#tom holland x skater!reader

[waitimcomingtoo]

I know requests are closed but I’m obsessed with this Olympic ice dancing duo, they’ve been skating for 20 years since they were 7 and 9 and the guy is always saying she’s his favourite person and how beautiful she is and their chemistry is so intense and their body language just says they’re in love but it was announced that he is engaged to another woman and I’m sad and waiting for them to realise they’re in love! I was wondering if you could write something along these lines with Tom? Ily 💙

I love this idea. I pulled inspiration from Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue interviews and from Little Women.

One Man Cult

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: You and Tom are inseparable ice skating duo who aren’t as inseparable as you thought

Masterlist

“This unrequited love, to me it’s nothing but a one man cult.” - Frank Ocean

Tom had been your ice skating partner for 20 years now. You’d come a long way from the frozen pond behind your house to an Olympic ice skating rink. The way you two skated was pure art. You moved impossibly in synch as you floated over the ice together, winning competition after competition together. Tom had never once dropped you or let you down due to your powerful connection to each other. He was always there to lift you, dip you, spin you, and you carry you around the ice as you danced to the music. Your undeniable chemistry and endearing friendship made you and Tom the most popular team in the Olympics on social media, but it was your powerful skating that made you the most decorated skaters in history. 

After every competition, with the medals you wore around your neck clanging together, Tom always picked you up bridal style to carry you off the ice. He’d been doing it since he was nine and he’d do it until the last day he ever skated. You were always met with a rush of cameras and microphones from journalists who wanted to know just as much about your relationship as they did your performance.

Your most notable interview was when you appeared on Ellen together after winning gold medals in the Olympics. Your fans campaigned for you to be on the show and Ellen happily complied. Despite the large couch, you and Tom sat practically on top of each other. He had one arm secure around your waist and the other resting on your knee. In return, you had both hands on top of his, giving them a gentle squeeze whenever you felt butterflies in your tummy. 

“Y/n, Tom, how did you two meet?” Ellen began the interview.

“We met when I was 7 and he was 9 because we were neighbors. We formed this unbreakable connection and we’ve been best friends since then.” You answered, looking at Tom for most of your speech. “I honestly don’t even remember my life before him. We started skating on the pond outside our houses and realized we both had a love as well as a talent for it.”

“Wow. That’s 20 years now.” Ellen nodded in admiration. “You guys must be very close.”

“Oh, definitely. I know everything about him and he knows everything about me. I can’t imagine not being with him everyday. We’re a family.” You smiled as Tom squeezed your hip, feeling the nerves melt away at his touch.

“Yeah, we’re very very close. I live for Y/n.” Tom chimed in and the audience melted.

“And there was never a romance? No feelings for the other?” Ellen asked skeptically.

“Uh-“ Tom scratched his neck, looking at you.

“Nope. Just a really close friendship.” You nodded.

“Does Tom know that?” Ellen teased and both your faces flushed as the audience laughed.

“I ask because you guys clearly have a lot a chemistry together as we see on the ice but your fans see a little more than just chemistry. They see a romance between the two of you.” Ellen said as a picture of you and Tom flashed on the screen. It was a photo of your last performance, and you were sitting on his knee with your hands pressing his forehead against yours. He had one hand around you waist and the other gripping your thigh. The audience laughed and ooo’d at the picture and you hid your face in Toms neck for a moment.

“Oh shoot. Maybe we are a couple.” You joked and felt Tom laugh beside you.

“Did you know we were a couple? That’s crazy. I had no idea.” Tom teased back. You laughed at his joke and he smiled at your laughter, throwing an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

“So you are a couple?” Ellen asked as a different picture came on screen, a close up this time. You had both hands on Toms face and he had his firmly on your back with your legs wrapped around his waist, lips almost touching. The audience laughed again and Ellen’s point was made.

“No. We’re not. We’re just a really great team.” Tom confirmed as he looked at you. “Y/n is my favorite person in the world. There is no one I admire or love more. I mean, I’ve loved this girl since I was 9. We have such a deep love for each other and an unbreakable connection that I know I could never find anywhere else. She’s my soulmate, really. I’m so lucky I get to spend 23 hours a day with her.”

“What’s the other hour?” Ellen asked.

“Icing wounds and bathroom breaks.” You and Tom said in unison, earning a chuckle from Ellen and the audience.

“We really do take it as a compliment though. If that many people see us performing and think we’re a couple in love, then I think we’re doing something right.” Tom continued. “I think all the romance rumors speak to our chemistry and ability to portray a romance as we skate together.”

“Exactly. And we really do love each other.” You said as a third picture came up, you and Tom hugging tightly after a performance. You and your arms secure around his neck and he was lifting you off the ground. “We’ve spent the last 20 years building this partnership and it’s so rewarding to see where it’s taken us. I’m just really lucky I could go on this journey with Tom at my side. My favorite moments are always after the performance, when the crowd is cheering and the music stopped and it feels like there’s no one in the world but me and Tom.” You said as you gazed into Toms eyes. He couldn’t resist kissing your forehead, in no way helping the conversation.

“So you are a couple?” Ellen repeated and the audience chuckled again.

That’s how interviews often went, but some reporters wanted a different story.

“Where’s your other half?” A reporter asked when Tom came off the ice rink alone. He was met with a dozen more reporters and took a seat on a foldable chair to answer the questions.

“I know!” He laughed. “She’s getting changed. It feels so weird to be interviewed without her. Don’t worry though, she’ll be here shortly.”

“While we have you, we do have some questions.” Another reporter spoke up.

“Go for it.” Tom smiled.

“What makes Y/n a good partner?” They asked.

“Y/n is honestly just a perfect person. I love everything about her. She’s my best friend in the entire world. She’s so beautiful and so so dedicated to our work. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Tom said sincerely into a camera.

“You never considered trying you luck as a solo act?” A different reporter tried to instigate drama and Tom quickly shut him down.

“I couldn’t go solo because I myself am not a solo act. Y/n is my other half on and off of the ice. I couldn’t imagine my life without her.” Tom replied suavely.

“Hi! Am I interrupting?” You asked as you walked over to Tom. He smiled happily as the sight of you and reached out a hand to guide you over to where he was.

“Here, we can pull up a chair for you.” A reporter offered but you politely held up a hand.

“That’s okay.” You shook your head as you sat comfortably on Toms lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“We were just asking Tom if either of you ever considered going solo?” You were asked.

“Oh, never.” You laughed. “I don’t exist if I’m not with Tom. We’re connected. I could never not be with him.” You turned over your shoulder to look at him and he smiled at you before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You two seem very close. Y/n, you wouldn’t date him?” A reporter asked and you laughed in surprise.

“Maybe.” You shrugged to appease them.

“Wow. I’ve known her for 20 years and we’ve been getting interviewed for maybe 10 now and that’s the first time I’ve gotten a “maybe”. Must be my lucky day.” Tom joked and squeezed you tightly. His answer seemed to satisfy the reporters and they left you alone.

A rough patch of ice and a broken ankle sent you to the hospital for a week and benched from the ice for two months. Unfortunately, the injury came in June, right as Tom was scheduled to return home for a holiday with his family. It killed him to leave you alone, but he knew with his busy schedule he’d never be able to reschedule.

“Go. Your family is counting on you.” You promised him from your hospital bed. He shook his head at you.

“You’re my family.” He insisted.

“I’ll be fine. Go. Be with them.” You told him, but he still looked unsure.”

“I’ll miss you. Can’t you come with me?” He whined. You laughed at his childish behavior.

“The doctor said I can’t fly with my cast.” You reminded him as you looked down at your bright pink cast. It had one signature, Toms name is a big heart. “It’ll be okay. We’re not attached at the hip. We can handle a few weeks apart.” You assured him.

“I don’t know if I can.” Tom laughed sadly and took your hand.

“You’ll survive.” You touched his cheek and he leaned into your palm.

“Without you? Impossible.” He smirked and pressed a kiss to your palm.

The three week vacation was extended by four weeks when Toms grandmother fell ill. Still not able to fly with your cast, you had to result to FaceTiming at 4 am just to get a hold of him. Being without Tom was strange enough, but he was acting stranger. His brothers told you he went out most nights and came back at odd times. His mom told you he wasn’t looking well, but brushed it off as a minor cold.

“I’m sure he’s just used to you keeping him in check, making sure he’s hydrated and getting enough sleep and all that. He’s probably just overwhelmed and being without you is making it harder. I wouldn’t worry too much.” His mother assured you but you still worried. It’s been 7 weeks since you’d seen him and you hated every second of it.

The day your cast was taken off, you got on the first flight to the UK. You didn’t get to Toms house until late, but Harry told you he was home. You climbed into his first story window and he jumped in surprise when he saw you

“Y/n?” Tom asked in shock at the sight of you.

“Hi Tommy.” You kept your voice low so you wouldn’t disturb his family as you jumped into his arms.

“What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t fly?” He asked as he held you tightly, taking in your scent once again.

“Doctor cleared me this morning.” You held up you healed foot with a proud smile.

“I didn’t know you’d gotten your cast taken off.” Tom said, a little disappointed he wasn’t aware of all the details of your life anymore.

“Well, it’s been pretty hard to get a hold of you lately.” You said a little sadly. “God, what’s it been, like two months? I’ve missed you so much. Sit, tell me everything.” You guided him to his bed and sat down with him.

“My grandmothers doing a lot better. They’re gonna release her from the hospital soon.” Tom said and you noticed he was beginning to sweat.

“That’s great Tom. I’m so happy to hear that.” You ignored his stiffness and rubbed his shoulder.

“Thanks.” He sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, looking incredibly torn with himself. “Y/n-“

“I’m really happy to see you, Tommy.” You interrupted him. “I know I was the one saying we could stand being apart for a few weeks, but I honestly couldn’t last another day of this. I never realized how much I wanted to see you everyday. You’re a huge part of my life and it’s been so weird not seeing y-“

“I’m engaged.” He blurted, cutting you off. You blinked in surprise at his sudden announcement.

“What?” You laughed shortly, trying to read his face but the room was too dark.

“I met her over the summer when I came home and she fell in love with me. She asked if I wanted to get married and I said yes.” Tom continued in the same flat, emotionless tone. “She’s going to be my wife.”

“What?” You repeated, still not believing him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but my mind is made up.” Tom continued as if he wasn’t telling you the most outrageous thing you’d ever heard. He stood up, unable to look at you for a moment.

“I’m sorry, can we go back a second?” You got up as well and walked to him. “You’ve known her what, two months? Three?”

“One. We met in July.” Tom said quietly and you scoffed.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” You said gravely. Tom wiped his nose on his sleeve and nodded.

“I am.” He told you, a sad gleam in his eyes. “She wants to be married by Christmas.”

“Well what do you want?” You asked, looking for a different answer then what you were getting.

“Whatever she wants is fine by me.” He said robotically and you felt nauseous.

“I’ve never even met her.” You pointed out. More importantly, she’d never met you. You exactly a minor note in Toms symphony. You guys lived as a duet and now he was trying to rewrite the chorus without asking you first.

“You will. I’m going to introduce to her everyone. My family, my friends, you. You’ll get to know her.” Tom said as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Oh so your family hasn’t met her either?” You laughed bitterly. “Do they even know she exists?”

“I’ll tell them.” He said, and you knew he was ashamed.

“Tom, what?” You asked gently, going easier on him now that you know he was upset. “Your family doesn’t even know? What’s going on? This isn’t like you.” You tilted his chin towards you and made him look at you. As soon as his eyes met yours, they filled with tears.

“What, just because I’ve never had a girlfriend before means I can’t have one now?” He asked with a defeated shrug.

“You have had girlfriends before.” You reminded him and he shook his head.

“Have I?” He laughed sadly. “I’ve tried, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t date anyone else knowing that they’d never…”

“Never what?” You stroked his cheek lightly, pleading with him for an answer to his madness. “Tom.” You urged when he hesitated to answer.

“Never compare to you.” He gripped your wrist as teared ran down his cheeks. You looked at him in confusion and tried to search his face again. He was making less and less sense.

“What are you talking about?” You whispered and Toms lip trembled.

“If you’re gonna stand in front of me right now and pretend there hasn’t been something between us for the last 20 years then you might as well just leave now.” Tom said through gritted teeth. You felt the wind knocked out of you and took a step back, withdrawing your hands and holding yourself tightly.

“Thomas…” You breathed.

“I can’t find another my heart will beat for. I can’t do it.” Tom cried in pain. “I have loved you since I was nine years old and it’s killing me. I can’t move on. I can’t think, I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. This unrequited love is destroying me.” He sobbed. “And I swear to you, I will never love anyone more and nothing has to change between us as partners but…” ,his lip trembled as he hesitated, “but I’m lonely! We spend all day together but I want to spend the nights too. I’m in love with you, Y/n. We have something incredibly rare between us. Can’t you see that? Please tell me you see that.”

You stayed silent as tears slipped out of his eyes, not having any clue what to say.

“Please?” He whispered at your silence.

“I do see it.” You touched his cheek lightly and he smiled in hope. “I see a beautiful and loving friendship between two people, Tom I’m sorry-“ he threw your hands off his cheeks and turned his back to you.

“I thought you felt the same. You’re always going on about the connection we have. Every friend of mine, all my brothers even your own mother told me there was no way you didn’t feel the same.” Tom sniffled. “The whole world sees something between us. They’ve seen it since we were kids. How is it that everyone sees it but you?” He looked at you over his shoulder.

“I just don’t, Tom. I’m sorry. If I could change it, I would.” You put a hand on his back and rubbed his shoulder blade with your thumb. “I love you so much, but not in that way. Not in the way you want me too. Not in the way you deserve.”

“You tell me I deserve it but then tell me not to marry this girl?” He turned around again and you saw how red and puffy his face was. You tried to reach out to him but he pushed your hands away.

“You don’t deserve a half baked engagement to some girl you met a month ago.” You said. “You deserve someone who knows everything about you, little things and big things, and someone loves you deeply and unconditionally. Someone you have a connection with.” You were as upset as he was now.

“Is that not you?” He cocked his head.

“Of course it’s me. Just not romantically. You have all my love, Thomas. I swear to you, my hearts beats just for you. Is that not enough?” You cried and he looked down at the floor.

“I would have you.” He said in defeat, nodding his head as he looked up at you. “If it were enough, I would have you.”

“You’re always gonna have me-“

“-I love you.” He cut in.

“-maybe not in the way that you want but that doesn’t mean-“

“-I love you.” He said again, as if he was accepting it.

“-we can’t continue being friends. You’re still my favorite person-“

“Just not the person you want to be with?” He asked with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry.” Was all you could give him.

“Don’t be. My bad for assuming, right?” He shuffled his feet and you felt more tears rising in your eyes.

“Can we talk about this? Please?” You begged, worrying if you ended this conversation it’d be the last one you ever had with him.

“I’ve said all I’ve had to say. What about you?” Tom shrugged and wiped his eyes.

“We need to be adults about this, Tom.” You grabbed his hand to keep him in the room. He looked down at your hands for a long time before squeezing yours and looking at you tearfully in the eyes.

“I can’t be anything but in love with you.” He said with a sad smile.

“Then why are you marrying her?” You asked him desperately.

“Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone.” He told you.

“You’re not alone. You have me.” You held your intertwined hands against your chest, kissing the back of his hand.

“Do I?” He asked and dropped your hand, slamming the door behind him as he left the room.

The next few months leading up to Christmas had an ice between you and Tom that chilled the country. The distance between the two of you wasn’t noticeable enough to hurt your scores on the ice, but it was unbearable when you weren’t working. He wouldn’t talk to you, wouldn’t even look at you. Conversations never lead back to that night in his bedroom, no matter how hard you tried to lead them there. Tom went on as if it never happened, as if he never confessed his feelings for you.

You on the other hand, were given plenty of time to reflect. In those few months, you realized you’d never love anyone as you loved Tom, and in return, no one would ever love you the way he always had. You’d been so consumed in being his best friend that you hadn’t realized you wanted to be more. You knew there was no one in the world you could imagine spending the rest of your life with other than Tom. He was your soulmate, and you were his. Your heart broke as you knew you came to the conclusion too late. He was engaged to another girl. He was happy now, or so he claimed. So instead of confessing your feelings, you kept your mouth shut and let him distance himself from you.

It was different on the ice. Neither of you could conceal how you felt. Your chemistry was still evident and radiated off every leap and turn. With your newly realized love for him, your skating became even cleaner and more passionate. You were at the lowest point in your relationship but at the highest in your careers. You spend endless hours with Tom, practicing, performing, and being interviewed. Interviews turned awkward fast whenever Toms engagement was brought up. The rest of the world was as confused as you were.

“So Tom, you’re engaged?” A reporter asked and the room quieted down.

“Yes, I am.” Tom said stiffly. You tended up at his side and faked a smile.

“And not to Y/n?” The reporter joked. You felt your face flush, and not in the wya it usually did when you were questioned about your relationship with Tom.

“I was just was surprised as you were.” Tom said with sad laughter. You wanted to place a hand on his knee but decided against it in fear of rejection.

“How did you react, Y/n?” The reporter asked you.

“Yeah, I was surprised too. When I thought about my future with Tom and all the milestones I imagined we’d reach together, this was never a apart of the plan.” You laughed nervously. “I never saw this coming.”

On December 19, the church was set for Toms wedding. You sat in your seat with your leg bouncing nervously as his bride walked down the isle.

You couldn’t handle the smug look she gave you as she passed.

You couldn’t handle the stares of pity from everyone around you.

You couldn’t handle the somber look Tom had on his face as his eyes bore into yours.

You really couldn’t handle the feeling inside of you that told you you were making a terrible mistake.

Unable to handle being silent about your feelings anymore, you stood up. You locked eyes with Tom and gave him the most sincere look of an apology you could give him. He nodded and you took that as your cue to run out of the church.

“If anyone has any objections as to why these two should wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The priest read.

“I do.” Tom blurted.

“No no, you don’t say that yet, son.” The priest chuckled.

“No, I do. I object.” Tom said and dropped the girls hands like they were poison. “I can’t marry you, I’m sorry.”

“Why not?” His bride, no longer to be, demanded. Tom looked at the priest apologetically and then at his family.

“Because I’m in love with someone else.” He said as he stared at your vacant seat. There were no gasps of shock, just sighs of relief.

“I’m sorry everyone.” He said and then gave one last look at the girl. “I’m so sorry.”

Tom ran down the steps on the alter and out the doors, laughing a little as he went.

“Y/n? Y/n, wait!” Tom screamed once he was out of the church. He slowed down to a halt and looked around for you, but didn’t see you anywhere. He blew out a breath of defeat, knowing he was too late. You didn’t wait. You hadn’t run for him. You just ran.

Tom dragged his feet as he made his way to his car. There was no way he could go back into the church. His only option was to go home. Once Tom approached his car, he could hear someone jiggling the door handle on the passenger side. Suddenly, an all too familiar friend of his popped up from behind the car.

“What took you so long? We gotta go.” You urged in a panic. Toms entire face lit up at the sight of you. He smiled fondly, just taking you in.

You had waited.

But it didn’t seem like you could wait much longer. Tom unlocked the car and hopped inside. You bunched up your dress and did the same. Tom started the car and you drove off without another word. Once you had left the church parking lot, he looked back and laughed.

“I can’t believe I just did that! I left a girl on the alter. ” Toms smile quickly faded. “Can you imagine how that must feel? She must be devastated. Oh my God, should we go back?” Tom was experiencing excitement, confusion and guilt all at once.

“You can turn back if you want.” You said calmly. It was the last thing you wanted to do, but you’d do it for him.

“No. No of course we can’t go back. I can’t marry her just because I feel guilty.” Tom said mostly to himself. “Especially when I don’t love her.”

“You don’t?” You asked, having already suspected that he didn’t.

“I never did. And I don’t suppose she loved me either.” He laughed softly. “We were just two lonely people who didn’t want to be lonely anymore.”

“You don’t have to be lonely ever again.” You put one of your hands on his thigh. Tom looked at you before picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. You smiled slightly as he continued to drive.

“Can I ask you something?” Tom said, breaking the silence.

“Anything.” You replied.

“How’d you know I’d run after you?” He wondered. “I could’ve gone through with it. I could’ve married her. You must’ve waited by my car for a reason. How did you know I’d come after you?”

“It was that look.” You admitted. “I saw it in your eyes when you were on the alter. You know how we always say we have a connection?”

“Yeah?” He asked with a shy smile.

“That was it. It was our connection. You knew I’d run. I knew you’d follow.” You explained before quieting down. “Why did you run?“ You asked timidly.

"I couldn’t have what I really wanted, so I settled for whatever girl let me put a ring on her finger.” Tom confessed as he kept his eyes on the road.

“I see.” You nodded, also looking ahead.

“What about you? Why did you run?” He snuck a glance at you.

“I guess I couldn’t have what I really wanted either, and I couldn’t sit around and pretend to be happy for someone else when I was miserable.” You told him. “It hurt too much. Especially when it was my fault that I was miserable.”

"What is it that you really wanted?” Tom questioned and you looked out the window.

“Poor girl is probably so embarrassed.” You mumbled, feeling genuinely sorry for the girl he left at the alter. “The whole country was rooting against her and they won. She didn’t get what she wanted either.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Tom said, feeling his heart pick up speed when a tiny smirk appeared on your face.

“What was it again?” You asked, shifting to face Tom. If he wanted to go all those months avoiding the conversation, you weren’t gonna let him have it when it was finally convenient for him. He needed to work for it.

“You said you couldn’t have what you really wanted, so you were miserable. What was it that you really wanted?” Tom asked, looking at you for answers. It was the first time you had made and held eye contact since you both ran.

“What I wanted was you.” You confessed, and Tom slammed on his breaks.

“Get out of the car.” He ordered.

“What? Why?” You asked as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Out. Now.” He repeated.

You hastily got out of the car, seeing that he had stopped at a small elevated platform that looked over a river. You walked over to the railing and waited for Tom as he slammed his door shut and made his way over to you.

“Look, Tommy, I didn’t mean to upset you and if you could just let me explain-” Tom cut you off by wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into a long awaited kiss. You froze at this unexpected sign of affection, but quickly put your arms around his neck, where they belonged. Tom hugged you closer until there was no space between you.

You only broke apart to gasp for air. Tom smiled and pulled you into a hug, pressing a light kiss to your temple and holding you tight.

“I’ve missed you.” He said softly into your hair.

“I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry we fought.” You cried into his chest.

"Me too. I shouldn’t have sprung all that information on you at once. And I’m sorry I got mad for expecting you to figure out your feelings right away. I should’ve given you time.” He sniffled as he rubbed your back.

“I’m sorry too. And I do feel the same.” You pushed away from him a little so you could see him. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner.

"Let’s put that in the past. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is you and I, here and now.” Tom answered as he brushed your hair off your forehead.

“You look great, by the way. I never got to tell you that.” You complimented Tom as you fixed his tie.

“Thanks. I was more excited for the suit than I was for the wedding. It’s a shame it’s gonna go to waste.” He laughed lightly as an idea popped into your head.

“It doesn’t have to.” You realized.

“What do you mean?” He asked curiously.

“There’s a chapel about five miles from here.” Was all you said. Tom knew exactly what you were thinking. You grabbed his hand and you both ran for the car. Before you took off, Tom ran back to the railing and threw the flower in his lapel into the river, the flower that matched the brides bouquet. You laughed and applauded him as he got back into the car.

An hour later, you were officially married. You were slightly disappointed that your families couldn’t be there to see it, but Tom promised you that you could throw a huge wedding reception to celebrate your newly realized love later on. Before getting back into Tom’s jeep, you pulled your husband into a hug. Tom smiled and put his arms around his bride. You stayed in each other’s embrace for as long as you could, swaying gently as Tom hummed your favorite song. You were used to performing the most elaborate dance routines together, so this simple slow dance was nice. He was about to pull away when you hugged him tighter.

“Wait. Don’t let go.” You said and Tom put his arms back around you.

“I won’t.” He promised. “I won’t ever.”

Tag List 🏷

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[princessofguineapigs]

skater!tom x reader, smut, fluff

warnings: unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), fingering, spitting kink, degradation, bdsm elements, yeah so, read with care

summary: Tom is a skateboarder trying out for the X Games, Y/N is his supportive girlfriend. Mostly, I wrote this for the sex. Tom is both a dom and a simp for his princess.

words: 2.4 k

Tom was reviewing the footage his friend had shot of him skating at the park. For months, he’d been trying to capture his skills on camera so he could submit them to the X Games. He’d worked his butt off to master the laser flip and finally caught it on camera. The trouble was, Tom was now obsessively playing the recording back and nitpicking his own form.

You draped your body over the couch from behind so you could rest your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder and see what he was watching.

“Can you show me how to do that?” you asked.

“Mmmm, if you want.” Tom twisted around to pull you over the side of the couch. You snuggled into him, inhaling the scent of clove and bourbon that made up his cologne. Tom rewound the video again, focusing on the placement of his feet when he pressed play again. You watched with him. “Wow. Babe, you really are good at that.”

Tom sighed and dropped his head into his hands. “It’s not good enough. It’s sloppy. I should be practicing more right now.” He stood and you admired the way he looked. His gray sweatpants hung low on his hips, his t-shirt showed off his muscles, and his snapback was giving you the urge to drop to your knees.

Tom threw on a pair of sneakers and his Thrasher hoodie, then grabbed his board that was propped up in the hallway. “I can show you now, if you want? I really feel like I should spend a few more hours at the skatepark. Then I’ll be able to relax with you.”

“Let’s go,” you said, eager to learn about Tom’s passion.

At the park, Tom popped one earbud in, letting the other hang down and took to the half-pipe. You watched him do a few tricks, which never failed to leave you in awe. His concentration was intense and Tom was completely in the zone. 

When he was finished showing off for you, Tom gave you his board to try. With a bit more confidence than you should have, you got on and pushed off to travel a few yards. And then you promptly fell on your butt. Tom was at your side in an instant. “Are you hurt?” You shook your head. “Only my pride.”

Your boyfriend helped you to your feet and pretended to brush dirt off your butt. It was obvious to you that Tom just wanted to touch your ass. Sweetly, he kissed the knuckles on your left hand as if he weren’t just having sinful thoughts.

Tom steadied you on the skateboard, then stepped lightly onto it with you. He placed one foot in between yours and the other on the outside of your right foot. His shaggy hair is a bit sweaty, and the ends stick to his forehead, but he’s still adorable. To keep your balance, you rested your hands on his chest and his arms snaked around your lower back.

You tilted your head up, eagerly seeking a kiss. Tom was a step ahead of you and his lips were already poised to meet yours. He tasted sugar sweet and the kiss was gentle. You sank into the heat of his embrace before he broke the kiss.

“Now, this time, bend your knees a bit. The lower you are to the ground, the better control you have of your balance,” Tom advised, stepping off the board.

You absorbed the tips Tom gave you and over the course of the next few hours, you reached the respectable skateboarding level of only falling off every other time. By the end of it though, your thighs, knees, and feet were aching. Tom actually carried you back to the car.

Watching Tom do something he was talented at really turned you on. For Tom, getting to share the hobby he was dedicated to and having you be interested in it was super hot.

“You looked really cute on my skateboard,” Tom said when you walked through the door.

You bit your lip coyly and said, “There’s something else of yours I’d like to ride.”

“I think you should take your clothes off, darling,” Tom commented. Once you had stripped, Tom gently guided you to a seat on the couch. Once you were naked, Tom knelt down in front of you. With soft, slightly moist lips, Tom kissed up your ankle to your calf to your thigh.

“What do you want?” he demanded.

You whimpered, totally desperate in your aroused state. “Can I please suck your cock, sir?” It was humiliating to ask to pleasure him, but it only served to make your wetness drip onto the cushions.

“Because you begged so nicely,” Tom said, pulling down his sweats.

You opened your salivating mouth to invite him between your lips. In the next moment, your mouth was full of cock and your tongue tasted saltiness.

“Good little whore,” Tom praised. He plunged in and out of your drooling mouth. “Get me wet so I can stretch my pussy.” Tom’s dick explored the depths of your mouth and ventured slightly into your throat, causing you to gag. The tightening sensation pulled Tom right to the center of pleasure. “That’s enough. I want your cunt,” Tom said, pulling out of your mouth and slapping your face with his cock. “Bedroom.”

You took up your usual position for doggy style, right in the center of the mattress. “Looks like my pussy is already wet,” Tom noted, running a finger through your folds. “Stay right like that.” You found yourself clenching while you waiting for his thick cock to enter you. The air was knocked out of you and you fell to your elbows when Tom pushed inside. His tool was formidable and the bulbous tip stretched you open an inch at a time.

While Tom railed you from behind you were overwhelmed with pleasure. His cock head nudged your spot over and over, sending you to euphoria. “You like that, princess?” Tom asked with his hand lightly on your throat.

You lost yourself in the waves of pleasure and soon it was too late. You came without permission or remorse. Since Tom’s dick was pounding you from behind, you didn’t see the cruel grin that overtook his face. He thought about what wicked punishments he could inflict on your for your bad behavior.

Nipple clamps were an option. So was the clit clamp. That one would be worse now that your clit was engorged and oversensitive. The thought made Tom cum on the spot.

He filled you quickly, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” he asked you.

Did wrong? You thought you had been pleasing to him. He had just orgasmed.

“I’ll tell you. You came without asking. What does that mean for you, Y/N?”

In a small voice you answered, “I need to be punished.”

“That’s right.” Tom opened the top drawer of the nightstand to search for his preferred torture device. He held the clit clamp up for you to see and your eyes widened in fear.

“No! Tom, no! Please,” you begged.

“You can take it. It’s just for a few minutes.” His tone was slightly mocking. You instinctively closed your legs, but Tom pried them apart. It was evident that no amount of begging was going to save you. Sinking into subspace, you humbled yourself and submitted to your deserved punishment. The clamp bit into your sensitive bud and you screamed out.

“I have work to do and I’ll need my full concentration,” Tom said. “So I’ll need you to be quiet.” He attached a ball gag to your head and forced it between your lips. The tears leaking from your eyes mimicked the saliva already dripping down your chin. Tom kissed your forehead softly. “Thanks for the fuck, baby. Be good now.”

The second Tom left the room you wanted to beg him to come back. Unfortunately, your mouth was occupied. The minutes dragged slowly while you endured your punishment.

At long last, Tom returned. He reached to undo the clit clamp and said, “This might hurt a bit, love.” The second he removed it, you squealed into the gag as blood rushed into your clit.

“You took it so well, baby,” Tom said, unbuckling the gag. “Bet you even learned your lesson.”

“Yes, Tommy.”

Tom stroked your face. “I didn’t even have to restrain you. I’m so proud of you, angel.” He kissed your cheek. “Did you have fun at the park today?” he asked as you put your clothes back on.

“Yeah, I like when you teach me things,” you answered.

“Next time, I’ll show you how to ollie,” Tom said.

You walked to the edge of the bed where Tom was seated and circled your arms around his neck and shoulders. Tom pulled you close and placed a tender kiss behind your ear. “I finally figured out what I was doing wrong,” he said. “I played the video back a few more times. I wasn’t popping my ankles up at the right time, so the tricks weren’t as clean.”

“Do you want me to film you for your X Games submission tomorrow? Now that you’ve figured it out?” you asked.

Tom smiled. “You’d do that?”

“Of course. It’ll be good practice for my future film directing career,” you teased.

He placed a kiss on your temple. “You’re the best, babe. I want to spend every day with you. Hell, I’d give up skateboarding if it meant I could do that.”

“Tom, I never want you to give up your passion. You can half both. Besides,” you slide your hands down his chest, “there are more practical ways to ensure you see me every day.”

Tom’s lips curved upward and he moved his hands lower on your waist. “Are you proposing to me, princess?”

You shoved his shoulder lightly. “In your dreams. You’ll have to do the work for once.”

“But I do the work in bed, darling,” Tom quipped.

You straddled his lap. “That you do.”

Tom left adoring kisses on your neck. “How bout a cup of tea, angel?”

You shifted in his lap and giggled. “Do extreme skateboarders make their girlfriends tea?” you quizzed.

“Only when the tea is poured in flowery china.” Tom’s fingers rubbing soothingly on the small of your back made you melt. He leaned in for a passionate kiss and your fingers made their way to his soft hair. You could feel the love pouring out of Tom as he kissed you possessively and held you protectively. His hands snuck under your hoodie and you pulled away. “I think you’ve had enough for today, mister,” you chided.

Tom whined and made a pouty face. “You said I could have tea,” you reminded him. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “Of course, darling. Gotta give my pretty girl what she wants.”

Abruptly, Tom stood and the legs that had been straddling him wrapped around his waist. He carried you to the kitchen and set you on the counter with his palms flat on the marble on either side of you. He leaned in for yet another kiss, trapping you between his body and the cabinets. His large hands moved to the tops of your thighs, exposed beneath the hoodie. “How’s your little clitty, princess?” “Better,” you whispered.

Tom left his spot between your legs to put the kettle on. Then, he sauntered back to you and said, “Where were we?” Boldly, he snuck a hand under the hem of your hoodie and fished out your panties, sliding them over your thighs. He pressed the pad of his finger between the folds of your heat and tsked. “Already wet?” he questioned.

“I’m always wet with you, Tommy.”  You blushed madly. “Whenever I look at you or think about you and it’s not even sexual thoughts. I’m just so damn attracted to you, babe. You’re so sweet and kind.”

Tom dipped the finger from your folds into his mouth and sucked briefly to savor your taste. “So you’re not just a slut that’s constantly wet.”

“No, Tommy, only for you.”

This pleased him. “My personal slut then.” He grinned. “So many holes for my exclusive use.” Your pussy trembled at that. Tom tapped your lips with his finger. “Open.” You obeyed and he spat a large glob of saliva onto your vulnerable tongue. “Hold it in your mouth until you cum,” he commanded.

At first you were confused, but then Tom worked two fingers into your core. He expertly dipped them in and out slowly to get you worked up. Steadily, he massaged your g-spot, causing you to moan behind your closed lips. A tingling warmth spread from your cunt out to your lower abdomen and thighs.

Tom’s fingers danced from you pussy hole to your clit. You wanted more, needed more. He gave it to you, rubbing figure eights on your bud with his wet finger. Your toes curled when he got in a rhythm on that spot before returning to your opening. One stroke at a time, Tom coaxed your orgasm from you, opting to keep his thumb on your clit while his other fingers moved in and out. Your walls felt so sensitive and they tightened on his digits.

“So responsive,” Tom praised.

 Tom gave you a cocky smile and you were conscious of his spit still on your tongue. “Make your pretty pussy cum now, I want to feel it on my fingers,” Tom said. He forced his fingers deeper and you erupted on them, soaking him to the knuckles. Simultaneously, you swallowed the gift he’d left in your mouth just as he’d instructed.

“Fuck, baby, you squirted,” Tom said, thoroughly impressed with himself. He helped you off the counter and grabbed a dish cloth to clean up the mess. When he’d finished wiping up, the tea kettle whistled. He went to tend to it as you picked your panties up off the floor and slide them back into place over your satisfied cunt.

When you turned back to your boyfriend, he presented you with a steaming cup of earl grey. The two of you sat down with the warm beverages and you said to him, “You know, I have a good feeling about this tape. I think the judges will be impressed.”

“You think so?” Tom looked at your hopefully. Even doms needed reassurance outside the bedroom.

“Tommy,” you took his hand in yours. “You’re an incredible skater and you work really hard. Anyone who watches your tape will see how talented you are.” You squeezed his hand. “Plus, there’s no way they won’t pick you with my filming skills,” you teased.

Tom kissed you firmly and lovingly. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, skater boy.

[hollandroos]

Get up | Tom Holland

My writing ♡ 

Summary: Toms entire life is skating, it’s all he knows. So what happens when he manages to get injured during training for one of the biggest events in his career and you’re there to see the entire thing?

Words: 1983

Warnings: Injury, a broken ankle. I may not be correct with all of my information – this was just a small wee concept I bought up to my group chat and with help from @neptuneparker and @hey-its-grey, we got this.

Moodboard by @neptuneparker

For fifteen years Tom had been skating.

There was nothing he knew better then the smell of freshly shaved ice beneath his skates and bitter, cold fingertips after a good session. He had come to welcome the feeling, that as well as icy blue lips. There was no sound the brunette had memorised as well as he had the Zamboni – the roar of the machine coming to life was like music to his ears.

When he was ten he took his first step on the ice, wearing the smallest pair of skates he’d ever stuff his poor feet into and a thick pair of woollen gloves over two hands as well as a bomber jacket. When he turned fifteen he got a job at the rink, serving food to the customers for free sessions. He would hand out the buttery popcorn and cups of soda for six hours a day for a portion of money slapped into his palm and a weekend lesson.

He’d hardly stepped off since.

And on the ice was where he’d met you.

He had watched on in adoration from his spot at the cafeteria, eyes wide and filled with adoration as you performed all types of tricks without fail – well, every now and then you’d slip and land on your butt but he didn't laugh like the rest of the girls in your squad. Tom was one to take notes and learn from others mistakes.

He introduced himself the following year and you clicked. You walked to training together until Toms career got more serious. Even then, you walked with him to training. You rode with him to competitions. You hyped him up when he put his name down for the trials of what would be the biggest event of his career.

You stole each other's clothes when you felt like it and slept in each other's beds.

You became platonic soulmates. Inseparable. Two peas in a pod. 

Tom skates freely, the blades on the bottom of his skates hissing as they meet the ice. Every now and then he does a jump, becoming airborne for a second before he hits the rink again with a heavy thud and every time he’s successful, hitting the ground without so much as a single mistake he smiles.

His heart is beating in his ears, adrenaline thick and coursing through his veins and Tom is reminded once more of just why he spends his days skating. It was worth the ugly blue and purple bruises that sometimes painted his feet and the blisters that’d cause him to (rarely) hiss in pain as he peeled his skates off.

That was only on the bad days – or the days where he had to break in a new pair of skates.

“Tom! Watch the footing on that one,” His trainer calls, correcting his form. The man was scary with often pursed lips and a hard stare but Tom knows he means well and beneath layers of bitterness and the occasional jealoisy, he had a heart of gold.

Tom immediately straightens up, silently promising to do better next time.

He hardly notices that he’s tired. So goddamn tired. Maybe he’d slept three hours last night, possibly four. And maybe he'd been on the ice since six am. The bags beneath his eyes are hardly noticeable beyond the genuine, beaming grin that crosses his features every time he meets your eyes. Getting Tom off the ice would be like telling a puppy it’s time to leave the dog park.

Heartbreaking.

You’ve just changed out of your own training gear and you’re now dressed comfortably in a pair of sweats and a hoodie. It was Tom's training hoodie – he knew simply because his last name was printed across the back in bright, capital letters. The action makes him shake his head, a light laugh escaping his lips because he swears he may have a pair of your socks tucked away in his bag.

You always had claimed to be his number one supporter. Never missing an event and showing up to most of his trainings.

Maybe Tom hadn’t had anything to drink in a couple of hours and his stomach was crying out for food. But Tom was home on the ice. He was comfortable twirling and jumping, stretching his arms as wide as he could or high over his head. He enjoys the pull of his muscles as he extends his legs and the feeling of gliding across the ice.

He’s flying, soaring through the air. Tom is flying like a bird, arms extended and legs straight. He feels the cool air running through locks of tousled hair, teasing dry lips.

Until he’s not.

He hits the ice, his head smacking against the frozen ground with such a force he swears for a single second that he’d knocked a couple of teeth out. Maybe seriously damaged his jaw or his head. Maybe that wouldn’t have been too bad because he’d be able to continue skating – pushing his way through recovery so he could compete.

It only takes Tom around three seconds for him to realise that the searing pain has travelled to his ankle. And my god – it’s so bad. It’s unbearable. It’s bone-chilling and excruciating. It’s like someone had cut off his ankle and stitched it back on without anaesthetic. The skater had felt pain before but nothing like this.

Tom hears distant screams and somewhere, somehow he hears his name being called. It takes him another three seconds for him to realise that some of the screams are his own but it's hard to tell over the ringing in his two ears.

It takes bystanders a second to realise what had happened before you’re rushing onto the ice, muttering something about an ambulance to the lady next to you when Tom doesn’t push himself up like he usually does. Instead, he continues to wail, cries of pain slipping past cherry red lips.

“Tom– Tom, hey.” You speak, rushing to his side. The brunette remains still, arching his back in pure agony. You nearly slip over the ice yourself before you fall to his side, sitting up on your knees. “It’s okay, you just fell.” You tell him, picking up a sense that this was more than just a little slip.

Skaters fall over frequently. Beginners and experts – they fall on their butts, sides, fronts. It was all normal. But Tom always got up, forcing himself up with two stiff arms and achy legs. So why wasn’t he getting up?

The skates feel like they’re suffocating his feet, stuck in that enclosed space just squeezing until he begins to lose feeling but Tom knows as well as everyone else that they’re no tighter then normal. But he can’t help but want them off. And now.

“It hurts.” He mutters, gritting his teeth. Without thinking about it you take the boys hand and he squeezes intensely. You don’t even wince as he pinches your hand, trying to release some of the searing pain. His whines get worse when his trainer begins to slide his skate off, tugging gently to get the thing to budge.

You make the mistake of looking down.

You hold back the urge to throw up upon seeing his left ankle twisted in a way it shouldn’t be and seeing the horror written all over your face, Tom tries to sit up on his elbows, attempting to get a look at his ankle that was still aching. The action sends shock waves like no other up his leg.

“Don’t look,” You tell him, gently easing the boy back down onto the ice. Pure pain paints his features. “It’ll be okay, just… don’t look. Look at me instead.”

Tom wants to cry – scratch that, he was crying. Warm, salty tears run down his cheeks and make contact with the ice. Surely his trainer wouldn’t be too happy about that but the man couldn’t care less as he watches a couple rush across with a blanket. You practically throw the thing over him, tucking it under his sides.

Moving him would be a challenge. Every movement seemed to put him in more pain.

It’s then that Tom realises he’s shaking wildly, hands trembling and lip wobbling.

“I can’t deal with an injury right now, I have trials and I have to make the team.”

“You don’t have to make the team. There’s always next year and the year after that and besides, you’ll get a hundred more opportunities like this one.” You watch his face morph into disappointment, a fresh set of tears flooding his eyes and let out a sorrowful sigh. “Let’s not skip ahead yet, we need to get you to a doctor.”

He’d need at least a couple months to heal but you give him a little hope, even if you feel none yourself.

Glancing down at your feet, Tom chuckles to himself with the odd tear still staining his faded pink cheeks. 

“No shoes on the ice, remember? Haven’t you learnt anything?”

You want to laugh at your best friends teasing too but you’re riddled with fear. How would he cope - how would he forgive himself for injuring himself like this only weeks before the biggest event of his lifetime?

“I’m not going to worry about taking my shoes off when my best friend nearly knocked ‘imself out.” You reply, bitting back your fears.

Tom was the kind of person to blame himself for every mistake he’d ever made out there, it was hard enough with the pressure to be the best, but here he was, almost helpless, just like the little boy you met on his first day of skating lessons when he first fell over and you helped him get back up. There’s an ache in your chest that refuses to cease.

“Why do you look so sad? I’m the one who’s just fallen on his ass.” Tom tries to bite back his pain by teasing you. But every statement feels more forced then the last.

“Just worried that you’ll need time off and you know how much I hate coming to training by myself.” You playfully groan, whipping the dull smile off of your features when Tom winces as his trainer moves his leg. It’s only a small noise of pain but you screw your face up, completely at a lost for words.

Tom looks over, tilting his head to the side. His eyes are rimmed red, lips swollen and wet with sticky tears.

“Tell me doc, how bad is it?”

You look at his ankle, face falling at the swelling that definitely wasn’t there the first time you glanced over. His trainer gives you a sorrowful look, carefully shaking his head. The comp would definitely be a no go.

“You’ll skate again, but maybe not for a little bit.”

Toms' heart falls in his chest, plummeting into the pits with a thud. He skates. That’s it.

Going months without skating for Tom was like… it was like going months without a phone or your favourite sweets. It gave him that adrenaline rush that could be compared to spending a good night with friends or seeing your favourite film in the theatres for the first time.

He adored every day that he got to race back and forth on the rink and Tom was already counting down the minutes until he could get back to it… to feel the cold air rising up from beneath his ankles instead of beneath his pounding head.

“I skate nearly every day, for me two weeks is a ‘little bit’.”

“I know.” You say, rubbing patterns on the back of his hand. Toms' cheeks had long turned a shade of pink. Like peaches. “But for a little bit you get to relax and when you come back, the ice will be waiting for you.”

Tell me what you thought!

Tagging mutuals: @keepingupwiththeparkers @starksparker @mcuspidey @spiderboytotherescue @spiderrrling @naturallytom @screamholland @bi-writes @madmadmilk

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[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

firetruck red | t.h

requested; yes! 

pairing; tom holland x figure skater!reader

word count; 604

a/n; so I’m a terrible person. an anon asked for this like weeks, months ago even and I forgot to get around to it. But it’s here now so, anon, here you are. I hope you like it! I’m so sorry it took forever!

* not my gifs * “So, Tom, we can’t help but notice a little flirting between you and a certain star figure skater.” The interviewer asks like it’s some spicy secret, but literally everyone in the world knows that Tom Holland and Y/N Y/L/N are constantly flirting on social media 24/7. Tom stays humble though and tries not to roll his eyes, even with Z and Jacob on either side of him elbowing him and making ‘oooh’ noises.

“I mean, yeah Y/N and I do mess around with each other on Instagram. I don’t even really remember how it started it just, did. And now she’s become a very good friend of mine. Y/N is a lovely person and is amazing at what she does.” Tom can feel his cheeks begin to heat up just talking about his crush, and by the look on Zendaya’s face he knows his cheeks are probably pink as a flamingo right now.

“It does seem you two are very close. Recently you met up and went to the gym together?” The woman then pulls up a video on her phone that Tom posted a couple days ago when he and Y/N went to the gym together to work out. She hated it, but he bribed her good with chocolate and kisses. Tom smiles and nods.

“Yeah, she was in London before we left for the press tour doing some show and so we met up and decided to work out together. We’d been trading exercise routines before hand on social media so it seemed fitting.” Lie. It was his last day before he left for the tour and he wanted to work out to look good for interviews and she wanted to stay in bed. So they compromised and she went with him to at first just admire the beauty that is her (secret) boyfriend, but then soon joined in when he made her (with the aforementioned bribing of chocolate and kisses).

“Interesting. Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say, you two would make an adorable couple.” Tom chuckles and nods.

“Um, thanks, I guess.” Oh if only you knew.

-

-

-

“So I got asked about you today love.” Y/N smiles as her boyfriend plants himself right next to her on the couch.

“Yeah? Let me guess, we would make an adorable couple?” Tom looks at her incredulously. Y/N giggles and hands him her phone. “Z texted me right afterwards, said you were turning firetruck red. Good to know I have that effect on you my dear.” Tom scoffs and lightly shoves her before handing her back her phone.

“Shut up.” He smiles as he says it though before laying down with his head in her lap. Y/N’s hands instinctively go to his hair and begin to comb through it, untangling some knots here and there. They’re quiet for a few minutes. Simply enjoying being in each others company. Then Tom speaks up and it’s so quiet Y/N has to strain to hear him.

“We should go public.” She freezes her hand motions for a second before continuing. It wouldn’t be that bad. They were only keeping it private in the beginning because of the Olympics and he didn’t want to add more stress to her shoulders. But they are over with now, have been for a few months, so really what’s holding them back. Y/N smiles before leaning down and kissing Tom’s temple.

“Okay.”

The next day all of Tom’s interviews are about the adorable picture he posted of him and Y/N holding hands while ice skating.

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

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extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition—in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

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Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

[socialfake]

finally a f*cking masterlist

Hola everyone and welcome to this hell site :) jk

anyways i finally figured out how to make a masterlist and i've always wanted one for my blog so here you gooo hehe

also a little disclaimer: most of these edits are old. i just scrolled though my blog and added them as I went further back so please excuse the horrible layout and the cringy captions or whatever lol plus i really don't know why but somehow i made a couple insta edits for chris evans with his handle as "captainchris" ???? did that use to be his handle? or wtf was wrong with me back then??? weird 16 year old me oof

I hope this helps and maybe some of you amazing people have fun taking a look at my weird edits from 2018

Thank you for your support along the way, i feel so loved lul <3

Dividers by @promenadewithme-graphics

Marvel

Chris Evans missing you singer football, camping and netflix&chill what do you mean, you're me???

Sebastian Stan proud seb a tough day (african female reader) random and cute insta post teaching him how to tango Pregancy II thirsty texts mum's kisses

RDJ supportive dad Jealousy 10 year annivesary

Tom Holland All you need in order to control people is cocaine. Two Avengers travel blogger girlfriend Ireland trip Newspaper singer sister study date That's my girlfriend! right, they're just friends surprise texts when zendaya leaves the room help me hide apodyopsis

Tom Hiddleston Meeting the family wifey's red carpet look

David Mazouz What a Night

Hailee Steinfeld clumsy girlfriend (hailee x female!reader)

Why Don't We

being friends with wdw II

Corby Worby: Hooked II III IV V ballerina girlfriend

Jacky Whacky birthday getaway fortune cookie a date in paris

Granny Danny flirting

5 seconds of summer

5sos + one

Luke Hemmings just friends hotel rooms

Micheal Clifford Dorks

Ashton Irwin Vacation it's official

Random

Romeo Beckham picking flowers secret cuddlers II

Tom Hardy birthday babe

Awsten Knight beach babe

Max Irons photoshoot

Jensen Ackles Anniversary

KJ Apa smiley boy

Noah Centineo hot tub

Harry Holland professional ice skater

Harrison Osterfield Vacay

Shawn Mendes

Your Side of The Bed

[rrickgrrimes8]

Masterlist 🥸✌️

requests guidelines (old)

request guidelines (new)

submit requests here

[last update: 29/03/23]

The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon-

< Be Okay ~ Daryl Dixon >

    ↳ Y/n finds something out that makes her question will everything be okay?

Negan-

< Darkness ~ Negan (Part 2) >

   ↳ Rick Grimes pushes his daughter to far after finding out about her and Negan. Trigger Warning.

Rick Grimes-

< Normality is Death Series (Jacey Grimes Book 1) ~ Rick Grimes >

   ↳ The story of Jacey Grimes, Rick and Lori Grimes’ daughter and Carl’s sister.

< The Purpose Series (Jacey Grimes Book 2) ~ Rick Grimes >

   ↳ With the C.D.C. far behind her, how will Jacey struggle with her new scars and loses? Will a blonde farm girl be the reason behind her healing? And maybe even her purpose? Or will that purpose lie with her broken family?

< Ideal World ~ Rick Grimes >

   ↳The prison fell leaving an injured y/n and Rick Grimes thinking his wife is gone.

< A Soldier ~ Rick Grimes  >

   ↳ Saving Rick Grimes becomes more of a burden then y/n would like to have.

< Being a Grimes ~ Rick Grimes >

   ↳ Life as a Grimes is harder than you can cope.

The Last of Us

Joel Miller -

< The Day You Broke His Heart >

↳ in which Joel loses another loved one

< Your Bear Part II >

↳ Joel Miller doesn’t just lose Sarah that night but his other daughter too. but maybe you can still be found.

< Skater >

↳ crossing over a frozen lake shouldve been a simple task - not with a tonya harding fan

Ellie Williams - 

< Never Again >

  ↳ what makes a better lovestory than jealousy, clickers and mourning?

Twenty One Pilots

Josh Dun-

< Stay Alive ~ Josh Dun x suicidal!reader >

  ↳ Where Josh wants you to stay alive. Trigger warning.

< Josh Dun Gif imagine #1 >

< Josh Dun Gif imagine #2 >

< Josh Dun Gif imagine #3 >

< Josh Dun Gif Imagine #4 >

< Bliss, Josh Dun x OC masterlist >

   ↳ Cordelia Joseph wants to live before shes laid to rest.

Tyler Joseph-

< Tyler Joseph Gif imagine #1 >

< Late ~ Tyler Joseph >

↳ You’re late for Tyler’s concert and he gets worried.

< The Note ~ Tyler Joseph >

  ↳ Tyler finds your note. Trigger Warning.

Tom Holland & Characters

Tom Holland-

< Snow ~ Tom Holland >

 ↳ You and Tom enjoy the snow.

< The Crush ~ Tom Holland >

 ↳When doing a radio interview isn’t as simple as it seems.

< The Accident + The Dream (Part 2) ~ Tom Holland >

↳ Where Tom has to live without you.

Peter Parker-

< Superhero ~ Peter Parker >

↳ Peter cares.

Dylan Obrien & Characters

Dylan Obrien-

< Hey Baby ~ Dylan >

 ↳ Where the reader likes what she sees. Smut warning.

< More Than Stiles Completes Lydia ~ Dylan >

 ↳ Yours and Dylan's wedding day is more perfect than they could've ever imagined.

< Pleasure ~ Dylan >

↳ Where the reader takes it into her own hands to pleasure herself and Dylan catches her red handed. Smut warning.

< I-i love yo- ~ Dylan >

↳ Dylan makes a mistake that hurts you more than he expected.

< Come Clean ~ Dylan x bi!reader >

↳ Where the reader comes out to Dylan.

< Get Better ~ Dylan x suicidal!reader >

↳ Dylan wants you to get better even if you don’t believe you can.

< What He Did ~ Dylan >

↳ When Dylan’s anger gets the better of him.

Stiles Stilinski-

< The Old Mill ~ Stiles x OC (part 2) >

↳ Stiles admitting his feelings doesn't go the way he planned.

< Howard ~ Stiles Stilinski >

↳ Where Stiles helps you get over a cheating ex.

< Prove Me Wrong ~ Stiles Stilinski >

↳ After almost dying, y/n challenges Stiles ability to please her. Smut Warning.

< Aphrodite ~ Stiles Stilinski >

↳ Where the Greek goddess Aphrodite shows Stiles what she can do. Smut warning.

< Trickster ~ Void Stiles >

↳ Y/n learns the hard way that void Stiles is a trickster.

< Bully ~ Stiles Stilinski >

↳ Stiles acuses you of being a bully.

Mitch Rapp

< Save you ~ Mitch Rapp (part 2) >

↳ Mitch learns the hard way what his enemies can do.

< I’ve Got You ~ Mitch Rapp >

↳ When Mitch isn't strong when it comes to you.

Thomas-

< All Fours ~ Thomas >

↳ When Thomas wants you to get on all fours. Smut warning.

< Love of her Life ~ Thomas >

↳ Where the reader gets shot instead of Chuck.

Doctor Who

Tenth Doctor-

< Perfect ~ Tenth Doctor  >

↳ Where the reader and Ten spend the perfect day together.

Clara Oswald-

< Unmissable Adventure ~ Clara >

↳ Where Clara takes you on a trip in the Tardis.

Spider-Man

Liz Allan-

< Ashamed ~ Liz Allan >

↳ When Liz thinks your ashamed.

Peter Parker-

< Superhero ~ Peter Parker >

↳ Peter cares.

[dlwritings]

Aftercare | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 6,568 (I have no idea how this happened) warnings - language, bad/uncomfortable first time, bleeding after sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, good sex! A/N - this wasn’t requested but the idea came to mind a while ago so here we are (I think I’m just sick of being a virgin and this came out of it)

summary - Not everyone cares about their first time. Some people just wanted to get it over with .You had always wanted it to be special. A special time with a special guy. But after ages of never finding that guy, you decide to just get it over with. Tom helps with the aftermath of the disaster.

You had always wanted your first time to be special. It wasn’t that you wanted to wait until marriage. You just wanted it to be with someone you loved, not a random stranger. But as the years went by, you felt like the chances of you finding someone you loved were slim. Hell, you were 22, and you hadn’t been in a serious relationship since you were 17. Your virgin status was starting to irk you. Not because of the label. No, you knew virginity was a social concept at best that society created to shame girls. The reason it irked you was because you wanted to have sex. You wanted to be in a relationship with someone so you could get absolutely railed by someone who loved you.

Was that too much to ask?

It didn’t help that you had a crush on your best friend. Girls all over the world swooned over Tom Holland, and you were one of them. The only difference was, you actually knew him. You had been friends for ages, and you had been in love with him for about just as long. Despite all the flirty comments the two of you shared and the endless platonic cuddling, that’s all it was. Platonic. Sometimes you swore he felt the same way, but after years of never making a move, you decided it was all in your head.

You weren’t sure at what point you just caved and downloaded Tinder. You couldn’t say what pushed you over the edge. Maybe it was the smutty Harry Styles fanfic you read that just went too hard (literally) and turned you on to the point of cracking. Regardless, you had done it, and you were actually doing pretty well on the app. You were getting a lot of swipes, and you were feeling pretty good about yourself. When one particularly handsome and charming guy -Theodore- asked you on a date, you agreed.

The restaurant you were going to was pretty fancy, so you wore a cute black skater dress and some killer red pumps. You did your makeup and hair to the best of your ability and finished applying your lipstick just as Theodore texted you that he was at your apartment. Okay, so he wasn’t going to pick you up at your door. That was fine. The gesture was a little outdated anyway, right?

“Hi,” you said, opening the car door and sliding in. “Theodore?”

“Theo,” he said with a smile. “(Y/N)?”

“That’s me,” you said. “It’s great to meet you.”

“You too,” he said. “Ready for dinner?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “‘M pretty hungry.”

“Me too,” he said with a chuckle. 

The date was fine. It was nothing exciting. Nothing to write home about. Theo was nice enough. He was polite and everything, and he made some jokes that genuinely made you laugh. Still, he spent a lot of time talking about himself and not a lot of time asking questions about you.

As the night wore on, you could tell where it was headed. And Theo really was nice enough. You didn’t love him, but you liked him, and at this point in your life, you would take that. You invited him back to your apartment, which he accepted. You got into your apartment, and Theo wasted no time pressing you up against your front door and kissing you. You kissed him back, all the while hoping he didn’t notice how scared you were and how long it had been since you had kissed someone.

You two eventually stumbled into your bedroom, and Theo all but threw you onto your bed. You scooted up to the top of the bed and watched him unbutton his shirt and toss it aside. You expected him to kiss you or pull your dress off, but he didn’t. Instead, he moved to unbuckle his trousers and tugged them down along with his boxers. He grabbed a condom from his wallet and rolled it onto his already hard length. He smiled down at you and fumbled with your panties, pulling them off and throwing them to the floor. Part of you wondered if you should tell him it was your first time, but you also didn’t want to kill the vibe. Didn’t want him to run away. So, you let him thrust into you, biting your lip to stop the painful moan that wanted to escape your lips. You definitely weren’t wet enough, and he hadn’t stretched you out at all before sliding in. “Oh, fuck,” Theo moaned, hanging his head in pleasure. You focused on blinking back tears and tried to find any good feeling that might be there, but you couldn’t. It just hurt so much, and you wanted to tell him to stop. You should’ve told him to stop. You shouldn’t have to suffer through shitty sex just because you felt obligated to put out. But, you were the one who wanted to lose your virginity.

“(Y/N), Jesus fuck you’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. “You like my cock splitting you open like this?”

You weren’t sure how long guys were supposed to last, but you were sure it was longer than this.

Theo spilled into the condom and collapsed on top of you. He panted against your neck before placing a soft kiss to your skin. “You finished, right?” he asked.

“Hm?” you said. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

You winced as Theo pulled out of you and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. When he came back, he pulled his boxers and trousers up his legs and buttoned his shirt back on. “This was great,” he said as he slid his shoes on his feet. “We should do this again sometime.”

“Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him. He walked over to you, placed a kiss to your forehead, and saw himself out of your apartment.

It didn’t take long for tears to spill from your eyes. When you lifted your dress to look between your legs, you saw you were bleeding. The sight made a sob escape your lips as you covered your mouth with your hand. You knew you needed to clean yourself up, but you felt actual pain between your legs, and your mind felt numb. As you cried softly, mascara running down your cheeks, you blindly reached for your phone that you had set on the bedside table and opened your contacts. There, you clicked your third favorite contact: Tom.

The line rang a few times -you didn’t pay attention to how many- before Tom answered. “Hello, love,” he said, an audible smile in his voice.

“Tommy?” you croaked out.

Tom had been laying back in bed watching TV but sat up as soon as you spoke. Not only did it obviously sound like you were crying, but you only called him Tommy when you were sad. He knew you had a date that night, and his mind immediately went to the worst case scenario. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?

“Can you just come over?” you asked. “I’m sorry to do this.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll leave right now. Be over in ten.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “See you soon.”

You hung up before he could respond. You laid in bed curled up in a ball, clutching your arms over your stomach. You couldn’t stop crying, and wished you could go back in time and stop yourself from downloading Tinder in the first place.

“(Y/N)?”

You opened your eyes at the sound of Tom’s voice. You were grateful you had given him a key for emergencies. Seeing him only made you cry harder, so he rushed over to you and sat beside you on the bed, pulling you onto his lap. You hissed at the movements, the pain between your legs even more present. “What happened?” Tom asked, running his hands through your hair.

“It hurts,” you sobbed, not knowing how to sit to ease the pain. Squeezing your legs together made it worse, but keeping them open was painful too.

“What hurts?” he asked.

You sniffed, trying to compose yourself so you didn’t sound like a blubbering idiot. You knew Tom wouldn’t judge you no matter what you said or did. That was one reason you loved him. “He wasn’t gentle,” you whispered. “And, and he didn’t prep me at all, but I didn’t want to stop him because I thought it’d be rude.”

Tom was quiet for a few moments, trying to let the words sink in. His heart broke at what you were implying. He knew you were a virgin, but you had always expressed to him that you wanted your first time to be special. He wasn’t judging you for losing it to some Tinder date, but it made him sad that you didn’t get the memorable first time you had always wanted.

“Are you bleeding?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Yeah,” you said back. “Hurts too much to get up and, and clean it.” Tom nodded in understanding, petting your hair comfortingly again.

“How about I run you a bath,” he said. “And while you’re in the tub, I’ll go get you some ice cream, okay? And we can watch some films for the rest of the night. Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you choked out. “Thanks, Tommy." He nodded, kissed your forehead, and stood up from the bed to get a bath going in the bathroom. You stayed in the same position on the bed, doing your best to keep your tears in while you were alone.

“Alright, love,” Tom said when he came back in the room, crouching beside the bed so he was level with your face. He stroked your cheek with a soft smile. “Bath’s all ready. I put your favorite bath bomb in.” You managed to give him a smile back, but when you sat up, you frowned again at the ache between your legs. Tom licked his lips and gave you a tight, sad smile. “C’mere,” he said as he stood up straight and held his arms out to you. “I’ll carry you.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue with him, so you stuck your arms out and let him pick you up and carry you bridal style to the bathroom. He sat you on the toilet and knelt in front of you. “You want me to help you into the tub too?” he asked. You bit your lower lip and hung your head in shame.

“Do you mind?” you asked.

“Course not,” he said. “You take off your clothes, and I’ll lift you in.” You nodded and waited for him to turn his head so you could undress without his watchful eye. Not that it mattered, because he was literally about to lift your naked body into a bathtub. When your clothes were off, you muttered his name, so he turned to face you. He made sure to keep his eyes on yours rather than your body as much as he could as he hooked one arm under your knees and one around your back, lifting you up and setting you into the bathtub. He took your hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a ridiculously messy bun on the top of your head. You managed a soft smile as you sunk into the tub.

“Okay,” he said, petting the top of your head. “I’ll go pick you up some ice cream, yeah? You call me if you need anything, and I’ll come right back.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you.” He nodded, kissed your forehead, and left you alone in the bathroom.

When Tom got in his car, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to compose himself. God, when he found this son of a bitch, he wasn’t going to hold back. And he would find this son of a bitch. For now, he had to focus on helping you feel better. He drove to the store to pick up the ice cream he knew you liked, and on the way there, he found himself calling his mom.

“Hello, lovely,” she said when she picked up.

“Hey, Mum,” he said back. “Can-” He cleared his throat. “Can I talk to you about something kind of serious?”

“Of course,” she said. “What is it?” He hesitated, but knew his mom would be able to help. After all, mother knows best.

“(Y/N) called me and, and she had sex with someone, but it, it wasn’t good sex.” He was trying to keep out awkward, intimate details.

“She’s sore?” she asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Like, really bad. And she was bleeding a little too.”

“Oh dear,” she sighed.

“Yeah,” he said as he pulled into the parking lot of the store. “I’m going to pick her up some ice cream, but I want to know what I should get to actually help her.”

“Well, there’s not much you can do, really,” she said with another sympathetic sigh. “As odd as it sounds, she might want to use an ice pack. And-” She paused. “-are you ready to be an adult about this, Thomas?”

“Mum, I called you about this,” he said with a dramatic sigh. “Lay it on me.”

She chuckled. “If you want to buy her some Vagisil moisturizing gel or something, it couldn’t hurt. Maybe some Midol.”

“Okay,” Tom said, letting out a heavy breath. “I can do that.”

“Good boy,” she said. He could hear her smile. “You’re very sweet to do this for her, Tom.”

“Thanks, Mum,” he said, a blush forming on his cheeks. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

They exchanged I-love-yous and goodbyes, and Tom hung up the phone. He was in and out of the grocery store fairly quickly (the most time was spent searching for the Vagisil) and headed back to your apartment as soon as he could.

You were still in the tub when Tom got back, so he set everything on the vanity in your bedroom and helped you out of the tub, wrapping a dry towel around your body. You both headed into your room, and you got out some pajamas to put on. Over the shorts and tank top, you pulled on a hoodie you had once stolen from Tom. He didn’t know, but it was your comfort hoodie. You wore it whenever you were sad or stressed because it made you feel safe.

“Um,” Tom said, rubbing the back of his neck as you crawled into bed, “I got you some stuff.”

“Stuff?” you repeated, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yeah,” he said, fumbling with the grocery bag. “I got ice cream, and, and, uh, well, you said you were hurting, so, um-” He cleared his throat, and you couldn’t help but smile at how nervous he was. He dumped out the contents of the bag and revealed that he bought an ice pack, some Midol, and a small tube of Vagisil. Suddenly, you wanted to cry all over again. You sucked in your lower lip and looked up at Tom who immediately frowned. “Oh no,” he said. “I’m sorry. Did I overstep?”

“No, no,” you said, shaking your head. “This is just-” You took a shaky breath. “This is really sweet, Tommy. Thank you.”

Tom’s smile returned as he nodded once. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll go get spoons, you pick a film, okay?”

“Okay,” you said back. He took the ice pack to put in the freezer for a while, and you moved everything else to the bedside table. “Tom?” you called after him.

“Yeah?”

“Can you get me some water too?”

“Of course!”

You worked to open up the Midol which you did just as he came back with spoons and a water for you. You thanked him, downed two of the pills, and smiled as he plopped beside you on the bed. “Did you pick a film yet?” he asked, allowing you to sit between his legs and rest your back on his chest.

“No,” you said. “Something on Disney+ I think.”

“Whatever you want, love.”

You eventually settled on Monsters Inc. which Tom said was fine. Realistically, you knew he would’ve been okay with whatever you picked. Less than halfway through the film, you and Tom had already abandoned the ice cream, allowing it to melt slowly on the bedside table. One of you would put it away in the freezer before going to bed. As the minutes ticked on and the ache between your legs started to subside, you couldn’t help but think about Theo again. Tom must’ve noticed your shift in demeanor, because he rubbed your stomach with his thumbs and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked. You hung your head and closed your eyes, not wanting to burst into tears all over again.

“Just wish I did it all different,” you whispered. He hesitated a moment.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked. You swallowed back the lump in your throat before speaking.

“We got back from dinner,” you told him, “and I invited him into my apartment.” You shook your head at the memories. “Everything happened so fast. We were kissing, and then, he was taking off his clothes and-” You couldn’t help it. Tears started to come again. You felt so sad and stupid and embarrassed and hurt and used. “-he didn’t even take off my dress. He didn’t touch me or anything. He just put on the condom and-” You cut yourself off with another shake of your head, figuring Tom got the picture. “It was over pretty quick, and he asked me if I came and I just said yes.”

“But you didn’t?” he asked.

“Of course I didn’t,” you mumbled, painfully aware of the shake in your voice. “He didn’t do anything to make me feel good at all. I feel so stupid.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. “If anyone should feel stupid, it should be him. He’s clearly shitty at sex.” You giggled softly which made Tom smile and nudge his nose against your cheek again. You looked up at him. “I’m sorry your first time wasn’t more special,” he said. “I know you wanted it to be nice. And you deserved something nice.”

“It’s whatever,” you said dismissively. “Maybe I made a bigger deal out of it than I should’ve. I set my expectations too high.”

“No you didn’t,” Tom said. “You just wanted a good first time. That’s not asking too much. Hell, you didn’t even get to cum. You’re allowed to be upset about this.”

You scoffed. “Well, let’s just say I’m deleting Tinder, so I don’t see me getting anything better anytime soon. Not unless I meet some sex god at the office.” Tom sighed and kissed your temple.

“You’ll find someone better,” he mumbled against your skin. “I promise.”

-

After the whole Theo fiasco, you deleted Tinder, deciding whatever game you wanted to call that just wasn’t for you. Everyday went by with the same routine. Wake up, work, come home, watch TV, go to bed, repeat. Eating was sprinkled in here and there, and you tried to change up your meals whenever you could for a little bit of variety. Otherwise, it was all very monotonous.

So when you got home on Friday and found a note taped to your front door, you were rightfully confused. You pulled it from the wall, let yourself into your apartment, and closed the door behind you with your foot as you ripped the envelope open.

(Y/N)-

We haven’t gotten dinner in a while. Wear something nice, and I’ll pick you up at 6:00! It’s gonna be great x

Tom

You pressed your lips into a tight line and held the note to your chest as you leaned against the door. Sometimes you hated Tom for doing stuff like this. He was such boyfriend material, but he would never be that. Did he have any idea what he did to you? How he made you feel? Probably not. You loved Tom, but he sure was thick sometimes.

It was already about 5:00, so you had to get ready pretty quickly. You put on a white, lace, bodycon dress and started to do your hair and makeup. Tom arrived before you were quite finished, but he let himself in. “(Y/N)?” he called.

“Bedroom!” you called back. He came in, and you caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked handsome, as expected: blue slacks, a white button-up, and brown shoes that matched his brown belt. You turned to look at him, your lips slightly parted. Before you could say anything-

“Wow,” he whispered. “You-” He chuckled. “Wow.”

“Shut up,” you said with a laugh. “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not!” he said, matching your laugh. “I’m just saying. Wow. You look great.”

“Well thank you,” you said, walking up to him. You straightened his collar that was folded oddly. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” You patted his chest and tried not to let your hands linger for too long. Tom stuck his arm out for you to take, which you did, and the two of you walked out to his car.

You and Tom had been going on friend dates for ages. Once he became famous, he loved treating you to fancy dinners whenever you both had time to spare. You on the other hand were a sucker for bowling nights and paintball tournaments. But nice restaurants were lovely too, and any time you could spend with Tom, you would take.

Dinner flowed as nicely as it always did when you were together. You chatted about your work, and he shared as many details of his newest project as he could. The whole time, you couldn’t help but feel like there was a weird tension in the air. Maybe tension wasn’t the right word. There was just something going on with Tom that you couldn’t quite place. You didn’t ask him about it until you left the restaurant. He invited you back to his place for drinks, and you obliged.

“Are you okay?” you asked him as he pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. “You seem a little off.”

“Off?” he repeated. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Forget it.” Tom just chuckled and continued the drive down the street. When you arrived at his apartment, you knew for a fact something was going on with him, and you didn’t like how he was hiding it. “What is up with you, Tom?” you asked him. “I know something’s going on. I know you.” He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair as he closed the door behind the both of you when you got inside.

“You know I love you and care about you,” he said.

“Of course,” you said, folding your arms across your chest. “Why are you-”

“C’mere,” he said, taking your hand. Your eyebrows furrowed even deeper than they already were but allowed him to walk you over to his bedroom. When you walked in, your lips parted slightly in shock. He had a lamp light on and his essential oil diffuser (the one you bought him for Christmas) going, the soothing smell of lavender filling the room. On the bed -which was neatly made; a rare occurrence at Tom’s house- were rose petals. You turned to look at him, sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest. “There’s no pressure,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “but I couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it is that your first time was so horrible. It should’ve been with someone special like you wanted. Someone who cares about you. And, well-” He sighed as if realizing he was fumbling around the point. “I want to make it up to you. I want to show you what good sex is supposed to be like.”

“You, y- you, uh,” you stuttered. “You want to have sex with me?” He licked his lips and took a step closer to you.

“No pressure,” he said. “No strings. Just good sex and the guarantee of at least one orgasm.”

You swallowed thickly. “At, at least one?” Tom smiled and nodded, then closed the distance between the two of you by wrapping his arms around you.

“At least one,” he repeated. He could tell you were hesitant by the way you were nibbling on your lower lip, so he stroked your cheek gently in an attempt to calm you down. “If you say yes and you change your mind while we’re doing it, that’s okay too. I’ll take it nice and slow for you.” He paused, licking his lips as he glanced down at yours, then up at your eyes again. “But if this is too weird, that’s fine. I just wanted to give you the chance to have great sex with someone who cares about you.”

You giggled a bit. “Are you saying you’re great at sex?”

“Mm,” he hummed with a smug smile. “I don’t want to brag, but I’ve never heard any complaints.” You melted into Tom’s touch as he pulled you a little closer and buried his face in your neck. “What do you say, darling?” he whispered, kissing your skin lightly. “You want me to make you feel good?” You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes as Tom sucked the skin of your pulse point, surely leaving a bruise.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You felt Tom smile before he pulled back to look at you. He pressed his forehead to yours and kissed your nose.

“Okay,” he said. “C’mere.” The two of you walked over to the bed, and Tom helped you move to the head of the bed. He sat in front of you with his legs crossed, and you mirrored his position. You tried to give him a strong smile, but you knew it came out small and nervous. He chuckled softly and put his hand on your cheek. “S’okay to be nervous,” he said. You bit your lip and nodded just as he started to lean forward and brush his lips against yours. You released your hold on your bottom lip and accepted his kiss, opening your mouth as soon as Tom traced his tongue across your lip. Already, this was different than when you were with Theo. It was like Tom was pouring his care into the kiss.

You put your arms over his shoulders and played with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He started to lay you down on the bed, and you could feel your breathing pick up. Still, you kept your lips pressed to his. His tongue massaged against yours, and you held in your whimpers as best as you could. It got harder when he started trailing kisses down your jaw and neck. His mouth wasn’t muffling your noises, so you had to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. “Darling,” he whispered against your collarbone, “you look like an angel in this dress.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering closed.

“Can you lay on your stomach for me?” he asked. “Wanna unzip you.” You nodded and rolled over, and you swore you heard him hum as he put his hands on the back of your thighs. He ran them up your body, pausing to squeeze your ass which made you jump. He chuckled and moved to unzip the dress, kissing the skin that was exposed as he removed the fabric. You turned to sit up so he could pull the dress off you, and he licked his lips when he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. Everything suddenly felt very real, and you moved to cover yourself. Tom frowned and shook his head. “You’re so beautiful, (Y/N),” he said. You hung your head, still feeling an odd sense of uncomfortableness, but Tom was having none of that. He lifted your head and kissed you again. He laid you down on the bed and started kissing down your neck. “How’re you doing?” he asked, feeling your erratic pulse against his lips.

“Just nervous,” you admitted. Because this was Tom. You could be honest with Tom.

“That’s okay,” he said, sucking your pulse point until a bruise formed and you whimpered. “‘S not gonna hurt, okay, love? ‘M just gonna use my mouth to start. Warm you up and make sure you’re ready for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered.

“And you let me know if anything doesn’t feel good,” he said. You nodded, and Tom kissed down your body, pausing to pay attention to each of your breasts. He sucked on each nipple until it was hard and extra sensitive to the touch. He smiled as he nipped at your bud until you whined and tugged your fingers through his hair. You could feel a pulsing between your legs, and you needed more. Tom could tell, because he smiled again and kissed down your stomach until he got to the waistband of your panties. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, and you licked your lips and stared up at the ceiling. When you broke eye contact, he tucked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down your legs. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t say anything. Tom would take care of you. You had no doubts about that. If he said it wouldn’t hurt, you believed him.

Tom pushed your legs apart and brought his mouth down to your thighs, kissing each of them before placing his mouth on your opening. You gasped and put your hands in his hair, and you felt him smile. His thumbs dug into your thighs as he licked up your slit, avoiding contact with your clit. And as badly as you wanted him to touch you there, this was already feeling better than everything Theo had done to you. “Tom,” you breathed out, squeezing your eyes shut. “Feels so go-” You cut yourself off with a moan as Tom started swirling his tongue around your clit. “Oh Christ,” you muttered. “Tom!” He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, causing you to whine again and arch your back.

“Can I add a finger?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you gasped. “Yes. Please, Tom.” He nodded and sucked his finger in his mouth, then slowly eased it into your opening. “Ahh!” you moaned.

“You okay, love?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you hummed. He slowly started moving his finger, still keeping his mouth on your clit. You squeezed your eyes shut as he slid another finger inside you. The sudden change in fullness startled you in a good way. So this was what foreplay was supposed to feel like. Tom added another finger, and you swore you were in heaven. He could tell you were feeling good by the way your jaw was dropped but no noise was coming out. He smiled and curled his fingers a bit so that they grazed your g-spot perfectly. “Tom,” you whispered. “I, I’m-”

“Cum for me, darling,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

Your thighs squeezed around his hand as he flicked his tongue over your clit and moved his fingers faster in and out of you. In seconds, you were coming around his fingers with a soft cry as you dug your head into the pillow. Tom kissed your thighs and slowed his fingers down to help you ride out your high. When you caught your breath, you blinked your eyes open and looked down at him. He had a lazy smile on his face, and he kissed up your body until he got to your lips. “You want to keep going?” he asked. You nodded and lifted your head slightly to kiss him. He pulled back quickly and tugged his shirt over his head, then let his jeans and boxers follow.

His cock was more impressive than Theo’s. Longer. Thicker. If his foreplay wasn’t enough, you knew now that sex with Tom was about to be much better than it was with Theo. Tom reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, wasting no time rolling it onto his length with his lower lip tucked between his teeth. He pressed his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, and you gripped his biceps in your hands, your nails leaving little half moon shapes across his skin. “S’okay,” he whispered to you, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. “S’not gonna hurt, okay? I promise.” He leaned down to pepper gentle kisses across your face. “Do you trust me, love?” You nodded.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah. I trust you.”

Tom smiled and gripped his cock, lining himself up with your pussy. He guided himself in, inch by inch, kissing your neck and whispering words of encouragement into your ear as he did so. He was right. It didn’t hurt. In facte, it felt so fucking good, you wanted to cry. “Oh, Tom,” you muttered, your head tossing back. He kissed up the column of your neck, and you could feel a smile across his lips. Once he bottomed out, Tom paused, giving you time to adjust. You let out a shaky breath, and he moved his head so he could look in your eyes. He only hovered for a moment before pressing his lips to yours. You sighed into the kiss as his tongue slipped into your mouth, fighting for dominance against yours. He stayed still until you wrapped your legs around his waist, silently encouraging him to move. He pulled his hips back and thrust them forward in a slow, smooth stroke. You cried out in pleasure, and Tom moved to kiss your neck again.

“Oh fuck, (Y/N),” he moaned. “How’s it feel?”

“Tom,” you cried. “Feels so good.” He brought his fingers up to his lips and licked two of them before sliding his hand between your bodies. His fingers found your clit right away, and he started rubbing fast circles, hoping to bring you close to that edge. He wanted more than anything to move faster, to pound into your tight cunt like it was all his -like you were all his- but he held back. This time couldn’t hurt you at all. He wouldn’t be like that other guy. He wanted you to remember this. To happily remember this. Even more than that, he wanted this to mean something.

He just wasn’t sure he was ready to admit that much yet.

You squeezed around his member, and Tom muttered, “Fuck,” under his breath and moved his hips a little faster. “You’re close,” he said. It was a statement. Not a question. Like he already knew your body better than you did.

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “‘M close.”

He let his hand move at the same pace as his hips -faster and faster, bringing you closer and closer to climaxing. “Tom,” you cried. “I’m, I’m gonna, oh.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and came, squeezing so tightly he came right after. He moaned your name in your ear, slowing the movement of his hips to help you ride out your high. You gripped his hair in your fists, and he started kissing your neck again. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “Did you know that? Do you know how beautiful you are?” He pulled back so he could look in your eyes, then brushed his knuckles across your cheek again.

“Thanks, Tom,” you whispered. He smiled and pulled out of you, frowning as soon as you winced.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m okay.” He smiled softly and kissed your cheek, then pushed himself out of bed.

“Want you to go to the bathroom, okay?” he said. “Then we can go to bed.” You nodded, your head feeling a little hazy, then got out of bed. Tom watched with a soft smile as you trotted off to the bathroom. While you were gone, he changed the sheets, put on some clean boxers, and got you a pair of boxers and a t-shirt to wear to bed. You were back in a few moments, your hair now up in a bun and your makeup off your face. You gave him a sheepish smile, your arms folded awkwardly across your chest, and he smiled back. “I got you some clothes,” he told you. “You’re staying the night, yeah?”

“If that’s okay,” you said, hanging your head a bit.

“Course,” Tom said. You smiled, then took the clothes he offered you and changed. By the time you were dressed, Tom was under the covers. You got into bed beside him, and turned on your side to face him. “So,” he said, reaching out to stroke your cheek again, “how was that?”

You giggled. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

He chuckled. “It’s always good to hear the compliments out loud.” You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder a shove. Your expression shifted a bit.

“How was I?” you asked. He gave you a soft smile.

“You were perfect, love,” he said. “Best I ever had.”

“Shut up,” you said. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying!” he said. “I’ve ever had sex with someone I-” He cut himself off, his smile dropping a bit. “It’s just different.”

“With someone you what?” you asked. Tom swallowed, and you could sense something that looked like nerves in his eyes. “What?” you pressed, a giggle passing your lips. “What’s on your mind?” He sighed and sat up, causing you to furrow your eyebrows and mimic his position.

“(Y/N),” he said, “I love you.”

Your response was immediate.

“What?”

“I love you,” he repeated. “And, and I care about you so much. When, when you said sex with that douchebag was so bad, I wanted it to be better for you. You deserve something better than that. I really mean that. But, but what I didn’t tell you was that it was also, it was a way for me to-” He sighed, clearly annoyed with himself. “I wanted to sleep with you because I love you. I, I saw this as a chance to, to be with you the way I want to be with you. And I know how wrong that is. I know how messed up that sounds, but-”

“You love me?” you said. You were still having a hard time processing the admission. He just sighed and nodded. Before he could say anything else -and he looked like he was going to say something else- you closed the small space between the two of you in a kiss. He jumped, but the shock wore off quickly, and he rested his hand on your cheek. He smiled beneath the kiss, and you smiled back. When you pulled away, you kept your foreheads pressed together. “I love you too,” you whispered. “And, honestly, I wish my first time had been with you, but, but I’m glad you made this one count.”

“Yeah,” he said with a small chuckle. “Me too. And don’t you worry-” He pressed a kiss to your nose. “-all the times after this are gonna be just as good.”

“Yeah?” you giggled. “Promise?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. “I promise.”

----- ----- ----- -----

add yourself to my TAGLIST

strike-through means Tumblr won’t let me tag you

ALL: @bangtan-serendipity | @planetdemon | @the-singing-clown406 | @tomshufflepuff | @bluelalal | @grandloser | @jackiehollanderr | @mindset-jupiter | @bisexual-sk8r | @feel-like-gold | @runaway-apple | @miraclesoflove | @marvelismylifffe​ | @wonderbyers​ | @coraz0ndcristal​ | @lizmarvel​ | @delicately-important-trash | @superhoorny4daddy​

TOM: @hannihannelora | @lbuck121 | @quaksonhehe | @onepackfrombroke | @chloecreatesfictions | @ladykxxx08 | @gkarisa839 | @destinedbooklover | @tinyyoungblood | @itstasken | @rxves | @theamuz​

[annab-recs]

what i read this month - december '21

❀ = nsfw content, minors dni

note: i think i am going to split these by fandom now instead of type so let's see if i like that better haha

outer banks

rafe watching you train - @poguesarah

summary: utter fluff of rafe watching you skate and being an absolute adorable ice skater's boyfriend

headcanon, rafe cameron x ice skater!reader, genre: fluff

ghostin - @goldenroutledge

summary: a late-night conversation in the kitchen gives you insight into your situationship with rafe

blurb, rafe cameron x reader, genre: fluff

you. me. snowman. now. - @vintageobx

summary: snow in kildare county means you and jj have to play in it

blurb, jj maybank x reader, genre: fluff

resolution contreversy - @toriswrites

summary: you and pope have a dispute over new year's resolutions

blurb, pope heyward x reader

firework fear - @toriswrites

summary: jj comforts you to make your fear of loud noises more bearable

blurb, jj maybank x reader, genre: fluff

truth or dare - @toriswrites

summary: you dare rafe to kiss you

blurb, rafe cameron x reader, genre: fluff

marvel

hold my hand - @poguesarah

summary: in the aftermath of a fight, peter asks you to hold his hand

blurb, peter parker x reader, genre: angst/hurt comfort, contains slight no way home spoilers

this is going to sting a little - @poguesarah

summary: mj helps clean you up

blurb, michelle jones x reader, genre: fluff

get a mistletoe - @parkerpeter24

summary: peter's spider-man duties get in the way of him trying to get a gift for you

blurb, peter parker x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

just you and me - @waitimcomingtoo

summary: peter stays with you when you get hurt during a battle with the green goblin. written by a lover of les mis, teen wolf, and phoebe bridgers

oneshot, peter parker x reader, genre: angst, contains no way home spoilers

our jacket? - @poguesarah

summary: cute christmas shopping trip with mj

blurb, michelle jones x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

i saw you fall from the window, are you okay? - @parkerpeter24

summary: you and peter become friends after you overhear him talking while eating a churro on your fire escape

blurb, peter parker x reader, genre: fluff

i think the lock is frozen - @parkerpeter24

summary: you get trapped at the bank with spider-man

blurb, peter parker x reader, genre: fluff

don't ever let go of me - @parkerpeter24

summary: ice cream in the winter leads to freezing people seeking out the warmth of others

blurb, peter parker x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

christmas eve present - @poguesarah

summary: christmas eve with peter

blurb, peter parker x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

that'll cheer you up - @parkerpeter24

summary: peter is late for your date leaving you worried

blurb, peter parker x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

i can't go another year hiding this from you - @parkerpeter24

summary: peter pushes back patrolling to tell you something

blurb, peter parker x reader, genre: fluff

cheesy holiday movie - @parkerpeter24

summary: your first real date with peter

blurb, peter parker x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

you look so beautiful in the snow - @parkerpeter24

summary: peter visits you on your winter vacation

blurb, peter parker x reader, genre: fluff, contains minor no way home spoilers

the amazing spider-man

my worst nightmare - @parkerpeter24

summary: uncle ben tries to figure out a way to get you and peter to get along

blurb, peter parker x reader, enemies to lovers, genre: fluff/angst

the devil all the time

don't ever let go of me - @parkerpeter24

summary: morning cuddles with arvin

blurb, arvin russell x reader, genre: fluff

tom holland & co

christmas memories - @tom-softie

summary: your’s and tom’s families have spent every christmas together since you were 10. you have grown up together, and made many memories with one another. so when you tell him that you are moving to america, you use all your time together, remembering and sharing those memories. In between the reminiscing, you realize that there may be some hidden feelings.

series (on hiatus), childhood best friend!tom holland x reader, friends to lovers, christmas, genre: angst/fluff

❀ ex on the beach - @heyhihellowhatsup0

summary: eight months after your ugly breakup with tom, you find yourself stuck together for two whole weeks at a private beach house. just you, tom, some mutual friends, what could possibly go wrong?

series (completed), ex!tom holland x reader, genre: angst/fluff/smut

how much mistletoe did your brothers put up!? - @parkerpeter24

summary: to answer the question above, a whole bunch

blurb, tom holland x reader, christmas, genre: fluff

[uglypastels]

Tom Holland Masterlist

R means requested -  Send Requests/Feedback/Questions here  - GUIDELINES

❤ my favs | 💋 SMUT (18+) | ☔ ANGST

Disclaimer: the smut is intended for readers of ages of 18 or older. I do not want to expose anyone to anything that they do not want to be exposed to. 

> Back to Main Masterlist <

ONE SHOTS

R Picture Perfect Abstract: You tell your loved ones about the new addition to the family.

R Three Words: Nervous As… Abstract: The first time you say it, and you don’t even realize it.

It’s A Walk in the Park ❤ Abstract: On a spooky Autumn night, you decide to take a shortcut.

Eye Candy and Dog Treats Abstract: Tom makes use of a very interesting method to ask you out.

Delay Abstract: With your flight being canceled, you have plenty of time to kill.

R True Reflections ❤☔(💋) Abstract: Tom shows you why he loves you, even when you don’t see it.

Fireworks - part 2 Abstract: A kind stranger helps you in the dark and well… sparks fly high.

R The Perfect Guy Abstract: Tom shows exactly what he is.

The First Snow (💋) Abstract: Aren’t lazy morning just the best?

Second-Hand Love ❤ Abstract: …Love can be handed down from generation to generation.

It’s a Beautiful Day Abstract: A breakfast in bed (for the one and only @andwhatdostarsdobest).

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes Summary: An anniversary trip to the happiest place on earth (for my sweet valentine @tomhollanders2013 )

A Big F U to Valentine’s Day Summary: A movie night with no romantic intentions.

Saviour in the Night ☔ Abstract: Tom just can’t miss the opportunity of playing the hero.

Appropriate Action Abstract: everyone loves a badboy, but you don’t necessarily need one ;p

To the Beat (band!au -> drummer!Tom)  - part 2💋  ❤ Abstract: An unexpected night with the drummer of a new up and coming band

> Extra headcanon about the band

Rules to Follow (hitman!Tom) Abstract: To succeed, you must follow the rules, but will he?

Lazy Afternoons 💋 Abstract: this is the aftermath of when tom posts a picture and tumblr goes wild

Slide In (fratboy!Tom) ❤ Abstract: talking online is so much easier than in person, especially when your lives are so different.

New Beginnings (roommate!au) Abstract: A series of events on how chaotic it is to live with three guys

Murder on the Dancefloor (dancer!Tom) ❤ Abstract: y/n is a celebrity contestant on Stritly Come Dancing and might just be developing some feelings for her partner (in crime)

Dutch Agreement (stoner!Tom) 💋 Abstract: Side effects of marijuana may include, but are not limited to, drowsiness, hunger, memory/concentration loss and... confessing your feelings for your best friend. 

Plan, Interrupted 💋 Abstract: Who would have ever imagined falling for the guy you hire to ruin your sister’s wedding party?

Money Heist ❤ Abstract: Y/n’s life changes (for better or worse) when one day a handsome stranger walks into the bank. 

Blurbs/Requests:

Baking cookies with Tom

Going on holiday with the Hollands

Tom dating a band nerd

Meeting Tom at the vet

Tom and on-set paramedic!reader

Gingerbread house competition ❤

Tom teaches you how to…💋  -  part 2💋   - part 3💋 - part 4 💋

He finds out you can sing

Meeting your parents for the first time (x Brazilian!reader)

Bar fight

Car crash - part 2  ☔❤

First time (💋)

Interview teasing

Clubbing (💋)

Jealous and dom (💋)

Concert (inspired by Death of a Bachelor)

Wedding dress shopping

He loves your body 💋

Easter with the family

At the premiere after-party

Calm down

Phone in the dog park

How Tom Holland drunkenly saved Spider-Man

(Too) expensive gifts

Celebrity crush confession

Miscarriage (roommate!Tom) ☔

Multilingual reader

Instagram stories

Romeo + Juliet

Comforting you (after job interview)

Confessions

What to do in quarantine

Quarantine proposal

Family time

Morning tea

Dating a bookworm

Tom cutting Harry’s hair

First date gentleman

Finding out about the bet (💋)

Deepfakes (brother!tom)

Tessa goes through the fence (neighbour!tom)

Edging and overstimulation 💋 (dom!tom)

Going trick or treating (dad!Tom)

Nightmares

Halloween costume party/meeting the family

You can’t give him attention

Kissing prank gone semi wrong

Saving you from paparazzi (protective!tom)(☔)

Watching ffh with Tom

Dad!tom watches scary movie with son

You’re introduced as “future daughter in law’

Best friend!tom and lesbian!reader

Tom dyes your hair

Hugs for comfort

Stealing his red jacket (ft RDJ)

Skater!tom

Chubby cheeks

Photoshoot (model!au)

Wearing his jacket while riding him 💋 ❤

School stressed + long distance (☔)

Assassination (assassin!tom) ☔

Your new haircut 

Tom being the small spoon

Say Yes to the Dress (best friend!tom)

Grinding in the Club (💋 )

Jealous of Tessa

Tom finds out that you’ve been sick while he’s away (☔)

Painful accident during sex 💋

Praise kink (💋)

Swearing kink/dirty talk  💋

Staying up late until he comes home

Making up a bad fight ☔

Post workout shower 💋

First time (tom being very careful) 💋

Waxing Tom’s chest

Spanking kink 💋

Cramp during “fun time” (💋)

Dom!tom punishing you for flirting 💋

Sub!tom 💋

Stuck at the airport together

Head massage

Awkward moment in online class (prof!Tom)

Camera on (zoom class, prof!Tom)

Meeting professor!Tom outside of the zoom meeting

Tessa making a cameo in class (prof!Tom)

Daddy kink 💋

Hogwarts AU (ravenclaw!gender neutral!reader)

SCD: Live Show 1 nerves (pro dancer!Tom)

CEO!dad!Tom + male!bestfriend!oc blurb series (no chronological order, by request)

Coming back home after a long day of work  

Late night comforts

Unconscious actions

Lazy kisses

Caught

Bisexual disasters

Family cuddles in bed

“We can wait” (💋)

In the bedroom 💋

Your son accidentally watches TDADD (dad!tom)

Song prompts:

Start of Something New (HSM au)

Emperors New Clothes (koh!au - 💋)

Magic

Addicted

Bacchus’ Basement (stoner!tom) 

Yours

Gold Rush

Spotify Wrapped ‘19

Lego House/ I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing (☔)

Shut up and Drive

Rolling in the Deep

Spotify Wrapped ‘20

Like a virgin 💋

Watermelon Sugar

Take on Me

My Type (frat!au) - part 2(💋)

Build Me Up Buttercup ☔

Mr Blue Sky

Strong (male!reader,☔)

Waterloo (frat!tom 💋)

Nice To Meet Ya 💋 (fwb!au)

Lights Up ☔

Star Girl (☔💋 )

Mr Brightside 💋 

Sex On Fire 💋 

Spotify Wrapped ‘21 (TBA) 

no body, no crime (detective!Tom)

Invisible String

AU Blurb Event 

Siren!Tom

Wizard!Tom (hogwarts!au)

Werewolf!Tom (x vampire!reader)

Birthmark soulmate!au 

Drummer!Tom

Strictly Come Dancing!au (dancer!Tom)

Text Edits

34+35 text prank (💋)

WAP text prank (💋)

Drunk texting ex!tom (☔)

Title Challenge (You send me titles and I wrote a story I tought fit)

Sometimes, Shit Happens

Why

The Sun, the Stars and the Moon

Headcanons:

Tom taking care of you

Tom and Haz’ genius coping mechanism (best friend!au)

Mini- how would the guys wear their hogwarts uniforms

[waitimcomingtoo]

I honestly love your work sm! I have a request, maybe a skateboarder! Reader where she likes to go to the skate park and do tricks? And ends up going to the hospital because she broke her arm or something while Tom is in a interview? tom gets really mad at the ready because she wasnt being 'ResPOnsiBle' and the reader just jokes and laughs, only angering him even more? Fluff and angst if you want (I almost broke my leg at the skatepark, then I got yelled at 😅)

Thank you so much! I hope your leg is all good 😉

See You L8ter, Boy

Pairing: Tom Holland x Skater!reader

Warning: medical talk if you’re squeamish

Synopsis: “That fall could’ve kill you. You joke now and say it’s just a broken arm, but what about next time? What if next time, it’s broken arm, and a broken leg, and a broken neck? And what if I’m in another interview and my people have to cut in and tell me my girlfriend died?” Toms voice cracked at the end, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

“It’s funny because we shot Homecoming thousands of miles from my actual home, and then we shot Far From Home 25 minutes from my parents house.” Tom recalled the unique situation regarding the movie titles.

“And were you able to live at home during filming?” The interviewer asked.

“No, we actually rented a house. All of us.” Tom gestured to the group. “That’s why I think the summer of 2018 was the greatest summer of my life.”

“He’s gonna start talking about football about, so you better ask the next question.” Zendaya interrupted from Toms left side.

“I’m done.” Jacob laughed, slapping his knee.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt.” A lady with an earpiece stepped next to the interviewer, out of the cameras shot. “Mr. Holland, your assistant needs to speak to you.”

“Now?” Tom asked, craning his neck to look for Harrison. Harrison had a phone to his ear and a panicked look on his face. He motioned for Tom to come over. Harrison was mouthing words and pointing at the phone, but Tom couldn’t make them out.

“Would you excuse me?” He said politely to the interviewer.

Tom excused himself and bolted out of his chair. He ran to Harrison, leaving Jacob and Zendaya to finish the interview.

“What’s wrong? Who are you on the phone with?” Tom inquired.

“The hospital.” Harrison held the phone away from his mouth.

“The hospital?” Tom asked for confirmation. “Why? Is everyone okay?”

“It’s Y/n.” Harrison said with a hand over the speaker. Tom felt himself turn a little green. His stomach did a somersault and he felt his pulse quicken.

“What?” Tom whispered in fear.

“Alright, thank you for calling. We’ll be right there.” Harrison said into the phone. He hung up and turned to his best friend.

“She’s okay.” Harrison said, first and foremost. Tom felt a wave of relief rush into his body. That’s all he cared about. “She fell off the halfpipe at the skatepark. She’s in surgery now.”

“Surgery?” Tom spat in shock. “What happened?“

“They couldn’t tell me much.” Harrison shook his head sympathetically. “But I have the address. Let’s go.”

Harrison drove since Toms hands were still shaking. His throat felt dry, as did his mouth. His entire chest felt tight. White hot fear blazed in his veins the entire 30 minute trip to the hospital.

“Relax, man.” Harrison said cheerfully when he caught sight of Tom in the mirror. “She’s gonna be okay.”

“I didn’t kiss her this morning.” Tom said tearfully, looking out the window and biting his finger.

“You can’t think about that right now.” Harrison sighed.

“I was running late and she told me she was going to the skate park and I didn’t kiss her.” Tom recanted his regrets. “She asked me for one but I said I didn’t have time. I just told her to text me and I ran out the door.”

“She’s gonna be okay, mate.” Harrison said calmly. “It’s just surgery.”

“People don’t always wake up from surgery.” Tom slammed his fist on the door, making Harrison jump. “I’m sorry.” Tom said softly. “But she’s my life. I’m nothing without her. And I let her leave this morning thinking I didn’t want to kiss her.”

“She knows you would’ve kissed her if you had time.” Harrison tried to comfort his friend.

“Who doesn’t have time for a kiss?” Tom said guiltily. “It would’ve taken two seconds. I should’ve kissed her.”

The boys pulled up to the hospital shortly. Tom jumped out of the car while Harrison went to park.

“Tom Holland, here to see Y/n L/n please.” Tom told the lady at the front desk with anxious fingers drumming on the desktop.

“I’m sorry, sir. Only family members are allowed back there right now.” The lady told him.

“I.” Toms voice cracked and he slammed his hand on the desk. “I am family. I’m her boyfriend.”

“Are you engaged?” She asked.

“Yes.” Tom lied. You weren’t. He had every intention of proposing, even having purchased a ring, but he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. Now he was wishing he’d proposed to you the night he got it.

“Then right this way, sir.” A nurse in blue scrubs lead Tom down a long hallway. The statement hospital smell filled Toms nose as the bright lights pierced his eyes. The nurse brought him to a room at the end of the hall and stopped.

“She just got out of surgery, so she’s going to be tired. You can wait in here.” The nurse informed him. Tom thanked her and took a seat. You were sleeping, or he hoped sleeping, and looked peaceful. There was a nasty scrap up the side of your face that had little white bandages holding it together. Your right arm was elevated and in a red and blue cast. If Tom wasn’t about to lose his mind over you being hurt, he would’ve appreciated the homage you paid to his character. Other than a few more scraps and bruises, you looked okay. The worst was your broken arm.

Tom shifted in his seat a thousand times as he waited for you to wake up. His leg bounced up and down for an hour straight. People came in and out to check your vitals and give Tom all the information they had. Finally, your eyelids twitched and your heart rate monitor beeped faster. You stirred in your sleep before your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the lights.

“Y/n?” Tom rushed out of his chair and took your good hand. He pressed a firm kiss to it before moving up and kissing your forehead. Hot tears of relief plopped onto your sheets and hit your arm.

“Thank God you’re alright.” Tom breathed, finally feeling his heartbeat return to normal. His world began to turn again, knowing you were alright. He felt better until you moved away from him with a confused face.

“Woah, woah, woah.” You said, taking your hand out of his grasp and scooting back. “Are you the doctor?”

“What?” Tom asked, dumbfounded. “No.”

“Nurse?” You shrugged, giving Tom a once over.

“No.” He repeated, heart beginning to race again. “Y/n, it’s me. It’s Tom. I-it’s Tommy.” Toms voice wavered as new tears, no longer tears of relief, filled his eyes. “Do you really not know who I am?”

“No.” You shook your head apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. Have we met?”

“Have we met?” Tom whispered in disbelief. “I’m-I’m your boyfriend. We’ve been together for three years. We-we we’re in love. Please tell me you remember that.” Tom pleading, desperately wanting to take your hand but not doing so in case it made you uncomfortable.

“No.” You shook your head again, smiling a little when he looked away. “I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“Do you remember anything?” He asked desperately.

“I remember that you’re a gullible dork who falls for anything.” You said in a serious tone before breaking out in a smile. Toms head snapped up. You gave him a apologetic smile before bursting into laughter.

“You don’t have amnesia.” Tom stated, coming to the annoying but relieving conclusion that you were messing with him. He put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a stressful tug.

“Not that I can remember.” You joked. You poked your tongue out of your mouth as Tom looked up at you.

“That wasn’t funny.” Tom pointed an angry but gentle finger at you. “At all.”

“You didn’t kiss me this morning.” You shrugged, sending a dull pain through your broken arm. “That wasn’t funny either.”

“I’m so sorry about that.” Tom sighed. He leaned in and pressed a tear stained kiss to your lips, holding it there until he couldn’t breath. Your heart rate monitor went from 89 to 131 with his kiss. “I’ve felt terrible all day. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“She’s lucky she is.” The doctor said upon entering the room. You and Tom shifted your focus to him. The doctor hung your x-ray up on a board and switched the light on. “Your arm is broken in three places. Your wrist, forearm, and elbow. We inserted metal pins into your arm during your surgery to keep your arm in place while it heals.” The doctor explained.

“How long will she need the cast?” Tom asked, something you hadn’t even thought to ask.

“About six weeks.” The doctor said.

“And how long for the scrap to heal?” Tom continued, impressing you with his sudden taking of charge.

“That depends. Everyone is different but it shouldn’t be too long. You’re very lucky you’re walking away from this with just a scrap and a broken arm. It could’ve been a lot worse.” The doctor told you with an honest expression.

“What do you mean? I thought it was just a fall.” Tom asked, looking between you and the doctor.

“A fall off a six foot tall halfpipe.” The doctor told Tom, something he hadn’t known before. “You’re lucky you didn’t land on your neck, or crack your head open. This could’ve been fatal.”

“Fatal?” Tom looked at you with an exasperated face. “What were you doing on one that tall? I thought you only went on the little ones when you were doing tricks?”

“I was trying a new trick.” You said sheepishly, feeling embarrassed by your crash and burn.

“Why would you try a new trick off that tall of a pipe?” Tom asked you harshly. You felt your cheeks burn at him getting angry in front of the doctor. The doctor sensed a fight coming and made his exit.

“I’ll leave you two alone for now. We will need to keep Y/n overnight, but she’ll be good to leave in the morning.” The doctor left swiftly and shut the door behind him.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Tom yelled once you were alone. You gave him a pointed look. He never raised his voice at you once in your three year relationship. He didn’t believe there was a problem out there that couldn’t be fixed with a calm conversation. He hated being yelled at and never wanted you to feel threatened in his presence. His sudden outburst came as a shock to you.

“What?” You asked with a an awkward smile. “Why are you yelling at me?”

“You need to be more responsible!” Tom snapped. “If you’re going to be doing the dangerous things you’re doing, you need to have some responsibility.”

“Alright, Alright.” You waved your hand in dismissal, not taking his anger serious. “You sound like Uncle Ben.”

“This isn’t funny, Y/n.” Tom shouted, getting out of his chair and kicking it behind him. There was absolutely no humor in his voice now. He was serious. Dead serious. “I cannot believe you’re still making jokes about this.”

“Tommy, relax.” You said soothingly, trying to bring him back down. “It’s just a broken arm. I’ll just use the smaller ramps until I heal.” You joked, keeping your side of the conversation light.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re getting on that board again.” Tom laughed sharply as he paced around the room. “Not after this.”

“I’m only teasing.” You reached out for his hand but he just shook his head angrily and folded his arms. “But I will be getting on that board again. Just as soon as I get this cast off.” You shifted uncomfortably in your bed. His eyes softened at your obvious pain. He hated that he was yelling at you when you’d already had a bad day.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near the skate park until you can prove to me that you’re responsible.” Tom told you in a way you knew there would be no compromises. He wasn’t a controlling boyfriend by any means, but you’d crossed a line today. He was angrier with you than he ever had been before.

“I’m just curious, what are your thoughts on responsibility?” You teased, only making Tom madder. It wasn’t your intention. You weren’t pushing to make him angry, the opposite actually. You were trying to assuage the situation and calm him down.

“Is this a joke to you?” Tom asked in a low voice, suddenly seeming totally calm, which filled you with fear. “You do realize this could’ve been a lot worse, right?”

“No.” You said seriously, finally reaching Toms hand and pulling him onto your bed, careful not to bump your sling into his broad chest. “It’s not a joke. I know this is serious. And you’re right. It could’ve been worse.” You said softly, putting a soothing hand on Toms cheek. He leaned into your touch, genuinely calming down this time. “But it wasn’t. It’s just a broken arm. I’m going to heal.”

“The paramedics said you weren’t wearing knee or wrist pads.” Tom suddenly remembered something a nurse had come in to tell him.

“Because those are for losers and noobs.” You said, still serious.

“And what about your helmet?” Tom asked, poking you in the chest with an accusing finger.

“Oh.” You grimaced, not realizing Tom knew about that. “Right. I left it at home and I didn’t realize until I got there. I didn’t think I’d need it. I’ve never fallen before. I thought I’d be fine.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t fine.” Tom said sadly, trying to make you see things from his point of view. “You wiped out. The doctor said you could’ve cracked your head open or landed on your neck. What the hell were you thinking?” He repeated, calmer this time. He sounded more upset than angry now. He wasn’t and anymore. Just worried about you being careless.

“I guess I wasn’t thinking.“ You said honestly.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m so upset.” Tom realized as he tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “That fall could’ve kill you. You joke now and say it’s just a broken arm, but what about next time? What if next time, it’s broken arm, and a broken leg, and a broken neck? And what if I’m in another interview and my people have to cut in and tell me my girlfriend died?” Toms voice cracked at the end, and a tear rolled down his cheek. You immediately wiped it with your thumb. You pulled his head closer by the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll wear the helmet the next time, okay?” You asked, tilting his chin up to look you in the eyes. “I promise.”

“And the knee pads?” Tom asked, pressing his forehead against yours, bumping your nose with his.

“Fine. Sure.” You agreed. “If it makes you happy.”

“And wrist pads?” He continued.

“Alright.” You nodded.

“And the elbow pads?” He asked.

“You’re pushing it.” You smiled, causing Tom to smile finally. “Are you trying to make me look like a Ninja Turtle?”

“Hey, I’ve never seen a Ninja Turtle with a broken arm.” Tom shrugged, causing you to giggle.

“Fine.” You slammed your hand down on the bed. “I’ll wear the wrist pads and the elbow pads and the butt pads-“

“Butt pads?” Tom cut in, wrinkling his nose.

“-and the knee pads and whatever other pads you want.” You declared. You snapped your fingers. “And the helmet.”

“You promise?” He asked hopefully.

“If it makes you happy, then yes. I promise.”

“You’ll do that for me? Even if it makes you a loser and a noob?” Tom reiterated your words from earlier.

“Yes I will.” You tilted his face towards you with your pinky and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Because I love you.”

“Oh, do you now?” Tom teased, taking your hand in his and giving you another kiss. Just out of your sight, he felt around in his pocket for the ring.

“Can I make it anymore obvious?”

[rachaelswrites]

Blurb Masterlist Part 2

Updated: 10/18/2022

Part 1

Actors

Sebastian Stan

Not That Serious

Tantrums

Nutcracker

Bad Grades

First Period

Loose Tooth

Tree Decorating

School Trouble

Day Off

Rocking Out

Fresh Premier 

Jake Gyllenhaal

Bundled Up

Favorite Song

Chris Evans

Second Dog

Speeding Ticket

Ice Skater  Part Two

Matthew Gray Gubler

Tom Holland

Crush

Meeting Zendaya

Hair Attempt

Fight

Tom Hiddleston

Adoption

Brie Larson

Superhero

Characters

Bucky Barnes

Cold

Steve Rogers

Stucky

Injured

Teen!Avenger!reader

Not Sick

Ransom Drysdale

Spencer Reid

Accidentally Drunk

Sober Friend

Clingy

Being Short

Phone Thief

Stolen Pillows

TikTok

Facetime

Emily Prentiss

Jennifer Jareau

Arron Hotchner

Luke Alvez

Destroyed Homework

Garcia Date

Pairings

Jaeden x evans!reader

Noah x gyllenhaal

Louis x stan!reader

Finn x gubler!reader

Dream Team

Peter x barnes!reader

Wyatt x holland!reader

Straitening Hair

[princessofguineapigs]

skater!tom x reader, smut, fluff

warnings: unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), fingering, spitting kink, degradation, bdsm elements, yeah so, read with care

summary: Tom is a skateboarder trying out for the X Games, Y/N is his supportive girlfriend. Mostly, I wrote this for the sex. Tom is both a dom and a simp for his princess.

words: 2.4 k

Read more

[nothingbutimagines]

Ice Skates (Peter Parker)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warning: Cursing, lots of falling and fluff

Summary: Both Peter and the reader thinks the other knows how to ice skate. Falling and slipping and hilarity ensues as they both realize the other does, in fact, not know how to skate

Author: Dizzy

A/N: Oh my god, two sleeps away from Christmas morning! And sadly, our little 12 days of ficmas is starting to come to a close. Today is all about Peter Parker and Tom Holland, since I fell ill and then got behind on some of my work, leaving me to release three fics a few days ago and three today.

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

“Aren’t you going to tie your skates?” Peter asked, rising from his spot on the bench beside you. 

“Can you help me? I’m not very good at it.” 

Peter raised a brow. “Is it that you’re not good at it or that you don’t want to?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I knew it.” Peter smiled, balancing on his skates as he walked in front of you and got down on his knees. “Tell me when it’s too tight, okay, Bug?”

You nodded and held a foot out to him which he held between his knees. You watched as he pulled the laces tight, tying them tightly and double knotting them. You then pulled back that foot and rested it beside Peter and lifted the other foot out for him. 

“That too tight?” He asked, looking up at you as he pulled the laces tight.

“No.” You shook your head and watched as he finished tying the laces. 

Peter patted your leg before standing up slowly. He held his hand out to you, which you took and allowed him to help pull you up. He guided you to the entrance of the rink, letting go of your hand as he stepped out onto the ice, glancing over his shoulder at you as you did the same.

You could feel your heart race as you took a step, your foot sliding a bit and sending you into a bit of a state of panic as your grabbed the wall beside you and you took another step onto the ice. You looked up at Peter, who was wobbling a bit as he skated towards you and you held onto the wall for dear life, sliding across the ice slowly. 

“Are you coming? Or are you going to just make friends with the wall?” Peter chuckled, holding a hand out to you. 

“I don’t know. I think I might just skate along the wall until I feel up to it.” You replied, leaning against the wall as Peter skated slowly towards you. 

“Okay, well, then I will just follow you then.” 

Peter held his hands out at his side, attempting to balance himself as he dragged his feet along the ice, not quite lifting off from the ground as he skated slowly alongside you as you dragged yourself along the ice.

If you had seen yourself, you would have laughed at the way that the top half of your body was going farther ahead from your lower half, but since you were in your own body at the time, you were sure you were going to have a heart attack at the mere thought of falling. 

“You okay, Bug? You look like you’re about to cry.” Peter asked, glancing over at you as he skated to the wall, now standing in front of you as you halted to a stop.

“Yeah, Peter, I’m fine.” You nodded, swallowing hard as you looked up at him. 

“Maybe we could try to skate away from the wall? Maybe that would make you feel better?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” 

“Come on, Bug. I’ll be right here.” Peter held his hand out to you, awaiting your next move. 

You felt defeated by the skates on your feet, that allowing Peter to drag you along the ice seemed like a better option for you. You took his hand in yours, following slowly as he skated forward, his arm behind him as you attempted to do the same. 

You were feeling confident for a moment, mimicking the way Peter slid his feet along the ice, noticing how with every little movement, it seemed as though he was gaining confidence as well. 

You let go of Peter’s hand and began slowly skating beside him, matching his stance with your hands out at your sides as you moved your legs back and forth, inching your way down the ice. 

“I am great at skating.” You said to yourself, nodding. 

You pushed yourself forward a bit, only to trip on your own foot and fall to the ground, face first. You caught yourself, hitting your knee hard enough that you knew it was going to bruise.

“Are you okay, Bug?” Peter asked, turning and bending down beside you. 

“I hit my knee.” You pouted, holding your knee. 

Peter chuckled, leaning down and brushing the snow off of your knee before pressing a small kiss to your knee. 

“Feel better now?”

You nodded as Peter stood up, taking your hand and pulling you up with him. 

“You want to hold hands as we go around?” 

“I think that’d be a good idea.” You agreed, a light pink dusting your cheeks as you looked up at him, a bit embarrassed.

Peter pressed another kiss to your head. He guided you along the ice slowly as other skaters zoomed past, racing one another or just skating alone. 

“Why haven’t we done this? It’s kinda fun.” You stated, a soft smile on your face as you gained confidence, feeling as though you were learning how to stay on your feet. 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, only for a slight scream to come out as he fell onto his bottom, letting go of your hand so he didn’t drag you down with him. 

You laughed, bending over as you fell into a fit of giggles, causing Peter to frown as he slowly stood up. 

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you when you fell!” He argued, steadying himself as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That’s because you didn’t see me. If you did, then you’d know how funny that was!” You gasped, still laughing. 

“I will skate away from you.” Peter pouted, turning away from you. 

Your laughter subsided for a moment before you fell into another fit of giggles at the sight of Peter’s backside. 

“Oh my god, Pete.” You pointed to his pants. “Because you fell on your butt, your pants are all wet and now it looks like you shit yourself! I told you you shouldn’t have worn khakis!”

Peter put his hands on his hip, leaning back to look at his pants and frowned as he watched you almost fall over because of how hard you were laughing. 

“I’m leaving you behind!” He announced, starting to skate away. 

“No, Peter!” You cried, grabbing his hand quickly. “Skate with me!”

You pulled yourself forward so that you were beside him, gripping his hand tightly. You skated in silence, Peter grumbling to himself as you hummed along to the Christmas music that played over the speakers. 

You felt happy, still chuckling to yourself about the spills you both had on the ice as you skated along, feeling light and confident. 

That was until you noticed Peter’s foot slipping out from beneath him and sending him to the ground. Only for him to pull you down with him as he forgot to let go of your hand. 

“Ow...” You groaned, sitting up slightly as you rubbed your elbow. “Jeez, Peter, when was the last time you skated?”

“Uh, never. I thought you knew how to skate.”

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. “No, never. I thought you knew how to skate.”

“No, I don’t. I only agreed to come because I thought you knew how to skate since you asked!”

Peter sat up, rubbing his shoulder as he pulled his legs out from underneath yours. 

“I only asked because I thought you knew how to skate.” You explained. “I just assumed since you worked here last Christmas.” 

“I made pretzels and hot chocolate. They don’t exactly require you to know how to skate if you work the concessions.”

“Then what the hell are we doing here?” 

“I don’t know.” Peter groaned, bringing himself up onto his knees before standing up fully and holding his hand out to you. “All I know is that I didn’t just pay ten dollars in skate rentals for us to not skate.”

You winced softly, moving to your knees before you took Peter’s hand, rising to your feet slowly. 

“And now you’re standing. Maybe we should just skate with the wall.” Peter suggested. 

“You think?” 

Peter rolled his eyes at the attitude you gave him before skating towards the wall with you in tow as he skated slowly. 

You started to skate behind him, picking up your feet as you attempted to skate, deciding it’d be easier to walk on the ice than trying to skate. You felt your foot slip and you began to panic, kicking your feet as you attempted to regain your balance. You fell back, gripping onto Peter, sending you both down to the ground with a thud. 

Peter gasped, the air knocked out of him as he rolled off of you, laying beside you as he stared at the sky. 

“I think we should’ve just stuck with eating pretzels and hot chocolate.” Peter stated, glancing over at you. 

“I never want to ice skate again. I need a pretzel to heal my bruised ego.” 

You sat up, looking over at Peter as he laid, looking back at you. 

“I need a kiss to heal my bruised ego.” Peter stated, puckering his lips at you.

You rolled your eyes with a smile, leaning down and kissing him softly. 

“Let’s just agree to never speak of this again.” You whispered softly. 

“Agreed.”

[bi-bi-buckleydiaz]

MASTERLIST

requests are open for any of the below !

PETER PARKER

love me, please

movie night shenanigans

late night adventures

TOM HOLLAND

tall reader

best week of your life

figure skater reader

soft mob!tom

sick reader x mob!tom

missed you

soulmate au

one of those days

single mom reader x teacher!tom

OWEN JOYNER

dare night

deep breath, do your job

i think not

BUDDIE 

(evan buckley x eddie diaz - 911 fox)

post 5x02 - buck pov 

[writersmacchiato]

headcannons for modern dps x reader (slight nsfw references? but not really?) (basically reader can be shipped with whoever)- chatty anon ❤️❤️

- they have a group minecraft creative server. they all how cute houses and gardens

- they have a survival one which resulted in meeks running 2 miles to readers house to tackle them for accidentally killing his dog

- they’re all band kids. charlie does trumpet. i don’t need to explain.

- chris and reader are roommates, and knox lives with them too. reader blast taylor swift when they’re being to loud.

- reader do roller derby and charlie plays the ‘girls in bikinis on roller skates’ song at every match

- meeks, pitts, reader, chris, and todd have a dbd group the todd dms

- they all have a groupchat deadicated to spoiling movies for each other

- neil can sing, and starts doing musicals to not just plays. everyone loves them

- reader has chased charlie and meeks around walmart if roller blades

- skater boys todd and meeks

- they did paint ball one time and it resulted in serious injuries

- the boys + chris harassing readers dates because they dont deseve them

- dying todd’s hair because it’s naturally light

- charlie, reader, and meeks all somehow got matching tattos that everyone was supposed to get but didn’t

- pitts has his ears pierced

- pitts and reader go ghost hunting while meeks stays in the car with a walkie talkie

- arguing who’s more attractive taylor swift of harry styles is basically their politics

- they do friendsgiving 110% with the course being anything but turkey

- they defiently do the game where you ‘kidnap’ a friend and then you have to find them. it ended up raining one time so neil and reader ended up recreating tom holland’s umbrella dance

- they’re all attracted to cillian murphy because they all have daddy issues

- reader, charlie, neil, and meeks can handle horror. chris,pitts, knox, todd throw up as soon as scary stuff starts happening

- they all basically share a wardrobe at this point

Chatty anon.....I feel like you opened my brain and picked out all my interests because I feel seen with this ask 😳

MINECRAFT SERVER?? 😳😭 I miss playing mc so bad ugjgjjsjsa just imagine having a cute lil village and y’all are neighbors and sometimes you blow up their house for fun

story time: my brother punched me once so my dogs started attacking him and he died but then HIS dogs started attacking mine so they died.! It was such a mess istg

Band camp au make it happen someone

Okay but that vibe where it’s like “is that allowed is that allowed” “stop” and the girl is kissing a mannequin while the friend is pointing at her?? Knox x chris x reader vibes

They have so many groupchats it’s ridiculous!! I love them!!

Neil singing Wendy Williams native New Yorker no I will not be taking questions at this time

Charlie x reader x meeks got a cowboy frog tattoo and they’re like !!??? how did we all have the SAME idea ??? (Hive mind)

Listen....my supernatural dps au says that you are correct 😎 (Pitts and reader make out in a cemetery parking lot 😭)

Okay but WHO is better? Taylor Swift or Harry Styles? Bring forth your arguments 😤

Friendsgiving and this year the theme is monster milkshakes 😩

I’m sorry.....KIDNAPPING your friends ????? guys I’m scared

the comment about Cillian Murphy was a personal attack 🤧

Where are my horror movie buddies at?? 😌 imagine the scaredy cats clinging to you though? Using you as a body shield? Fun times!

Sharing clothes with everyone because hive mind and y’all have the same taste in fashion