.
So why did it feel like you weren’t?
“Move out of the way, y/n.” He huffs, as he tries to move past you.
You shake your head, “No... I miss you, Tom. We’ve barely spoken all week, and this is your last night here. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” Tom looks at you, his eyes pierced. God was he good at pushing you away – although this time you didn’t budge.
“No.” You stand your ground, “Tell me what’s wrong with you, Tom?”
“What’s wrong with me is that you won’t get out of my fucking way, so I can go to the kitchen and grab a glass of fucking water.”
You moved aside, but followed him into the kitchen, “Why are you acting like this, Tom?” You question, “You know I’m here for you.”
He scoffs, “I’M STRESSED OUT!” He raises his voice, “And you’re not making it any better, y/n.”
“Oh...” You look at him, “You don’t think I’m not stressed, Tom? You don’t think my job is hard? I stay up night after night trying to work hard for these students.”
“It’s not working.” He mutters under his breath – you heard it... but you wanted to be sure he really said it.
“What’d you say?” You question him.
His hands are now on the kitchen counter as he looks down at the marble, before he looks up at you, “I said it’s not working.” He scoffs, “You work your ass off and it doesn’t work.” His tone it’s condescending, and you don’t want to believe what he’s saying is true.
Because he promised you... he promised you he wouldn’t be like his old self ever again. He promised you that he changed... it hurts your heart. More than you’d admit, and Tom could say the same as he looks into your eyes, his exterior still tough but regretting everything he’s said to you in the past five minutes... but as you look up at him with anger... all of his thoughts perish.
“FUCK YOU!” You laugh is dry and smooth out of your throat, “God, you like that don’t you? Treating me like shit. You made a promise Tom. You made a promise you wouldn’t treat me like FUCKING SHIT EVER AGAIN... and you’re doing it now.”
You stare into his eyes. Fire. Red is all you see.
“I thought I could live never knowing why you fucking hated me all my life. Why you made me cry every fucking day. You tormented me for the better half of everything and you wanna know what I think? I think you’re an insecure jerk who has absolutely nothing better to do because you’re a scumbag, you’re a piece of shit, Tom. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
“God, I fucking hate you. I hate everything about you.” You shake your head, “I hate how you were nice to me for the past month and a half and now you’re acting like an absolute dick because you’re leaving tomorrow... use me for a place to stay and then leave.”
“Was that your plan, Tom?” You question him, “Was that your plan all along? To fucking use, me... you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.”
Tom stares at you as you speak, shaking his head, “No. Y/n. My plan wasn’t to use you, I thought I could like you, tolerate you... but fuck you’re the worst person I’ve ever met. You wanna know why I hate you? Because you stole the spotlight from me every single goddamn fucking time! Paddy sees you as more as a sibling than he sees me. Sam and Harry? You’re closer with them. MY FUCKING PARENTS probably love you more than me.” He scoffs, “So I hate you, y/n. Because you stole my fucking life and you’ve wasted the past five weeks of them too.”
Tom walks up to his room, leaving you stunned. You finally know what you did – and you didn’t even mean to do it.
“Paddy, c’mon. You gotta eat.” Tom sighs, “Please.”
He shakes his way, “I like the way Y/n makes it... yours is gross.”
Tom sighs, irritated, clenching his jaw, “Well y/n isn’t here right now... and it’s just pepperoni pizza. I made it just like she said.”
Paddy shakes his head, “No you didn’t... can she come over, and do it? Oh! Maybe we can watch Star Wars.”
“Paddy, I thought we were gonna watch those together.” Tom frowns.
Paddy shakes his head once more, “Nah, she has all these fun facts about the movies and every time we watch, she’s got something knew... watching with you would be boring.”
Tom watches his brother walk away as he looks down at the pizza he made, feeling tears well up in the sockets of his eyes, taking a bite of his pizza, he sighs, “Tastes the same.” He mutters to himself.
-
Sam and Harry ran down the stairs bumping into Tom. It was Halloween and Tom was ready to go, he had his Spider-Man costume on and a tote bag, ready to take his younger brothers trick-or-treating.
“You guys ready to go?”
The two brothers exchange a glance, “Oh...” Harry starts, “Well, we told Y/n we’d go with her since she just got her lisence... and Paddy’s with his friends... What about Haz?”
“He’s with his girlfriend.” Tom sighs, “It’s... It’s fine. Have fun, I guess.” He shrugs, waiting by the door all night for the kids who wanted to Trick-or-Treat.
-
Tom sits on the couch as he watches his parents come down the stairs, “Where are you guys headed? I thought we were supposed to hang out today.” He questions his parents.
“Oh! Y/n is graduating from university... she’s going to become a history teacher.” Tom’s mother says proudly, “We’re so proud of her! She’s been working so hard.”
“So why are you guys going?” Tom questions his parents once more as they look at each other.
Sitting down in front of him, to have a short conversation, his father speaks, “Tom... Y/n is like one of our children... you can’t expect us not to go... we love her as much as we love you.”
-
It hurt him... All those times everyone had left him – for you. That’s what drove his hatred for you. But now he knew why everyone had left him for you. Because you were kind. You were beautiful and sweet. You were a good friend. You had made Tom happier than most people had in his whole entire life in the past five weeks.
Paddy was right, when the two of you watched Star Wars, you had facts for almost every scene and most of the time he wants people to shut up when you watch movies. He didn’t want you to. You were interesting and you always giggled at the stupid jokes in the movies. Sometimes you’d fall asleep, and Tom would carry you to bed... it seemed like that happened a lot.
You were a good driver, and always offered to take him everywhere when you could. Given, most days you were at school, you always made the effort to drive. He appreciated the gesture of you picking him up from set, always driving smooth enough to let Tom get a little sleep before waking him up when he got home to your house... which had started to become, well, home.
His parents were right... you worked hard. For everything you had. For everything you owned and everything you did. You were a beautiful, stunning girl and you had strong opinions and that’s what made you who you are. You say sorry after everything even after you weren’t supposed to. His parents were right. You taught hard, you worked hard.
He loved you as much as they loved you – probably more.
He’d never tell you that – maybe, maybe, going back to the same place the two of you were before would be for the better... maybe, if Tom started to hate you again, this would all be easier. That’s why he yelled and tried to push you away.
...so why did this hurt more than a thousand suns... a thousand knifes to the heart?
MONDAY was harder than you thought it would be. Tom had left as early as possible. Getting an Uber to take him to the airport. His stuff was gone when you treaded to his room to apologise.
You were supposed to take him to the airport.
Sighing, you went downstairs and made yourself breakfast. At seven am you expected Tom to run through the door, all sweaty. Shirt stuck to his chest – but... he didn’t.
He didn’t run through the door when you expected him to. He wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be there. He’d never be there... and your heart hurt because of it. You didn’t want to go to school. You didn’t want to do anything because you didn’t have Tom here to do it with you. He had become your rock. Your motivation.
Tom sat on the plane feeling the same. He regrets not telling you how he felt. He regrets not telling you anything. He regrets not apologising before he left because he thinks that you think he meant everything he said to you. But he didn’t... he didn’t mean any of it.
Your co-workers and students could tell something was wrong but didn’t press on the issue. It wasn’t their place to. You don’t know if you’re thankful for that or if you’re upset about it – wondering if people actually cared. If anything, you were doing was actually working. If your life was the way you wanted it to be... or had it been the way you wanted it to be.
Had you enjoyed picking up Tom from work? Had you enjoyed him picking you up from work? Obviously, if Tom was overseas none of that could happen because your life is here, and Tom’s is there and yet... you need them to collide and crossover.
You need to be with him.
But he wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be here for a long time... so that was just the way it was. Waiting for Tom. Waiting for a man who’s going to come back... waiting for someone you know will come back.
Night dawns in on London. Tom left earlier, even though his flight was meant to leave that night. He left before you woke up and practically hung out at the airport all day because he couldn’t bear to see how hurt you were.
Tom sighs getting on the plane with Zendaya, “What’s up with you?” She questions.
“Y/n and I... we got in a fight. It was bad.” He says quietly, “I think I really messed things up with her.”
“Probably.” Zendaya laughs softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Tom, you’ve been rude to her for almost all your life... you thought something wouldn’t happen? Y/n knew it. Y/n was worried that you’d go back to the same ways. She told you... and you did it, Tom... you did what she feared you would do.”
Tom stayed silent for a moment, “I miss her, and it hasn’t even been a whole seven hours.” He murmurs, looking up at Zendaya, “I love her, Z. I’ve been such a fucking idiot all her life and I love her... so much.”
She sighs, “You have been an asshole, you gained back her trust, and then you fucked it all up again... you can tell her you love her. You can try and build back everything you gained from her – but she’ll always be scared. Not if you don’t prove to her that you can be different.”
Tom looks back at the door to the airport, going in, looking back at Zendaya, “Do you think it’s too late?” He questions.
“Tom, she’s fallen for you – she’s long gone... Even before you moved in with her, she loved you... she told me, herself.”
“Fuck...” Tom sighs, “I gotta – I gotta go.”
You shut your laptop; your ticket booked. You need to see Tom. You need to tell him how you feel what you feel. God, you missed him so much. You told work you’d be away for two days. You were going to visit him and if all else failed, you didn’t know what you would do. The rain was pouring down, when you ran out your front door and down to your car. You didn’t. You collided with the floor – and collided with someone else.
“Ow!” You hold your head, “I’m-”
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
You felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt like everything was good. You felt like everything was falling into place... it had barely been seven hours. Seven hours since you had last seen him, and you could cry. You started to cry.
Tom’s arms wrapped around you as you both sat on the floor, not saying a single word. Your tears seeping into Tom’s jumper, before he noticed you wearing his jumper that he gave you back on the first week of living with you.
You tug him closer as you keep crying into his jumper. Not being able to say a single word. Just cry, your sobs filling the air as he places a kiss on your head, being the first one to speak,
“I’m here.” He whispers as you cry harder, pulling him in, “Hey, it’s okay... tell me what’s wrong.”
You pull yourself out of his grasp, “What’s wrong is that I’m in love with you!” You sob, “I’ve been in love with you for all my life and all you’ve done is a complete ass. I’d never steal your family from you, Tom... all those times I hung out with them, you could’ve come! You didn’t even come to my graduation!”
Tom’s eyes well with tears, “Every day I lived here I felt guilty for everything... I hated you because I was arrogant and ignorant and... when you helped me back in high school, I... I started to like you and I should’ve let myself, but, then Halloween rolled around, and my brothers ditched me to hang out with you... if they had asked me to go with them I would’ve... I would’ve gone and your graduation, I should’ve gone... I’m so proud of you, okay? And I haven’t ever been the nicest, not even when I wanted to.”
“You don’t have to trust me, you don’t have to jump in with me right now, but I love you and I want to be with you... but I want to prove myself to you, that I can be better.”
You look into Tom’s eyes, a couple tears rolling down your puffy red eyes, “You’ve done that... you’ve proven yourself already... you’ve proven you can change. We got into an argument, sure, but now that everything is in the open... we can be better... you can be better.”
He nods, his face drifting closer to yours, “Let me be better... let me be yours.”
“You already have me.” You whisper as his lips land on yours.
There’s something different in the kiss. It’s soft and sweet and the taste of salt is not missed. Your lips are in flurry, tongues mixing together, intertwined as the two of you were on the floor of your deck. The rain pours down around you and you can hear the patter of it on the roof above you.
Tom’s hands run over your body, making you shiver, as you pull away softly, “You have me, Tom... all of me.” You whisper quietly as you feel your body lift the floor and the front door close behind you. Kisses on your lips, strong and soft. Full of passion.
“P-Please.” You mutter against his lips, “Please.” You beg.
“Please, what?” He questions you softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Fuck me,” you breath, “I’ve wanted you for so long, please.”
You feel your core dripping and pulsating already, needy for Tom’s touch. You need all of him and your body won’t stop wanting until he actually touches you – and even then, it might not stop. Nothing will ever stop. Your want and need for him will never stop.
His hands are cold as he pulls you up the stairs, placing you down on your bed, kissing your neck, your jawline. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. His hands trailing up your shirt as he does so. Your hands intertwined in his as he kisses every inch of you. You can feel your core tense, and you can feel yourself flush. God, your cunt aches for him.
Your breath comes out soft, needy... and you can feel Tom smirk as his lips keep connecting with your hot skin. A chuckle escapes his lips, leaving the ghost of his breath, “You’ve waited so long, can’t wait any longer, can you?”
You shake your head, “No... No, I can’t.” Tom’s hands go to lift up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission, “Do... do whatever you want... I don’t care.” You say breathlessly, “I just- I just want you.” Your breathless and Tom knows how needy you are for him.
He lifts your shirt over your head, and you pull off your panties and sweatpants – he’s baffled by the site of you. How perfect you look for him. How you’re only his and nobody else’s, “Fuck you are so beautiful...” He trails off.
Kissing your neck once more, Tom doesn’t stop there. Moving his lips lower and lower, in-between your breasts, down your stomach... and right above your aching cunt. You feel yourself subconsciously buck forward, needy for everything he has to give you. For his tounge, fingers and cock to touch you in the one place that needs the most attention. His patience is strong and yours is running thin.
“Please...” You mewl, “Please, Tommy.”
Tom listens to your begging as he swipes a finger over the lips of your pussy, your juices covering his thumb, “So fucken’ wet.” He smirks... and without any warning he dips in, his tongue running a line, making you moan.
His thumb stays on your sensitive, rubbing your clit as your moans remain desperate. Desperately needing more of him. Tom’s tongue moves faster against you. Pressing kisses against your clit, kitten-licking you and making circles around your clit. The way he eats your pussy is godlike. Bringing you closer and closer to your edge. To your heart’s desire... and Tom god, all he wants is to feel you cum all over his swollen, red, fucking lips. Moaning and groaning against your cunt.
He slips his middle finger into your wet hole. Needy and wanting... everything you’d been feeling over the past five weeks was finally coming full circle. Tom looks up at you as your head falls back, and your fingers become tangled into his brown curls. Desperately needing more of his tongue. For him to go faster – and harder. His tongue is addicting and the way his finger curls inside of you only leaves you wanting more and more – you can feel yourself getting closer. Closer and closer. Your cunt is pulsing as you feel yourself walking, about to dive off of that perfect edge. Your stomach fuelled by fire. You feel the bottom of your stomach tingle and your body shudder against Tom’s mouth.
“Fuck Tom! Jesus fucking Christ!” You moan breathless.
He can feel just how close you are as your cunt tightens around his finger, he pulls his mouth away for a slither of a second, “Cum for me, baby.” And then his mouth is right back on you, wanting to taste every last drop of your orgasm... and he does.
Fuck you’re sweet. You’re so fucking sweet. He’s thinking about how this will be the only thing on his mind for a long time. How your cunt and the taste of you will be something he wishes to never rid his tongue of. How the taste of you is addicting. You feel yourself, however, grow eager for more.
And Tom feels it too. His cock aching for your touch. His cock hard, wanting every inch of you, “Tom... fuck me, please... fuck me.”
Tom doesn’t wait another second before pulling down his pants, taking off his shirt. Letting you watch him strip for you. Looking down at his cock, wanting every inch of him inside of you, letting your eyes graze over him... “I wanna lick your abs.” You mutter quietly.
His eyes snap up at you, “What?” He questions with a short laugh.
“You were notsupposed to hear that.” You laugh, “They just look really... lickable.” You shrug.
Tom walks over, “We’ll see you to that then.” He presses a kiss on your lips, “But if I don’t fuck you right now, I might explode... where are the condoms?”
“They should be in this drawer.” You say leaning over to open it, but there’s nothing inside, “Fuck, I ran out.”
“Let me check my room, I’ll be right back.”
You bite your lip as you watch him walk away, desperately rubbing your thighs together, bucking your hips for some sort of desperate stimulation while he’s away and he lets out a laugh, “You are way too eager.” He whispers.
Walking over to you, you spread your legs, Tom positioning himself right at the entrance to your cunt, “You ready, Princess?” He whispers softly in your ear as you nod.
Tom’s cock slides inside of you and begins to move slowly, warming you up. The condom on his cock, giving you that slight bit more of lubrication than your pussy provides. He’s pressing against your cunt, rubbing your clit with his fingers and his lips on yours. You’re still reeling from your last orgasm. Your clit sensitive to every touch. You feel your hips buck against him.
“Fuck, Tom... you are going way too slow.” You say.
Tom moves quicker and all you can hear now is skin on skin, his balls slapping against the back end of your pussy, “Fuck,” He mutters looking down at you as your tits bounce. How your mouth widens when you moan, and your hips continue to keep bucking against the slit of his cock as he presses in on your g-spot. His hand moving from your clit to your stomach, applying some pressure onto you, and you let out another perfect moan.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groan needily, “Tom, please.” You beg.
He presses into your cunt harder. Your bodies moving together like mesh. Desperately and needy. Like water. Fluid and in motion. Your bodies are one – so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. Every single time you fucked yourself, rubbed your clit. Every single time you made yourself cum to the thought of him. Every single time you moaned his name needy... and now you were doing it for real. He was really the one making you cum. Pulling you to the edge. It was real and it wasn’t in your head and dreams like every time beforehand.
Tom felt the same way, finally pressing himself into you, rather than pumping his own cock with his hand. He loved feeling the way you felt. He loves feeling how wet you are for him. He was the one making you cum – making you feel good like everything he had thought about before. You were a daydream come true and he finally got to have you. Got to hold you. This was real. It wasn’t in his head – and he couldn’t believe it.
Tom’s head falls into the crevice of your neck as he fucks you senseless. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge and he can feel your cunt tightening too, “Fuck,” He swears, “’Mma cum.” He groans.
You moan, “Me- me too.”
You cum first, feeling your stomach grow hot and your body jerk forward. You falter slightly against Tom as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, a few moments after. It’s the first time someone’s ever cum with you – and the first time you’ve ever come so hard that your legs felt sore after... you have a feeling it won’t be the last time this happens either.
Tom rubs your inner thigh softly, as he throws out the condom and gets back in bed. Lying next to you, “You gotta go pee.” He whispers.
“I love it when you whisper dirty things to me.” You joke, “Thank you, Tom.”
“For what?”
You shrug, “For changing... You think I can’t trust you – and I don’t... but I also do. I trust that you will be a better person... I trust that you will treat me like your equal... I trust that you will love me if we do decide to be something... if you want to be something.” You hastily add.
He turns to face you in the depths and warmth of the sheets the two of you are buried under, “I want to be something.” He says quickly, “I do... I want to be something – more preferably your boyfriend.”
You smile, “I’d like that too... really, I would.” You cup his face in your hands, “Please believe me... I trust you.”
He smiles softly, “I believe you.”
You grin wider, “Okay, now... lemme go pee.” You giggle walking away.
THE EPILOUGE – THE BOY WHO LOVED YOU.
So that’s how you got here. Unable to live your life without Tom, unable to think without him or make a simple decision. Unable to live without Tessa. You lived in a house with Tom, and his dog and you missed him every single day when he left for America the next day after getting with you.
When your family found out it was safe to say that they were surprised. Tom did hate you, but after a few months everyone settled. You were happy and... so was Tom.
He still feels guilty all the time – and he’s always insecure about the things he says to you because he never wants to make you upset again – but you always assure him that you’re okay, that the two of you were okay.
Carefully, you look into Tom’s eyes, everyone knew about your relationship because of Instagram and it’s safe to say your students freaked out – the whole school pretty much had. You just laughed at all the questions they told you and offered some sweet stories to your students.
But tonight, was the premiere of No Way Home and it was your first red carpet actually being seen by the cameras... and actually being on Tom’s arm.
“I’m nervous.” You tell him, “I’m really, really nervous.” You whisper in the back of the limo. Zendaya was in a separate car – and you were with Tom. Jacob already got there, texting you a few moments before he arrived indefinitely.
“Y/n, it’ll be okay.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “We’re okay. They love you... all the fans they do love you.”
You groan, “Don’t! What if they change their mind one day and decide to dig up some crazy information on me.”
He laughs softly, “Darling, you’ve charmed them all as much as you’ve charmed me.”
Pulling upto the red carpet, finally ready to step out of the car, “You ready?” He questions you.
You nod, “It’s just me and you, right?”
“Me and you.” He places a kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but melt.
It wasn’t like this before – and now that it was, you’re not sure you would change anything that happened to lead you here. Lead you right to the love of your life.
summary: Tom Holland hates you and you don't know why. Yet, you've had a crush on him for almost all your life despite the known fact. When Tom needs a place to stay because of filming... Tom changes... and so does your relationship.
pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under cut), pretty angsty, fluff, tom being an a-hole, some corny moments and not proofread either.
word count: 15.2k (A LONG ONE, i literally could not stop myself idk what happened.)
extended smut warnings: p in v (protected), fingering, oral (fem), that's pr much it, very vanilla tbh but it was their first time so nothing too flashy.
PROLOUGE – "FIVE WEEKS."
You and Tom had been through a lot to get to the point you were at today. Sometimes thinking about it makes you burst out crying when he’s away because you miss him so much that your heart aches for him... and if he doesn’t answer your texts, you’re miserable. It’s like there’s a part of your heart that’s missing.... you simply can’t live without Tom.
But it wasn’t always that way.
Not at all.
There was a time where you preferred to live without Tom. You understand why he had acted that way, because he had told you... but now it’s strange to think about the before. The before of your relationship. The before of him loving you – because truth be told, you always loved him. From the youngest age you ever could.
You inhaled a deep breath as you sat at the dinner table with the Hollands – family friends. Your parents got along swimmingly. You were closer to Harry and Sam, always hanging out with them as kids – the three of you were like glue, stuck side by side. Paddy was a kind boy, but the two of you didn’t have too much to talk about because of the age difference, though, the two of you did bond over video games, always making an effort to play the new ones when they came out. Whether it be over the console or in person. Your job as a history teacher allowed you to have a flexible schedule.
Albeit you and Tom were the closest in age, with you being a year younger than him. The two of you were supposed to get along. That’s all your parents wanted. But for some strange reason, you could never really crack him, like you had the others.
You were a single child and Dom, and Nikki were like your second parents. You lived next door, so there wasn’t a time where you didn’t see the Hollands. Not a day in your life hadn’t gone by where you didn’t sit next to Tom on the bus, despite, him telling you to leave him alone. You weren’t friends and you were so sure that you never would be.
You wanted to be his friend. But thirteen-year-old you didn’t understand the concept of hating someone like Tom hated you. It made you doubt yourself. Constantly thinking you were in the wrong, apologising after every other sentence because you were always afraid of offending someone.
You met Tom’s eyes from across the table, wanting to say something, but knowing he’d just shoot you down anyway. You were both adults now, it was silly that he couldn’t put this hatred aside. You didn’t even know why he hated you. He just did. It was always like you were a thorn in his side.
“So, how’s work...?” You question him – he’d just started filming No Way Home.
Your students always went crazy when you told them you knew Tom. Working in a high school down in London, teaching teenagers, you always heard people go crazy over these things - going to the premieres because you were supposed to be close with the actor was cool. You enjoyed the movies – just sucks you’re only invited as a curtsey and not because he wants you there.
It was crazy that you had Zendaya’s phone number in your phone – she actually likes you, yet Tom puts up that same front when he’s around his friends. You like to pretend it’s real, even though you know it’s not. Even though it’s far from it.
He shakes his head, “What’s it to you?” He shrugs, his tone sharp – it makes you jump a little, but you just look back down at your food.
You sigh, “Nothing, just- just trying to make conversation.” You fight through your sadness, flashing him a small smile. The pang in your heart was like a knife.
Like every single time he had ever shut down a conversation with you, it was like a knife to the fucking heart.
You had feelings for Tom. It was fucked up because he was always mean to you. But you loved Tom before you even knew what the word really meant. You had other boyfriends and they all loved you... but it wasn’t the same. You knew Tom would never love you back, and you tried to move on, but it was no use. No matter how many mean things he could say to you, you’d always look past it... because it’s him.
He hadn’t always been meaning, it mostly started when you got into High-School. You were thirteen and he was fourteen. You had no other friends, so you’d follow Tom around. He’d always push you away, though. It sucked, because even if you, Sam, and Harry were all close, they weren’t old enough to be in the same grade as you, so... you were all alone.
You weren’t popular in school, not like Tom was. Yet, everyone knew who you were by association. Some of the girls at school were jealous of you, and some of them made fun of you. But you just ignored it – you didn’t have very many friends in high school. University, was, however, a turning point. You met your best friend Angel who worked in the same faculty as you. You’d been teaching for four years, and you loved it so much more than you could ever have imagined.
You stand from the table, your plate banging, creating a loud noise, everyone’s attention turned to you, “Sorry... ‘M gonna go grab another drink.” You say softly, turning to the kitchen. You stepped inside, making your way to the fridge where you put your glass to the water and ice dispenser.
Taking a sip of the water, you placed your elbows on the counter, “Get it together, y/n.”
“You alright, darling?” You heard the familiar voice, as you turned to face Nikki with a soft smile.
“Perfect.” You say with reassurance, but it doesn’t really cut through the sadness of your tone.
She pouts, “What’s wrong? Is it Tom?”
You nod, tears brimming your eyes, “It’s so stupid, I’m twenty-four years old, you think I’d get a grip, right?” A dry chuckle escapes you without another thought, “I know not everyone can like me... but I’ve known him for all my life.”
She places a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry... I wish I could change it. Change him. I don’t know why he acts so cruel towards you. He’s not a hateful person.”
You nod, “That’s what sucks the most... I know he’s not. He’s kind, he’s charming, he’s sweet. He helps people and he doesn’t need an ulterior motive. He’s someone to look up to, but I’m the exception.”
She pulls you into a hug, “I’m sorry, hun.”
You shake your head against her hold, “Don’t be... It’s not your fault.”
You’re sitting in your room after your chat with Nikki, thinking about your talk with her. It’s painful. You’re laying back flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’m old enough to deal with this’. Is all you can think to yourself, it’s all you can muster the courage to believe. That this is all your fault, and you were the burden in Tom’s life. You must’ve done something to make him hate you and you can’t think about what it is... honestly, it makes you miserable.
His hair looks soft, and his arms look warm, but his heart is cold toward you... and yet, you still want to find yourself twirling around those strands of brown curls or cuddled up in his arms. Your attraction to him was what would kill you.
You always thought you and Tom would be endgame. When you were sixteen, you thought Tom hating you would just be a phase. You tried to congratulate him on him being Spider-Man, and he was nice to you then, but that hadn’t last long at all.
Your childhood room was a sight for sore eyes. One of the walls was pink and your bedsheets were a bright blue. You came over quite frequently, so your parents figured they’d just leave it the way it was – posters of Anakin Skywalker and all. You turned to plunge your face into the pillow below your head.
A knock on your door makes you jump but you don’t budge, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Harry speaks from the other side of the door.
“Come in!” You call, flipping yourself back over.
Harry steps into the room with a soft smile as he stares at your figure, “Get up you big baby, they need you downstairs.”
You sit up slowly, a suspicious glare in your eyes, “What for?”
“You’re not gonna like it.” He says simply, grabbing your hand.
“What for, Harry?!” You question your friend once more as he pulls you down the stairs back to the dining table where Tom’s head is in his hands. Everyone is staring at you, “What’s going on?” You ask everyone.
Tom opens his mouth, “Well, there’s a few scenes we’re doing here in London for the new movie... and I need a place to stay.”
You scoff, looking down at Tom with shock, “And nobody here can offer you that but me? What about Haz!”
“Too far from set.”
“What about your parents!”
“Y/n if I could stay with my parents I would.”
“Harry, Sam?” You look over to them, desperately needing help.
“No can do, we live on campus.” They respond with a pitiful glance.
“And what makes you think I’d help you after the way you treat me?”
He sighs, “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question, Tom!”
Nikki places a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n, please take this into consideration... maybe the two of you will end up bonding.”
“Over what?” Tom asks his mother, “I’m only doing this because I have to. Not because I want to.”
“Thomas! Stop being rude!” His mother scolds him.
You look back into Nikki’s eyes, tears brimming, “Fine... I’ll... I’ll do it.” You look down at your fingers, toying with the paint on your nails, picking at them, “How long are you filming here for?”
“Five weeks.” He says quiet.
You and Tom were in your car driving back to your place in London. It was a three-hour car ride from your neighbourhood to your current place and there was some traffic. Tom spotted your lanyard hanging off of your mirror, covered in a different array of pins from your favourite movies and a couple keys. Tom knew you were a teacher. But sitting in your car staring at your life from the inside was different to just looking at you from the outside.
Tom saw you every few months, today was just a random family dinner because Tom was back in the UK and his parents insisted on it. He usually saw you on your birthday and you saw him on his, and Harrys and Sam and Paddy’s, basically, you were there for everything... Christmas included.
Tom knew why he hated you back in Primary school, he knew why he hated you back in high school. Now? He wasn’t quite sure. He was a grown man. He could get over it. But it was weird... but that was only because he made it weird.
You were honestly lucky you had a spare room. It’s not like you wanted Tom to be here. You didn’t want to live with someone who would make your life miserable... but maybe Nikki was right, maybe you’d be able to patch things up with him.
The radio was the only sound in the car, apart from the wheels on the road, and the tension in the air was thick and tense. Like someone was waiting to snap – you had a backbone too. You fought back too. Even if you had some feelings for him, it’s not like you don’t resent him; resent everything he says to you.
The bump of your driveway had approached. Your house was quaint, Tom’s bags in the boot of your car, “I’ll carry your bags inside just... open the front door.” You told the boy as you turned your car off, handing him the keys.
“It’s fine, I can take care of my own bags.” He shrugs.
You turn to face him, “Tom, please. Just go inside.”
You don’t say anything else before getting out of the car. You’ve got shit to do and the fact that it was a Sunday night didn’t help either – you had assignments to finish marking and your deadline was in a few days. That’s why you were glad you had a spare room that was prepared. Not because you didn’t want to set up – you were nice, you wouldn’t have him fend for himself. But because you couldn’t afford to help him at this current moment.
Tom doesn’t argue with you anymore than he already had. Probably regretting asking you to stay here already.
The door was unlocked as Tom turned the key opening the door and locating the hallway light. Waiting for you in the doorway. His two carry ons in your hands, awfully heavy for one person... but he was staying for five weeks.
WEEK ONE – OPENING UP.
After getting Tom settled into his room an showing him around a bit – which was quite awkward, you found yourself getting changed and heading backdown stairs to sit at your kitchen table, which was a mess to say the least. Sprawled with papers and papers of assignments and old exams. Your laptop looked like it was on its last life, and you did too.
Sitting down, you placed some earbuds into your ears getting ready for a long night of marking papers.
Tom walked downstairs to find you, and saw you, legs crossed hunched over, red pen in hand. He didn’t want to disturb you, but the bathroom was out of toilet paper. Tom approaches you slowly. It was different now. There was no reason to be rude to you or mean... you gave him a place to stay. But it was his nature, and Tom couldn’t help it.
You’re slightly startled, “What?” you question him taking out an earbud.
“Your bathroom is out of toilet paper.” He sighs.
“No, it’s not.”
“Don’t believe me? Go take a fucking look for yourself.”
You take out your headphones throwing them down onto the table with a huff, making your way upstairs and into your bathroom, opening the cabinet where you keep your toilet paper... seeing that you are out. Downstairs was hopeless too.
“Fuck...” you mutter softly, “Well, I’d better go get some then, maybe do the grocery shopping too.”
It wasn’t too late at night, nine thirty to be precises, and supermarkets wouldn’t be closed at this time. Most shops weren’t. You grab your keys from your kitchen table and the grocery list from off of the fridge – Tom following behind you.
“What’re you doing?” You question him, tone full of spite. The hallway was dim and staring into his eyes only made you fall harder – no matter the fact that he resented you.
He rolls his eyes, “What does it look like I’m doing, Bunny?”
You get mad at the nickname – it’s what he used to call you in school, because you were timid and quiet. You didn’t have very many friends and Tom took advantage of that. Making you feel smaller than you were before. Trying to push you away – purposely pushing you away.
“Don’t call me that.” You say as you open your front door.
The ride to the grocery store is short. But Tom looks at you as you drive. Thinking about all those times he called you Bunny as a kid. Thinking about all the times he had made you cry. Tom also thought about the first time he saw you after he finished filming Civil War and Homecoming. He hadn’t seen you in a long time and when he did... you were different.
You were more mature. Your hair was longer, and your smile had been brighter. Your style was more evolved, and you strayed away from the cringey t-shirts with those weird quotes. He watches the light of the street on your face and watches how you’re so focused when you drive. Tom hadn’t realised you drove a manual when he got in the car, but now he had seen, and he was slightly impressed – not many people can still do that.
He thinks about how you were teenagers, how you used to follow him because you had no one and he would push you away. How he didn’t want to be your friend. Getting that slight closer insight into your life makes you more 3D and even though he’d known you his whole life he didn’t want to know you.
You could feel his eyes on you, but when he turned away you felt like something is missing. You shook the feeling off as you pulled up to the grocery store. You parked the car and stepped out looking at your list.
“...So do you wanna divide and conquer or do you want to do it together?” You questioned Tom, “We’d get it done faster if we divide and conquer but I don’t really care,”
Tom takes a deep breath before nodding, “We should do it together then.”
You give lipped smile, “Sure.”
Grabbing a trolley, the two of you make your way into the aisle, “So, what’s first?” Tom questions you, his elbows on the trolley as he pushes.
“Well, I need milk and eggs, so we can head to the freezer aisle,” You lead him over, “Now that you’re staying with me, I should probably double up, huh?” You laugh and Tom chuckles.
“Bacon?” He questions looking over at the fridge.
“Sure.” You nod softly.
As the two of you continue you found yourselves becoming more civil. Tom hadn’t been rude since the dinner earlier and something about all this domestic crap made your stomachs warm. The two of you continued through the aisles, collecting things on your list. Tom pushed the trolley as you grabbed things and put it inside. It was a nice system and although Tom had his hood up just in case, it was kinda nice to be spending time with him like this. It was sweet. He was being sweet.
Part of you hoped it was all just a dream, that you’d wake up and realise it was all in your head despite knowing it’s real. Tom’s never been like this towards you, and you don’t know exactly why that’s changed. You want to know why it’s changed.
When the two of you reached the counter, you pulled out your wallet, but Tom had already paid off the hundreds dollar worth of groceries that would keep you both well fed for most of the next five weeks.
You let out a groan as you slam your pen onto your kitchen table, Tom looks over from the couch at you with worry, standing up to join you at your table, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s it matter to you?” You snap, “It’s not like you’d care.”
Tom sighs, “C’mon, Y/n... I know you better than this. I know that you bottled up your emotions. I’ve seen it all my life.”
“Wonder why.” You mutter under your breath before looking up at Tom – he heard you, but decided not to press on the issue, “I’m fine, Tom, really. Drop it.”
He shakes his head, grabbing the paper in front of you, letting out a low whistle, “and I thought I was bad in school.”
“Hey!” you wack him from across the table, “History isn’t Jeramiah’s best subject, but he does really well in everything else... just mine.”
Tom senses how upset you are, looking over at you with a frown, “I’m sure you’re a good teacher.”
“I know I am!” You raise your voice, “I know I’m a good teacher, okay? Everyone tells me that!”
He looks at you with sadness as you yell, but he keeps his mouth shut as you deflate again, “Just sometimes... I look at kids like Jeremiah and I think to myself, why are you doing so good in everything else... but my subject? Is it me? Is it him? Does he need help? Do I need to change the way I teach.”
Tom smiles softly, “Remember when we were in high school, and there was this massive history test, and I was failing history, so you offered to help me... I was mean to you, but you really helped me... I never told you, but I passed that test.”
“You did? You never mentioned it, so I thought you failed or something, but you passed! I know it was like ten years ago but I’m proud of you, Tom! You struggled with that so much.”
He gives a bashful smile looking down at his lap, “See, if you could teach me, you can teach anyone... maybe he just needs a little push!”
You look at Tom across from the dinner table with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, Tom.”
Opening up Tom felt good... but it also felt horrible. Like you were giving him leverage against you... but you ignore the feeling.
WEEK TWO – GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
Tom had been on set for the past few days, and he was right, you barely saw him. The conversation the two of you had the week before had settled into your head. Tom had really brought you some words of comfort, he’d come home late and tired, so he’d see you working on marking the homework you had set, bidding you a short hello before heading over to bed.
Something about him not talking to you or something about you not seeing Tom had been weird. The first week he had been living with you had been much more prominent. He’d been around more – sometimes he’d cook, or you’d come home, and the house was clean, bathrooms and all.
Living with Tom... it hadn’t been as bad as you expected it to be. He was kinder, sweeter – he was finally treating you the same way he treated everyone else. With warmth. With the love in his heart, you knew he had – but you could only wonder why he was doing this. Why he had changed all his views from the past in the past seven days.
Tom had a day off today and offered to drive you to school, “Thanks for driving me.” You smile at Tom, “You didn’t have to do this.”
He scoffs, “Please, you’re impressive, you deserve a break even if it’s for a few minutes to work.”
You feel flush at Tom’s words, “What do you mean ‘impressive’?” You quirk an eyebrow.
He shrugs, “I dunno, your life just seems so hectic.”
“Not as much as yours Mr. Peter Parker.” You sigh, sinking into your seat a little bit, “I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure from people who don’t even know you.”
“Exactly the point.” Tom smiles softly, “They don’t know me, and I don’t know them... sometimes, I get nightmares of the paparazzi, flashing lights and I feel like I can’t move... like all lights and eyes are on me and if I do something wrong then my life will be over.”
You look over at Tom, your expression sorrow, “People aren’t perfect, Tom. You’re not a perfect person.” You try to offer a smile, but he just keeps his eyes on the road as he comes to a stop.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Miss L/n!” Was called out to you by one of your students as you sat at your desk, “Who dropped you off this morning?”
Ellie – a sweet girl, but way too invested in her teacher’s love lives, “Just a friend.” You answered somewhat honestly.
“What was his name?!” India questions you.
You sigh, “If I told you, I’d have to fail you.” Your students go wide eyed and shut up about the topic – if you told them Tom Holland had driven you to school, they’d react in a crazy way when he came to come get you again. Your phone buzzed, “Get back to work guys!”
Is it alright if you come on set with me? It’s on the way to pick you up and if I drop you off, I’d be late.
Tom’s text is followed by another text.
If not, that’s okay, I’ll risk getting in trouble for you.
Something about his text sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he was just being nice, but god, was it working. Was he buttering you up like this. It was worth it, all the things you were feeling, even if your heart would get ripped out of your chest once again. Like it did every single time. You smile down at your phone regardless.
You liked this new Tom. You liked the way he was treating you and even if it was just for a few weeks, you appreciated that he didn’t go out of his way to make your life hell while he lived in your house... He was a good house guest.
Sure... I’d love to see the movie magic.
Tom smiles down at his phone as he sits in your living room, anxiously waiting picking you up from school. It’s all he can think about. Seeing you again.
Tom’s mind was going crazy. He’d never felt this way for you before, but in living with you he’s learnt more about you than he has in the past twenty years of his life. He feels his heart get warm around you, but he also feels all this guilt for treating you like shit since you were in high school. He was stupid. It was all stupid. He had no reason... but he did. He was insecure of you.
When three o’clock rolled around, you ran out the doors of the school, not wanting to make Tom any late to set than he already was. You jumped into the car, which shocked Tom but you didn’t want to be late... you also didn’t want your students to see Tom driving.
“Do you want to be late to your job?” You scoff.
He chuckles, “What is with you?”
“Just drive, Tom!” You raise your voice.
As the two of you get moving you finally relax. You didn’t want to tell Tom why you were so insistent on leaving. Why you needed to go so bad, “My students, they asked who dropped me off this morning.”
“Oh.” Tom whispers, “What’d you tell them?”
“A friend dropped me off...”
“Cool.” He mutters softly.
“They know I know you, but I didn’t want you to be swarmed, y’know?”
“I... appreciate that.” Tom nods.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
The air between you and Tom had shifted over the past week. It was strange and weird, and you hated it, but you also wanted this so bad. You think back to how you were at dinner last week and all you could think about was how broken you were over him. How your heart ached for him to just like you.
Tom’s set really wasn’t too far from your school, as promised, but you could understand why he would’ve been late if he dropped you off home. In fact, you were kinda glad you came to see Tom work.
“You can hang out in my trailer, or you can sit on set if you want.” He says softly, staring into your eyes.
You feel your stomach go warm, “That sounds good to me.” A smile takes over your face as you get out of the car, slightly nervous.
“I’ve gotta head to makeup so, you can come with me if you want.”
“I’d like that... to be fair, right now I don’t really want to leave your side in fear of getting lost.”
You trail behind Tom feeling odd in your blouse and pencil skirt, his smile graces the set as you can see people still putting things together and people running around with purpose, and it was admirable. How this whole world worked. You’ve spoken to Tom’s castmates multiple times. Jacob was quite nice and Haz introduced you to him – even though Haz and Tom are best friends, he always was the one to apologise on his behalf or tell Tom to stop when he was being too mean to you. You two stayed in contact a lot. You had first met Zendaya at the Homecoming premiere, and a couple times after that when she was at some of Tom’s birthday parties, which you went to only because of Harry, Sam and Haz. Other than the fact that your parents made you go.
Walking into makeup you were met with the sight of Zendaya sitting in her makeup chair and her eyes light up as she sees you, “Hey, Y/n!” Her smile is warm – she is beautiful.
You smile back at her, “Hi, Z.” Your face feels warm as she reaches over to give you her hand since she can’t exactly give you a hug.
“What’re you doing here?” She questions you as she looks over at Tom who’s getting himself set in his chair.
“Well, Tom’s staying with me during the whole five weeks you’re out here... I’m closer to set than most hotels and Tom’s a friend, so we decided I’d do him a favour.” You bite your lip nervously.
Tom smiles, “An absolute darling, we went shopping the other day...” Tom speaks but you zone out as you stare at him, looking at him with all the love in your heart that you can possibly even muster. He’s beautiful as he gets his face pampered with blood and cuts. Purple bruises and a bloodshot eye. How can he still look so pretty like this? Dishevelled, beat up. It’s not real, maybe that’s why – because you know it’s not real.
Tom turns to you, “Y/n?”
His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, making you blink a few times before sending him a smile, “Yeah?”
“Do you mind spoilers?”
You shrug, “Not really... I kinda love them. It makes the final part more exciting if I’m being honest.”
Watching Tom work was... it was sexy, to say the least. How he did flips and his own stunts, hooked up to the wires, but also immensely focused and that suit... it was making you feel things you hadn’t felt before. How you could still see the outline of his abs through the thin material. The set wasn’t on a normal movie set, like concrete buildings. It was outside, so the darker it got, the colder it would get too. Zendaya and Jacob weren’t in this next scene, so they were sitting with you, as you marked a couple papers you had brought in your bag with you, watching as you marked the answers with ease.
“So, how’re things with Tom?” Zendaya asks you out of nowhere and you look up in surprise, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.
“What do you mean?” You question her, with a slight shiver as her and Jacob look to each other before looking back at you.
“It’s just that he’s been... nicer.” Jacob shrugs, “We’ve seen how he’s treated you.”
You stop holding your breath, sinking into Tom’s chair a little, “God, I don’t know... it’s like he’s an alien or something... he’s been living for me for two weeks and he’s been nicer to me then, than he has ever been in my whole life.” You sigh, “He’s not a bad person... he’s just bad to me.”
You watch Tom as he does another flip, chatting with the crew, laughing, and you don’t feel yourself smile, you don’t feel yourself get warm. But you are anyway. You are hopelessly in love with him and the way he’s treating you isn’t helping. He’s not supposed to make you fall harder for him. He’s supposed to be mean – remind you that it’s not okay to feel the way you do for him. But he’s not sending you any bad signs anymore.
You don’t notice that Jaxob and Zendaya are being called back to set until Jacob places a hand on your arm, “Come by set more often... we like having you here, Y/n.” He smiles.
“Thanks, Jacob.” You grin as he walks over to Tom with a smile.
Zendaya wraps her arms around you from behind, “Don’t be afraid to send a message, okay? I know we don’t know each other well, but I want to get to know you better.”
You rub her arm with a small smile, “That... that means a lot.” You nod against her, as she lets go, the warmth of her body leaves you all alone with your homework once more. You flick through them again. A shiver running down your body once more.
Pulling out your phone you notice the time: Seven O’clock, it reads. You sigh as you question when Tom will be done. But it seems the universe is answering that question for you as he walks over to you with a proud smile.
“How’d you like that?” He questions you.
The chatter in your teeth is barely there, but it’s noticeable when you talk, “G-Great, Tom, you did really well.”
“Holy shit, let me get you a jacket and then we’ll head out of here. I got what I needed for the day, so, I’m not needed here anymore.” He smiles.
He pulls you back to his trailer which is warm, “Maybe I should’ve sat in here.” You laugh.
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have had the chance to see some of the movie and my incredible stunts.”
“Your ego always this big?” You question, your tone playful.
He looks back at you, holding one of his hoodies, “Only when I feel this great, bunny.” He winks. The nickname catches you off guard. Not because he said it, but because of how he said it. His tone full of endearment and charm. His voice wasn’t cutthroat rude, like it usually was... and it was certainly an adjustment for you.
You take the hoodie from his hands, sliding it over your head, “Thanks.”
“I’m gonna be a bit longer cause I gotta get out of the suit and stuff, but you can stay in here.” He smiles and you nod. Leaving you all by yourself in the trailer, you flop onto the bed that sits in the corner.
Sleep takes over, your vision going black, as you fade off into the realm of dreams.
Tom walks back into his trailer, all snug in another jumper and a pair of sweatpants. He looks at you, his eyes are soft. He looks at how peaceful you look; he hears your soft snores echo in the room. He sees how you just collapsed. Your things on the table, how tired you must be. He commends you for your work. He knows you have hard days. He sees that in your moods and your laughs, how sometimes you’re not fully there or zoned out. How your fingers are often stained with red ink.
Tom doesn’t realise it, but he feels himself smile down at you. Brushing some of the hair out of your face to get a better look at you. How you still look so beautiful. How you’re still the kindest person he knows – how despite how rude he had been to you; you always went out of your way to be nice or help him anyway. All he feels is guilt.
All he feels is guilt because of how easy it is to like you. All he feels is guilt because you’ve given him a place to stay. All he feels is guilt because he treated you like shit when he could’ve had a good friend. All he feels is guilt because he let some stupid feelings get in the way when the two of you were younger. All he feels is guilt because he was the insecure one. All he feels is guilt because it was never your fault. All he feels is guilt because you weren’t the one to hate... it was him; he should hate himself – he does hate himself.
All he feels is guilt, as he carries you back to the car.
WEEK THREE – THE PAST & THE PRESENT.
Your presence on set had become a lot more noticeable in the afternoons. Usually, it was just to get a better change of pace and mark somewhere unfamiliar rather than your shitty kitchen table which you had cried at, a number of times. Zendaya was also pretty good with History, and she has some well enough knowledge to help you sometimes.
That’s where you were at right now, you and Zendaya, sitting in Tom’s trailer as you both hold red pens, “Do you have a favourite student?” She questions you as the two of you draw ticks and crosses.
You laugh, “I’m supposed to say that I don’t, but there’s this group of girls in year eleven that have my heart... they picked history, so they’re so passionate about it. They make conversation with me. They love to learn about me, and they also love to learn the content. They’re good at the subject and they brighten my day when they walk in the room.”
You sigh, “Given, there’s kids like that in every grade... it’s tough to find the ones who know what their passions are. Some people don’t know, and that’s okay.”
She smiles, “That seems nice. They seem lovely... how’d you know you wanted to become a teacher? I always kinda knew I wanted to do acting, from a young age I was a performer... dance recitals, drama school...” She trails off.
You chuckle, “It was actually after helping Tom... he was never the best at school, he wasn’t awfully bad, but history was his worst subject. I was fourteen and I always had my head in that kind of stuff. I think I’ve seen every single documentary that the History channel has put out in the last thirty years.” You shrug, “Given I do have time for other stuff... I found myself interested. So, when Tom needed help because he was failing History at the time, he came to me for help.”
You bite your lip softly, “I had a massive crush on him...” You brace yourself for the truth, “I have a massive crush on him... had for a long time, but he was always so mean to me, but regardless, I helped him anyway. I’d never say no to him. Even now. But I helped tutor him and it worked... I only found out that he passed a couple weeks ago, ‘cause he told me. But I didn’t know if he had at the time... all I knew is that I enjoyed teaching him. Regardless of all the spite that came out of his mouth whilst I did.”
Zendaya grabs your hand from across the table, “From what I can tell, Tom’s really changed.”
You nod, hesitant, “He... he has, but part of me doesn’t want to believe it.” You look down at her hand wrapped around yours, “I don’t want to get my hopes up when he goes back to how he was.”
“You think he will?”
“I... don’t know.” You let out a huff as she lets go of your hand – deciding not to press the issue any further. A breeze blows through the window, “Fuck it’s cold...” You laugh.
Zendaya laughs too, the two of you spending time in each other’s company – she feels like a good friend. A real friend.
Tom was sat in your room, staring at all the posters around. John Wick on your wall, and Anakin Skywalker too. You had one of Thor and another of Poe Dameron. He thought it was kinda creepy, but the posters he had in his room weren’t any better. In comparison to the photos, he had with his friends, he couldn’t see very many of yours, except for a photo of you, Harry and Sam at the beach without Tom. Your smile was bright and so were his brothers. Tom’s jaw clenched at the picture, but his thoughts were interrupted at you walking into the room.
As he swivelled the desk chair over to face you, he caught sight of your shelves. How they were littered in history books – both Modern and Ancient, and the other side of your room had posters of different artefacts that you had gotten from the British Museum. He thinks you go there way too much, but what does he have in the say?
You set down a cup of water for Tom as you grab a couple of the books off of your shelf, “So I’m not quite familiar with what you’re doing in as much depth as you probably are, but you said it was Ancient Egypt, so I know a lot about that. We can look at the syllabus and some extra books that I’ve got lying around and if information doesn’t really sink in now, I can email you a couple documentaries.” You catch yourself rambling as you look down, your voice slightly hushed, “...If you want... sorry.”
Tom looks at you, and you can’t see the way his eyes are soft as he stares down at you. He didn’t know how you did it. You were only fifteen and knew so much about this stuff. He thinks about how he knows so much about soccer and rugby. How he knows so much about Marvel... though you’re the same in that region – he honestly doesn’t know how you intake so much information into your brain.
Tom never truly hated you. He just had resentment toward you. It was stupid and he’d never tell you why because of that. At some point, it just became easier to keep shooting insults at you – it became a second nature... and he was honestly surprised when you had agreed to help him because if he was being honest, he’d never do the same for you... so he wondered why you said yes when you had every right to say no... but he never asked. It didn’t seem worth it like that... Not then anyway.
Tom scoffs, crossing his arms, “Doesn’t matter, I just need enough information to be able to pass.”
You nod softly as you read over the curriculum, getting up and grabbing a couple books from your shelf, bringing them back to the table as Tom takes out his own textbook, “Oh good! You brought your textbook.”
He furrows his eyebrows, “Why wouldn’t I? I asked you to help me study, didn’t I?”
You feel your face get hot, “Right... yeah... sorry.”
“Stop apologising, it’s annoying.” He sighs opening his textbook to the information he knows you need. You go to open your mouth to apologise but keep it shut as he hands you the textbook, your eyes skim over it.
Tom eyes skim over you as you do so. He watches how you read, your eyes flicking, how fast you go. How pieces of hair fall in front of your face and how it takes everything not to brush them away from your eyes so he can see them better. He felt weird as he watched you. He felt his stomach flutter and his heart pound... he felt nervous too. Like if he got something wrong, you’d make fun of him or tease him or hold it against him. But he also knew you were way too nice to do that. As he watches you highlight a couple sentences in the textbook and pull out a book on Ancient Egypt with different coloured tabs.
As you flip through the book, he also notices different pen colours littered throughout and he feels his cheeks go warm. To desperately get rid of the flush, he takes a sip of his water. You slam the two books down in front of him, “I guess we can start here... how much do you know?”
“Barely anything...” He sighs, air escaping through the thins of his lips. The air is different now, as you reach over to turn on the lamp. The sky outside getting darker as you smile softly.
“Let’s get started then.” Your smile brightens your bedroom, as Tom looks at you, his face is in slight scowl, but his heart is in full flip.
Tom thought about that day quite frequently, when he looked you from across the dinner table. When he shot something mean at you... and the other day, when he carried you to the car. Zendaya saw what he had done, and she knew that your worries about Tom hating you when this was all over were just your paranoia. Your trust issues with Tom. But anyone watching the way Tom looks at you knows that he won’t. That he simply just cannot bring himself to hate you again.
Tom was on set today whilst you were in class, and you received a message from Zendaya, a photo of him on set with her and Jacob. It was cute, and you found yourself missing Tom. Unfortunately for you, you forgot that you were teaching your Year Eleven class.
“Miss L/n, what’re you smiling at?” Ellie questions you.
You sigh, “Something a friend sent me.”
“That same friend who drove you to school?” India asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
You deadpan them, “Girls, do your work.”
Cali pipes up, “C’mon miss! Please just give us any insight.” She basically groans.
“Like I told you last time, if I tell you, I’ll fail you.” You chuck them a playful glare, “But for your information, he’s a very close friend.”
“Do you like him?” Ellie asks.
You let out a soft sigh, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t... now do your work!”
The girls go back to doing their work and the only thing on your mind is getting home to Tom. You think about his scent – how he smells of wood and oak. Cinnamon and mint. It makes you want to melt – it also makes your thighs clench just thinking about him. How he comes back all sweaty from a run as you sit at the kitchen table and he walks through the front door, shirt sticking to his chest. You bite your lip as you look down at the papers in front of you, furrowing your eyebrows to make it look like you’re frustrated with the content in front of you – like you’re focused. But really? Your mind is anywhere else but here.
Tom promised you a movie night tonight... sure, he was a little late, but he was still here, “Sorry. I got caught up on set doing an extra tape.”
You laugh, taking a piece of popcorn, “Tom, I told you, it’s fine... you don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
He shrugs, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
You chuckle, “And I know that, and it’s okay... really, Tom.” You wrap your arms around his torso – it catches you both off guard, but it was nice, and it was warm, and his strong arms surrounded you.
The two of you pulled away, clearly both flustered and just sat on the couch next to each other. Your legs were crossed and so were Toms, each having your own bowl of popcorn. You had picked the movie – you chose John Wick. Tom laughed as he saw Keanu’s face come onto the screen.
“What?” You question softly, “You don’t like my choice?”
“No...No. Nothing like that.” He sighs, calming himself down, “I just remember you used to have his poster in your room and knowing you, you probably still do.”
He was talking about your childhood home, and you smiled, remembering how you had The Matrix and John Wick on your wall, “Shut up... he’s cute.”
He raises his eyebrows in consideration, “He is an attractive man, but there are other options.” He shrugs, “There are other actors.”
You don’t know what Tom is talking about but when you turn back to face the screen the air is tense. You ignore it, though. Only focusing on the movie – or at least, you’re trying to. But the air is too thick and tense to ignore.
Tom looks at you whilst you watch the movie. Your face with a smile as you watch John Wick slaughter.
“Y/n, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie!” Sam groans and earns a slap from his twin brother.
“Yes, it is, Sam.” He rolls his eyes.
“Sam, you literally cannot say that it’s not. It’s set a Christmas time and sure it’s an action movie, but there are Christmas songs and items. There’s a villain – it fits the whole criteria of a Christmas movie.”
Sam rolls his eyes at you, “Whatever... Christmas movies are supposed to be wholesome.”
“Yeah, well sometimes Christmas needs murder.”
“You are soooo fucked up,” Harry laughs as you sit down in between the two twins.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Shut up. The movie’s starting.” You hush them.
It’s not long before Tom joins you guys, sitting down. He doesn’t say anything, but you haven’t seen much of him since he graduated high school and went off to America to film his new movie. You were proud of him, but you’d never tell him that. He wouldn’t take the compliment, non the less if it was you.
Tom grabbed a drink, and you stood up and followed, like an idiot, “How’s America?” You asked as you grabbed a cup from their shelves, filling it up with water.
“Why do you care, y/n?” He questions you.
“Because we’re meant to be friends, Tom.” You mutter softly, “I’m tired of you hating me.”
He scoffs, “Well, guess what, Bunny it’s not gonna stop, I don’t like you. I hate you... and it’s never going to stop.”
You can feel your eyes brim up with tears, “What did I do to you, Tom?”
“What didn’t you do?”
WEEK FOUR – ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.
“Come on a run with me.” Tom says as he sits down at the table.
You look up at him, “Tom.”
“What?! You have a day off today, public holiday... I’ve got a day off today, because I’ve got a day off... so come on a run with me.”
You laugh, “Tom! I do not run.”
“Okay... then, a jog.” He takes note of your face, “A brisk walk?”
“You’re not gonna give this up, are you?” He shakes his head with a smile, “Fine... I’ll go on a jog with you... jog.” You give him a pointed look as you make your way up the stairs.
Tom feels himself smile wider; he thinks about you all the time now. When he’s on set. When he’s off set. When he’s at home. When you’re at school. When you’re next to him. He thinks about you all the time.
He thinks about every single part of you. He thinks about your smile. He thinks about your hair, the way you smell. He thinks about how you smell just after you shower, he thinks about how your hair is wet, he thinks about how beautiful you look with and without makeup. He thinks about how beautiful you look when you cried over movies. He thinks about you all the time. Every second of the day – even when he shouldn’t he does.
When you come back down the stairs, you’re wearing a pair of tights and a sports bra, a jacket over your shoulders, your hair was in a ponytail, and he thought you looked stunning. He felt his cheeks flush as he watched you walk out of the house.
“C’mon, Mr. Parker!” You called with a laugh.
“What? You like Peter Parker better than me?”
You shrug, raising your eyebrows, “So what if I do?”
He pretends to get a shot to the heart, “You wound me.”
You laugh as the two of you begin to jog, it was silent, and your neighbourhood was quite private, so Tom was fine to run around here without really being seen. He was glad you lived in the suburbs. The two of you jogged step in step.
You stopped at a nearby park, heaving your breath, “How the hell do you do this every day?”
He laughs as the two of you sit on a park bench, “I have to... I’ve had to for a long time.” He sighs as your eyes meet his, “Ever since I started, I’ve had to push myself more and more every day, yeah, I used to do gym all the time – we both know that. But it makes me tired and sometimes I wish I could just stop... but when I do, I feel guilty for it. For not working out and pushing myself.”
You nod, “I... can understand that. Your job looks hard. Everyone thinks acting is so easy, and then you go on set, and you see that it’s anything but.”
He smiles over at you, “You’re right... It’s not easy, but I’m grateful for what I do. What I can do. I’ve got a good life. A good family...” He takes your hand, “Good friends... if I can call you that.” He sighs, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. Every day for the past four weeks, I’ve felt nothing but guilt. You’ve always been so kind to me, and I treated you like shit... I don’t have anything to defend myself with because I can’t. What I did was wrong.”
You nod solemn, “You’re right, what you did was wrong.” You tell him softly, “You tormented me, you made me cry every day, there wasn’t a day where Haz didn’t apologise on behalf of your shitty actions...”
Sighing you look over at him, his hand still in yours, “I just... I’m scared you’re going to go back to the way you were before all of this. Before living with me. I don’t know why you changed but I’m scared you’re gonna change again, Tommy.”
Now it was your turn to use his childhood nickname. When he was eleven, he yelled at you to stop, and you did. But it almost slipped out so many more times after that. Unlike your nickname, his didn’t have a bad omen connected to it.
Tom flushes red as you use the nickname, not out of anger, but because he was embarrassed and flustered, “I’m not gonna change, y/n.” His eyes are soft, his features match yours as he pulls you in closer towards him, “I promise... I won’t change.”
When the night rolled around, you found Tom pulling you around the streets of London, he wore a white t-shirt that hugged his figure nicely and a pair of black jeans and a denim jacket. He looked good... really good, to say the least. You loved how simplistic he could be. You loved how cute he was when he smiled.
“What are we gonna eat?” You questioned him softly, but it came out as more of a whine as your stomach let out another call for help.
Tom looked at you, his eyes flicking over your figure once more, jumper and jeans. How you fit so perfectly in anything you wear – active wear to the pencil skirt and blouse you wear to work. He hadn’t noticed it and neither had you, but you’d basically been living in the hoodie Tom had given you when you first visited set. It held his scent, and it was a jumper from the set of No Way Home itself. But it was a reminder of him you were happy to have.
“Well, we could go for Chinese, or we could go for Indian.” He suggests but you stop and pull his hand back as the two of you walk.
“Ice-cream. I want ice-cream. Sticky, creamy, Turkish ice-cream, Tommy.” You practically beg, “Please. Please. Please.”
He laughs looking down at your pleading eyes... and he can’t resist. He can’t resist you because you are perfect in every single way. You are sweet. You are helpful. You don’t lose your temper as easily as he does, and you are worth way more than Tom could ever imagine for himself and although all he wants is you. He doesn’t think himself worthy enough because when you look at the past – he’s not. He’s not worthy of you. But you want him anyway. You’d never tell him that... and he’d never tell you either.
As he watched you happily eat your ice cream with a smile, Vanilla flavoured, and sweet. He eats his own chocolate, basking in the immense flavour that it brings and even though the two of you should be eating proper food, Tom can’t blame you for making him get it... because it’s good. As he watches you eat your ice-cream, he feels himself shift. Thinking about you.
Thinking only about you. Think about how you’d taste. He knows he shouldn’t let his mind go there. Not when he’s right here with you and can’t have you. Won’t let himself want you.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the sounds you’d make when you moan. He thinks about how well his cock would fit inside of you, giving you pleasure. He thinks about how easy it would be to make you cum with his tongue over and over and over again. Making you scream his name and bask in the flavour of him. He thinks about the way your eyes should stare into his as he fucks you fucking senseless. Over and over and over again. He wants to feel you cum over and over and over again.
He shuts down his thoughts as fast as they come on. You’d never think of Tom like this – that’s what he convinces himself. But he doesn’t know that you have. That you’ve thought of him pounding into you so hard you can’t seem to find yourself walking the next day. You want to feel his tongue on your clit, devouring you like it should be his last meal on earth – the last thing he eats before he plummets to his certain death. You want to feel his tongue on your thighs and his cock inside of your tight dripping cunt. Sometimes it’s all you can think about.
Especially when he’s on set. Doing backflips in that godforsaken suit you’ve seen almost every day for the past three weeks. The suit turns you on, you won’t lie. You can’t lie to yourself. It’s been impossible... and you’ve been damned from the start.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving next week.” You say quietly, “I almost don’t want you to go.” You laugh.
“I almost don’t want to leave.” He confesses, “I don’t want to leave.” He licks his ice cream.
“So where are you headed next?” You question him.
“Atlanta.” He nods softly, “That’s where the rest of the movie will be filmed, as well as New York, but that’s in the last few weeks of filming anyway.”
You chuckle, “Part of me knows that if you would’ve just continued to be mean to me, saying goodbye would be much easier.”
He shakes his head, “I just... I don’t know... I couldn’t do it anymore. Seeing more of your life snapped me out of it. Getting to know you better, snapped me out of it. I knew you but I didn’t know you and now I do.”
You look over at him, “Tell me what’s really changed, then.”
“Well, for instance, you sing in the shower.” He chuckles at your wide eyes, “Don’t worry it’s endearing... you also go down for snacks during the middle of the night. I buy shit and you eat it!” He laughs at your wide eyes once more.
“Don’t worry, I don’t care about cookies too much.” He shrugs, “You also pick at your nail polish all the time. Your fingers are never the same colour for more than one day.”
You laugh, “In my defence, I get anxious.” You shrug.
“Better than biting them off.” He smiles.
You lick your ice cream, “Exactly.” You grin back at him.
But it all dawned on you for real... He was leaving next Sunday, and that was it. You wouldn’t see him for a while. Not if he didn’t stay in contact with you. You wanted him to... so you told him, “Are you gonna text me? Are you gonna call?”
He looks over at you with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Is that what you want?” He asks you, “I’m not even sure I’ve got your number.”
“Pass me your phone.” You roll your eyes, punching in your number and texting him, “There... now you can reach me anywhere in the world.”
WEEK FIVE – OLD HABITS (DON’T) DIE HARD.
It was unfortunate that the two of you just so happened to have a bad week on Tom’s last. Filming for Tom was dragging out longer than ever, he hadn’t had a day off this whole week, and it was Sunday night... he wanted to see you and yet, you were stressed to. Neither of you had time for each other.
The marking of hundreds of tests from Exam Week had just begun and you were being pressured by everyone around you to be done. To get your work done. You had no time for you and no time for Tom. All you wanted to do was spend time with him and yet, if you did you think you would explode.
Not because of him – but because of the immense stress. He would do the same if he was being quite honest... and really? Truly? You had been putting Tom on edge. He didn’t know why. He was tired and honestly? He was just over everything. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted space... but when you’re living with someone else you don’t get much of that. Especially in a house as small as yours, where the living room connects to the dining room and the kitchen and the only other space, he has is upstairs where your room connects to his and one bathroom.
Tom started to avoid you and you started to avoid Tom – both of you in fear of pushing each other away with your words. So, you just ended up spending less time together.
... whoever thought that would be why you and Tom avoided each other?
You would’ve done so if he treated you like shit for five weeks. You would’ve avoided him... but he made his way into your heart. He really made his way into your heart. He lodged himself in there and you did the same to him. It was stupid and dumb and all you wanted was to cry in his arms because of how much work you were doing. How late you would be staying up and he wanted to do the same.
But as this chapter’s called Old Habits (Don’t) Die Hard... they don’t. They don’t die hard. Not at all... and it’s unfortunate you had to find out this way.
You and Tom ran into each other on Sunday night. The last night he was spending here, and you’d barely seen him all week. You missed him... bad.
Just looking at him was enough to make you cave. Enough to make you want to wrap your arms around him – but his tone... it cut, and it cut sharp. A tone you never thought you’d hear from Tom again. One he promised you he wouldn’t use ever again.
You were friends.
So why did it feel like you weren’t?
“Move out of the way, y/n.” He huffs, as he tries to move past you.
You shake your head, “No... I miss you, Tom. We’ve barely spoken all week, and this is your last night here. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” Tom looks at you, his eyes pierced. God was he good at pushing you away – although this time you didn’t budge.
“No.” You stand your ground, “Tell me what’s wrong with you, Tom?”
“What’s wrong with me is that you won’t get out of my fucking way, so I can go to the kitchen and grab a glass of fucking water.”
You moved aside, but followed him into the kitchen, “Why are you acting like this, Tom?” You question, “You know I’m here for you.”
He scoffs, “I’M STRESSED OUT!” He raises his voice, “And you’re not making it any better, y/n.”
“Oh...” You look at him, “You don’t think I’m not stressed, Tom? You don’t think my job is hard? I stay up night after night trying to work hard for these students.”
“It’s not working.” He mutters under his breath – you heard it... but you wanted to be sure he really said it.
“What’d you say?” You question him.
His hands are now on the kitchen counter as he looks down at the marble, before he looks up at you, “I said it’s not working.” He scoffs, “You work your ass off and it doesn’t work.” His tone it’s condescending, and you don’t want to believe what he’s saying is true.
Because he promised you... he promised you he wouldn’t be like his old self ever again. He promised you that he changed... it hurts your heart. More than you’d admit, and Tom could say the same as he looks into your eyes, his exterior still tough but regretting everything he’s said to you in the past five minutes... but as you look up at him with anger... all of his thoughts perish.
“FUCK YOU!” You laugh is dry and smooth out of your throat, “God, you like that don’t you? Treating me like shit. You made a promise Tom. You made a promise you wouldn’t treat me like FUCKING SHIT EVER AGAIN... and you’re doing it now.”
You stare into his eyes. Fire. Red is all you see.
“I thought I could live never knowing why you fucking hated me all my life. Why you made me cry every fucking day. You tormented me for the better half of everything and you wanna know what I think? I think you’re an insecure jerk who has absolutely nothing better to do because you’re a scumbag, you’re a piece of shit, Tom. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
“God, I fucking hate you. I hate everything about you.” You shake your head, “I hate how you were nice to me for the past month and a half and now you’re acting like an absolute dick because you’re leaving tomorrow... use me for a place to stay and then leave.”
“Was that your plan, Tom?” You question him, “Was that your plan all along? To fucking use, me... you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.”
Tom stares at you as you speak, shaking his head, “No. Y/n. My plan wasn’t to use you, I thought I could like you, tolerate you... but fuck you’re the worst person I’ve ever met. You wanna know why I hate you? Because you stole the spotlight from me every single goddamn fucking time! Paddy sees you as more as a sibling than he sees me. Sam and Harry? You’re closer with them. MY FUCKING PARENTS probably love you more than me.” He scoffs, “So I hate you, y/n. Because you stole my fucking life and you’ve wasted the past five weeks of them too.”
Tom walks up to his room, leaving you stunned. You finally know what you did – and you didn’t even mean to do it.
“Paddy, c’mon. You gotta eat.” Tom sighs, “Please.”
He shakes his way, “I like the way Y/n makes it... yours is gross.”
Tom sighs, irritated, clenching his jaw, “Well y/n isn’t here right now... and it’s just pepperoni pizza. I made it just like she said.”
Paddy shakes his head, “No you didn’t... can she come over, and do it? Oh! Maybe we can watch Star Wars.”
“Paddy, I thought we were gonna watch those together.” Tom frowns.
Paddy shakes his head once more, “Nah, she has all these fun facts about the movies and every time we watch, she’s got something knew... watching with you would be boring.”
Tom watches his brother walk away as he looks down at the pizza he made, feeling tears well up in the sockets of his eyes, taking a bite of his pizza, he sighs, “Tastes the same.” He mutters to himself.
-
Sam and Harry ran down the stairs bumping into Tom. It was Halloween and Tom was ready to go, he had his Spider-Man costume on and a tote bag, ready to take his younger brothers trick-or-treating.
“You guys ready to go?”
The two brothers exchange a glance, “Oh...” Harry starts, “Well, we told Y/n we’d go with her since she just got her lisence... and Paddy’s with his friends... What about Haz?”
“He’s with his girlfriend.” Tom sighs, “It’s... It’s fine. Have fun, I guess.” He shrugs, waiting by the door all night for the kids who wanted to Trick-or-Treat.
-
Tom sits on the couch as he watches his parents come down the stairs, “Where are you guys headed? I thought we were supposed to hang out today.” He questions his parents.
“Oh! Y/n is graduating from university... she’s going to become a history teacher.” Tom’s mother says proudly, “We’re so proud of her! She’s been working so hard.”
“So why are you guys going?” Tom questions his parents once more as they look at each other.
Sitting down in front of him, to have a short conversation, his father speaks, “Tom... Y/n is like one of our children... you can’t expect us not to go... we love her as much as we love you.”
-
It hurt him... All those times everyone had left him – for you. That’s what drove his hatred for you. But now he knew why everyone had left him for you. Because you were kind. You were beautiful and sweet. You were a good friend. You had made Tom happier than most people had in his whole entire life in the past five weeks.
Paddy was right, when the two of you watched Star Wars, you had facts for almost every scene and most of the time he wants people to shut up when you watch movies. He didn’t want you to. You were interesting and you always giggled at the stupid jokes in the movies. Sometimes you’d fall asleep, and Tom would carry you to bed... it seemed like that happened a lot.
You were a good driver, and always offered to take him everywhere when you could. Given, most days you were at school, you always made the effort to drive. He appreciated the gesture of you picking him up from set, always driving smooth enough to let Tom get a little sleep before waking him up when he got home to your house... which had started to become, well, home.
His parents were right... you worked hard. For everything you had. For everything you owned and everything you did. You were a beautiful, stunning girl and you had strong opinions and that’s what made you who you are. You say sorry after everything even after you weren’t supposed to. His parents were right. You taught hard, you worked hard.
He loved you as much as they loved you – probably more.
He’d never tell you that – maybe, maybe, going back to the same place the two of you were before would be for the better... maybe, if Tom started to hate you again, this would all be easier. That’s why he yelled and tried to push you away.
...so why did this hurt more than a thousand suns... a thousand knifes to the heart?
MONDAY was harder than you thought it would be. Tom had left as early as possible. Getting an Uber to take him to the airport. His stuff was gone when you treaded to his room to apologise.
You were supposed to take him to the airport.
Sighing, you went downstairs and made yourself breakfast. At seven am you expected Tom to run through the door, all sweaty. Shirt stuck to his chest – but... he didn’t.
He didn’t run through the door when you expected him to. He wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be there. He’d never be there... and your heart hurt because of it. You didn’t want to go to school. You didn’t want to do anything because you didn’t have Tom here to do it with you. He had become your rock. Your motivation.
Tom sat on the plane feeling the same. He regrets not telling you how he felt. He regrets not telling you anything. He regrets not apologising before he left because he thinks that you think he meant everything he said to you. But he didn’t... he didn’t mean any of it.
Your co-workers and students could tell something was wrong but didn’t press on the issue. It wasn’t their place to. You don’t know if you’re thankful for that or if you’re upset about it – wondering if people actually cared. If anything, you were doing was actually working. If your life was the way you wanted it to be... or had it been the way you wanted it to be.
Had you enjoyed picking up Tom from work? Had you enjoyed him picking you up from work? Obviously, if Tom was overseas none of that could happen because your life is here, and Tom’s is there and yet... you need them to collide and crossover.
You need to be with him.
But he wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be here for a long time... so that was just the way it was. Waiting for Tom. Waiting for a man who’s going to come back... waiting for someone you know will come back.
Night dawns in on London. Tom left earlier, even though his flight was meant to leave that night. He left before you woke up and practically hung out at the airport all day because he couldn’t bear to see how hurt you were.
Tom sighs getting on the plane with Zendaya, “What’s up with you?” She questions.
“Y/n and I... we got in a fight. It was bad.” He says quietly, “I think I really messed things up with her.”
“Probably.” Zendaya laughs softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Tom, you’ve been rude to her for almost all your life... you thought something wouldn’t happen? Y/n knew it. Y/n was worried that you’d go back to the same ways. She told you... and you did it, Tom... you did what she feared you would do.”
Tom stayed silent for a moment, “I miss her, and it hasn’t even been a whole seven hours.” He murmurs, looking up at Zendaya, “I love her, Z. I’ve been such a fucking idiot all her life and I love her... so much.”
She sighs, “You have been an asshole, you gained back her trust, and then you fucked it all up again... you can tell her you love her. You can try and build back everything you gained from her – but she’ll always be scared. Not if you don’t prove to her that you can be different.”
Tom looks back at the door to the airport, going in, looking back at Zendaya, “Do you think it’s too late?” He questions.
“Tom, she’s fallen for you – she’s long gone... Even before you moved in with her, she loved you... she told me, herself.”
“Fuck...” Tom sighs, “I gotta – I gotta go.”
You shut your laptop; your ticket booked. You need to see Tom. You need to tell him how you feel what you feel. God, you missed him so much. You told work you’d be away for two days. You were going to visit him and if all else failed, you didn’t know what you would do. The rain was pouring down, when you ran out your front door and down to your car. You didn’t. You collided with the floor – and collided with someone else.
“Ow!” You hold your head, “I’m-”
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
You felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt like everything was good. You felt like everything was falling into place... it had barely been seven hours. Seven hours since you had last seen him, and you could cry. You started to cry.
Tom’s arms wrapped around you as you both sat on the floor, not saying a single word. Your tears seeping into Tom’s jumper, before he noticed you wearing his jumper that he gave you back on the first week of living with you.
You tug him closer as you keep crying into his jumper. Not being able to say a single word. Just cry, your sobs filling the air as he places a kiss on your head, being the first one to speak,
“I’m here.” He whispers as you cry harder, pulling him in, “Hey, it’s okay... tell me what’s wrong.”
You pull yourself out of his grasp, “What’s wrong is that I’m in love with you!” You sob, “I’ve been in love with you for all my life and all you’ve done is a complete ass. I’d never steal your family from you, Tom... all those times I hung out with them, you could’ve come! You didn’t even come to my graduation!”
Tom’s eyes well with tears, “Every day I lived here I felt guilty for everything... I hated you because I was arrogant and ignorant and... when you helped me back in high school, I... I started to like you and I should’ve let myself, but, then Halloween rolled around, and my brothers ditched me to hang out with you... if they had asked me to go with them I would’ve... I would’ve gone and your graduation, I should’ve gone... I’m so proud of you, okay? And I haven’t ever been the nicest, not even when I wanted to.”
“You don’t have to trust me, you don’t have to jump in with me right now, but I love you and I want to be with you... but I want to prove myself to you, that I can be better.”
You look into Tom’s eyes, a couple tears rolling down your puffy red eyes, “You’ve done that... you’ve proven yourself already... you’ve proven you can change. We got into an argument, sure, but now that everything is in the open... we can be better... you can be better.”
He nods, his face drifting closer to yours, “Let me be better... let me be yours.”
“You already have me.” You whisper as his lips land on yours.
There’s something different in the kiss. It’s soft and sweet and the taste of salt is not missed. Your lips are in flurry, tongues mixing together, intertwined as the two of you were on the floor of your deck. The rain pours down around you and you can hear the patter of it on the roof above you.
Tom’s hands run over your body, making you shiver, as you pull away softly, “You have me, Tom... all of me.” You whisper quietly as you feel your body lift the floor and the front door close behind you. Kisses on your lips, strong and soft. Full of passion.
“P-Please.” You mutter against his lips, “Please.” You beg.
“Please, what?” He questions you softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Fuck me,” you breath, “I’ve wanted you for so long, please.”
You feel your core dripping and pulsating already, needy for Tom’s touch. You need all of him and your body won’t stop wanting until he actually touches you – and even then, it might not stop. Nothing will ever stop. Your want and need for him will never stop.
His hands are cold as he pulls you up the stairs, placing you down on your bed, kissing your neck, your jawline. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. His hands trailing up your shirt as he does so. Your hands intertwined in his as he kisses every inch of you. You can feel your core tense, and you can feel yourself flush. God, your cunt aches for him.
Your breath comes out soft, needy... and you can feel Tom smirk as his lips keep connecting with your hot skin. A chuckle escapes his lips, leaving the ghost of his breath, “You’ve waited so long, can’t wait any longer, can you?”
You shake your head, “No... No, I can’t.” Tom’s hands go to lift up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission, “Do... do whatever you want... I don’t care.” You say breathlessly, “I just- I just want you.” Your breathless and Tom knows how needy you are for him.
He lifts your shirt over your head, and you pull off your panties and sweatpants – he’s baffled by the site of you. How perfect you look for him. How you’re only his and nobody else’s, “Fuck you are so beautiful...” He trails off.
Kissing your neck once more, Tom doesn’t stop there. Moving his lips lower and lower, in-between your breasts, down your stomach... and right above your aching cunt. You feel yourself subconsciously buck forward, needy for everything he has to give you. For his tounge, fingers and cock to touch you in the one place that needs the most attention. His patience is strong and yours is running thin.
“Please...” You mewl, “Please, Tommy.”
Tom listens to your begging as he swipes a finger over the lips of your pussy, your juices covering his thumb, “So fucken’ wet.” He smirks... and without any warning he dips in, his tongue running a line, making you moan.
His thumb stays on your sensitive, rubbing your clit as your moans remain desperate. Desperately needing more of him. Tom’s tongue moves faster against you. Pressing kisses against your clit, kitten-licking you and making circles around your clit. The way he eats your pussy is godlike. Bringing you closer and closer to your edge. To your heart’s desire... and Tom god, all he wants is to feel you cum all over his swollen, red, fucking lips. Moaning and groaning against your cunt.
He slips his middle finger into your wet hole. Needy and wanting... everything you’d been feeling over the past five weeks was finally coming full circle. Tom looks up at you as your head falls back, and your fingers become tangled into his brown curls. Desperately needing more of his tongue. For him to go faster – and harder. His tongue is addicting and the way his finger curls inside of you only leaves you wanting more and more – you can feel yourself getting closer. Closer and closer. Your cunt is pulsing as you feel yourself walking, about to dive off of that perfect edge. Your stomach fuelled by fire. You feel the bottom of your stomach tingle and your body shudder against Tom’s mouth.
“Fuck Tom! Jesus fucking Christ!” You moan breathless.
He can feel just how close you are as your cunt tightens around his finger, he pulls his mouth away for a slither of a second, “Cum for me, baby.” And then his mouth is right back on you, wanting to taste every last drop of your orgasm... and he does.
Fuck you’re sweet. You’re so fucking sweet. He’s thinking about how this will be the only thing on his mind for a long time. How your cunt and the taste of you will be something he wishes to never rid his tongue of. How the taste of you is addicting. You feel yourself, however, grow eager for more.
And Tom feels it too. His cock aching for your touch. His cock hard, wanting every inch of you, “Tom... fuck me, please... fuck me.”
Tom doesn’t wait another second before pulling down his pants, taking off his shirt. Letting you watch him strip for you. Looking down at his cock, wanting every inch of him inside of you, letting your eyes graze over him... “I wanna lick your abs.” You mutter quietly.
His eyes snap up at you, “What?” He questions with a short laugh.
“You were notsupposed to hear that.” You laugh, “They just look really... lickable.” You shrug.
Tom walks over, “We’ll see you to that then.” He presses a kiss on your lips, “But if I don’t fuck you right now, I might explode... where are the condoms?”
“They should be in this drawer.” You say leaning over to open it, but there’s nothing inside, “Fuck, I ran out.”
“Let me check my room, I’ll be right back.”
You bite your lip as you watch him walk away, desperately rubbing your thighs together, bucking your hips for some sort of desperate stimulation while he’s away and he lets out a laugh, “You are way too eager.” He whispers.
Walking over to you, you spread your legs, Tom positioning himself right at the entrance to your cunt, “You ready, Princess?” He whispers softly in your ear as you nod.
Tom’s cock slides inside of you and begins to move slowly, warming you up. The condom on his cock, giving you that slight bit more of lubrication than your pussy provides. He’s pressing against your cunt, rubbing your clit with his fingers and his lips on yours. You’re still reeling from your last orgasm. Your clit sensitive to every touch. You feel your hips buck against him.
“Fuck, Tom... you are going way too slow.” You say.
Tom moves quicker and all you can hear now is skin on skin, his balls slapping against the back end of your pussy, “Fuck,” He mutters looking down at you as your tits bounce. How your mouth widens when you moan, and your hips continue to keep bucking against the slit of his cock as he presses in on your g-spot. His hand moving from your clit to your stomach, applying some pressure onto you, and you let out another perfect moan.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groan needily, “Tom, please.” You beg.
He presses into your cunt harder. Your bodies moving together like mesh. Desperately and needy. Like water. Fluid and in motion. Your bodies are one – so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. Every single time you fucked yourself, rubbed your clit. Every single time you made yourself cum to the thought of him. Every single time you moaned his name needy... and now you were doing it for real. He was really the one making you cum. Pulling you to the edge. It was real and it wasn’t in your head and dreams like every time beforehand.
Tom felt the same way, finally pressing himself into you, rather than pumping his own cock with his hand. He loved feeling the way you felt. He loves feeling how wet you are for him. He was the one making you cum – making you feel good like everything he had thought about before. You were a daydream come true and he finally got to have you. Got to hold you. This was real. It wasn’t in his head – and he couldn’t believe it.
Tom’s head falls into the crevice of your neck as he fucks you senseless. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge and he can feel your cunt tightening too, “Fuck,” He swears, “’Mma cum.” He groans.
You moan, “Me- me too.”
You cum first, feeling your stomach grow hot and your body jerk forward. You falter slightly against Tom as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, a few moments after. It’s the first time someone’s ever cum with you – and the first time you’ve ever come so hard that your legs felt sore after... you have a feeling it won’t be the last time this happens either.
Tom rubs your inner thigh softly, as he throws out the condom and gets back in bed. Lying next to you, “You gotta go pee.” He whispers.
“I love it when you whisper dirty things to me.” You joke, “Thank you, Tom.”
“For what?”
You shrug, “For changing... You think I can’t trust you – and I don’t... but I also do. I trust that you will be a better person... I trust that you will treat me like your equal... I trust that you will love me if we do decide to be something... if you want to be something.” You hastily add.
He turns to face you in the depths and warmth of the sheets the two of you are buried under, “I want to be something.” He says quickly, “I do... I want to be something – more preferably your boyfriend.”
You smile, “I’d like that too... really, I would.” You cup his face in your hands, “Please believe me... I trust you.”
He smiles softly, “I believe you.”
You grin wider, “Okay, now... lemme go pee.” You giggle walking away.
THE EPILOUGE – THE BOY WHO LOVED YOU.
So that’s how you got here. Unable to live your life without Tom, unable to think without him or make a simple decision. Unable to live without Tessa. You lived in a house with Tom, and his dog and you missed him every single day when he left for America the next day after getting with you.
When your family found out it was safe to say that they were surprised. Tom did hate you, but after a few months everyone settled. You were happy and... so was Tom.
He still feels guilty all the time – and he’s always insecure about the things he says to you because he never wants to make you upset again – but you always assure him that you’re okay, that the two of you were okay.
Carefully, you look into Tom’s eyes, everyone knew about your relationship because of Instagram and it’s safe to say your students freaked out – the whole school pretty much had. You just laughed at all the questions they told you and offered some sweet stories to your students.
But tonight, was the premiere of No Way Home and it was your first red carpet actually being seen by the cameras... and actually being on Tom’s arm.
“I’m nervous.” You tell him, “I’m really, really nervous.” You whisper in the back of the limo. Zendaya was in a separate car – and you were with Tom. Jacob already got there, texting you a few moments before he arrived indefinitely.
“Y/n, it’ll be okay.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “We’re okay. They love you... all the fans they do love you.”
You groan, “Don’t! What if they change their mind one day and decide to dig up some crazy information on me.”
He laughs softly, “Darling, you’ve charmed them all as much as you’ve charmed me.”
Pulling upto the red carpet, finally ready to step out of the car, “You ready?” He questions you.
You nod, “It’s just me and you, right?”
“Me and you.” He places a kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but melt.
It wasn’t like this before – and now that it was, you’re not sure you would change anything that happened to lead you here. Lead you right to the love of your life.
summary: Tom Holland hates you and you don't know why. Yet, you've had a crush on him for almost all your life despite the known fact. When Tom needs a place to stay because of filming... Tom changes... and so does your relationship.
pairing: Tom Holland x fem!reader
warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under cut), pretty angsty, fluff, tom being an a-hole, some corny moments and not proofread either.
word count: 15.2k (A LONG ONE, i literally could not stop myself idk what happened.)
extended smut warnings: p in v (protected), fingering, oral (fem), that's pr much it, very vanilla tbh but it was their first time so nothing too flashy.
PROLOUGE – "FIVE WEEKS."
You and Tom had been through a lot to get to the point you were at today. Sometimes thinking about it makes you burst out crying when he’s away because you miss him so much that your heart aches for him... and if he doesn’t answer your texts, you’re miserable. It’s like there’s a part of your heart that’s missing.... you simply can’t live without Tom.
But it wasn’t always that way.
Not at all.
There was a time where you preferred to live without Tom. You understand why he had acted that way, because he had told you... but now it’s strange to think about the before. The before of your relationship. The before of him loving you – because truth be told, you always loved him. From the youngest age you ever could.
You inhaled a deep breath as you sat at the dinner table with the Hollands – family friends. Your parents got along swimmingly. You were closer to Harry and Sam, always hanging out with them as kids – the three of you were like glue, stuck side by side. Paddy was a kind boy, but the two of you didn’t have too much to talk about because of the age difference, though, the two of you did bond over video games, always making an effort to play the new ones when they came out. Whether it be over the console or in person. Your job as a history teacher allowed you to have a flexible schedule.
Albeit you and Tom were the closest in age, with you being a year younger than him. The two of you were supposed to get along. That’s all your parents wanted. But for some strange reason, you could never really crack him, like you had the others.
You were a single child and Dom, and Nikki were like your second parents. You lived next door, so there wasn’t a time where you didn’t see the Hollands. Not a day in your life hadn’t gone by where you didn’t sit next to Tom on the bus, despite, him telling you to leave him alone. You weren’t friends and you were so sure that you never would be.
You wanted to be his friend. But thirteen-year-old you didn’t understand the concept of hating someone like Tom hated you. It made you doubt yourself. Constantly thinking you were in the wrong, apologising after every other sentence because you were always afraid of offending someone.
You met Tom’s eyes from across the table, wanting to say something, but knowing he’d just shoot you down anyway. You were both adults now, it was silly that he couldn’t put this hatred aside. You didn’t even know why he hated you. He just did. It was always like you were a thorn in his side.
“So, how’s work...?” You question him – he’d just started filming No Way Home.
Your students always went crazy when you told them you knew Tom. Working in a high school down in London, teaching teenagers, you always heard people go crazy over these things - going to the premieres because you were supposed to be close with the actor was cool. You enjoyed the movies – just sucks you’re only invited as a curtsey and not because he wants you there.
It was crazy that you had Zendaya’s phone number in your phone – she actually likes you, yet Tom puts up that same front when he’s around his friends. You like to pretend it’s real, even though you know it’s not. Even though it’s far from it.
He shakes his head, “What’s it to you?” He shrugs, his tone sharp – it makes you jump a little, but you just look back down at your food.
You sigh, “Nothing, just- just trying to make conversation.” You fight through your sadness, flashing him a small smile. The pang in your heart was like a knife.
Like every single time he had ever shut down a conversation with you, it was like a knife to the fucking heart.
You had feelings for Tom. It was fucked up because he was always mean to you. But you loved Tom before you even knew what the word really meant. You had other boyfriends and they all loved you... but it wasn’t the same. You knew Tom would never love you back, and you tried to move on, but it was no use. No matter how many mean things he could say to you, you’d always look past it... because it’s him.
He hadn’t always been meaning, it mostly started when you got into High-School. You were thirteen and he was fourteen. You had no other friends, so you’d follow Tom around. He’d always push you away, though. It sucked, because even if you, Sam, and Harry were all close, they weren’t old enough to be in the same grade as you, so... you were all alone.
You weren’t popular in school, not like Tom was. Yet, everyone knew who you were by association. Some of the girls at school were jealous of you, and some of them made fun of you. But you just ignored it – you didn’t have very many friends in high school. University, was, however, a turning point. You met your best friend Angel who worked in the same faculty as you. You’d been teaching for four years, and you loved it so much more than you could ever have imagined.
You stand from the table, your plate banging, creating a loud noise, everyone’s attention turned to you, “Sorry... ‘M gonna go grab another drink.” You say softly, turning to the kitchen. You stepped inside, making your way to the fridge where you put your glass to the water and ice dispenser.
Taking a sip of the water, you placed your elbows on the counter, “Get it together, y/n.”
“You alright, darling?” You heard the familiar voice, as you turned to face Nikki with a soft smile.
“Perfect.” You say with reassurance, but it doesn’t really cut through the sadness of your tone.
She pouts, “What’s wrong? Is it Tom?”
You nod, tears brimming your eyes, “It’s so stupid, I’m twenty-four years old, you think I’d get a grip, right?” A dry chuckle escapes you without another thought, “I know not everyone can like me... but I’ve known him for all my life.”
She places a hand on your arm, “I’m sorry... I wish I could change it. Change him. I don’t know why he acts so cruel towards you. He’s not a hateful person.”
You nod, “That’s what sucks the most... I know he’s not. He’s kind, he’s charming, he’s sweet. He helps people and he doesn’t need an ulterior motive. He’s someone to look up to, but I’m the exception.”
She pulls you into a hug, “I’m sorry, hun.”
You shake your head against her hold, “Don’t be... It’s not your fault.”
You’re sitting in your room after your chat with Nikki, thinking about your talk with her. It’s painful. You’re laying back flat on your bed, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’m old enough to deal with this’. Is all you can think to yourself, it’s all you can muster the courage to believe. That this is all your fault, and you were the burden in Tom’s life. You must’ve done something to make him hate you and you can’t think about what it is... honestly, it makes you miserable.
His hair looks soft, and his arms look warm, but his heart is cold toward you... and yet, you still want to find yourself twirling around those strands of brown curls or cuddled up in his arms. Your attraction to him was what would kill you.
You always thought you and Tom would be endgame. When you were sixteen, you thought Tom hating you would just be a phase. You tried to congratulate him on him being Spider-Man, and he was nice to you then, but that hadn’t last long at all.
Your childhood room was a sight for sore eyes. One of the walls was pink and your bedsheets were a bright blue. You came over quite frequently, so your parents figured they’d just leave it the way it was – posters of Anakin Skywalker and all. You turned to plunge your face into the pillow below your head.
A knock on your door makes you jump but you don’t budge, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me.” Harry speaks from the other side of the door.
“Come in!” You call, flipping yourself back over.
Harry steps into the room with a soft smile as he stares at your figure, “Get up you big baby, they need you downstairs.”
You sit up slowly, a suspicious glare in your eyes, “What for?”
“You’re not gonna like it.” He says simply, grabbing your hand.
“What for, Harry?!” You question your friend once more as he pulls you down the stairs back to the dining table where Tom’s head is in his hands. Everyone is staring at you, “What’s going on?” You ask everyone.
Tom opens his mouth, “Well, there’s a few scenes we’re doing here in London for the new movie... and I need a place to stay.”
You scoff, looking down at Tom with shock, “And nobody here can offer you that but me? What about Haz!”
“Too far from set.”
“What about your parents!”
“Y/n if I could stay with my parents I would.”
“Harry, Sam?” You look over to them, desperately needing help.
“No can do, we live on campus.” They respond with a pitiful glance.
“And what makes you think I’d help you after the way you treat me?”
He sighs, “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”
“That still doesn’t answer my question, Tom!”
Nikki places a hand on your shoulder, “Y/n, please take this into consideration... maybe the two of you will end up bonding.”
“Over what?” Tom asks his mother, “I’m only doing this because I have to. Not because I want to.”
“Thomas! Stop being rude!” His mother scolds him.
You look back into Nikki’s eyes, tears brimming, “Fine... I’ll... I’ll do it.” You look down at your fingers, toying with the paint on your nails, picking at them, “How long are you filming here for?”
“Five weeks.” He says quiet.
You and Tom were in your car driving back to your place in London. It was a three-hour car ride from your neighbourhood to your current place and there was some traffic. Tom spotted your lanyard hanging off of your mirror, covered in a different array of pins from your favourite movies and a couple keys. Tom knew you were a teacher. But sitting in your car staring at your life from the inside was different to just looking at you from the outside.
Tom saw you every few months, today was just a random family dinner because Tom was back in the UK and his parents insisted on it. He usually saw you on your birthday and you saw him on his, and Harrys and Sam and Paddy’s, basically, you were there for everything... Christmas included.
Tom knew why he hated you back in Primary school, he knew why he hated you back in high school. Now? He wasn’t quite sure. He was a grown man. He could get over it. But it was weird... but that was only because he made it weird.
You were honestly lucky you had a spare room. It’s not like you wanted Tom to be here. You didn’t want to live with someone who would make your life miserable... but maybe Nikki was right, maybe you’d be able to patch things up with him.
The radio was the only sound in the car, apart from the wheels on the road, and the tension in the air was thick and tense. Like someone was waiting to snap – you had a backbone too. You fought back too. Even if you had some feelings for him, it’s not like you don’t resent him; resent everything he says to you.
The bump of your driveway had approached. Your house was quaint, Tom’s bags in the boot of your car, “I’ll carry your bags inside just... open the front door.” You told the boy as you turned your car off, handing him the keys.
“It’s fine, I can take care of my own bags.” He shrugs.
You turn to face him, “Tom, please. Just go inside.”
You don’t say anything else before getting out of the car. You’ve got shit to do and the fact that it was a Sunday night didn’t help either – you had assignments to finish marking and your deadline was in a few days. That’s why you were glad you had a spare room that was prepared. Not because you didn’t want to set up – you were nice, you wouldn’t have him fend for himself. But because you couldn’t afford to help him at this current moment.
Tom doesn’t argue with you anymore than he already had. Probably regretting asking you to stay here already.
The door was unlocked as Tom turned the key opening the door and locating the hallway light. Waiting for you in the doorway. His two carry ons in your hands, awfully heavy for one person... but he was staying for five weeks.
WEEK ONE – OPENING UP.
After getting Tom settled into his room an showing him around a bit – which was quite awkward, you found yourself getting changed and heading backdown stairs to sit at your kitchen table, which was a mess to say the least. Sprawled with papers and papers of assignments and old exams. Your laptop looked like it was on its last life, and you did too.
Sitting down, you placed some earbuds into your ears getting ready for a long night of marking papers.
Tom walked downstairs to find you, and saw you, legs crossed hunched over, red pen in hand. He didn’t want to disturb you, but the bathroom was out of toilet paper. Tom approaches you slowly. It was different now. There was no reason to be rude to you or mean... you gave him a place to stay. But it was his nature, and Tom couldn’t help it.
You’re slightly startled, “What?” you question him taking out an earbud.
“Your bathroom is out of toilet paper.” He sighs.
“No, it’s not.”
“Don’t believe me? Go take a fucking look for yourself.”
You take out your headphones throwing them down onto the table with a huff, making your way upstairs and into your bathroom, opening the cabinet where you keep your toilet paper... seeing that you are out. Downstairs was hopeless too.
“Fuck...” you mutter softly, “Well, I’d better go get some then, maybe do the grocery shopping too.”
It wasn’t too late at night, nine thirty to be precises, and supermarkets wouldn’t be closed at this time. Most shops weren’t. You grab your keys from your kitchen table and the grocery list from off of the fridge – Tom following behind you.
“What’re you doing?” You question him, tone full of spite. The hallway was dim and staring into his eyes only made you fall harder – no matter the fact that he resented you.
He rolls his eyes, “What does it look like I’m doing, Bunny?”
You get mad at the nickname – it’s what he used to call you in school, because you were timid and quiet. You didn’t have very many friends and Tom took advantage of that. Making you feel smaller than you were before. Trying to push you away – purposely pushing you away.
“Don’t call me that.” You say as you open your front door.
The ride to the grocery store is short. But Tom looks at you as you drive. Thinking about all those times he called you Bunny as a kid. Thinking about all the times he had made you cry. Tom also thought about the first time he saw you after he finished filming Civil War and Homecoming. He hadn’t seen you in a long time and when he did... you were different.
You were more mature. Your hair was longer, and your smile had been brighter. Your style was more evolved, and you strayed away from the cringey t-shirts with those weird quotes. He watches the light of the street on your face and watches how you’re so focused when you drive. Tom hadn’t realised you drove a manual when he got in the car, but now he had seen, and he was slightly impressed – not many people can still do that.
He thinks about how you were teenagers, how you used to follow him because you had no one and he would push you away. How he didn’t want to be your friend. Getting that slight closer insight into your life makes you more 3D and even though he’d known you his whole life he didn’t want to know you.
You could feel his eyes on you, but when he turned away you felt like something is missing. You shook the feeling off as you pulled up to the grocery store. You parked the car and stepped out looking at your list.
“...So do you wanna divide and conquer or do you want to do it together?” You questioned Tom, “We’d get it done faster if we divide and conquer but I don’t really care,”
Tom takes a deep breath before nodding, “We should do it together then.”
You give lipped smile, “Sure.”
Grabbing a trolley, the two of you make your way into the aisle, “So, what’s first?” Tom questions you, his elbows on the trolley as he pushes.
“Well, I need milk and eggs, so we can head to the freezer aisle,” You lead him over, “Now that you’re staying with me, I should probably double up, huh?” You laugh and Tom chuckles.
“Bacon?” He questions looking over at the fridge.
“Sure.” You nod softly.
As the two of you continue you found yourselves becoming more civil. Tom hadn’t been rude since the dinner earlier and something about all this domestic crap made your stomachs warm. The two of you continued through the aisles, collecting things on your list. Tom pushed the trolley as you grabbed things and put it inside. It was a nice system and although Tom had his hood up just in case, it was kinda nice to be spending time with him like this. It was sweet. He was being sweet.
Part of you hoped it was all just a dream, that you’d wake up and realise it was all in your head despite knowing it’s real. Tom’s never been like this towards you, and you don’t know exactly why that’s changed. You want to know why it’s changed.
When the two of you reached the counter, you pulled out your wallet, but Tom had already paid off the hundreds dollar worth of groceries that would keep you both well fed for most of the next five weeks.
You let out a groan as you slam your pen onto your kitchen table, Tom looks over from the couch at you with worry, standing up to join you at your table, “What’s wrong?”
“What’s it matter to you?” You snap, “It’s not like you’d care.”
Tom sighs, “C’mon, Y/n... I know you better than this. I know that you bottled up your emotions. I’ve seen it all my life.”
“Wonder why.” You mutter under your breath before looking up at Tom – he heard you, but decided not to press on the issue, “I’m fine, Tom, really. Drop it.”
He shakes his head, grabbing the paper in front of you, letting out a low whistle, “and I thought I was bad in school.”
“Hey!” you wack him from across the table, “History isn’t Jeramiah’s best subject, but he does really well in everything else... just mine.”
Tom senses how upset you are, looking over at you with a frown, “I’m sure you’re a good teacher.”
“I know I am!” You raise your voice, “I know I’m a good teacher, okay? Everyone tells me that!”
He looks at you with sadness as you yell, but he keeps his mouth shut as you deflate again, “Just sometimes... I look at kids like Jeremiah and I think to myself, why are you doing so good in everything else... but my subject? Is it me? Is it him? Does he need help? Do I need to change the way I teach.”
Tom smiles softly, “Remember when we were in high school, and there was this massive history test, and I was failing history, so you offered to help me... I was mean to you, but you really helped me... I never told you, but I passed that test.”
“You did? You never mentioned it, so I thought you failed or something, but you passed! I know it was like ten years ago but I’m proud of you, Tom! You struggled with that so much.”
He gives a bashful smile looking down at his lap, “See, if you could teach me, you can teach anyone... maybe he just needs a little push!”
You look at Tom across from the dinner table with a hesitant smile, “Thanks, Tom.”
Opening up Tom felt good... but it also felt horrible. Like you were giving him leverage against you... but you ignore the feeling.
WEEK TWO – GUILTY CONSCIENCE.
Tom had been on set for the past few days, and he was right, you barely saw him. The conversation the two of you had the week before had settled into your head. Tom had really brought you some words of comfort, he’d come home late and tired, so he’d see you working on marking the homework you had set, bidding you a short hello before heading over to bed.
Something about him not talking to you or something about you not seeing Tom had been weird. The first week he had been living with you had been much more prominent. He’d been around more – sometimes he’d cook, or you’d come home, and the house was clean, bathrooms and all.
Living with Tom... it hadn’t been as bad as you expected it to be. He was kinder, sweeter – he was finally treating you the same way he treated everyone else. With warmth. With the love in his heart, you knew he had – but you could only wonder why he was doing this. Why he had changed all his views from the past in the past seven days.
Tom had a day off today and offered to drive you to school, “Thanks for driving me.” You smile at Tom, “You didn’t have to do this.”
He scoffs, “Please, you’re impressive, you deserve a break even if it’s for a few minutes to work.”
You feel flush at Tom’s words, “What do you mean ‘impressive’?” You quirk an eyebrow.
He shrugs, “I dunno, your life just seems so hectic.”
“Not as much as yours Mr. Peter Parker.” You sigh, sinking into your seat a little bit, “I don’t know how you deal with all that pressure from people who don’t even know you.”
“Exactly the point.” Tom smiles softly, “They don’t know me, and I don’t know them... sometimes, I get nightmares of the paparazzi, flashing lights and I feel like I can’t move... like all lights and eyes are on me and if I do something wrong then my life will be over.”
You look over at Tom, your expression sorrow, “People aren’t perfect, Tom. You’re not a perfect person.” You try to offer a smile, but he just keeps his eyes on the road as he comes to a stop.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Miss L/n!” Was called out to you by one of your students as you sat at your desk, “Who dropped you off this morning?”
Ellie – a sweet girl, but way too invested in her teacher’s love lives, “Just a friend.” You answered somewhat honestly.
“What was his name?!” India questions you.
You sigh, “If I told you, I’d have to fail you.” Your students go wide eyed and shut up about the topic – if you told them Tom Holland had driven you to school, they’d react in a crazy way when he came to come get you again. Your phone buzzed, “Get back to work guys!”
Is it alright if you come on set with me? It’s on the way to pick you up and if I drop you off, I’d be late.
Tom’s text is followed by another text.
If not, that’s okay, I’ll risk getting in trouble for you.
Something about his text sent a shiver down your spine. You knew he was just being nice, but god, was it working. Was he buttering you up like this. It was worth it, all the things you were feeling, even if your heart would get ripped out of your chest once again. Like it did every single time. You smile down at your phone regardless.
You liked this new Tom. You liked the way he was treating you and even if it was just for a few weeks, you appreciated that he didn’t go out of his way to make your life hell while he lived in your house... He was a good house guest.
Sure... I’d love to see the movie magic.
Tom smiles down at his phone as he sits in your living room, anxiously waiting picking you up from school. It’s all he can think about. Seeing you again.
Tom’s mind was going crazy. He’d never felt this way for you before, but in living with you he’s learnt more about you than he has in the past twenty years of his life. He feels his heart get warm around you, but he also feels all this guilt for treating you like shit since you were in high school. He was stupid. It was all stupid. He had no reason... but he did. He was insecure of you.
When three o’clock rolled around, you ran out the doors of the school, not wanting to make Tom any late to set than he already was. You jumped into the car, which shocked Tom but you didn’t want to be late... you also didn’t want your students to see Tom driving.
“Do you want to be late to your job?” You scoff.
He chuckles, “What is with you?”
“Just drive, Tom!” You raise your voice.
As the two of you get moving you finally relax. You didn’t want to tell Tom why you were so insistent on leaving. Why you needed to go so bad, “My students, they asked who dropped me off this morning.”
“Oh.” Tom whispers, “What’d you tell them?”
“A friend dropped me off...”
“Cool.” He mutters softly.
“They know I know you, but I didn’t want you to be swarmed, y’know?”
“I... appreciate that.” Tom nods.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
The air between you and Tom had shifted over the past week. It was strange and weird, and you hated it, but you also wanted this so bad. You think back to how you were at dinner last week and all you could think about was how broken you were over him. How your heart ached for him to just like you.
Tom’s set really wasn’t too far from your school, as promised, but you could understand why he would’ve been late if he dropped you off home. In fact, you were kinda glad you came to see Tom work.
“You can hang out in my trailer, or you can sit on set if you want.” He says softly, staring into your eyes.
You feel your stomach go warm, “That sounds good to me.” A smile takes over your face as you get out of the car, slightly nervous.
“I’ve gotta head to makeup so, you can come with me if you want.”
“I’d like that... to be fair, right now I don’t really want to leave your side in fear of getting lost.”
You trail behind Tom feeling odd in your blouse and pencil skirt, his smile graces the set as you can see people still putting things together and people running around with purpose, and it was admirable. How this whole world worked. You’ve spoken to Tom’s castmates multiple times. Jacob was quite nice and Haz introduced you to him – even though Haz and Tom are best friends, he always was the one to apologise on his behalf or tell Tom to stop when he was being too mean to you. You two stayed in contact a lot. You had first met Zendaya at the Homecoming premiere, and a couple times after that when she was at some of Tom’s birthday parties, which you went to only because of Harry, Sam and Haz. Other than the fact that your parents made you go.
Walking into makeup you were met with the sight of Zendaya sitting in her makeup chair and her eyes light up as she sees you, “Hey, Y/n!” Her smile is warm – she is beautiful.
You smile back at her, “Hi, Z.” Your face feels warm as she reaches over to give you her hand since she can’t exactly give you a hug.
“What’re you doing here?” She questions you as she looks over at Tom who’s getting himself set in his chair.
“Well, Tom’s staying with me during the whole five weeks you’re out here... I’m closer to set than most hotels and Tom’s a friend, so we decided I’d do him a favour.” You bite your lip nervously.
Tom smiles, “An absolute darling, we went shopping the other day...” Tom speaks but you zone out as you stare at him, looking at him with all the love in your heart that you can possibly even muster. He’s beautiful as he gets his face pampered with blood and cuts. Purple bruises and a bloodshot eye. How can he still look so pretty like this? Dishevelled, beat up. It’s not real, maybe that’s why – because you know it’s not real.
Tom turns to you, “Y/n?”
His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, making you blink a few times before sending him a smile, “Yeah?”
“Do you mind spoilers?”
You shrug, “Not really... I kinda love them. It makes the final part more exciting if I’m being honest.”
Watching Tom work was... it was sexy, to say the least. How he did flips and his own stunts, hooked up to the wires, but also immensely focused and that suit... it was making you feel things you hadn’t felt before. How you could still see the outline of his abs through the thin material. The set wasn’t on a normal movie set, like concrete buildings. It was outside, so the darker it got, the colder it would get too. Zendaya and Jacob weren’t in this next scene, so they were sitting with you, as you marked a couple papers you had brought in your bag with you, watching as you marked the answers with ease.
“So, how’re things with Tom?” Zendaya asks you out of nowhere and you look up in surprise, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.
“What do you mean?” You question her, with a slight shiver as her and Jacob look to each other before looking back at you.
“It’s just that he’s been... nicer.” Jacob shrugs, “We’ve seen how he’s treated you.”
You stop holding your breath, sinking into Tom’s chair a little, “God, I don’t know... it’s like he’s an alien or something... he’s been living for me for two weeks and he’s been nicer to me then, than he has ever been in my whole life.” You sigh, “He’s not a bad person... he’s just bad to me.”
You watch Tom as he does another flip, chatting with the crew, laughing, and you don’t feel yourself smile, you don’t feel yourself get warm. But you are anyway. You are hopelessly in love with him and the way he’s treating you isn’t helping. He’s not supposed to make you fall harder for him. He’s supposed to be mean – remind you that it’s not okay to feel the way you do for him. But he’s not sending you any bad signs anymore.
You don’t notice that Jaxob and Zendaya are being called back to set until Jacob places a hand on your arm, “Come by set more often... we like having you here, Y/n.” He smiles.
“Thanks, Jacob.” You grin as he walks over to Tom with a smile.
Zendaya wraps her arms around you from behind, “Don’t be afraid to send a message, okay? I know we don’t know each other well, but I want to get to know you better.”
You rub her arm with a small smile, “That... that means a lot.” You nod against her, as she lets go, the warmth of her body leaves you all alone with your homework once more. You flick through them again. A shiver running down your body once more.
Pulling out your phone you notice the time: Seven O’clock, it reads. You sigh as you question when Tom will be done. But it seems the universe is answering that question for you as he walks over to you with a proud smile.
“How’d you like that?” He questions you.
The chatter in your teeth is barely there, but it’s noticeable when you talk, “G-Great, Tom, you did really well.”
“Holy shit, let me get you a jacket and then we’ll head out of here. I got what I needed for the day, so, I’m not needed here anymore.” He smiles.
He pulls you back to his trailer which is warm, “Maybe I should’ve sat in here.” You laugh.
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have had the chance to see some of the movie and my incredible stunts.”
“Your ego always this big?” You question, your tone playful.
He looks back at you, holding one of his hoodies, “Only when I feel this great, bunny.” He winks. The nickname catches you off guard. Not because he said it, but because of how he said it. His tone full of endearment and charm. His voice wasn’t cutthroat rude, like it usually was... and it was certainly an adjustment for you.
You take the hoodie from his hands, sliding it over your head, “Thanks.”
“I’m gonna be a bit longer cause I gotta get out of the suit and stuff, but you can stay in here.” He smiles and you nod. Leaving you all by yourself in the trailer, you flop onto the bed that sits in the corner.
Sleep takes over, your vision going black, as you fade off into the realm of dreams.
Tom walks back into his trailer, all snug in another jumper and a pair of sweatpants. He looks at you, his eyes are soft. He looks at how peaceful you look; he hears your soft snores echo in the room. He sees how you just collapsed. Your things on the table, how tired you must be. He commends you for your work. He knows you have hard days. He sees that in your moods and your laughs, how sometimes you’re not fully there or zoned out. How your fingers are often stained with red ink.
Tom doesn’t realise it, but he feels himself smile down at you. Brushing some of the hair out of your face to get a better look at you. How you still look so beautiful. How you’re still the kindest person he knows – how despite how rude he had been to you; you always went out of your way to be nice or help him anyway. All he feels is guilt.
All he feels is guilt because of how easy it is to like you. All he feels is guilt because you’ve given him a place to stay. All he feels is guilt because he treated you like shit when he could’ve had a good friend. All he feels is guilt because he let some stupid feelings get in the way when the two of you were younger. All he feels is guilt because he was the insecure one. All he feels is guilt because it was never your fault. All he feels is guilt because you weren’t the one to hate... it was him; he should hate himself – he does hate himself.
All he feels is guilt, as he carries you back to the car.
WEEK THREE – THE PAST & THE PRESENT.
Your presence on set had become a lot more noticeable in the afternoons. Usually, it was just to get a better change of pace and mark somewhere unfamiliar rather than your shitty kitchen table which you had cried at, a number of times. Zendaya was also pretty good with History, and she has some well enough knowledge to help you sometimes.
That’s where you were at right now, you and Zendaya, sitting in Tom’s trailer as you both hold red pens, “Do you have a favourite student?” She questions you as the two of you draw ticks and crosses.
You laugh, “I’m supposed to say that I don’t, but there’s this group of girls in year eleven that have my heart... they picked history, so they’re so passionate about it. They make conversation with me. They love to learn about me, and they also love to learn the content. They’re good at the subject and they brighten my day when they walk in the room.”
You sigh, “Given, there’s kids like that in every grade... it’s tough to find the ones who know what their passions are. Some people don’t know, and that’s okay.”
She smiles, “That seems nice. They seem lovely... how’d you know you wanted to become a teacher? I always kinda knew I wanted to do acting, from a young age I was a performer... dance recitals, drama school...” She trails off.
You chuckle, “It was actually after helping Tom... he was never the best at school, he wasn’t awfully bad, but history was his worst subject. I was fourteen and I always had my head in that kind of stuff. I think I’ve seen every single documentary that the History channel has put out in the last thirty years.” You shrug, “Given I do have time for other stuff... I found myself interested. So, when Tom needed help because he was failing History at the time, he came to me for help.”
You bite your lip softly, “I had a massive crush on him...” You brace yourself for the truth, “I have a massive crush on him... had for a long time, but he was always so mean to me, but regardless, I helped him anyway. I’d never say no to him. Even now. But I helped tutor him and it worked... I only found out that he passed a couple weeks ago, ‘cause he told me. But I didn’t know if he had at the time... all I knew is that I enjoyed teaching him. Regardless of all the spite that came out of his mouth whilst I did.”
Zendaya grabs your hand from across the table, “From what I can tell, Tom’s really changed.”
You nod, hesitant, “He... he has, but part of me doesn’t want to believe it.” You look down at her hand wrapped around yours, “I don’t want to get my hopes up when he goes back to how he was.”
“You think he will?”
“I... don’t know.” You let out a huff as she lets go of your hand – deciding not to press the issue any further. A breeze blows through the window, “Fuck it’s cold...” You laugh.
Zendaya laughs too, the two of you spending time in each other’s company – she feels like a good friend. A real friend.
Tom was sat in your room, staring at all the posters around. John Wick on your wall, and Anakin Skywalker too. You had one of Thor and another of Poe Dameron. He thought it was kinda creepy, but the posters he had in his room weren’t any better. In comparison to the photos, he had with his friends, he couldn’t see very many of yours, except for a photo of you, Harry and Sam at the beach without Tom. Your smile was bright and so were his brothers. Tom’s jaw clenched at the picture, but his thoughts were interrupted at you walking into the room.
As he swivelled the desk chair over to face you, he caught sight of your shelves. How they were littered in history books – both Modern and Ancient, and the other side of your room had posters of different artefacts that you had gotten from the British Museum. He thinks you go there way too much, but what does he have in the say?
You set down a cup of water for Tom as you grab a couple of the books off of your shelf, “So I’m not quite familiar with what you’re doing in as much depth as you probably are, but you said it was Ancient Egypt, so I know a lot about that. We can look at the syllabus and some extra books that I’ve got lying around and if information doesn’t really sink in now, I can email you a couple documentaries.” You catch yourself rambling as you look down, your voice slightly hushed, “...If you want... sorry.”
Tom looks at you, and you can’t see the way his eyes are soft as he stares down at you. He didn’t know how you did it. You were only fifteen and knew so much about this stuff. He thinks about how he knows so much about soccer and rugby. How he knows so much about Marvel... though you’re the same in that region – he honestly doesn’t know how you intake so much information into your brain.
Tom never truly hated you. He just had resentment toward you. It was stupid and he’d never tell you why because of that. At some point, it just became easier to keep shooting insults at you – it became a second nature... and he was honestly surprised when you had agreed to help him because if he was being honest, he’d never do the same for you... so he wondered why you said yes when you had every right to say no... but he never asked. It didn’t seem worth it like that... Not then anyway.
Tom scoffs, crossing his arms, “Doesn’t matter, I just need enough information to be able to pass.”
You nod softly as you read over the curriculum, getting up and grabbing a couple books from your shelf, bringing them back to the table as Tom takes out his own textbook, “Oh good! You brought your textbook.”
He furrows his eyebrows, “Why wouldn’t I? I asked you to help me study, didn’t I?”
You feel your face get hot, “Right... yeah... sorry.”
“Stop apologising, it’s annoying.” He sighs opening his textbook to the information he knows you need. You go to open your mouth to apologise but keep it shut as he hands you the textbook, your eyes skim over it.
Tom eyes skim over you as you do so. He watches how you read, your eyes flicking, how fast you go. How pieces of hair fall in front of your face and how it takes everything not to brush them away from your eyes so he can see them better. He felt weird as he watched you. He felt his stomach flutter and his heart pound... he felt nervous too. Like if he got something wrong, you’d make fun of him or tease him or hold it against him. But he also knew you were way too nice to do that. As he watches you highlight a couple sentences in the textbook and pull out a book on Ancient Egypt with different coloured tabs.
As you flip through the book, he also notices different pen colours littered throughout and he feels his cheeks go warm. To desperately get rid of the flush, he takes a sip of his water. You slam the two books down in front of him, “I guess we can start here... how much do you know?”
“Barely anything...” He sighs, air escaping through the thins of his lips. The air is different now, as you reach over to turn on the lamp. The sky outside getting darker as you smile softly.
“Let’s get started then.” Your smile brightens your bedroom, as Tom looks at you, his face is in slight scowl, but his heart is in full flip.
Tom thought about that day quite frequently, when he looked you from across the dinner table. When he shot something mean at you... and the other day, when he carried you to the car. Zendaya saw what he had done, and she knew that your worries about Tom hating you when this was all over were just your paranoia. Your trust issues with Tom. But anyone watching the way Tom looks at you knows that he won’t. That he simply just cannot bring himself to hate you again.
Tom was on set today whilst you were in class, and you received a message from Zendaya, a photo of him on set with her and Jacob. It was cute, and you found yourself missing Tom. Unfortunately for you, you forgot that you were teaching your Year Eleven class.
“Miss L/n, what’re you smiling at?” Ellie questions you.
You sigh, “Something a friend sent me.”
“That same friend who drove you to school?” India asks, wiggling her eyebrows.
You deadpan them, “Girls, do your work.”
Cali pipes up, “C’mon miss! Please just give us any insight.” She basically groans.
“Like I told you last time, if I tell you, I’ll fail you.” You chuck them a playful glare, “But for your information, he’s a very close friend.”
“Do you like him?” Ellie asks.
You let out a soft sigh, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t... now do your work!”
The girls go back to doing their work and the only thing on your mind is getting home to Tom. You think about his scent – how he smells of wood and oak. Cinnamon and mint. It makes you want to melt – it also makes your thighs clench just thinking about him. How he comes back all sweaty from a run as you sit at the kitchen table and he walks through the front door, shirt sticking to his chest. You bite your lip as you look down at the papers in front of you, furrowing your eyebrows to make it look like you’re frustrated with the content in front of you – like you’re focused. But really? Your mind is anywhere else but here.
Tom promised you a movie night tonight... sure, he was a little late, but he was still here, “Sorry. I got caught up on set doing an extra tape.”
You laugh, taking a piece of popcorn, “Tom, I told you, it’s fine... you don’t have to keep explaining yourself.”
He shrugs, “I just want you to know that I’m sorry.”
You chuckle, “And I know that, and it’s okay... really, Tom.” You wrap your arms around his torso – it catches you both off guard, but it was nice, and it was warm, and his strong arms surrounded you.
The two of you pulled away, clearly both flustered and just sat on the couch next to each other. Your legs were crossed and so were Toms, each having your own bowl of popcorn. You had picked the movie – you chose John Wick. Tom laughed as he saw Keanu’s face come onto the screen.
“What?” You question softly, “You don’t like my choice?”
“No...No. Nothing like that.” He sighs, calming himself down, “I just remember you used to have his poster in your room and knowing you, you probably still do.”
He was talking about your childhood home, and you smiled, remembering how you had The Matrix and John Wick on your wall, “Shut up... he’s cute.”
He raises his eyebrows in consideration, “He is an attractive man, but there are other options.” He shrugs, “There are other actors.”
You don’t know what Tom is talking about but when you turn back to face the screen the air is tense. You ignore it, though. Only focusing on the movie – or at least, you’re trying to. But the air is too thick and tense to ignore.
Tom looks at you whilst you watch the movie. Your face with a smile as you watch John Wick slaughter.
“Y/n, Die Hard is not a Christmas movie!” Sam groans and earns a slap from his twin brother.
“Yes, it is, Sam.” He rolls his eyes.
“Sam, you literally cannot say that it’s not. It’s set a Christmas time and sure it’s an action movie, but there are Christmas songs and items. There’s a villain – it fits the whole criteria of a Christmas movie.”
Sam rolls his eyes at you, “Whatever... Christmas movies are supposed to be wholesome.”
“Yeah, well sometimes Christmas needs murder.”
“You are soooo fucked up,” Harry laughs as you sit down in between the two twins.
“Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. Shut up. The movie’s starting.” You hush them.
It’s not long before Tom joins you guys, sitting down. He doesn’t say anything, but you haven’t seen much of him since he graduated high school and went off to America to film his new movie. You were proud of him, but you’d never tell him that. He wouldn’t take the compliment, non the less if it was you.
Tom grabbed a drink, and you stood up and followed, like an idiot, “How’s America?” You asked as you grabbed a cup from their shelves, filling it up with water.
“Why do you care, y/n?” He questions you.
“Because we’re meant to be friends, Tom.” You mutter softly, “I’m tired of you hating me.”
He scoffs, “Well, guess what, Bunny it’s not gonna stop, I don’t like you. I hate you... and it’s never going to stop.”
You can feel your eyes brim up with tears, “What did I do to you, Tom?”
“What didn’t you do?”
WEEK FOUR – ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD.
“Come on a run with me.” Tom says as he sits down at the table.
You look up at him, “Tom.”
“What?! You have a day off today, public holiday... I’ve got a day off today, because I’ve got a day off... so come on a run with me.”
You laugh, “Tom! I do not run.”
“Okay... then, a jog.” He takes note of your face, “A brisk walk?”
“You’re not gonna give this up, are you?” He shakes his head with a smile, “Fine... I’ll go on a jog with you... jog.” You give him a pointed look as you make your way up the stairs.
Tom feels himself smile wider; he thinks about you all the time now. When he’s on set. When he’s off set. When he’s at home. When you’re at school. When you’re next to him. He thinks about you all the time.
He thinks about every single part of you. He thinks about your smile. He thinks about your hair, the way you smell. He thinks about how you smell just after you shower, he thinks about how your hair is wet, he thinks about how beautiful you look with and without makeup. He thinks about how beautiful you look when you cried over movies. He thinks about you all the time. Every second of the day – even when he shouldn’t he does.
When you come back down the stairs, you’re wearing a pair of tights and a sports bra, a jacket over your shoulders, your hair was in a ponytail, and he thought you looked stunning. He felt his cheeks flush as he watched you walk out of the house.
“C’mon, Mr. Parker!” You called with a laugh.
“What? You like Peter Parker better than me?”
You shrug, raising your eyebrows, “So what if I do?”
He pretends to get a shot to the heart, “You wound me.”
You laugh as the two of you begin to jog, it was silent, and your neighbourhood was quite private, so Tom was fine to run around here without really being seen. He was glad you lived in the suburbs. The two of you jogged step in step.
You stopped at a nearby park, heaving your breath, “How the hell do you do this every day?”
He laughs as the two of you sit on a park bench, “I have to... I’ve had to for a long time.” He sighs as your eyes meet his, “Ever since I started, I’ve had to push myself more and more every day, yeah, I used to do gym all the time – we both know that. But it makes me tired and sometimes I wish I could just stop... but when I do, I feel guilty for it. For not working out and pushing myself.”
You nod, “I... can understand that. Your job looks hard. Everyone thinks acting is so easy, and then you go on set, and you see that it’s anything but.”
He smiles over at you, “You’re right... It’s not easy, but I’m grateful for what I do. What I can do. I’ve got a good life. A good family...” He takes your hand, “Good friends... if I can call you that.” He sighs, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. Every day for the past four weeks, I’ve felt nothing but guilt. You’ve always been so kind to me, and I treated you like shit... I don’t have anything to defend myself with because I can’t. What I did was wrong.”
You nod solemn, “You’re right, what you did was wrong.” You tell him softly, “You tormented me, you made me cry every day, there wasn’t a day where Haz didn’t apologise on behalf of your shitty actions...”
Sighing you look over at him, his hand still in yours, “I just... I’m scared you’re going to go back to the way you were before all of this. Before living with me. I don’t know why you changed but I’m scared you’re gonna change again, Tommy.”
Now it was your turn to use his childhood nickname. When he was eleven, he yelled at you to stop, and you did. But it almost slipped out so many more times after that. Unlike your nickname, his didn’t have a bad omen connected to it.
Tom flushes red as you use the nickname, not out of anger, but because he was embarrassed and flustered, “I’m not gonna change, y/n.” His eyes are soft, his features match yours as he pulls you in closer towards him, “I promise... I won’t change.”
When the night rolled around, you found Tom pulling you around the streets of London, he wore a white t-shirt that hugged his figure nicely and a pair of black jeans and a denim jacket. He looked good... really good, to say the least. You loved how simplistic he could be. You loved how cute he was when he smiled.
“What are we gonna eat?” You questioned him softly, but it came out as more of a whine as your stomach let out another call for help.
Tom looked at you, his eyes flicking over your figure once more, jumper and jeans. How you fit so perfectly in anything you wear – active wear to the pencil skirt and blouse you wear to work. He hadn’t noticed it and neither had you, but you’d basically been living in the hoodie Tom had given you when you first visited set. It held his scent, and it was a jumper from the set of No Way Home itself. But it was a reminder of him you were happy to have.
“Well, we could go for Chinese, or we could go for Indian.” He suggests but you stop and pull his hand back as the two of you walk.
“Ice-cream. I want ice-cream. Sticky, creamy, Turkish ice-cream, Tommy.” You practically beg, “Please. Please. Please.”
He laughs looking down at your pleading eyes... and he can’t resist. He can’t resist you because you are perfect in every single way. You are sweet. You are helpful. You don’t lose your temper as easily as he does, and you are worth way more than Tom could ever imagine for himself and although all he wants is you. He doesn’t think himself worthy enough because when you look at the past – he’s not. He’s not worthy of you. But you want him anyway. You’d never tell him that... and he’d never tell you either.
As he watched you happily eat your ice cream with a smile, Vanilla flavoured, and sweet. He eats his own chocolate, basking in the immense flavour that it brings and even though the two of you should be eating proper food, Tom can’t blame you for making him get it... because it’s good. As he watches you eat your ice-cream, he feels himself shift. Thinking about you.
Thinking only about you. Think about how you’d taste. He knows he shouldn’t let his mind go there. Not when he’s right here with you and can’t have you. Won’t let himself want you.
He thinks about you. He thinks about the sounds you’d make when you moan. He thinks about how well his cock would fit inside of you, giving you pleasure. He thinks about how easy it would be to make you cum with his tongue over and over and over again. Making you scream his name and bask in the flavour of him. He thinks about the way your eyes should stare into his as he fucks you fucking senseless. Over and over and over again. He wants to feel you cum over and over and over again.
He shuts down his thoughts as fast as they come on. You’d never think of Tom like this – that’s what he convinces himself. But he doesn’t know that you have. That you’ve thought of him pounding into you so hard you can’t seem to find yourself walking the next day. You want to feel his tongue on your clit, devouring you like it should be his last meal on earth – the last thing he eats before he plummets to his certain death. You want to feel his tongue on your thighs and his cock inside of your tight dripping cunt. Sometimes it’s all you can think about.
Especially when he’s on set. Doing backflips in that godforsaken suit you’ve seen almost every day for the past three weeks. The suit turns you on, you won’t lie. You can’t lie to yourself. It’s been impossible... and you’ve been damned from the start.
“I can’t believe you’re leaving next week.” You say quietly, “I almost don’t want you to go.” You laugh.
“I almost don’t want to leave.” He confesses, “I don’t want to leave.” He licks his ice cream.
“So where are you headed next?” You question him.
“Atlanta.” He nods softly, “That’s where the rest of the movie will be filmed, as well as New York, but that’s in the last few weeks of filming anyway.”
You chuckle, “Part of me knows that if you would’ve just continued to be mean to me, saying goodbye would be much easier.”
He shakes his head, “I just... I don’t know... I couldn’t do it anymore. Seeing more of your life snapped me out of it. Getting to know you better, snapped me out of it. I knew you but I didn’t know you and now I do.”
You look over at him, “Tell me what’s really changed, then.”
“Well, for instance, you sing in the shower.” He chuckles at your wide eyes, “Don’t worry it’s endearing... you also go down for snacks during the middle of the night. I buy shit and you eat it!” He laughs at your wide eyes once more.
“Don’t worry, I don’t care about cookies too much.” He shrugs, “You also pick at your nail polish all the time. Your fingers are never the same colour for more than one day.”
You laugh, “In my defence, I get anxious.” You shrug.
“Better than biting them off.” He smiles.
You lick your ice cream, “Exactly.” You grin back at him.
But it all dawned on you for real... He was leaving next Sunday, and that was it. You wouldn’t see him for a while. Not if he didn’t stay in contact with you. You wanted him to... so you told him, “Are you gonna text me? Are you gonna call?”
He looks over at you with a small glimmer of hope in his eyes, “Is that what you want?” He asks you, “I’m not even sure I’ve got your number.”
“Pass me your phone.” You roll your eyes, punching in your number and texting him, “There... now you can reach me anywhere in the world.”
WEEK FIVE – OLD HABITS (DON’T) DIE HARD.
It was unfortunate that the two of you just so happened to have a bad week on Tom’s last. Filming for Tom was dragging out longer than ever, he hadn’t had a day off this whole week, and it was Sunday night... he wanted to see you and yet, you were stressed to. Neither of you had time for each other.
The marking of hundreds of tests from Exam Week had just begun and you were being pressured by everyone around you to be done. To get your work done. You had no time for you and no time for Tom. All you wanted to do was spend time with him and yet, if you did you think you would explode.
Not because of him – but because of the immense stress. He would do the same if he was being quite honest... and really? Truly? You had been putting Tom on edge. He didn’t know why. He was tired and honestly? He was just over everything. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted space... but when you’re living with someone else you don’t get much of that. Especially in a house as small as yours, where the living room connects to the dining room and the kitchen and the only other space, he has is upstairs where your room connects to his and one bathroom.
Tom started to avoid you and you started to avoid Tom – both of you in fear of pushing each other away with your words. So, you just ended up spending less time together.
... whoever thought that would be why you and Tom avoided each other?
You would’ve done so if he treated you like shit for five weeks. You would’ve avoided him... but he made his way into your heart. He really made his way into your heart. He lodged himself in there and you did the same to him. It was stupid and dumb and all you wanted was to cry in his arms because of how much work you were doing. How late you would be staying up and he wanted to do the same.
But as this chapter’s called Old Habits (Don’t) Die Hard... they don’t. They don’t die hard. Not at all... and it’s unfortunate you had to find out this way.
You and Tom ran into each other on Sunday night. The last night he was spending here, and you’d barely seen him all week. You missed him... bad.
Just looking at him was enough to make you cave. Enough to make you want to wrap your arms around him – but his tone... it cut, and it cut sharp. A tone you never thought you’d hear from Tom again. One he promised you he wouldn’t use ever again.
You were friends.
So why did it feel like you weren’t?
“Move out of the way, y/n.” He huffs, as he tries to move past you.
You shake your head, “No... I miss you, Tom. We’ve barely spoken all week, and this is your last night here. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“There’s nothing wrong.” Tom looks at you, his eyes pierced. God was he good at pushing you away – although this time you didn’t budge.
“No.” You stand your ground, “Tell me what’s wrong with you, Tom?”
“What’s wrong with me is that you won’t get out of my fucking way, so I can go to the kitchen and grab a glass of fucking water.”
You moved aside, but followed him into the kitchen, “Why are you acting like this, Tom?” You question, “You know I’m here for you.”
He scoffs, “I’M STRESSED OUT!” He raises his voice, “And you’re not making it any better, y/n.”
“Oh...” You look at him, “You don’t think I’m not stressed, Tom? You don’t think my job is hard? I stay up night after night trying to work hard for these students.”
“It’s not working.” He mutters under his breath – you heard it... but you wanted to be sure he really said it.
“What’d you say?” You question him.
His hands are now on the kitchen counter as he looks down at the marble, before he looks up at you, “I said it’s not working.” He scoffs, “You work your ass off and it doesn’t work.” His tone it’s condescending, and you don’t want to believe what he’s saying is true.
Because he promised you... he promised you he wouldn’t be like his old self ever again. He promised you that he changed... it hurts your heart. More than you’d admit, and Tom could say the same as he looks into your eyes, his exterior still tough but regretting everything he’s said to you in the past five minutes... but as you look up at him with anger... all of his thoughts perish.
“FUCK YOU!” You laugh is dry and smooth out of your throat, “God, you like that don’t you? Treating me like shit. You made a promise Tom. You made a promise you wouldn’t treat me like FUCKING SHIT EVER AGAIN... and you’re doing it now.”
You stare into his eyes. Fire. Red is all you see.
“I thought I could live never knowing why you fucking hated me all my life. Why you made me cry every fucking day. You tormented me for the better half of everything and you wanna know what I think? I think you’re an insecure jerk who has absolutely nothing better to do because you’re a scumbag, you’re a piece of shit, Tom. That’s all you’ve ever been.”
“God, I fucking hate you. I hate everything about you.” You shake your head, “I hate how you were nice to me for the past month and a half and now you’re acting like an absolute dick because you’re leaving tomorrow... use me for a place to stay and then leave.”
“Was that your plan, Tom?” You question him, “Was that your plan all along? To fucking use, me... you know what? I wouldn’t be surprised if it was.”
Tom stares at you as you speak, shaking his head, “No. Y/n. My plan wasn’t to use you, I thought I could like you, tolerate you... but fuck you’re the worst person I’ve ever met. You wanna know why I hate you? Because you stole the spotlight from me every single goddamn fucking time! Paddy sees you as more as a sibling than he sees me. Sam and Harry? You’re closer with them. MY FUCKING PARENTS probably love you more than me.” He scoffs, “So I hate you, y/n. Because you stole my fucking life and you’ve wasted the past five weeks of them too.”
Tom walks up to his room, leaving you stunned. You finally know what you did – and you didn’t even mean to do it.
“Paddy, c’mon. You gotta eat.” Tom sighs, “Please.”
He shakes his way, “I like the way Y/n makes it... yours is gross.”
Tom sighs, irritated, clenching his jaw, “Well y/n isn’t here right now... and it’s just pepperoni pizza. I made it just like she said.”
Paddy shakes his head, “No you didn’t... can she come over, and do it? Oh! Maybe we can watch Star Wars.”
“Paddy, I thought we were gonna watch those together.” Tom frowns.
Paddy shakes his head once more, “Nah, she has all these fun facts about the movies and every time we watch, she’s got something knew... watching with you would be boring.”
Tom watches his brother walk away as he looks down at the pizza he made, feeling tears well up in the sockets of his eyes, taking a bite of his pizza, he sighs, “Tastes the same.” He mutters to himself.
-
Sam and Harry ran down the stairs bumping into Tom. It was Halloween and Tom was ready to go, he had his Spider-Man costume on and a tote bag, ready to take his younger brothers trick-or-treating.
“You guys ready to go?”
The two brothers exchange a glance, “Oh...” Harry starts, “Well, we told Y/n we’d go with her since she just got her lisence... and Paddy’s with his friends... What about Haz?”
“He’s with his girlfriend.” Tom sighs, “It’s... It’s fine. Have fun, I guess.” He shrugs, waiting by the door all night for the kids who wanted to Trick-or-Treat.
-
Tom sits on the couch as he watches his parents come down the stairs, “Where are you guys headed? I thought we were supposed to hang out today.” He questions his parents.
“Oh! Y/n is graduating from university... she’s going to become a history teacher.” Tom’s mother says proudly, “We’re so proud of her! She’s been working so hard.”
“So why are you guys going?” Tom questions his parents once more as they look at each other.
Sitting down in front of him, to have a short conversation, his father speaks, “Tom... Y/n is like one of our children... you can’t expect us not to go... we love her as much as we love you.”
-
It hurt him... All those times everyone had left him – for you. That’s what drove his hatred for you. But now he knew why everyone had left him for you. Because you were kind. You were beautiful and sweet. You were a good friend. You had made Tom happier than most people had in his whole entire life in the past five weeks.
Paddy was right, when the two of you watched Star Wars, you had facts for almost every scene and most of the time he wants people to shut up when you watch movies. He didn’t want you to. You were interesting and you always giggled at the stupid jokes in the movies. Sometimes you’d fall asleep, and Tom would carry you to bed... it seemed like that happened a lot.
You were a good driver, and always offered to take him everywhere when you could. Given, most days you were at school, you always made the effort to drive. He appreciated the gesture of you picking him up from set, always driving smooth enough to let Tom get a little sleep before waking him up when he got home to your house... which had started to become, well, home.
His parents were right... you worked hard. For everything you had. For everything you owned and everything you did. You were a beautiful, stunning girl and you had strong opinions and that’s what made you who you are. You say sorry after everything even after you weren’t supposed to. His parents were right. You taught hard, you worked hard.
He loved you as much as they loved you – probably more.
He’d never tell you that – maybe, maybe, going back to the same place the two of you were before would be for the better... maybe, if Tom started to hate you again, this would all be easier. That’s why he yelled and tried to push you away.
...so why did this hurt more than a thousand suns... a thousand knifes to the heart?
MONDAY was harder than you thought it would be. Tom had left as early as possible. Getting an Uber to take him to the airport. His stuff was gone when you treaded to his room to apologise.
You were supposed to take him to the airport.
Sighing, you went downstairs and made yourself breakfast. At seven am you expected Tom to run through the door, all sweaty. Shirt stuck to his chest – but... he didn’t.
He didn’t run through the door when you expected him to. He wasn’t there and he wouldn’t be there. He’d never be there... and your heart hurt because of it. You didn’t want to go to school. You didn’t want to do anything because you didn’t have Tom here to do it with you. He had become your rock. Your motivation.
Tom sat on the plane feeling the same. He regrets not telling you how he felt. He regrets not telling you anything. He regrets not apologising before he left because he thinks that you think he meant everything he said to you. But he didn’t... he didn’t mean any of it.
Your co-workers and students could tell something was wrong but didn’t press on the issue. It wasn’t their place to. You don’t know if you’re thankful for that or if you’re upset about it – wondering if people actually cared. If anything, you were doing was actually working. If your life was the way you wanted it to be... or had it been the way you wanted it to be.
Had you enjoyed picking up Tom from work? Had you enjoyed him picking you up from work? Obviously, if Tom was overseas none of that could happen because your life is here, and Tom’s is there and yet... you need them to collide and crossover.
You need to be with him.
But he wasn’t here. He wouldn’t be here for a long time... so that was just the way it was. Waiting for Tom. Waiting for a man who’s going to come back... waiting for someone you know will come back.
Night dawns in on London. Tom left earlier, even though his flight was meant to leave that night. He left before you woke up and practically hung out at the airport all day because he couldn’t bear to see how hurt you were.
Tom sighs getting on the plane with Zendaya, “What’s up with you?” She questions.
“Y/n and I... we got in a fight. It was bad.” He says quietly, “I think I really messed things up with her.”
“Probably.” Zendaya laughs softly.
“What do you mean?”
“Tom, you’ve been rude to her for almost all your life... you thought something wouldn’t happen? Y/n knew it. Y/n was worried that you’d go back to the same ways. She told you... and you did it, Tom... you did what she feared you would do.”
Tom stayed silent for a moment, “I miss her, and it hasn’t even been a whole seven hours.” He murmurs, looking up at Zendaya, “I love her, Z. I’ve been such a fucking idiot all her life and I love her... so much.”
She sighs, “You have been an asshole, you gained back her trust, and then you fucked it all up again... you can tell her you love her. You can try and build back everything you gained from her – but she’ll always be scared. Not if you don’t prove to her that you can be different.”
Tom looks back at the door to the airport, going in, looking back at Zendaya, “Do you think it’s too late?” He questions.
“Tom, she’s fallen for you – she’s long gone... Even before you moved in with her, she loved you... she told me, herself.”
“Fuck...” Tom sighs, “I gotta – I gotta go.”
You shut your laptop; your ticket booked. You need to see Tom. You need to tell him how you feel what you feel. God, you missed him so much. You told work you’d be away for two days. You were going to visit him and if all else failed, you didn’t know what you would do. The rain was pouring down, when you ran out your front door and down to your car. You didn’t. You collided with the floor – and collided with someone else.
“Ow!” You hold your head, “I’m-”
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
Your eyes meet Tom’s.
You felt like you could finally breathe again. You felt like everything was good. You felt like everything was falling into place... it had barely been seven hours. Seven hours since you had last seen him, and you could cry. You started to cry.
Tom’s arms wrapped around you as you both sat on the floor, not saying a single word. Your tears seeping into Tom’s jumper, before he noticed you wearing his jumper that he gave you back on the first week of living with you.
You tug him closer as you keep crying into his jumper. Not being able to say a single word. Just cry, your sobs filling the air as he places a kiss on your head, being the first one to speak,
“I’m here.” He whispers as you cry harder, pulling him in, “Hey, it’s okay... tell me what’s wrong.”
You pull yourself out of his grasp, “What’s wrong is that I’m in love with you!” You sob, “I’ve been in love with you for all my life and all you’ve done is a complete ass. I’d never steal your family from you, Tom... all those times I hung out with them, you could’ve come! You didn’t even come to my graduation!”
Tom’s eyes well with tears, “Every day I lived here I felt guilty for everything... I hated you because I was arrogant and ignorant and... when you helped me back in high school, I... I started to like you and I should’ve let myself, but, then Halloween rolled around, and my brothers ditched me to hang out with you... if they had asked me to go with them I would’ve... I would’ve gone and your graduation, I should’ve gone... I’m so proud of you, okay? And I haven’t ever been the nicest, not even when I wanted to.”
“You don’t have to trust me, you don’t have to jump in with me right now, but I love you and I want to be with you... but I want to prove myself to you, that I can be better.”
You look into Tom’s eyes, a couple tears rolling down your puffy red eyes, “You’ve done that... you’ve proven yourself already... you’ve proven you can change. We got into an argument, sure, but now that everything is in the open... we can be better... you can be better.”
He nods, his face drifting closer to yours, “Let me be better... let me be yours.”
“You already have me.” You whisper as his lips land on yours.
There’s something different in the kiss. It’s soft and sweet and the taste of salt is not missed. Your lips are in flurry, tongues mixing together, intertwined as the two of you were on the floor of your deck. The rain pours down around you and you can hear the patter of it on the roof above you.
Tom’s hands run over your body, making you shiver, as you pull away softly, “You have me, Tom... all of me.” You whisper quietly as you feel your body lift the floor and the front door close behind you. Kisses on your lips, strong and soft. Full of passion.
“P-Please.” You mutter against his lips, “Please.” You beg.
“Please, what?” He questions you softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Fuck me,” you breath, “I’ve wanted you for so long, please.”
You feel your core dripping and pulsating already, needy for Tom’s touch. You need all of him and your body won’t stop wanting until he actually touches you – and even then, it might not stop. Nothing will ever stop. Your want and need for him will never stop.
His hands are cold as he pulls you up the stairs, placing you down on your bed, kissing your neck, your jawline. Your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. His hands trailing up your shirt as he does so. Your hands intertwined in his as he kisses every inch of you. You can feel your core tense, and you can feel yourself flush. God, your cunt aches for him.
Your breath comes out soft, needy... and you can feel Tom smirk as his lips keep connecting with your hot skin. A chuckle escapes his lips, leaving the ghost of his breath, “You’ve waited so long, can’t wait any longer, can you?”
You shake your head, “No... No, I can’t.” Tom’s hands go to lift up your shirt, searching your eyes for permission, “Do... do whatever you want... I don’t care.” You say breathlessly, “I just- I just want you.” Your breathless and Tom knows how needy you are for him.
He lifts your shirt over your head, and you pull off your panties and sweatpants – he’s baffled by the site of you. How perfect you look for him. How you’re only his and nobody else’s, “Fuck you are so beautiful...” He trails off.
Kissing your neck once more, Tom doesn’t stop there. Moving his lips lower and lower, in-between your breasts, down your stomach... and right above your aching cunt. You feel yourself subconsciously buck forward, needy for everything he has to give you. For his tounge, fingers and cock to touch you in the one place that needs the most attention. His patience is strong and yours is running thin.
“Please...” You mewl, “Please, Tommy.”
Tom listens to your begging as he swipes a finger over the lips of your pussy, your juices covering his thumb, “So fucken’ wet.” He smirks... and without any warning he dips in, his tongue running a line, making you moan.
His thumb stays on your sensitive, rubbing your clit as your moans remain desperate. Desperately needing more of him. Tom’s tongue moves faster against you. Pressing kisses against your clit, kitten-licking you and making circles around your clit. The way he eats your pussy is godlike. Bringing you closer and closer to your edge. To your heart’s desire... and Tom god, all he wants is to feel you cum all over his swollen, red, fucking lips. Moaning and groaning against your cunt.
He slips his middle finger into your wet hole. Needy and wanting... everything you’d been feeling over the past five weeks was finally coming full circle. Tom looks up at you as your head falls back, and your fingers become tangled into his brown curls. Desperately needing more of his tongue. For him to go faster – and harder. His tongue is addicting and the way his finger curls inside of you only leaves you wanting more and more – you can feel yourself getting closer. Closer and closer. Your cunt is pulsing as you feel yourself walking, about to dive off of that perfect edge. Your stomach fuelled by fire. You feel the bottom of your stomach tingle and your body shudder against Tom’s mouth.
“Fuck Tom! Jesus fucking Christ!” You moan breathless.
He can feel just how close you are as your cunt tightens around his finger, he pulls his mouth away for a slither of a second, “Cum for me, baby.” And then his mouth is right back on you, wanting to taste every last drop of your orgasm... and he does.
Fuck you’re sweet. You’re so fucking sweet. He’s thinking about how this will be the only thing on his mind for a long time. How your cunt and the taste of you will be something he wishes to never rid his tongue of. How the taste of you is addicting. You feel yourself, however, grow eager for more.
And Tom feels it too. His cock aching for your touch. His cock hard, wanting every inch of you, “Tom... fuck me, please... fuck me.”
Tom doesn’t wait another second before pulling down his pants, taking off his shirt. Letting you watch him strip for you. Looking down at his cock, wanting every inch of him inside of you, letting your eyes graze over him... “I wanna lick your abs.” You mutter quietly.
His eyes snap up at you, “What?” He questions with a short laugh.
“You were notsupposed to hear that.” You laugh, “They just look really... lickable.” You shrug.
Tom walks over, “We’ll see you to that then.” He presses a kiss on your lips, “But if I don’t fuck you right now, I might explode... where are the condoms?”
“They should be in this drawer.” You say leaning over to open it, but there’s nothing inside, “Fuck, I ran out.”
“Let me check my room, I’ll be right back.”
You bite your lip as you watch him walk away, desperately rubbing your thighs together, bucking your hips for some sort of desperate stimulation while he’s away and he lets out a laugh, “You are way too eager.” He whispers.
Walking over to you, you spread your legs, Tom positioning himself right at the entrance to your cunt, “You ready, Princess?” He whispers softly in your ear as you nod.
Tom’s cock slides inside of you and begins to move slowly, warming you up. The condom on his cock, giving you that slight bit more of lubrication than your pussy provides. He’s pressing against your cunt, rubbing your clit with his fingers and his lips on yours. You’re still reeling from your last orgasm. Your clit sensitive to every touch. You feel your hips buck against him.
“Fuck, Tom... you are going way too slow.” You say.
Tom moves quicker and all you can hear now is skin on skin, his balls slapping against the back end of your pussy, “Fuck,” He mutters looking down at you as your tits bounce. How your mouth widens when you moan, and your hips continue to keep bucking against the slit of his cock as he presses in on your g-spot. His hand moving from your clit to your stomach, applying some pressure onto you, and you let out another perfect moan.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groan needily, “Tom, please.” You beg.
He presses into your cunt harder. Your bodies moving together like mesh. Desperately and needy. Like water. Fluid and in motion. Your bodies are one – so much better than you ever could’ve imagined. Every single time you fucked yourself, rubbed your clit. Every single time you made yourself cum to the thought of him. Every single time you moaned his name needy... and now you were doing it for real. He was really the one making you cum. Pulling you to the edge. It was real and it wasn’t in your head and dreams like every time beforehand.
Tom felt the same way, finally pressing himself into you, rather than pumping his own cock with his hand. He loved feeling the way you felt. He loves feeling how wet you are for him. He was the one making you cum – making you feel good like everything he had thought about before. You were a daydream come true and he finally got to have you. Got to hold you. This was real. It wasn’t in his head – and he couldn’t believe it.
Tom’s head falls into the crevice of your neck as he fucks you senseless. He can feel himself getting closer to the edge and he can feel your cunt tightening too, “Fuck,” He swears, “’Mma cum.” He groans.
You moan, “Me- me too.”
You cum first, feeling your stomach grow hot and your body jerk forward. You falter slightly against Tom as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, a few moments after. It’s the first time someone’s ever cum with you – and the first time you’ve ever come so hard that your legs felt sore after... you have a feeling it won’t be the last time this happens either.
Tom rubs your inner thigh softly, as he throws out the condom and gets back in bed. Lying next to you, “You gotta go pee.” He whispers.
“I love it when you whisper dirty things to me.” You joke, “Thank you, Tom.”
“For what?”
You shrug, “For changing... You think I can’t trust you – and I don’t... but I also do. I trust that you will be a better person... I trust that you will treat me like your equal... I trust that you will love me if we do decide to be something... if you want to be something.” You hastily add.
He turns to face you in the depths and warmth of the sheets the two of you are buried under, “I want to be something.” He says quickly, “I do... I want to be something – more preferably your boyfriend.”
You smile, “I’d like that too... really, I would.” You cup his face in your hands, “Please believe me... I trust you.”
He smiles softly, “I believe you.”
You grin wider, “Okay, now... lemme go pee.” You giggle walking away.
THE EPILOUGE – THE BOY WHO LOVED YOU.
So that’s how you got here. Unable to live your life without Tom, unable to think without him or make a simple decision. Unable to live without Tessa. You lived in a house with Tom, and his dog and you missed him every single day when he left for America the next day after getting with you.
When your family found out it was safe to say that they were surprised. Tom did hate you, but after a few months everyone settled. You were happy and... so was Tom.
He still feels guilty all the time – and he’s always insecure about the things he says to you because he never wants to make you upset again – but you always assure him that you’re okay, that the two of you were okay.
Carefully, you look into Tom’s eyes, everyone knew about your relationship because of Instagram and it’s safe to say your students freaked out – the whole school pretty much had. You just laughed at all the questions they told you and offered some sweet stories to your students.
But tonight, was the premiere of No Way Home and it was your first red carpet actually being seen by the cameras... and actually being on Tom’s arm.
“I’m nervous.” You tell him, “I’m really, really nervous.” You whisper in the back of the limo. Zendaya was in a separate car – and you were with Tom. Jacob already got there, texting you a few moments before he arrived indefinitely.
“Y/n, it’ll be okay.” He presses a soft kiss to your lips, “We’re okay. They love you... all the fans they do love you.”
You groan, “Don’t! What if they change their mind one day and decide to dig up some crazy information on me.”
He laughs softly, “Darling, you’ve charmed them all as much as you’ve charmed me.”
Pulling upto the red carpet, finally ready to step out of the car, “You ready?” He questions you.
You nod, “It’s just me and you, right?”
“Me and you.” He places a kiss to your lips, and you can’t help but melt.
It wasn’t like this before – and now that it was, you’re not sure you would change anything that happened to lead you here. Lead you right to the love of your life.
OHMYGODDDD, he's usually so vocal (but i have the strong belief that all of oscar isaacs characters love to eat pussy), but this is the dream for Steven. him suffocating underneath your pussy is definitely the way he would want to go. his moans and groans filling the air as you ride his tongue 😩
do you have a schedule for ur vampire fic! love it sm! im a fan of the whole love triangle trope…. LOL so this fic is actually my dream haha
i do not! i try to upload once every week tho! unfortunately my schedule atm doesn't allow me to have a set day bc i'm so busy, so i write it throughout the week!
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
janainaart
snowghoul
2087
