#tom holland and co

[waitimcomingtoo]

He Said, She Said

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: absolute tomfoolery ensues when you and Tom suspect that the other thinks you’re dating but you’re both too shy to correct each other

Masterlist

A week after you had wrapped filming a movie with Tom, you invited him to your house to hang out. Since the love story between your characters had been the backbone of the film, you’d grown particularly close to each other during the 8 months of filming. You had spent the last 8 months acting along side Tom as his crush, then girlfriend, and then wife. This was your first time seeing each other since wrapping and there were multiple times throughout the night where you had to catch yourself before you did something that you used to do when you played his wife. It was slightly confusing to spend 8 months acting as if you were in a relationship only for it to suddenly end one day. Tom felt the same way and often found himself about to go in for a kiss before he remembered he wasn’t actually your boyfriend. You both managed to catch yourselves just in time until the end of the night.

“Text me when you get home safe.” You said as you walked Tom to your door.

“I always do.” He smiled softly at you.

You smiled in return before wrapping an arm around him to pull him into a kiss. Tom instinctively kissed you back before he could process what was happening. You pulled away after a minute and stroked his cheek with your thumb.

“Bye, T.” You waved to him before shutting your door.

Tom stood outside your door for a full minute with his lips still pursed. He touched his fingertips to his lips and sure enough felt your sticky strawberry lipgloss still lingering there.

“Now wait a damn minute.” He said to himself as his confusion settled in.

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d kissed him, but it was the first time you’d kissed him in the absence of any cameras or scripts. A surprised smile broke out on his lips until it settled into a confused frown. He turned around and went to his car where he sat for a long time, raking every inch of his moment for the moment your friendship became something more. When he came up empty, he took out his phone and texted his groupchat.

“emergency boy call” He texted and waited until the FaceTime notification appeared on his screen.

“What’s with the late night boy call? It’s almost midnight.” Harry asked through a yawn.

“Yeah. I was already balls deep into my YouTube deep dive.” Harrison complained.

“What were you watching?” Tuwaine asked him.

“Wig installation videos.” Harrison answered. “In case I ever need to install a wig.”

“That seems like a good use of your time.” Sam snorted.

“Guys.” Tom groaned. “I did not ask for a boy call for us to talk about whether or not Harrison will be installing a wig anytime soon.”

“I could do it if I wanted to.” Harrison mumbled.

“What did you need the boy call for?” Harry brought the focus back to Tom.

“I think Y/n and I are dating.” Tom admitted and held his breath as he waited for their responses. He could previously only see his friends ceilings, but all their confused faces appeared on his screen when he said this.

“What? You think?” Harry asked.

“I thought you guys were just friends?” Sam added.

“I thought that too.” Tom replied. “But we hung out tonight and she kissed me goodbye.”

“So? Haven’t you kissed a million times?” Tuwaine wondered.

“For scenes, yeah. Never just as us.”

“Cheek kiss or lips kiss?” Harrison asked.

“Lips.“

“Well was it a peck or a smooch?” Harry questioned.

“Uh, is there a difference?” Tom frowned.

“Big time.” Harry and Harrison said in unison.

“Well how do I know the difference?” Tom wondered.

“A peck is what you give your grandmum on the cheek. A smooch is slightly longer and involves head tilting.” Harrison explained.

“I don’t know. Her tongue was in my mouth. Is that covered under the smooch umbrella?”

“DAMNNNNN.” Harry and Harrison spoke in unison again as the shouted.

“That was way past smooch territory, my guy.” Tuwaine said through a laugh.

“Then what is it?” Tom asked his friends.

“A smackeroo.” Harry shrugged.

“I was just gonna say a smackeroo.” Harrison clapped his hands.

“That was no smooch. You got snogged, mate.” Sam said and they all nodded in agreement.

“Ew.” Tom grimaced. “No one says snog anymore. What are you, Angus Thongs?”

“Who the fuck is Angus Thongs?” Harry asked after a beat of silence.

“You know. That movie. Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging. It’s all about a girl who wants to snog Angus Thongs.”

“Mate, it’s Angus COMMA thongs COMMA and perfect snogging. The title is three separate phrases. Angus, Thongs, and Perfect Snogging.” Harry explained.

“You thought the character was named Angus Thongs?” Sam laughed. “Why would the writers give him that name? What nationality would the surname “Thongs” even come from?”

“Can we get back to the reason of the boy call? Y/n freaking smooched me and I don’t know what it means.” Tom groaned.

“And that’s never happened before?” Tuwaine asked.

“No. This was the first time she did that.”

“So maybe it was just an accident.” Sam shrugged.

“Who accidentally kisses someone on the mouth?” Harry wondered.

“Exactly. That’s why I think we started dating and I didn’t realize.”

“How could that have happened? Wouldn’t you have realized if you guys made your relationship official?” Sam asked his brother.

“I don’t know. We’re so close and our relationship gets confusing sometimes. We’ve always have this unofficial thing between us where we’re not exactly together but not exactly “just friends” either. I’ve never really known where I stood with her.”

“This might not help,” Tuwaine prefaced, “but I was shocked the first time I met her and you told me you guys were just friends. You really seemed like a couple.”

“Yeah, that definitely didn’t help, but thank you so much.” Tom smiled tightly, feeling more confused than ever.

“He’s right though. You guys don’t act like friends act. Why do you think everyone assumes you’re dating? Even mom asked me if you two were bumping uglies.” Sam brought up.

“We’re not. Or maybe we are? I don’t know. What does bumping uglies even mean?”

“You’d know if you did it.” Harrison said and the rest of the guys agreed.

“Can you think of a moment when you might’ve become a couple?” Sam asked his brother.

“There are so many moments that it could’ve been. That’s why I’m so confused.” Tom whined and rubbed his eyes.

“Well think, man.” Sam urged.

“I don’t know. Maybe the last day of shooting? She said she didn’t want anything to change between us after we stopped filming. Maybe that meant she wanted us to be together like our characters were?”

“You can’t be “maybe” dating someone.” Harrison shook his head. “You need to find out for certain if she thinks she’s in a committed relationship with you right now.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Tom wondered.

“I’ll do it.” Harry offered and his screen went to the “pause” icon.

“How?” Tom asked him.

“I just texted her asking if you were dating.” Harry replied and returned to the FaceTime.

“What?!” Tom shrieked. “Without discussing that with me first?”

“Wait, what happened?” Harrison asked. “I was watching a Dance Moms compilation.”

“Which one?” Tuwaine asked.

“Kelly and Christi being iconic.” Harrison said with a cheeky smile.

“Classic.” Tuwaine laughed.

“Guys.” Tom groaned. “Harry went rogue and texted Y/n.”

Meanwhile, you were doing your skincare routine when you saw your phone light up with a notification. You picked it up and saw the text from Harry.

“are you and tom dating?” It read. You frowned and looked at yourself in the mirror. Harry, being Tom’s brother, should know better than anyone that you and Tom were just friends. But the fact that he asked you made you second guess yourself. You wondered if there was a possibility that Tom thought you were in a relationship.

“did he say we were?” You texted back.

“yeth” Harry responded.

“Oh shit. Why does Tom think we’re dating?” You whispered to yourself and nervously chewed on your nail. You raked your brain for a cue that you might have missed of Tom suggesting that you should be a couple. Your relationship had always been flirty and wavering on the line between romantic and platonic, so it didn’t seem impossible to you that could’ve begun a romantic relationship with him without even knowing it. The more you thought about it, the more it seemed plausible that he had suggested you should be together without actually saying those words and you had agreed to it without realizing what you agreed to. If that was the case, you felt too guilty to correct Tom and tell him you weren’t actually dating. After all, you wanted to be his girlfriend. You just wished you knew when you had become it.

“yea we are” You finally texted back.

“Update. Y/n says you’re dating.” Harry proudly announced to the FaceTime call when he saw the message on his screen.

“She did?” Tom asked in disbelief.

“Yep. So you were right. You guys are officially a thing.” Harry confirmed. Tom sunk down in his seat and felt an explosion of different emotions. On the one hand, he was thrilled to finally be in a relationship with you. On the other hand, he felt sad that he had missed the moment when your friendship became more. He wished he could remember how it happened. But little did he know, it never happened.

“I’m so happy. I just wish I knew when it started.” He told his friends.

Meanwhile, you were in your bathroom, staring at your phone, wondering the exact same thing.

“When the fuck did we start dating?” You whispered to yourself.

The next day, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something you were missing. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t put together the moment when your relationship with Tom began. Instead of driving yourself crazy trying to remember, you decided to ask him to come over to see if you could get the information straight from the source.

“I know I just saw you last night but do you wanna come over today 🤠” You texted him.

“I’m on my way 🥵🥴🙄” He texted back within no time. You smiled to yourself and put your phone down to go get ready.

A half hour later, you heard a knock at your door that made your heart skip a beat. You smoothed your hair down before opening up your door.

“Hey you.” You smiled and leaned your cheek against your door.

“Hello darling.” He returned the smile. There was an awkward pause as neither of you knew of you were supposed to kiss or not. You both wanted to, but couldn’t tell if the other was expecting it or not. You both took a step forward, then moved back, before hesitantly moving into the middle again. Tom decided to take charge and wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you into a kiss. You felt relived that he took the initiative and wrapped both arms around his neck to kiss him back. Tom felt so excited that this was finally happening that he lifted you off the ground and brought you inside without ever breaking the kiss. You laughed against his lips as he gently set you down.

“Won’t you come in?” You said sarcastically once you broke apart.

“Why, thank you. What a lovely home you have here.” He played along as you shut the front door behind you.

“What happened here?” Tom laughed when he noticed a open box of cereal on the ground with cheerios all around it.

“Oh, I uh, I fell.” You said and looked to the side.

“Did you throw an open cereal box at a spider again?” Tom asked skeptically.

“Maybe.” You mumbled.

“Darling. Just hit it with the-“

“The smackazine. I know.” You rolled your eyes. “I just get too scared to get close enough to actually smack it.”

“You should’ve called me sooner. I would’ve demonstrated the proper way to use a smackazine.” Tom said as he rolled up a nearby magazine and hit it against his hand.

“Oh yeah? And what exactly is the proper way?” You humored him and tapped your chin.

“Just like this.” Tom said before smacking you with the rolled up magazine. You screamed and ran away from him, only encouraging him to chase you. You ran from him and jumped over the couch but he caught up to you. And grabbed you by the waist and threw you onto the couch before smacking you all over with the magazine as he straddled your waist.

“Don’t hit me! Do I look like a spider to you?” You asked and tried to hold him off of you. Tom stopped smacking you and gave you a look.

“Do you want an honest answer?”

“Hey!” You pretended to be offended and ripped the magazine out of his hands to smack him with it. He laughed and knocked it out of you hands and when you were caught off guard by it falling to the floor, he held your face in one hand and kissed you. You melted into the kiss and pulled him closer by his shirt as the confusion from the night before melted away. Now that he was here, you didn’t care about getting answers anymore. You just wanted to enjoy your time with him. You made out on your couch for a while until you needed to pull away for air.

“I’m so happy we’re finally together. I’ve wanted this for a long time.” You said in a soft voice as you traced patterns on his cheek with your fingernail.

“So did I. I had no idea you felt the same.” Tom said as he stared into your eyes with a soft smile.

“I didn’t either at first. I wasn’t sure if I really liked you or if I was just caught up in the magic of filming. But I missed kissing you and acting like your girlfriend the second we wrapped. That’s when I knew my feelings were real.”

“So we started dating after we wrapped?” Tom whispered to himself as pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

“What was that?” You asked.

“I just said I knew it right away.” He quickly covered up. “I liked you from the day we met. I just never imagined you’d like me back. That’s why I never officially asked you out.”

“I knew it. That’s why I didn’t realize when we started dating. It’s because he never officially asked me out.” You thought but didn’t say out loud.

“You didn’t need to. I just knew.” You shrugged and smiled wider.

“I had absolutely no idea and he can never know that.” You thought inside your head but kept your smile.

“She can never know that I never actually asked her out. I’m glad she thinks I did so that I never actually had to do it, but she can never know the truth.” Tom thought to himself. You noticed from his expression that he was deep in thought and touched his face to get his attention.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked as you pushed some hair off his forehead. Tom snapped back to reality and smiled shyly.

“You. And how long I’ve waited to do this.” He said before connecting your lips in a kiss again. This time, it was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

“Oh. It’s my mum.” He read off his phone.

“What did she say?”

“She said Harry told her about us and now she wants a family dinner.” He said as the color drained from his face. The thought of sitting down for a family dinner where his brothers knew the truth about the ambiguity of the beginning of your relationship while you and his mom were in the dark put a pit of dread in his stomach.

“Aw. When?”

“Next Saturday. We don’t have to do it, though.” He said and hoped you’d agree.

“No, I’d love to.” You told him, making him gulp.

“You would?”

“Totally. It’ll make her happy and I love spending time with your family. It can be our first dinner date as an official couple.”

“All right. I’ll tell her yes.” Tom gulped again and reluctantly agreed to the dinner. He didn’t know how, but he knew the truth would come out at the dinner. That meant he had exactly a week to figure out how your relationship began or he’s have nothing to say when his mom asked at the dinner.

“Perfect.” You smiled, having no idea about the turmoil Tom was going through over this. He decided to push it from his mind and worry about it when he had to.

Tom ended up staying over the entire day despite having spent the whole day with you the day before. You cooked dinner together and felt like a couple that had been married for years instead of the new couple that you were. There was laughing, kissing, and a closeness that didn’t exist when you were just friends only a day ago. You loved this new relationship, but you couldn’t stop wondering when it began.

You ended up on the couch again after eating and laid on top of each other as you talked about whatever came to mind. You lost track of time as you chatted and eventually felt yourself growing tired. When you let out a yawn, Tom checked the time on his phone.

“Damn, it’s 1 am already? I should probably get going. I don’t want to keep you up any longer.” Tom said as he got off the couch.

“You don’t have to go.” You said and tugged him back onto the couch.

“I don’t? Don’t you want to go to sleep?” He asked genuinely. You didn’t make eye contact with him as you toyed with a loose string on your jumper.

“Well, I was just thinking. You would go home after hanging out when we were just friends. But since we’re dating now….” You trailed off and slowly looked into his eyes.

“I could spend the night?” He asked when he realized what you were hinting at.

“Only if you-“

“Yes.” Tom said immediately, making you laugh.

“Sorry. I meant, yes, I’d love that.” He said in a calmer tone as his heart beat out of his chest.

“Okay. Good.” You smiled coyly. “We could watch a movie or something.”

“Uh huh. A movie. Sounds good.” Tom was barely listening as he never took his eyes off you. You scrolled through Netflix for a few seconds before putting on something random. Neither of you had any intention of watching, you just wanted to see who’d make the first move.

The first twenty minutes of the movie went by with you and Tom sneaking glances at each other every few seconds. By the third time you made eye contact with him, you turned to face him.

“Are you enjoying the movie?” You asked with a coy smile.

“I don’t even know what movie is on the screen right now.” Tom answered honestly.

“Do you want to turn it off and do something else?” You asked innocently and scooted closer to him.

“Did you have something in mind?” He asked and slid closer to you.

“There is this one thing I think we could try.” You said, just inches from his face now.

“I think you might be a mind reader, darling.” Tom said before connecting his lips to yours.

You woke up the morning in Tom’s arms with your bedsheets tangled around you. You knew your sheets were stained with the scent of his cologne now and smiled at the thought of falling asleep to that later. You turned around in his arms so you were facing him just as he was waking up. He yawned a little as his eyes fluttered open and smiled the second he realized last night wasn’t a dream. You laughed shyly and covered your face with your hands, but he just pushed them away to kiss you.

“So.” He said as he stared into your eyes.

“So.” You sighed happily. “Breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry yet. I need to work up an appetite.” Tom said and climbed right back on top of you.

After a week, the day of the dinner had arrived and Tom still hadn’t figured out how your relationship began. You spent a majority of that week together and despite that, Tom was just as lost as he was the first time you kissed him. You, on the other hand, had completely forgotten about finding out when your relationship began. It wasn’t until you were on the steps of his childhood home that you realized that if his mom asked you how you got together, you wouldn’t know how to answer her.

“Are you ready for this?” Tom asked when he noticed the panicked look on your face. You quickly smiled and slipped your hand into his.

“I am. Cause I got you.” You said before knocking on the door.

“Ah! They’re here! Come in, come in.” Tom’s mom, Nikki, said when she opened the door. You both walked in and she pulled the two of you into a hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it. Come to the kitchen and I’ll make you a drink.” Nikki said as she led you to the kitchen. You went to say hello to Tom’s dad and brothers as Tom talked to his mom.

“So Tom, I’ve been dying to ask you. When did you guys finally get together?” His mom asked as he poured Tom a drink.

“Oh, uh….” Tom trailed off and pretended he was thirty. He took a long sip of his drink because he knew that once he stopped drinking, he’d have to answer his mom. When Tom’s drink finally ran out, he looked at the empty glass before looking at his Kim.

“Excuse me for a second. I have to…poop.” Tom lied and quickly dashed out of the room. He saw Harry and Sam in the living room and grabbed them both by the backs of their shirt collars. They both let out a yelp as Tom yanked them into the hallway.

“Boy meeting.” He whispered harshly and formed a huddle while Sam and Harry rubbed their sore necks.

“I need someone to find out how Y/n and I started dating because I cannot figure it out for the life of me.” Tom said in a low voice.

“How are we supposed to find out if you couldn’t?” Harry whispered.

“Because I can’t just ask my girlfriend when we started dating. But you can. Whoever gets the answer gets a million dollars.”

“For real?” Sam’s eyes widened.

“No, but I’ll let you try on the Spiderman suit.”

“Bullshit. I’ve already tried it on.” Harry scoffed.

“Me too.” Sam nodded.

“Same here.” Paddy said, making the other three jump.

“Paddy? When did you get here?” Tom asked.

“18 years ago. Thanks for noticing.” Paddy rolled his eyes. “And since when have you been dating Y/n?”

“I don’t know.” Tom, Harry, and Sam said in unison.

“Well what’s our incentive for finding out?” Paddy questioned and the other two agreed.

“Oh my God. Fine. What do you want?”

“A million dollars.” Paddy said.

“No.”

“A hundred dollars.” Sam suggested.

“No.”

“A dollar.” Harry said with a wicked smile.

“Yeah. Sure fine. I’ll give you a dollar.” Tom agreed with a roll of his eyes.

“Fuck you all I’m winning this.” Harry said and ran to find you. He soon found you setting the table in the dining room and approached you with and eerie grin.

“Hey there, sister in law.”

“Slow down.” You chuckled. “We’re not there yet. Tom and I have only been dating for….”

You trailed off when you realized you didn’t have an amount of time to give him. Harry hung on to your every word, thinking he was about to get the answer, only to be disappointed.

“…a short amount of time.” You said after a beat and hoped Harry wouldn’t notice. Harry 100% noticed and felt his eye twitch as he kept his huge smile.

“I know, you silly billy. I’m just so excited that you two crazy kids are finally together. So tell me, how did it finally happen?”

“He didn’t tell you?” You laughed nervously, beginning to panic now that Harry was asking the exact questions you didn’t have the answers to.

“Of course he told me.” Harry lied. “I just want to hear it from your perspective.”

“I’m sure I won’t have any details to add. It’s whatever he said.” You shrugged as you finished setting the table. Harry stared at you for a long time before letting out a sigh of defeat.

“You owe me a dollar.”

“What?”

“What?” Harry asked as he left the room. He found his brothers in the hallway and hung in head in shame.

“I lost. I’m gonna go kill myself so thank your girlfriend for me, Tom.” Harry grumbled and walked to his bedroom with his head hanging low.

“Don’t worry, Tom. Your big brothers got this.” Sam said and patted Tom’s shoulder.

“You’re not my big brother.” Tom pointed out.

“I know. That’s why I’m definitely gonna disappoint you.” Sam smiled proudly before leaving the hallway. He went and found you in the kitchen now and casually leaned against the wall.

“Hey you.” He smiled and poked your chest. You looked down at where his finger had been before giving him a strange look.

“No. I am not explaining how tampons work again. I already explained it once and it’s not my fault that you passed out.” You said and folded your arms.

“That’s not what I was gonna ask.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Although I still don’t understand how it stays up there with nothing to hold it up there.”

“I’m leaving.” You said and tried to walk away.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Sam stopped you. “I just wanted to ask about you and Tom. I am just tickled pink that you two are finally together. Do tell me, how did that happen?”

“I’m not talking about this with you. You’re putting off a real creepy vibe right now and I do not feel safe.”

“What? You’re totally safe. Just tell me how you and Tom started dating or I’ll kill you.”

“See you later, Sam.” You chuckled and walked away. Sam let out a sigh and retreated back to the boys.

“How did it go?” Tom asked.

“I threatened to kill her.” Sam said quietly.

“Oh my God.” Tom groaned and rubbed his eyes.

“Leave it to me. I’m getting that dollar if it kills me.” Paddy rubbed his hands together and went to find you. As soon as you saw him coming, you grimaced and braced yourself for what was coming.

“Hey, Y/n.” Paddy greeted you.

“Why are you all being so weird today?” You whined.

“Hold tight. I haven’t even been as weird as I’m gonna be yet.” Paddy warned you.

“Oh no.” You groaned and looked up at the ceiling.

“I just want to know how you and Tom started dating and nobody gets hurt.” Paddy said and pulled out finger guns. You looked at his fingers guns and let out a sigh before pulling him to the side.

“I have no fucking idea.” You whispered to him.

“Huh?”

“Harry texted me like a week ago and said that Tom said we were dating and I felt too guilty to correct him and say that we weren’t because I didn’t want Tom to feel bad if he really thought we were dating. But then I thought that maybe we were dating and I just hadn’t realized it so I went along with it and now everyone keeps asking me how we got together and I have no fucking idea.” You whined and looked around incase anyone was listening.

“Oh.” Paddy frowned when he learned the truth.

“Paddy, you cannot tell Tom. He can never know. It’ll break his heart.”

“Uh huh.” Paddy nodded too many times and knew he was immediate going to tell Tom.

“Can you promise me you won’t tell?”

“I can promise you that.”

“Thank God.”

“For a million dollars.” Paddy continued.

“How about one dollar?” You folded your arms.

“Deal.” Paddy agreed. You pulled a dollar out of your pocket, handed it to him, and sent him on his way.

“Well? Did she tell you?” Tom asked when paddy came back.

“She did tell me. And then she bought my silence.” Paddy smirked and held up his dollar.

“What? What the hell happened in there?” Tom whispered harshly when he saw the dollar in his brothers hands.

“You’ll never know.” Paddy laughed menacingly before leaving the hallway.

“You all failed me. Now I’m never gonna know and she’s gonna find out and dump me and hate me forever. And it’s all your fault.” Tom said and pointed to Sam and Harry.

“Our fault? You’re the idiot who didn’t realize when he started his girlfriend.” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah. You’re on your own now. In fact, I hope she breaks up with you and takes all your dollars.” Sam scoffed.

“Me too.” Harry agreed before walking away.

“Boys! Dinner!” Nikki called from the dinning room. Tom hung his head in defeat and trudged into the dining room. He took a seat next to you and gulped, knowing there was no more avoiding the question. You noticed Tom’s pained expression and put your hand on top of his.

“You okay?” You mouthed to him. Tom’s mom saw the interaction and smiled to herself.

“I’m so happy you two finally got together.” She sighed. “I knew it would happen. But come on now. I want details. How did it happen?”

You and Tom tensed up as the most feared questioned had now been asked. Everyone turned to look at the two of you and you felt the pressure rising.

“Oh. You know.” You laughed and waved your hand, hoping that would suffice.

“Actually, I don’t know.” Harry raised his hand to say.

“What? Who’s side are you on?” Tom whispered to him.

“Justice.” Harry whispered back.

“I haven’t heard the story yet.” Tom’s dad spoke up, making you both snap your attention to him with angry looks.

“Tom, why don’t you tell the story?” You said and patted his hand.

“No, no. You tell it much better than I do. You tell it.” Tom said and put his hand on top of yours.

“No, you. I insist.” You replied and put your hand back on top.

“Someone tell the fucking story.” Paddy deadpanned.

“Patrick.” Nikki gasped and looked at him.

“Who said that?” Paddy gasped even louder and looked behind him.

“It was…after…we wrapped.” Tom said slowly and carefully watched your face for any indication on if he was right or wrong.

“Yeah. We didn’t start dating until after we finished shooting.” You agreed with him. He thought he had guessed correctly while you thought you were finally finding out what really happened.

“But how did it happen?” Nikki urged. “Who confessed their feelings first?”

You and Tom looked at each other, expecting the other to answer. When you realized at the same time that the other was just as confused, you both started to get suspicious.

“Tom did?” You answered but it came out like a question. Tom frowned and furrowed his eyebrows because that did not line up with what little he knew. He would’ve remembered telling you how he felt and knew that he never had until after he thought you were together.

“I did.” He said, making you sigh in relief that you had guessed correctly.

“But only after Y/n told me how she felt.” He continued, confusing you all over again.

“Huh?” You blurted then quickly took a sip of water to make it look like you hadn’t said anything. It was too late, of course, and the family looked at you in confusion.

“Did you not tell him how you felt?” Nikki laughed in confusion.

“No, I did.” You quickly lied. You didn’t remember doing it, but clearly Tom thought you had, so you went along with it.

“Well what did you say? I want the romantic details, guys. How did you phrase it?” Nikki gushed.

“Aw, Tom. Tell your mom how I phrased it.” You smiled at him as you internally panicked. You didn’t have the slightest clue on how you phrased it since you had no memory of ever doing such a thing.

Tom, on the other hand, was just as lost as you were. He didn’t remember you ever telling him you had feelings for him. All he remembered was you kissing him goodbye that one night and then telling Harry that you were dating. If there had been a confession at any point, he surely would’ve remembered.

“No.” Tom said suddenly, making everyone look at him. You felt a jolt of dread, thinking he had realized that you didn’t know when you’d started dating.

“I won’t tell you because it was a special moment between us and I want to keep it private. For now, at least. Maybe we’ll tell you one day but for now, it stays between us.” Tom answered and put his hand back on top of yours. You sighed in relief and leaned in to kiss him to thank him for unknowingly saving you in that situation. Little did you know, Tom had just pulled that answer out of his ass and hoped his family would believe it so that he never had to and it that he had no idea how you ended up together.

To both of your relief, his family bought it. They thought Tom’s answer was perfect and therefore stopped asking questions. Tom didn’t know why Paddy laughed and shook his head when he gave his answer, but he decided not to question it. You got through the rest of the dinner and said your goodbyes after some tea and dessert. On the drive back to your place, Tom kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding your hand.

“That was a little stressful, I’m not gonna lie.” You chuckled as you looked out the window.

“A little? Darling, that was the most nerve wracking dinner of my life. I think my hair went gray a little just from sitting through that.”

“Aw, that’s okay. I still like you.” You laughed and squeezed his hand. He looked over at you with a smile before looking back at the road.

“Just out of curiosity, when do you think we got together?” You asked and held your breath waiting for the answer. Tom initially panicked at this question, then decided to bite the bullet.

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t even realize we were officially a couple until you kissed me that night.” Tom admitted and looked over at you to see your reaction. You were frowning, only because this answer didn’t line up.

“That night you hit me with the smackazine?” You asked.

“No. When we hung out the night before that.” Tom explained, only making your confusion grow.

“I didn’t kiss you that night.” You laughed in surprise. Tom tried to keep his eyes on the road but couldn’t help looking at you with wide eyes. The entire reason he thought you were dating was because you kissed him that night, and now you were denying it?

“Yes, you did. You 100% kissed me that night as I was leaving. And I’m glad you did because I wouldn’t have realized we were a thing if you hadn’t.” Tom said. You fell silent and when he finally looked over at you, you were looking at him with a stunned expression.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He laughed nervously.

“Tom, I did not mean to kiss you that night. It must’ve been out of habit since we had just finished filming. I didn’t even realize I had done it until now.”

“What?” Tom practically shrieked. “But that night, you told Harry we were dating.”

“Only because he told me that you said we were dating. I just assumed we had started dating without me realizing it.”

“But that’s what I thought.”

“Why’d you think that?”

“Because you kissed me goodbye that night!” Tom exclaimed and then went quiet.

“Ohhhhh.” You remembered it now. “I see now that this was my fault all along.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. We just confused each other.” Tom laughed now that guy had gotten to the bottom of the situation.

“Did we gaslight ourselves into thinking we were dating?” You laughed as well.

“I think we might’ve.” Tom nodded and looked over at you with a smile. You returned the smiled felt peace for the first time all night. Your relationship may not have started in a traditional way, but it started, and that was all the mattered.

“Honestly, I don’t care how it started. I only care that it never ends.” You told him, making his smile grow.

“So this is us confessing our feelings? In case my mum ever asks?” He teased.

“Your mom can never know the truth. This conversation stays between us.” You chuckled and gave his hand another squeeze.

“Darling, as long as there’s an “us” for it to stay between, I’m good.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever

@undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ ​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman

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@electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[bradtomlovesya]

In The End

Tom Holland x reader

Summary: You and Tom are triying to get to his parent's house for new year's.

Warnings: a little angsty but fluff in the end.

A/N: A little bit late but here you have a little imagine about new year's. Happy New Year Everybody. I hope you like it!

w/c: 1.5k +

"We promised we'd be with your parents for New Year's" you tear off your nail polish with your teeth. A horrible habit that pops up every time you feel anxious.

"And we will" Tom nods and looks out the train window at the white snow covering the once green pastures.

Just because it took a while doesn't mean you live far from Tom's parents' house. The problem was that you were at your parents' house and they do live a bit far away.

"The train is late and it's 9pm," you stress the obvious as your knee goes up and down rapidly.

You hated being late for the festivities. Especially because you didn't want to spend New Year's Eve on a train while Tom's family waited for you.

"Babe" Tom lets his hand rest on your leg so you stop moving it. "We'll be fine. There's not much travel left and we still have time. I've already warned them and they understand so don't worry."

"This wouldn't be happening if you hadn't left your shower until the last minute. Not to mention you couldn't find your shoes." You grumble still peeling off the polish.

"Uh uh." Your boyfriend shakes his head. "I know you. I know what you're doing and I'm not going along with it."

"And what am I doing according to you? Telling the truth?" You frown. "Because if you'd been ready earlier we wouldn't have missed a train only to wait for the next one only to find out it was late."

"You're looking for an argument because you're anxious. You're trying to find blame because your mind won't stop thinking about what would have been or what could have been." Chestnut carefully removes your hand from your mouth so you stop ruining your enamel.

You inhale deeply and look down at his hand in yours. It's true. Another of your many habits.

"Why do you know me so well?" You look him straight in the eye.

"Because I pay attention to detail and know how to save arguments" he kisses your hand and steals a faint smile.

"Thank you" you kiss his hand too and take a deep breath.

"Nothing to thank" he kisses your forehead on the table that separates them and takes your handbag. "You brought the nail polish, didn't you?" he asks as he reaches into it.

"Yep. It's right there" he nods and you watch him lick his lips as he searches.

"Bingo!" he smiles and places it on the table. "Lend me your hand, I'll fix what you ruined."

"You're a total prince charming," you hold out your hand and watch him paint two of your nails with concentration.

"I'm getting better and better at this, I should do this for a living," he adds mockingly.

"I won't deny that they look much better than the first time you did them." You nod.

"Hey, that wasn't so bad. Or was it?" He looks at you for a few seconds.

"You tried to clean the edges with your fingers and since you couldn't you did it with a t-shirt which by the way is now ruined" you laugh remembering him "plus you did it from the outside in, not from the front out." You laugh more.

"Well, maybe it was a bit of a disaster," he nods with a laugh and blows your nails.

You look at him in admiration. How could you have been so lucky in life that you ended up with someone like him?

"Thank you" you smile broadly as he puts a coat of glitter over the colour. "You always know how to calm me down.

"I do my best" he concentrates on coating your nails with product. "You've always done the same for me" he says matter-of-factly.

You're calmer and it's all thanks to him. The pre-occupation leaves your body as soon as he uses his magic on you.

You want to marry him. You want it more than anything but you don't want to rush it. He'll talk to you about it when he's ready.

The train stops at around 11:12 pm. That means you have less than an hour to get home to your parents. One unpleasant surprise is that there aren't many taxis available.

The drivers must be spending New Year's with their families, you think. You should have been with Tom's family a long time ago.

"Tom, we're not going to make it in time" you roll your suitcase along the tarmac while your boyfriend is on the lookout for a taxi and an Uber at the same time.

"We will, I know we will. Okay?" He walks through the cold streets with you by his side.

The sound of wheels on tarmac keeps you busy. At least you try to, it's too cold to think.

"Tom..." you sigh, looking at your watch. 11:23 pm

"My family's house isn't far, for now let's keep moving until a taxi or uber finds us" his gaze is on his phone and on the road every time he hears a car pass by.

As you walk, a car speeds by and, because it had rained earlier, the vehicle drives over a large puddle of water and splashes it on you and Tom.

"This has got to be a joke" you complain, totally soaked, sad and annoyed.

"You idiot!" Tom exclaims but the driver is too far away to hear.

"This isn't right" You're cold, tired, hungry and anxious. You are not a good combination.

"Maybe the universe is trying to tell us something. We should give up and find a hotel." Sighs Tom, tired enough as it is. Tom never gives up and yet he's doing it right now.

You can't let him. You know how much he wanted to be with his family for New Year's.

"No," you deny. "We've come this far" you take your hand. "Let's go to that bank, swap our coats for some dry ones while we've got our suitcases, and set a fare that no driver can refuse." You smile slightly. He's been your rock, now it's up to you to be his.

"You don't have to do this. I know you're tired and it was my fault in the first place" he sighs and lowers his head.

"That doesn't matter now, love. Come on, let's go. You'll see your family for New Year's even if we're a little late."

"Okay..." she murmurs and walks with you to that bench to change their coats. You place a £300 value in the app and wait for someone to take it. A New Year's miracle is what you both need right now.

A driver accepts as soon as you are about to give up and better keep walking. You both get into the car in the back and ask the driver to turn on the heater. Both your trousers are wet and your hair is a mess.

"Sorry about that" the hazel-eyed one takes your hand and tucks a damp strand of your hair behind your ear.

"It's okay. I'm sorry I was a little anxious," you kiss the tip of his nose making him smile.

"Don't apologise for that," he denies. "Anyone in your place would have left me" he inhales deeply.

"Well then, I'll never do that." You deny. "But next time we'll take the train a day earlier" you laugh.

"I'm totally fine with that," he kisses your forehead. Public kissing is not your thing.

The car arrives at around 11:55pm and you smile internally. 5 minutes early is much better than 5 minutes late. The man driving helps you unload your bags.

"I think they made a mistake with the price, it's only £11. The man adds.

"It wasn't a mistake." Tom denies and hands £500 to the guy who does his best not to cry. "Happy New Year" he smiles and so do you.

"Happy New Year" he utters with a lump in his throat. Apparently he needed the money urgently. That's why he was working in the New Year.

"I really love everything about you. Especially how you help the people around you" you take his hand and both enter the property, ring the doorbell and wait.

"Well, if I can help, you know I will." He leaves a heartfelt kiss on your lips before the door opens and his family lets the two of you in.

As everyone talks about how worried you and Tom were, you can only be thankful that you got home just in time.

The clock strikes midnight. You're both soaking wet and freezing cold but that doesn't stop him from grabbing you around the waist and kissing you as the new year begins.

"Happy New Year, darling." His face shows those perfect little wrinkles next to his eyes that you love so much.

"Happy New Year, Tommy," you smile and blush. His family took a few steps back to give you two some privacy but you know they saw the whole thing.

The important thing is that in the end, everything went well.

|°|°|°|°|

Tom Holland Tags: @raajali3 @fangirling-galore @rogertherabbitt @powerpuffluuvv @august-cardigan @itszulli @hallecarey1 @luvmarissaaa @xoxokiaraaxoxo @kaitieskidmore1 @lnmp89 @pure-a-tea @vixparker @army24--7 @spiderydreams00 @nani-2305 @mochimm @ietss @prancerrparkerr @hpsgirlrw @hollandweather

[vangoghsmissingearr]

Thinking of the fact that Tom Holland could literally just talk about Lockwood and Co one time cause Paddy Holland plays Bobby. And the show would have 8283747383 more chances of getting renewed.

[cameronspecial]

Masterlist

Welcome to my writing! Hope you find what you are looking for and if you don’t, then requests are closed. Also just comment or send me a message if you want to be a part of any of my taglists.

Rafe Cameron | 2

Drew Starkey

Zach MacLaren

Anthony Lockwood

George Karim

Evan Buckley

Tom Holland

Peter Parker

[youandtom2]

Request if you want it: Tom is playing at a golf event and reader is a journalist there. She absolutely can't stand him, because she finds out he is quite arrogant and full of himself. They go after each other throughout the whole day with sarcastic remarks. But somehow (you can fill in the details) Tom seduces her by the end and he gets her on her knees and he totally dominates her, making her choke and gag. And he embarrasses her by making her feel his muscles and beg to suck him off and he boasts about how easily he got her in the palm of his hand. :P

(14/07/22) brain go brrrrrrrrrrr THIS REQUEST!!!!

a/n (28/06/23): This was a request that was sent in and one that I had started last year that I really wanted to finish. Apologies to the anon who sent this in and waited for it whoops. This was supposed to be short but I clearly don't fucking know what short means so here's like 7k or something???

Anyway here's 'A Word for the Youth Diary?' Shitty title I know but I literally can't think of anything else.

MASTERLIST

"The weather is absolutely gorgeous here at St. Andrews' Castle Course, celebrating the first 'Pro Amateur' charity competition where a host of celebrities, socialites or anyone with a keen passion for golf can compete. A number of spectators have gathered around the course, eager to soak up the buzzing atmosphere, the scenic landscape and the presence of Hollywood stars, all in the views of the warm Scottish sun. Now that's something I never expected to say!"

The red light of your recorder dims as you press pause on your commentary. You made the switch to recorder a few years back when journalism became too close to drowning in a number of scribbled, illegible notes written far too quickly. Now it is a simple case of pressing record and pressing pause.

Of course, wherever there is a flock of celebrities congregating in the one area for the week, there will always be flock of paparazzi and journalists close by, each with the same agenda. It usually feels like mission impossible to get a word in with a celebrity or document anything of note or interest when there's a wall of other journalists blocking your way, but today those things won't be a problem. Because you’re not going after who may probably be the most coveted celebrity here. Tom Holland.

You don't quite don't know where it stemmed from; your strong dislike towards Tom Holland. In all honesty, your hatred towards him is very self-inflicted, but there's something about his ego that paints him in a very arrogant light. He knows he's hot shit with the press, he knows everyone fancies the man, he knows that his many talents has sky-rocketed him up the societal ladder and onto the throne of the rich and wealthy. What makes him double as frustrating than he is arrogant is that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's Hollywood's golden boy; ever the humble, handsome, kind, charity-giving actor that has claimed the hearts of many across the world. It's what makes your hatred towards him completely unjustified, so while no one shares the same view as you, there is some things you can do to quietly preach your opinions.

"First to arrive at the course is the notable Tom Holland, waving to the crowd with a smile, loving the attention as ever. Although I'm not sure that his mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire will receive the same compliments!"

The smirk on your lips lasts for the majority of the day as you talk incessantly into your recorder. Your goal isn't necessarily to shit on Tom, only when the opportunity presents itself of course, like when he swung the golf club at an awkward angle, sending the ball straight over the forest and into the sand bunker.

"Oooh, what a poor shot from Tom Holland. He'll be disappointed with that one. Perhaps leaning towards the 'amateur' side of the competition in comparison to some other competitors. Tom Holland yet again teaching us a valuable lesson in life; just because you're a pro at one thing doesn't mean you're a pro at everything else."

The crowd politely applauded and off he went with his caddie. While others followed, you choose to stay rooted while you wait for Mark Wahlberg to walk up to the tee. He's who you've been waiting for all afternoon. Getting a word in with him would set you up for the highlight of your career.

"Mark! Over here! Mr. Wahlberg! A word for the Youth Diary? Mr. Wahlberg!"

As it seems, Mark calmly maneuvers way past the wall of journalists, paying them, and you, no mind and strolls over to the starting point. Damn. You have to get a word with him somehow.

"Mark Wahlberg takes a mighty swing and thrashes the golf ball high into the air, and the crowd watches in astonishment as it sails its way over towards the green, a hair's breadth away from perfection as it rolls upon the hill. A round of applause circles around Mark as he proudly walks on with the confidence of a man who's set on winning this competition."

As the hours tick by, you find yourself without any luck. Those first few minutes of the competition were stuck in a loop, constantly experiencing deja vu of having to witness Tom Holland's unlucky shot followed by being ignored by Mark Wahlberg. You haven't had one decent interaction with anyone yet. Things are getting a little desperate.

You even begin to understand why the majority of journalists are following Tom Holland like a lost flock of sheep; he's very chatty. He stops at every turn to give his narration on his own playing, offers a brief insight to the projects he is currently working on, and if he likes you, even spill some of the secrets of his private life. It's a journalist's dream, one that you haven't even had the taste of yet since Mark Wahlberg is as accessible as the vaults of the Bank of England. Anyone with common sense would advise you to follow the crowd and ignore your bias towards him and just interview Tom Holland if it means you have something worth printing.

Oh no, no, no, no, no, no. Not a chance. He gets enough attention as it is.

"Mr Wahlberg! A word on your new film? Could you tell us about Uncharted! Mark! Over here!"

Not even a glance is spared your way in yet another attempt to get his attention. From your left, a voice emerges. A fellow reporter sidles himself next to you, away from the crowd that follows Tom Holland. You spot the Sky Sports label wrapped around his microphone.

"He doesn't like to speak much to the press. Thinks that he'll say something and they'll twist his words," he sympathies. It's genuine, obvious that he too has been caught up in the same frustration you've been facing all afternoon. At least he has a little more insight as to why you haven't gotten a word from Mark.

"Yeah, I figured. It wouldn't hurt just to say hello and have a small chat. What could the press twist about that? If anything, I think he's damaging his reputation by not saying anything. It's rude, y'know?"

He nods his head in agreement, but the sigh he blows doesn't seem to match. "You have to let it go though. They're not obliged to tell us anything. This is just a day out for them, they're not getting paid so why should they have to say anything about their work? It's just our luck whether they choose to talk to us."

"Ugh, I guess you're right, but I still need something for my article."

"Sky Sports has had lots from Tom. Why don't you try your luck with him? He seems to be a lot chattier than Mark. I don't know much about film journalism, only sports, so I don't know what it is you're looking for. But if you ask him anything, I'm sure he's willing to provide."

You look to him with contempt in your eyes, your lack of smile instantly shuts down his suggestion.

"I appreciate the suggestion but no. He's too easy. Think of how many journalists are here desperate to get a word in about sports, golf, acting, celebrity personal lives, all that show biz. If everyone shared the one source, audiences wouldn't bother reading them all because they all be the same, boring stuff. Think about it. If you, and 30 other journalists had the chance to interview Ronaldo, you would all take it because after all its Ronaldo. The only downside would be that you would then have 30 articles all saying the same thing and audience getting bored after reading 1. Now think about having the chance to interview Messi. It would be hard but total payout if you got it. Plus, you would stand out from the rest and that's what would gain audiences' attention."

Once again, the reporter sighs. "Look, kid. I've been in this job for 20 years and I've learned that sometimes you just have to cut your losses. If your objective is to get something to write about for your article, then you should do it however and whatever way you can, doesn't matter who the source is. If your objective is to get something from Mark Wahlberg specifically? Then you should scrap the whole article and try again. Something is better than nothing."

"I refuse to take anything from Tom Holland."

"Suit yourself. Good luck. Oh, by the way, I think you're still recording. Wouldn't want you to get your chance with Mark only to realise you have no storage left on your recorder."

You mumble a weak thanks and remember to press the pause button on your recorder. The reporter saunters away back towards the crowd, your only indication of knowing where Tom Holland is. You consider it for a second, but determination drives you away, following Mark to the next hole.

~~~~

It's all to play for in the final hole with only two possible candidates capable of winning the trophy. Currently sitting in the lead is the elusive, mysterious Mark Wahlberg, strolling casually along to the final hole with his team behind him. Ah, and of course, next in line is Tom Holland soaking up the attention as he strings along behind Mark Wahlberg like an apprentice would their mentor. It's not clear whether the confidence he walks with is a poorly executed imitation of his acting mentor ahead of him, or whether it is a man deluded with besting him. All will be revealed within the hour.

It's well into the evening of the Pro Amateur competition and the luck that reporter wished you earlier has yet to find you. With the final hole well underway, you're starting to think that it never will. So far, you've gotten a few short, curt answers from other celebrities here but nothing near the sustenance your article needs. If only Mark could stop being so stubborn.

"One at a time please guys, one at a time." Tom's smug, arrogant tone of voice emerges from behind you and not too soon after, tens of other voices asking him questions. As he makes his way nearer, so do the swarm of people and in an attempt to get out of the way, you're stampeded by the press. Bumped, shoved and pushed, you struggle to find your balance and fall precariously on your knees with your equipment tumbling from your bag. In all honesty it didn't hurt, but what an inconvenience picking up all your bits and bobs. Ugh it's all his fault.

Before you do anything irrational and say something you shouldn't, you pack up your stuff and walk away.

The competition concludes with a twist that no one was expecting. With a gust of wind getting the better of Mark Wahlberg, it earned him a double bogey and cost him the trophy, annoyingly snatched up by Tom who achieved victory with a birdie. You seethe at the sight of Tom holding up the golden trophy, soaking up the champagne that his teammates spray all over him and hearing the applause from everyone, even you as a slow, lethargic clap rings from your hands. All to just to keep up the pretence of 'liking him' of course. Ugh, why did he have to win?

After a day of being the lone ranger in a journalists mission, you concede to following the crowd into the conference room where many like you await behind a wall of microphones and a valley of cables to hear from today's competitors. And Mark Wahlberg is one of them. This might be your chance to get a question in. Quick! Where's your recorder?

Fuck. It's not in your bag. Where is it? You rummage through your bag again and it's definitely not there. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where could it be? Did you lose it when you fell over? Has it been stolen? Fuck, you really need that!

You have no other option but to record from your phone and in your quiet, subdued panic, you try your best to catch anything he has to say. The quality isn't great and it's picking up outside noise to the point that articulation has no place on your recording. Sweating at the loss of some expensive equipment and valuable content, your phone drops and the clatter of it paints a mountain on its waveform, rendering the recording useless. Fuck, if you hadn't lost your recorder.

People start to look at you in your fluster and your legs starts bobbing erratically. The attention is too much and it's exactly why you prefer to stay behind the microphone and not in front of it. You have to leave. At the next possible opportunity, you end your recording and begin to make your way through the aisle, apologising profusely to the other journalists who wait for Tom Holland to make an appearance.

You just about make the double doors of the conference room when you hear Tom's voice welcoming the room.

"Before I start, I wanted to check to see if this was anyone's recorder..."

Everything about you stops dead in its tracks; your feet, your heart, your breathing, your entire existence. Nervously, you spin around to spot Tom Holland holding your recorder in his hands, fingers fluttering around its buttons. How the hell did he get his thieving hands on it?!

A pit opens up in your stomach at the dreaded thought of having to announce yourself in front of everyone to claim it. But damn, you really need your recorder back.

Braving the nightmare, your hand raises half-heartedly into the air. "Uh...it's mine. Sorry, I must've dropped it."

Tom's deep brown eyes lock onto yours from the stage and he throws, what you think, a sickly smile before he offers up the most ridiculous idea. "I can set to record if you want. I can sit it riiiiight here." He sits it directly in front of him and sends you a sly wink. It's a spot any journalist would dream of having their microphone; right under their nose on the off-chance that anything muttered under their breaths or whispered discreetly would be picked up. Journalists are a sucker for secrets. Quite frankly, you don't care for his secrets, you don't care for his thoughts on today's events, and you really don't care for what he has to say at all.

But the only reason why you end up saying yes is because you care more about what people would think of you if you gave up an opportunity like that.

"Sure. Thanks."

You proceed to endure 15 minutes of Tom glorifying himself in front of the press. God, it's embarrassing. You could plainly hear the snide tone underneath the guise of 'self-evaluation'. Everyone seems to soak it up like a sponge, praising him for his insightful words and self awareness, writing nothing but positive words about the actor. Whatever. You wish you could drown him out but your paranoia is rooted to your recorder at his table, thinking the worst outcome as his fingers toying with its external case. What if he doesn't know how to work it and accidentally erases all you had from today? One slip up and it's gone. Your eyes constantly flicker from your recorder to him and no matter who he's speaking to or where he's looking, he always manages to catch your gaze.

Already outside your comfort zone, you audibly whimper when you see him lightly tap the little trash button at the end of the recorder, miles away from the stop, pause and play buttons that you would regularly use. You would only ever press that button with intention, it’s pretty to hard to press it accidentally. Even without knowing how to work the recorder, it doesn't take an idiot to know what that means, so watching Tom play with it tells you that he is whole-heartedly toying with you, enjoying the view of you panicking from his throne of sadism.

It's like he can sense your hatred towards him.

~~~~

"Thank you, thank you! Until next year!" Tom smiles as he walks off stage, your recorder in his clutch. The further he walks away, the faster you bob and weave through the crowd, feeling like you're fighting against the tide as it sweeps you out. Then, just as the room empties you reach the entrance to the backstage area in a relief, only to hit a brick wall that stands in your way between you and your highly coveted recorder.

"No press allowed backstage." A security guard towers over you.

"Tom Holland has my recorder. I'd like to get it back." You have no time for polite small chat, your request grumbling with agitation.

"Still can't allow you back--"

"You can let her through, Jim. It's alright." A young boy’s voice echoes from behind the wall.

The guard hesitantly lets you through, keeping you under his iron gaze while you slip through the narrow space he gives you. You are led out into a hallway with plaques decorating the hall, awards from winners of tournaments the venue has previously hosted, the newest addition being Tom's 'Pro-Amateur' plaque much to your distaste.

The boy you recognise as Tom's caddie leads you down this hallway, he hasn't said so much as a word to you as he confidently walks ahead. Now he's getting his assistant to fetch you? God, the arrogance!

"He's in here."

"Thanks," you quietly mutter. The door closes behind you, locking both you and the actor into the room. When you started the day bright and early this morning, you didn't think this was where you were going to end up. You couldn't have put money on it.

Although, you have to admit: despite putting your heart and soul into avoiding Tom Holland the entire day, this could be an exclusive for your article. Nobody else has had this opportunity, so why not take advantage of it?

Tom smiles as he greets you, carelessly tossing your recorder from hand to hand. You swallow nervously. "You are...?"

You respond with your name, who you report for, and make it abundantly clear that you would like to take back your recorder in one piece.

He approaches with a small, boyish chuckle like you just told a joke. "Sorry, I was just thinking," he casually says, "about how you once said you refuse to take anything from me."

What? Where did he hear...? Fuck. He listened to it. And that entire conversation you had with the Sky Sports reporter...

Your mouth drops. As does the anchor in your stomach.

"What was it you said again...?"

"You listened to it." He ignores you.

"Oh yeah, that my 'mismatching colour-blocking golfing attire wouldn't receive the same compliments'."

"You...listened to it all?" you reiterate once again. Your voice rings with all the inflections of a question, but you already know the answer. Unfortunately.

Tom's brows furrow inward.

"Honestly, I can overlook the fact you insulted my outfit, it doesn't bother me that much." There's a 'but' in his sentence. You're just waiting for it. You inwardly panic, trying to remember what else you said that would warrant that dreaded 'but'. Your shield of writer's anonymity has fallen; it's what protects you if you are to ever post negatively about a celebrity, but now that he knows your name and your face, you're left exposed.

"But..." There it is. And in a disbelief, he bites, "I'm too easy? Really?"

There's two ways you could go about this. Stand your ground and defend yourself, or dig yourself a grave and apologise.

Ha. Yeah right.

"I don't really think it was your place to listen to my recordings."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm. Should've minded your business if you knew what was good for you."

"You--" He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath, almost to contain himself and tries again. "You," he points accusingly, "are very...very lucky that you look as attractive as your voice sounds."

Your cheeks flush angrily. Safe to say, you're not used to anyone calling you attractive let alone Tom Holland, so in your fluster you have no idea how to respond. You don't know how to tame the flutter in your heart nor the fire in your stomach. Instead, you ignore it all and revert back to your original goal.

"Can I have my recorder back? Please?"

"In a minute." He swats his hand away from yours. High above your reach, you stand helpless as you watch his thumb crash land onto the record button, resuming from where it last left off. "I think that what you have about me in your article is a little bit too harsh. Why don't we start putting some positivity back in. I think you have it in you to pay me just one compliment. I did win the competition after all, I think it's deserved."

You laugh hysterically. The nerve of this guy! So conceited. "You don't deserve anything from me."

"C'mon. Just one. It's not that hard. I promise I'll give you your recorder back straight after."

Succumbing to his torment, your eyes roll over his features, his hair, his outfit and his body, trying to identify possible compliments that would meet his demands but yet wouldn't inflate his ego too much. What you don't anticipate is you're spoiled for choice.

Defeated, you sigh. "You...smell nice."

"Aw, c'mon. I said you were attractive and all you could think of was that I smell nice? Try a little harder."

"Hey, you said the deal was that I give you one compliment then I get my recorder back. Cough up, Holland."

A smug grin pulls at his lips. "I'm not satisfied. And I will give it back when I am satisfied."

Given that your hatred towards Tom Holland is now at least justified and not just self-inflicted, it means that it's twice as hard to sacrifice it all and compliment him like he so desperately wants you to, a complete betrayal to your own beliefs. But you NEED your recorder.

"You look strong."

"Elaborate."

"You clearly work out."

"What in particular?"

"Your arms."

"How can you tell?" He's really pushing the mark, overstepping it by miles with the dirty smirk he has on his face because he knows he is. You audibly grumble at the sight. Losing patience...

"They just looked particularly...muscular when you were swinging the golf club."

"Why don't you give them a feel and you can tell your readers how strong they really are in detail? I know you want to."

Is it bad of you to admit that you do want to feel them? Absolutely. Are you going to announce that to him? Absolutely not.

You don't move for a couple of seconds, your own conscience making so much noise inside your head that you can't make a coherent thought. A spark of adrenaline twitches at your hands, enough to catch Tom's eyes but it's not enough to swing it into force.

Quietly, slowly, he reaches for your hand and envelopes his fingers around yours, manipulating them to wrap around his upper arm. He makes sure to mold your fingerprints into his skin while he tenses, just to feel the sheer density of his muscles. His skin is warm, soft to touch but yet firm to grasp. While you become instantly fascinated, his glistening smile brightens in the corner of your eye. It's so quiet in the room that Tom hears the softest stutter of breaths and he feels like a winner all over again.

"Well?" He nods towards the recorder, its red button flashing. For the readers...

"Definitely..." you clear your throat. Why has your mouth gone dry all of a sudden? You retract your hand. "Definitely toned. Sculpted."

"If that's what you like then I should show you this..."

He takes your hand once again, its warmth holding you captive, and drags it all the way down to his torso. You can't pull your eyes away from how he sensually slips your hand underneath the hem of his shirt and weaves your fingers between the valley of his abs. Your fingertips skate over every sculpted ab of his, feeling the way they almost shiver at your cold touch.

Your fingertips aren't enough. Tom takes a step closer and your whole palm presses against him, almost too intimately for strangers.

Tom's head quirks to the side to get a better view of you. "Thoughts?" he asks, even though he can read them so clearly on your face. You're becoming entranced.

"...Holy shit," you whisper. "Um, yeah. Strong."

"For a woman who had a lot to say about me, you're certainly lost for words now."

As the heat rises and things escalate, neither of you diffuse the tension and the string of long, uninterrupted silence continues. Every minute that passes by is a precarious step over crossing boundaries and breaking every rule you have in your moral bible.

It forces you to suck in a nervous breath and hold it for a few seconds while you deliberate what the end goal is. Of course, it was to leave with your recorder but given your current position and your change of opinions, you're not so sure anymore. To be clear, your change of opinion isn't necessarily about Tom; you still think he's conceited, arrogant and incredibly vain, but it is what you do with that opinion that has changed. Before, you avoided him, stopped yourself becoming another little lost sheep and following him at every opportunity. Now? You're giving him every drop of attention you have to give.

Tom watches you intently while he silently introduces himself to your shyer nature, definitely not the same person that walked in here in a fit of rage and demanding for their recorder. The minute he meets that side of you, he knows exactly what to do next.

He drops his head as he drops his voice into his lower register, your hand feeling all the rumblings from his chest. "Want to be completely speechless?"

Fuck it. Sure you do. "Mm-hm."

"Good girl."

You aren't actually sure what he's planning to do so you look for intention in his eyes, but you see nothing but darkened caverns and devilish features. In fact, it's because you're looking into his eyes that you don't realise that he's grown hard underneath his straight grey trousers. Like before, he guides your hand fluidly underneath the waistband where the button pops out easily, and navigates you under the elastic band where he desperately shapes your fingers around him. He pulses underneath you, shaking with relief that he has you exactly where he wants you.

You dare not pull your eyes away from his, even as they droop in his pleasure. More so now that you admit how seductive they look. You try to mirror that same seduction with a small smile, moving your hand up and down his shaft independently.

Fuck, the more you move your hand, the more you think it's never going to end. Bluntly put, he's huge.

As a journalist, you should be eloquent with your words, careful in your choice of vocabulary, definitive with your metaphors, but all those years of reading and writing falters the second the sheer size of him stuns you. It slightly pains you to be so tasteless but nevertheless, you don't think there's any other way to put it.

So caught up in the heat of it, your common sense finally comes to once again acknowledge your recorder in his hand. You forgot he had been recording this entire conversation...

He brings it closer to his lips, seductively whispering directly into it. "Just like that..." He keeps going. "Doing such a good job - fuck - don't stop."

Encouraged, and progressively feeling turned on, you tighten your hand around his cock and move faster.

"How do I feel, sweetheart?" The microphone tilts towards you. Detail. Although at this point, you don't think it's for your readers as much as it is for you and Tom.

"So big. I almost can't fit my hand around you."

He very nearly buckled. That voice of yours is like a siren to him. Little do you know that when he found your recorder and listened to all of your little angry ramblings about him, it had sparked up a fiery, unavoidable desire inside him. It was hell having to listen to your voice talk shit about him, he just couldn't stand it. He needed to hear you compliment him, worship him, adore him, and he spent every spare minute of his day replaying your recorder, instilling your voice to memory until he could manipulate your words, imagining what they would say about him.

But now that he actually gets to hear you feed into his desire is twice the satisfaction than he initially thought.

As quick as lightning hits, an idea occurs to him and it completely devastates his entire system; if hearing you compliment him turns him on, how would having you beg for him make him feel? The idea becomes such an unstoppable craving he already knows his imagination won't be able to satiate it this time. He needs it for real and right now.

"You wanna taste?"

Doe-like eyes stare up at him - oh, you are so capable of begging him - and your movements come to a halt...all except your thumb sweeping over his tip. You didn't actually think this was going to go any further than a hand job.

"You want me to?"

Oh no, no, no. This isn't about Tom begging. "Because I know you want to. I can see how desperately you want to tell everyone how I allowed you to come backstage, meet me, get on your knees for me, how I allowed you to suck me off and how I allowed you to taste me." His hand slithers up your jawline and brings you close, leaving nothing but a hair's breadth to separate you. As you anticipate the feeling of his lips, you have but his breath fanning over yours and the anxiety bubbling at the pit of your stomach to feed from. "You just need to beg for it, sweetheart."

Beg. It was hard enough to lose one battle and compliment him, but to lose an even bigger one and beg? You would be absolutely humiliated.

Would be meaning if it was under any other circumstance, if you weren't so spellbound and seduced by him. But that simply isn't the case.

Not uttering another word, you slowly drop to your knees keeping Tom with the wicked grin within your sights. The zipper of his trousers comes undone and you pull him free, watching as his cock stands tall and bobs heavily with weight. Instinctively, your tongue rushes to wet your lips.

"Beg." Tom demands again. The recorder soon comes back into your view and your jaw clicks with frustration. He's capturing every single word much to his demented, power-hungry mind.

You chew through your irritation and instead tune into the feeling that's bubbling in and around your stomach, the one that's being powered by him. "Please," you breathe. "Please, Tom, I wanna suck you off so badly, I promise I'll be good."

"And do you promise to never write a bad word about me ever again?"

Oh, this fucker.

"I prom-"

"Say it like you mean it."

How you so wish you could lie through your teeth, but you know for a fact that from now on, any bad word you write about Tom Holland will forever be tied with this day. You'll think twice about writing badly because being on your knees for him will get in the way. You'll struggle to find the words to knock him because the compliments you paid him will stain your lips. You'll hesitate to criticise him because you'll remember how you verbalised about his good looks.

"I promise. Just--just let me taste you." It's sad how desperate you sound. "Please?"

He doesn't respond. There's one last warning to give.

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

Adrenaline rushes through your veins and your heart pounds. Despite being adamant in your dislike for Tom, you do somehow get the feeling that the threat that rings through his tone is not one to be taken lightly. It buzzes a little too seriously for you to brush over it. So you answer accordingly.

"Okay, I promise."

The threat dissipates and he looks at you approvingly, his empty hand dropping to cup your cheek. You aren't so unaware of the twitch of his cock in your hand. "I just want to make it clear and put on the record that out of the two of us..." Tom angles you closer, "it's you that's the easy one. Too easy. So easy that you're already on your knees and begging me."

How you would slap that grin clean from his face. The scowl on yours warns him of it, but he simply laughs, mocking you.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Admit it." His boyish chuckle continues to ring in the air and its contagious effect pulls at your lips despite trying to hide it. He sees clearly that it pains you to admit it, so as a small motivator, he crouches to your level, his hand still cradling your cheek. In quieter words, though still delivered through a smirk, he murmurs..."Be a good girl for me, yeah?" His lips melting onto yours stops you from getting the chance to reply. The surprise of it fogs up your brain, submitted into a dream-like state as he gently molds his lips onto yours. It's short and leaves you wanting more.

With a flutter of lashes, you nod. "Atta girl."

He stands up taller once again and you take that as your cue to fulfill your promise. Your lips wrap around him and your tongue darts to sweep over his tip. His groans can be heard above you and no doubt heard by the recorder, crescendoing the second your head starts bobbing. Your hand covers what your mouth can't reach, doing as much as you can to make him feel good. It seems to work; his hips begin thrusting. Slowly, at first, to swing into rhythm but the more you swallow him the less control he has of his own movements, and soon, with your hair wrapped tightly around his fist, he's rutting erratically, drinking in the sounds of your moans of pleasure and pain.

"Fuck, you're so good at that."

"Don't stop. Don't fucking stop."

"Taking me so well. Good girl."

"Just like that, shit."

"Look how easy you are, fuck. So willing, aren't you? You wanted a word for your precious Youth Diary? Here it is; you are so easy it's pitiful. Fuck--"

Tom's animalistic nature completely dominates to the point where your tears and gags are silently begging to slow down. Every part of you is screaming out: your throat is bruising, your lips are tearing, your eyes are streaming, your knees are cramping, but holy fuck hearing him talk about you like that fuels the fire inside you.

His thighs twitch underneath your hands and you think he might just cum down your throat. The red-hot grip he has of your roots is your only warning before that happens.

Warmth fills your mouth and you're quick to swallow it down before you choke, like it’s instinct. He holds you hostage with his cock deep in your mouth, using you to string out the orgasm for as long as he can. Minutes later, you open your eyes to see Tom hunching over, still very much catching up to you in regaining his composure. His white fist grips the recorder while the other remains tangled through your locks, keeping you in place to prevent you teasing him any further.

When all seems settled, Tom lifts your chin once more - dabbing off the little drop you seem to have missed - and catches your gaze from behind the tears forming in the corner of your eyes. You already know what he's going to ask of you and when he perches the recorder in front of you, he shoots you a wink.

"Detail." He simply says.

"Hmm, you taste so good, Tom. Best I've ever had. I could taste you all day."

At that moment, something snaps in Tom. The smirk drops and his jaw tenses. It's small, minute changes, but it dramatically changes the atmosphere in the room. You just don't know whether it's for better or for worse.

You find your answer when Tom's muscular arms promptly tuck themselves under your arms with vigour, yanking you up onto your feet. The clatter of your recorder steals your attention as Tom carelessly throws it onto a coffee table to his right; after all, he needs his hands to be free if he is planning on returning the favour. You should be complaining about his lack of regard for your equipment and how he could've broken it, but the red flashing light still shows sign of life, so you decide to overlook it for now. Besides, Tom doesn't give you long before he whips your head back to claim your lips, hungrily moaning into them as he forces his body weight against yours and slams you flat against the wall. The collision whips all of the air out of your lungs but it isn't what causes the gasp to jump from your throat. Tom's lips find your neck, suckling onto the supple skin with intentions to bruise, all to distract you from his hand slipping under your skirt. With ease, he palms your cunt, offering just enough of a tease to have you burning for more.

"I need to hear you say my name again with that voice of yours." Ah, so that's what triggered him.

"Tom," you mewl, almost purring.

"As sexy as that sounds, I think it will sound even better when you’re cumming for me."

Oh fuck.

It's frightening how quickly Tom is able to weaken you with just the deft touch of his fingers to your clit and punishing kisses to your neck. You try your best to soak it in and remain somewhat stable to remember every moment of it, but goddammit you can't keep yourself together. So much so that despite Tom claiming to adore the sound of your voice, for the sake of dignity, he keeps his hand clamped hard against your mouth. Neither of you want curious ears to overhear the scandal coming from within.

Never did you think that Tom's all-round talents included making a girl cum so easily. It's kind of frustrating.

His fingers circle around your clit, dragging and pulling every nerve he can find and it winds you up perfectly. Legs shaking, breath faltering, you suspect you have mere seconds before he takes your orgasm.

Your whines and moans buzz from behind Tom's hand, muffled and diffused. Eventually he lets go, and replaces his hand with his lips, once again thrashing against yours.

"You gonna cum for me?"

"Fuck, I--"

"Say my name. Beg me to let you cum."

"Tom, please, I want to cum. Please let me cum."

Two fingers slot themselves into you, his palm taking over pleasing your clit and you have to stop yourself from buckling. It is the last sign Tom needs to know that you're on the precipice of shattering. With a devilish twinkle to his eye and a crooked smile, he sinks closer to you, his lips narrowly brushing against the shell of your ear and whispers the word. "Cum."

In a similar fashion to Tom what seems like hours ago, you come undone. Your hands grip onto his shoulders for stability as he refuses to stop abusing your cunt. His fingers dig deeper, his hand moves faster, and the tight curl of his knuckle breaking you sends you spiralling.

The gut-twisting tension soon turns to tranquil bliss as he slows his movements, finally catching a breath to revel in the post-orgasm haze with a twitch or two catching you out.

For as egotistical as you believed Tom to be, with the grounding kisses he litters over your cheek, neck, lips, he completely negates that belief. He utterly dominated you, yet affection fuels his movements; something you don't expect a vain person to have. Maybe he isn't all you made him out to be...

Calmly, you both collect yourselves until you're presentable, standing apart within the room as if what just happened never happened. The heat of the room is all that's left to suggest otherwise.

Tom doesn't stop you from reaching for your recorder, the plastic rectangular object feeling like home in your hand. You firmly press the stop button, letting the audio file save before you address Tom again.

"Thanks for...y'know, keeping it safe. I genuinely don't know what I would've done if I lost it."

Tom smiles kindly. "It's no problem."

"Oh, and congratulations."

He nods humbly. "Thank you. I didn't actually think I was going to win it, but I guess luck was on my side." Huh. He's not bragging...

Settling your recorder into your bag, you begin to make your way out of the room. You hadn't realised how late it had gotten and how hungry you had became until your stomach grumbled loudly. As you take your cue to leave, Tom leads you out with a gentle hand to the small of your back and chills arise. Shit. Don't start liking him now...

Tom clears his throat before you completely disappear. "Will I be seeing you lurking about any other events this year?"

Something about his question makes you smile. "Maybe. I've got a few film premieres that I will be attending."

"Good. Well, if any of them include me, I'll make sure to review your work again." How his wink makes you weak.

"Hmm, we'll see, Tom Holland."

~~~~~

It takes you over a week after the golfing event to eventually find the courage to finish writing your article. Most of it is written from what you remember thinking throughout the day, but your work leaves much to be desired. All that's missing from the article can be found on your recorder that you have deliberately been ignoring knowing what filth it contains.

It takes a couple of glasses of wine on a Saturday night to find the bravery to listen to it once again. It all goes smoothly at first, words flow from your mind to your fingertips and your article slowly builds as your past self feeds you your own commentary from that day. You were going to stick with your original idea, deciding to keep in all your criticisms about Tom Holland because who's going to stop you?

But your valour is short lived. Because you've reach the end. When you think you have the finished product, a masterpiece of literacy for your readers to enjoy and you have nothing else to write. Just when you think you're about to press 'publish' that you reach that part of your recording that you just can't bring yourself to turn off.

Shit, it turns you on so much to hear Tom's voice once again demand that you promise to never write another criticism again and the way you caved so easily in your lust-induced state. Even listening to it makes you resonate with it all over again, resurrecting the same excitement and anxiety to stir in your stomach. It's a reminder that persuades you that you don't necessarily agree with what you write about Tom. It makes you reconsider all that you've just written, your finger hovering over the backspace button prepared to fix the promise you're about to break.

Fuck. It's such a good story. Probably one of the best articles you've written. Alas, with the disagreement going on in your head, you can't find it in yourself to commit to it. There's also the problem that if you are to post it, the privilege of writers' anonymity will no longer be in your possession. Tom does, after all, know your name and your face, and you are damn sure he will take the time to find it and read it. What unnerves you is that you have no idea what actions he might take. How could you forget that warning?

"If you break that promise, I will come for you."

So there you sit with your empty glass of wine, chewing nervously on your nails while your eyes dry at the light of the screen you've been deliberating over for the last three hours. The question still remains.

What do you do?

[marvelwitchergilmore]

A Moment Of Everything

Summary: Peter Parker x Fe!Reader -> You and Peter have never gotten along, but can two nights in Florence change things for good?

Disclaimer: Swearing, fluff, angst. Mentions of blood and wounds. I was watching The Proposal last night and got inspired. Enemies to Lovers. See this for whichever Spider-Man you wish. HAPPY NEW YEAR!

You knew things had to change eventually. 

Yourself and Peter couldn’t go your whole lives hating one another. 

You just didn’t expect it to change quite so much. 

It had all started one night when you were on a mission with each other. 

Two days in Florence, Italy. You were both sent to monitor a suspect. And, like usual, Peter was off with you. He didn’t seem too happy about having to share a bed at the hotel. And, even though he didn’t particularly like talking to you, he would still do it. Only, that night, he didn’t. 

When he didn’t have to talk to you, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t even look at you. 

So, the night before you were expected to fly back home, you called him out on it. 

He didn’t listen to you. He simply walked away from you. He followed the guy and you had to go with his plan. Whatever his plan was, you had to guess. 

Only, the suspect got away. 

“We’ll find him again.”

Peter just grunted. 

“Peter.”

Nothing. 

“Peter!”

Again, nothing.

“Jesus Fucking Christ! Peter!” He finally slowed down and looked at you. “What the hell is your fucking problem?! I get you don’t like me, but we’re meant to be together in this!”

“We are together in this.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Bull-shit. You have done nothing but ignore me this entire trip. If you have a problem with me, you can just say it. Where are you going now? Or am I not allowed to know that either.”

“Back to the hotel. Not like you’d tell me.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

You tried running to catch up with him. 

“Nothing.”

“No, go ahead. Tell me.”

Soon enough you both made it back to the hotel and inside the room before the conversation continued. 

“Tell me, Peter. I can take it.”

“No, you can’t.”

“You don’t know me-”

“You’re right! I don’t!” Peter turned around and looked at you, forcing you to stop in your tracks. 

“I don’t know you! I don’t know anything about you! Because you don’t share anything.”

“Well, excuse me for wanting to keep my life a little private.”

“A little?!” Peter raised his eyebrows and scoffed. “A little private is not telling your co-workers where you're going when you say you’re going on holiday. A little private is not showing them a thousand pictures of your new puppy. Your life is anything but a little private.”

Clearly, he had more to say so you waited. And you didn’t have to wait long. 

Sighing, Peter rubbed his forehead for a moment before looking back at you. 

“I have known you for almost ten years and you have told me less than three things about yourself. And yet, an hour before we leave to come here, Hank from the Biology lab does…what? Flirts with you for five minutes, tells you his coffee order and you’re practically marrying the guy!”

“Peter, that’s none- Is this what has been bothering you since we left? This?! Just because I decided to talk to a guy and tell him about my day…why does it bother you so much that I don’t talk about myself?”

“Because I am meant to be your teammate. You have known me for almost ten years and never once have I hid anything from you. We are meant to trust one another. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like me or if I didn’t like you, what matters is that you trust me, and that I trust you. This partnership is meant to go both ways.”

You didn’t know what to say. You just kept looking at Peter. It looked like the world had been lifted off his shoulders whilst he also started beating himself up over what he just said. His chest was heaving and for a moment, you thought he was gonna walk towards you but instead, he took a step back. 

“I’m going for a shower.”

When the door closed behind him, it took you a moment to gather yourself. 

You couldn’t deny that he had a point. Maybe you hadn’t told him as much as you could have done, especially for being teammates for almost a full decade. But it wasn’t like he didn’t have his faults in it, too. 

Maybe instead of ignoring you and only talking to you when he needed to, you might have warmed to him more rather than seen him as a stand-offish person who you would trust to save your life, but wouldn’t trust to put it on the edge first. 

After twenty minutes, Peter emerged from the bathroom, freshly washed, clothed and ready for bed. He put away his dirty clothes and put his wash bag back in his bag before climbing under the covers that lay at the bottom of the bed. 

He hadn’t said anything when you both arrived at the hotel late at night. Just took some sheets out of the cupboard and put them on the floor. When you entered the room, you said he was being ridiculous.

He just said the bed was too soft for him and that he wouldn’t sleep. 

After an hour of back and forth over you telling him just to get into the bed, since it was big enough for a family of five, never mind two, he still decided to stay on the floor. 

As you lay in bed, listening to the distant noises of the city, you tossed and turned before settling on your back. But you still couldn’t sleep. 

Then you heard Peter. 

He was tossing and turning, too. 

Eventually, you heard him sigh in annoyance of sleep not taking over him. 

So, wrestling with your own mind, you spoke up. 

“I like Greek Mythology.”

A few seconds passed and then; “What?”

You faltered for a moment before speaking up again. 

“I-I like Greek Mythology. I always have.” you said before explaining, taking your time. “When I was five, my grandmother gave me some of her old books. In the pile was a kids illustrated version of Greek Gods and Goddesses. I was obsessed. And I mean, obsessed.” 

You laughed a little as you explained your obsession with Greek Mythology to him. Meanwhile, from the floor and out of sight from you, he smiled. He couldn’t even think of when he’d heard a smile in your voice. Never mind a laugh. 

It was once of the sweetest sounds he’d ever heard. 

“For three halloween’s in a row, I went as a different Goddess.”

You fell silent for a moment in the memory before you started to speak again. 

“I hate coffee. I try it once every year and it’s always the same. Absolutely disgusting.” you chuckled a little. “I spent every summer away from home at Camp where I ran a book club. I watch Rom-Coms when I’m sad because they make me feel better. My favourite flowers are blue tulips. I don’t watch thrillers because they remind me too much of work. And, I haven’t told anyone this much…ever.”

Only as you finished did you realise how much you had told him. And you felt a pang of anxiety in the pit of your stomach as Peter remained silent. 

“Are you still there?”

Peter swallowed thickly and nodded his head, despite the fact you couldn’t see him. “Y-yeah. I’m here. Just…processing.”

“Okay.”

That conversation had been just over eight months before you got a knock at your apartment window one evening. 

You had taken a couple weeks off work since you hadn’t taken any vacation days…ever. Barton had practically banned you from the building for two weeks. 

The rain had been pouring over the city and, with all your work finished, you had rushed out and got some supplies before sitting in front of your TV, watching one of the many rom-coms your DVD collection provided before pulling a few books from your shelves and reading through them. 

At some point, you had fallen asleep, still fully dressed, under your blankets, listening to the quiet silence of your apartment as the rain hit the windows outside. 

Only, rather than continuing to sleep throughout the night, you heard a continuous tapping. 

So, leaning up with tired eyes, you looked around. The loose braid you had stuck your hair in had fallen out, your bobble being lost between the cushions somewhere.

The apartment was shrouded in darkness, save for the street lights outside still lighting small sections of your apartment.

Along came more tapping until finally you turned towards the sash window that lay by the fire escape. 

You furrowed your eyebrows as you saw him through tired eyes. 

Making your way over, you pushed the window open and Peter made his way inside. 

“Sorry for waking you.”

You just grumbled and closed the window to stop the rain from flying in, though it didn’t stop the small puddle made by Peter who was practically soaked to the bone from the rain. 

“Ah, so this is who I lost you to.” Peter said with a slight smirk as he spotted one of your Mythology books. 

“Barton said I was banished from HQ until my vacation days were finished. What are you doing here at this time of night? What even is the time?”

“I didn’t know where to go, and you’re the only one who I trust to do the job well.”

“What job?”

Finally looking at Peter, you saw it. 

His body, and his clothes, were splattered with blood. You couldn’t tell how much of it was his and how much of it could be somebody else's. 

“You didn’t kill anyone did you?”

“No.” Peter answered. “They’re alright, just at the police station getting booked.”

You sighed as you took in even more of his wounds. “Alright. Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes. Give me your jacket.”

Peter removed it and you took it from him, including his grey hoodie. 

“Bathroom?”

“Down the hall and to the right.”

Peter nodded and walked down whilst you headed into the kitchen and shoved his jackets into the washing machine and pressed start. Then, from the top cupboard, you pulled down your first-aid kit that contained everything from princess plasters, from when you had been looking after your neighbour's kid for two days, to a stitching kit.

Twenty minutes later, you had a basin full of warm, blood stained water, a once-clean face cloth covered in stains of blood and a grown Avenger sat on the edge of your bathtub, wincing every now and again and you cleaned him up. 

“Remind me again why you came to me?”

You turned Peter’s head to face over your right shoulder as you cleaned a graze and cut just above his eyebrow. 

“Because I trust you. And I didn’t feel like getting another lecture from Laura.”

“Ah,” you nodded and Peter laughed a little. 

Then he hissed. 

“Sorry, I'm almost finished with this one.”

“It’s okay.” Peter flicked his gaze to you a couple of times. “T-thank you for doing this.”

“What else would I have done? Kicked you back out of the window?”

“You could have done it. I did wake you up. Clearly I didn't learn my lesson from the first time.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I did nearly beat you up.”

What Peter meant was just over two months ago. You had both become friends of sorts. But, you had fallen asleep at your lab desk one night and Peter came in to wake you up and you nearly cursed him out so much that you even had him convinced he was an intruder trying to break into your home. 

“But, if you hadn’t come to me, I probably would have cursed you out when I found out, anyway.”

“Found out?”

“You can’t hide anything from me, Peter. I know everything,” you joked. 

“But do you?”

Peter’s question slipped from his tongue before he could stop himself, but you didn’t know what to do. So, your eyes turned from his and you tried your best to remain calm until you saw a large spot of blood coming through his black t-shirt. 

You tried your best to get to the wound that was beneath it without him removing his shirt, but you both knew it was no use. 

So, awkwardly asking him, he stood and you looked to him only to find him looking back. 

Slowly, he removed his shirt, trying his best not to stain the rest of his body from the blood you had just cleaned away and for a moment, you were met with his body in front of you. 

Most of the blood was coming from that one wound but the top of his arms now showed a little bruising, as well as his torso, though it was more healed than you thought it would have been. 

Finding yourself staring for a little too long, you forced your gaze back to his face where he’d removed the shirt from over his head and lowered himself back down onto the edge of the tub, opening up his legs for you to stand between them once more. 

Though, it was in that moment that you realised how close you had been standing to him this entire time. 

“Th-This might sting a little.”

Peter nodded and you watched as he clenched his jaw and tried to suppress the grunt that tried to escape from him as you cleaned out the wound. 

“You might need some stitches.” you mentioned. “I can do them here, though they might not be Laura standard.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

You nodded and tried your best to ignore the fact that Peter was looking at you as you looked for your stitching kit and began working. 

In your peripheral vision, you could see some of his bruises already starting to heal, though some might take more than a couple hours.

Even with his adapted DNA. 

“If you want, you can stay here for the night. I have a spare set of pyjamas if you need them.”

“You sure they’ll be my size?”

You laughed a little. “My, uh, my neighbour gave them to me. She bought a set for her husband but when they came they were too big for him. She told me to keep them in case I ever had someone…stay the night. They might be too big for you, too but they have a drawstring so…”

“Okay.”

You looked at him for a split second and then looked back to his wound with a small nod. 

Soon enough you finished and stepped back to grab the face cloth before dipping it into a fresh basin of warm water to clean off the rest of his wounds that would heal soon enough. 

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

As you looked at Peter when he stood, there was a moment of…everything. 

Neither of you were moving, yet his eyes and your own spoke a thousand unspoken words between their gazes. 

Without thinking, Peter lifted his hand to meet your own, allowing you to place the cloth down before he pulled you a little closer. 

Your name left his lips in a small whisper, a plea, a wish of permission.

You felt yourself stand a little taller as his other hand came to your face, brushing the loose hair from your face, behind your ear. 

His eyes continued to flick from your eyes to your lips, as yours did the same with him. 

There was time for you to stop. For you to say no. And if you did, he would have stepped away and, most likely, would have apologised and left. 

But you didn’t want that. 

Each tantalising moment that passed, you wished for time to hurry up. For his lips to finally meet yours. 

And once they did, there was no turning back. 

At first it was soft, until you both became hungry for more. 

Leaning in, your hands came to his neck to pull him closer to you. 

Eventually, the kiss broke apart for a moment, your heads resting together, your eyes partly closed. 

“Was that-”

“Just shut up and kiss me again.”

Peter chuckled a little before feeling your lips connect to his, allowing his hands to pull your body flush against his.

[sleepynegress]

The Jamie Lloyd Company just released this Statement in light of the Onslaught of Extreme Racist Abuse Francesca Amewudah-Rivers Has Faced Since the Announcement of Her Casting...

I am so glad to see this official acknowledgment and move to protect a Black Woman by her company. It should be standard, but it's rare. May she thrive and excel and be surrounded by people who uplift her 10 times as hard as these repugnant people could ever attempt to dim her light.

[jahayla-parker]

In Time : Tom Holland x Reader

Chapter 1

4.8k wc , click here for warnings and other chapters

Tom halted and rested his palms on his jean-covered thighs, his back curved, as he tried frantically to catch his breath. He’d been on his way to his temporary hotel room after an atrociously early call time this morning. Today he had been instructed to arrive at set long before the Atlanta sun was truly up. Tom’s security guard, Jack, was helping him safely make his way back to the hotel; so he could start his rest for the remainder of the week, having been given it off. Only, something evidently alerted the fans and/or paparazzi to the location of Tom’s temporary residence as both groups were currently swarming the outside of his hotel’s lobby doors. Tom had been so exhausted he didn’t even notice initially, not having looked up from his phone in the last few blocks as he turned off his alarms for the week.

Fortunately, Jack, however, was doing his job as flawlessly as usual, and noticed the crowd as soon as he and Tom rounded the corner onto the street his hotel was on. In order to stop Tom from continuing to walk, Jack extended his arm out in front of the boy’s chest.

When Tom looked up to see what the issue was, his eyes widened. How had they learned of his hotel? What was he going to do? He just wanted to rest, the last few days had been draining.

“I know you want to rest kid, but, why don’t you take a bit longer of a walk while I try to clear this out?” Jack suggested with a sad smile.

“You truly think they’ll leave?” Tom asked skeptically as he eyed the swarm of people.

Jack sighed. “Probably not,” he acknowledged. “But, I can find a way to get you in,” Jack promised.

Tom sighed. As much as he appreciated Jack being willing to find him a safe way inside, that was only one issue. It wouldn’t help him sleep through the screams Tom knew would be echoing throughout all hours of the night; like last time this happened. “We need a new hotel,” Tom commented.

Jack nodded, “I’ll try to work something out”. He looked down at his phone briefly, checking the date to confirm his hesitation. “Given the events in Atlanta right now… it’s limited in terms of safe options that would not be likely to leak your residency there, but I’ll look into it.” Jack put his phone back in his pocket and rested his hand sympathetically on Tom’s shoulder. “When it’s clear, I’ll use the back entrance to get your stuff loaded into the rental van and bring it to wherever we find as a reliable option to stay. For now, just keep your head low and walk around casually, yeah?”

“Yeah, thanks mate,” Tom said respectfully despite his disappointment.

With that all sorted, and the large group of fans and paparazzi focused on the hotel, Tom assumed he was in the clear. After all, everyone was seemingly thinking he was at the hotel that was now currently behind him as he turned to leave. Only, he had made it less than five blocks away when he was spotted. It started out as just two girls who he agreed to take pictures with, but after the photos their gleeful screaming caught the attention of others. Hence why he was now crouched over himself in an empty alley wall behind a grocery store, trying to catch his breath after having fled. Thankfully, he was working on the Spider-Man: No Way Home set currently, meaning he was in great athletic shape and condition. This made it so the run itself wasn’t too bad, but he hadn’t been prepared for this and was already exhausted from this morning on set.

“Shit,” Tom mumbled to himself, looking up as he heard a door click. Some girl, seemingly around his age, made her way out of the grocery store’s back door and into the alley he was in. Tom worried it was another fan who was about to spot him.

Y/n was walking out of work after her shift, headed out through the employee entrance in order to go to her car, when she spotted someone. The person was hunched over, as if they were out of breath or in pain. She paused and cautiously took a step back. She was undoubtedly worried as to if they were alright. But, she wasn’t naïve enough to get closer to them until she knew the person meant no harm. Y/n tilted her head to the side as she scanned the guy for any injuries, “you okay?”

“Mmhm, yep,” Tom mumbled, trying to keep his head down as to not expose his face. He futilely wiped the sweat from his forehead as he waited for the stranger to move on.

“You sure?” Y/n asked skeptically. She noticed the way the man was sweating quite a bit. It was warm out, but not enough to cause the amount of perspiration that was visible on him. When the man moved to dry his face, it allowed her the opportunity to see his face. He looked familiar, but she didn’t get a great look. She hesitantly looked around the alley and sighed. She knew the weather had forecasted for this afternoon to be uncomfortably hot, even for an Atlanta native. Which she suspected this man was not. “Listen, don’t tell my boss I did this, or I’ll lose my job, okay?” She quickly reached back into the doorway and angled her arm around the corner to grab a water bottle from the case. “Here,” she offered as she held her hand out to him.

Tom was skeptical to say the least. But, he could really use the hydration right now. So, he slowly lifted his head and turned towards where the woman was.

“It’s just water, sealed completely, it’s safe,” y/n explained, realizing who it was that was standing before her. The out of breath man looked like the actor Tom Holland. No wonder he was reluctant to accept help. Earlier today y/n had watched through the store windows as a horde of girls ran past and she could hear their screaming through the glass barrier. He must’ve been why. “It’s from a case for us employees, we are allowed one a day or otherwise we have to pay for more, I just won’t take one tomorrow,” she explained, hoping he’d take the water he very clearly needed.

“You’re giving me water?” Tom asked, slowly moving closer.

“You look like you’re going to pass out,” y/n commented worryingly. She looked up at the bright sun above them. “‘s not a good idea to run in this heat, ya know,” y/n pointed out.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Tom argued sadly, cautiously accepting the water from the kind woman.

“Yeah… I kinda put that together.. I heard screaming earlier,” y/n frowned, recalling how annoying it was even hearing it through the walls of the store. “You’re Tom Holland, aren’t you?” She whispered.

Tom nodded as he finally stood up and began to sip on the water. “You’re not going to scream, are you?” He asked as he took a break from drinking as to not get sick.

Y/n giggled and shook her head, “no.” “Were you wanting me to?” She jokingly asked as she raised her eyebrow tauntingly.

Tom laughed, “no. Thank you”.

“For not screaming?” Y/n asked squinting. “That’s an odd thing to thank someone for, but, you’re welcome?” She replied uncertainly.

Tom nodded. “That, and this,” he said as he held up the water bottle she’d given him.

Y/n smiled, glad the water bottle already seemed to be helping the poor guy. She couldn’t imagine getting chased like that, especially in the heat. “‘Course, hope your day turns around,” she smiled as she resumed walking to her car.

“It will if I can find a place to hide out for a bit,” Tom murmured defeatedly.

Y/n paused and turned to face Tom again. “From the screaming fans, that I’m assuming were chasing you, given,” she asked as she waved at his state.

Tom laughed as a blush formed on his face but he nodded. “They chased me from my hotel,” he explained.

“From your hotel?!” Y/n gasped lightly. That was a bit much. “That’s commitment, I’ll give them that,” she teased. “Bit creepy, but committed for sure,” she joked with a shake of her head.

Tom laughed in agreement but before he could respond, be noticed someone at the end of the alley. He quickly caught on that they were pulling out a camera. They had spotted him and this innocent woman.

Tom didn’t even have time to think. The second he realized what was happening, he had taken ahold of the woman’s arm and ran with her in the other direction of the paparazzi. When he reached a point he felt was far enough away from the cameraman, he stopped. Tom looked over at the woman he didn’t yet know the name of and quickly let go of her arm upon seeing her frazzled state. “Sorry, I umm,” he began stumbling over his words. He felt very guilty. This beautiful woman had gone out of her way to help him and he’d unexpectedly dragged her with him as he ran. “I didn’t want you to get hurt or caught up in that,” he explained breathily.

Y/n nodded slowly in appreciation. “Thanks,” she whispered.

Tom shook his head. She didn’t deserve to get brought into this mess, even if it had just been a small version of what he normally experienced.

“I was gonna suggest me helping you hide out in the back of the store for a bit, until things calmed down,” y/n commented. “But that’s out of the question now,” she sighed sympathetically, knowing that the person who spotted them would likely report it to some fan site or however these people got their hands on celebrities’ locations.

“Oh thanks, I do appreciate it,” Tom smiled. “It’s not your problem though, you are free to go, do you umm… I can give you cash for an Uber or-“ he began to offer, looking around to see what transportation options existed.

Y/n laughed and shook her head. “I’m good, we didn’t even go that far,” she shrugged. “Besides, where are you planning on going? Not to be rude, but I’m doubting you have an idea of what to do or where to go from here,” she frowned.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. “I’m not super familiar with the area, no,” he admitted.

“What are your options?” Y/n asked softly. When Tom simply stood in silence with a saddened expression, she frowned. “Nothing?” She asked as she raised her left eyebrow. “Come on, you’re a celebrity, surely you have places you can go to get away, no?”

Tom sighed and looks away shaking head and hanging it in defeat. “Hotel is surrounded, my security is trying to find a backup place to stay that won’t be tracked to me when we make the change, I thought I’d gotten far enough away from the paparazzi and fans chasing me but obviously not,” he explained, waving his hands around at their new surroundings. “I’m sorry again for that, by the way,” he added.

“It’s fine, I had to go in to work early today, and just got done when I ran into you in the alley, so I didn’t have time to work out this morning,” y/n teased with a light shrug and sweet laugh.

Tom laughed loudly and covered his mouth.

Y/n smiled bashfully. “Well, it’s probably a bit odd.. but you, umm.. you can stay at my apartment until your security guy figures out what to do,” she offered. Tom stared back at her in understandable surprise. “You can obviously totally say no,” she promised. “But, I figured I’d offer, especially given you still look like you’re going to pass out and my place is nearby,” y/n explained nervously.

“You’re offering your house to me?” Tom questioned.

“Well, my apartment,” y/n corrected. “And, I’ll be there too, and just for the time being and!” She paused, her face becoming more serious. “Only if you swear not to be some creep, murderer, or whatever,” she commented firmly.

Tom chuckled and nodded, “I’m not, I swear.” He smiled softly. “You really don’t mind me being at your fla- apartment for potentially a few hours?”

“Nah,” y/n shrugged. “After all, it’ll give me a great story to tell the tabloids tomorrow,” she joked. “Relax Tom, I’m kidding. Are tabloids even a thing anymore? Do they still call them that?” She asked herself as she laughed at her cluelessness. “Wait.. Can I call you Tom? Or, do you prefer-“

“Tom is fine,” Tom nodded, smiling as he held out his hand for her to take.

Y/n giggled and politely shook Tom’s hand, “y/n”.

“Thank you y/n,“ Tom smiled.

Y/n bit her lip bashfully, not having been prepared for the way her name would sound with Tom’s accent. “You good with walking?” She asked as she refocused. “It’s only a small handful of blocks from here now,” she laughed, “if not I can go back and try to get my car and come get you”.

Tom smiled appreciatively. “I can walk, but thank you,” he answered. “You know you really don’t need to go out of your way like this for me, love”.

Y/n nodded. “I know, I don’t mind, it’s obvious you’re needing help, so I figure why not offer it since I’m able; you know?”

Tom smiled. He couldn’t help but think about how he was getting to know even more about this sweet side of y/n. He was so appreciative of how he’d offered him help. But to know it wasn’t because of who he was, made his heart flutter even more with happiness.

“Alright, so we’ll walk then, just don’t pass out on me cause I won’t carry you,” y/n joked as she began to head towards her apartment.

Tom followed after y/n. “I’ll try not to,” he teased back.

“Obviously, if you do pass out, I’d try to help,” y/n reassured to show it was a joke.

Tom laughed, “I figured”. As they turned the corner, he watched the cars pass by then and realized an oversight. “Sorry for making you walk home and leave your car behind,” he said.

“It’s fine, like I said, you’re just helping me get my exercise in for the day and save some gas,” y/n said, turning to Tom with a smirk. “Besides, it doesn’t seem like you had much of a choice.” She frowned. “Is it always this way or just a bad day?”

“Both,” Tom laughed making y/n laugh with him. He smiled at the sweet sound. “It’s always bizarre,” he explained. “But a lot happened today, on a day I was already really tired,” he laughed sadly.

“I’m sorry,” y/n said as she grimaced sympathetically, showing a disgust at his ordeal.

“Not your fault,” Tom reassured softly.

“But still, I can’t..,” y/n sighed. “I can’t imagine living like that,” she shook her head. “Left here,” she guided, turning the corner.

“It’s tiring,” Tom admitted. “But, I love what I do”.

Y/n smiled. “You’re pretty good at it too,” she complimented, smirking teasingly over at Tom.

“Yeah?” Tom asked. He grinned smugly over the light compliment.

“I suppose so,” y/n shrugged casually. “You make a decent Spider-Man,” she answered.

“Decent?” Tom chuckled. “Alright, I’ll take that,” he nodded

Y/n laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’m kidding,” she hummed.

“I’m not decent?” Tom clarified.

Y/n laughed louder and playfully nudged Tom’s shoulder/upper arm with her shoulder. “I confess you’ve managed to win over being my favorite Peter Parker,” she said. She was careful to whisper the last part in case anyone was around.

“Really?” Tom grinned proudly. “I beat out Tobey and Andrew, both?”

“I wasn’t sure about the cast change when they first announced it,” y/n admitted casually just continuing to walk, not knowing Tom was watching her closely with a smile. “But, you took on the role well,” she concluded.

“Thank you,” Tom beamed. “Can I ask who was your favorite before?”

“Let’s not get into that,” y/n giggled, looking over at Tom briefly. “No matter what I say, it’ll be technically controversial, let’s just say you’re all good,” she argued.

Tom laughed and nodded. “Fair enough, love. I can understand that stance,” he said.

“Alright, so we made it!” Y/n cheered lightly with a laugh. “Yay,” she said as she clapped dramatically in a playful manner. As she opened the door, she joked, “welcome to casa y/n”. “Come on in,” she instructed warmly as she walked in and held the door open for Tom.

Tom entered slowly in order to be respectful. He didn’t want to overstep y/n’s gracious offering.

“Here, why don’t I show you around so you can feel more comfortable making yourself at home,” y/n proposed. She set her bag on her rack by her front door. “Mind locking the door? You just never know in the U.S.,” she laughed, signaling to Tom who was standing right beside the now-closed door.

Tom nodded and complied, quickly locking the door behind him.

“Great, now, for the grand tour!” Y/n winked. “Right this way, Mr. Holland,” she said, dramatically waving him froward.

Tom laughed and followed after y/n. “Thank you, Ms…” he paused, not knowing her last name.

“Y/l/n,” y/n curtsied. “Now, this here, is the living room slash dining room”. She signaled to the wide-open space that held her television, a coffee table, two lamps, and a c-shaped sectional couch. “Through that door is the balcony,” she explained, pointing to the opposite end of the room than the front door. “There’s a small utilities shed out there. Mostly full of miscellaneous crap,” She mumbled, moving to continue the tour. “Oh! And extra DVDs, so if there’s nothing you want to watch by the TV,” she said, pointing at the DVD stands by the television that held most of her movie collection, “there’s more in there”.

Moving to lead Tom to the right of the front door, y/n pointed to the side. “Here’s obviously the kitchen. You can help yourself to whatever is in here, just please set the dishes in the sink when done since some are hand-wash only; I’ll catch up on them later”.

Directly parallel to the kitchen at the edge of the hallway leading to bedrooms was the small closet. As they made their way to the hallway, y/n pointed at the closet door. “In there is mostly just coats, a vacuum and other cleaning supplies, and.. oh! Also some blankets, but I doubt you’ll need those given it’s still fairly warm this year despite it being October. But, should you, that’s where extras are!”

Tom smiled to himself as y/n rambled on. She was really cute and her side comments were truly adorable.

“Now, down this hallway we have the bedrooms. That is mine there at the end. Here to the left of the hallway is the guest bedroom,” y/n explained. “If you’d prefer to hang out in there inside of the living room, feel free, as you can opening the door, it’s doesn’t have a TV like the living room, but it does have my board game collections,” she laughed pointing to the open closet full of games and stuff like that.

“I also have a lot of office supplies in that closet if you need anything like that,” y/n needlessly added as she walked back out into the hallway. “Across from the guest room is the bathroom, obviously you’re free to use that too,” she laughed. “There’s extra towels in the bottom left drawer of the sink vanity if you need ‘em. Everything else is pretty straight forward”.

“And lastly,” y/n said as she entered the hallway yet again. She quickly turned to the right at the end of the hallway and entered into the main bedroom. “This is my bedroom, I guess you can hang out in here if you really want,” she laughed nervously. “But just stay off the bed please, at least until you’ve showered, sorry, I’m a bit clean freak when it comes to my bed,” she admitted.

“That’s alright, I understand that,” Tom said with a kind smile.

“Anyways,” y/n hummed, smiling to herself; grateful Tom wasn’t upset with her. “Umm.. yeah, this is my room, the closet over there just has my clothes, nothing special,” she said as she pointed to the far back right corner of the room. “And last but not least, is the laundry room here,” y/n concluded as she opened the door that was in the front right corner of her room that shared a corner with her bedroom entrance. “You’ll find all the supplies you may need there on the shelves, and yeah, I think that’s it.” Y/n laughed and flicked the light back off before exiting into hallway with Tom.

“Thank you for this, truly, love,” Tom hummed. “It’s so unbelievably kind of you,” he added as he followed y/n back to her living room.

“‘Course,” y/n shrugged. “By the way, are you hungry?” She questioned as she walked into the kitchen. “I was just gonna eat some snacks, but can cook lunch instead if you want,” she offered.

“No, no, that’s fine,” Tom promised.

“You sure?” Y/n asked over her shoulder as she opened the cupboard.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say no to some snacks though,” Tom said. He smiled as he calmly walked over to the living room and sat on the sofa.

“Okay! Want to pick out something for us to watch? The remote should be on that black coffee table there,” y/n instructed without looking.

After a few minutes, y/n walked over and set a bowl of snacks down in front of Tom. “Here, go ahead and get started,“ she smiled. “I have to water some of my plants really quick before I forget .. again,” she laughed.

“Need any help?” Tom asked.

“Nah,” y/n hummed. Although she was surprised by the offer. No one ever offered to help her with something like that. Or any house chores, even if they caused the mess. Her boyfriend Ryan came to mind. “I’m good, thanks though”.

Tom watched as y/n tenderly watered her plants around the room, clearly taking great care of each one before disappearing down the hall presumably to water the others. He didn’t know how he managed to stumble upon y/n. How he’d been that lucky to not run into any more screaming fans and into her sweet presence instead. But he was eternally grateful for it.

“Why you decide to rent a two bedroom? Did you have a roommate initially?” Tom asked, continuing the small talk he was making with y/n, their voices carrying over the soft sound of the television in the background.

“It was all that was available when I moved in, and by the time I got settled and they had a one bedroom, I’d grown used to having a two bedroom,” y/n explained. “It comes in handy when friends or family need to stay over, or, I suppose, the random celebrity,” she teased.

Tom laughed and rolled eyes playfully. “Hopefully it won’t come to that, not that I’m not appreciative!” “I just don’t want to take up more of your time and space than I already have,” he explained politely.

Y/n shrugged carelessly. “Meh, you’re fine. Say, are you going to shower? I have some laundry to do tonight, but it can wait if you wanted to shower now that the show is over”.

“Actually, that sounds incredible,” Tom laughed, his the sweat making his skin feel sticky. “Towels are in the bottom drawer, right?” He asked, standing up.

“Yep! You can use any of the soaps in there, there should also be an extra loofah in the… umm actually hold on,” y/n said and jumped up.

“Ahh, here it is,” she said pulling her hand back down from the corner shelf that was just outside of, but still next to the shower. She hooked her fingers through the thin plastic tag and tore it off before she passed Tom the unused purple loofah sponge. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said backing out of the room.

“Thanks again,” Tom smiled as y/n closed the door. He locked the door and quickly stripped out of his clothes. It only took a few seconds to get the water turned in and at the right temp. He sighed in relief as he stepped into the cascading water.

Y/n bit her lip as she searched through the small collection of Ryan’s clothes in her closet. She’d only realized after Tom got into the shower that he’d likely want fresh clothes to change into. Luckily, she simultaneously remembered her boyfriend had kept some of his clothes at her place. It wasn’t much as Ryan hated y/n wearing his clothes because they weren’t made for girls to wear or some stupid reason like that. Y/n hadn’t cared enough to argue or talk about it further. But, it meant that all that was in her apartment right now were two shirts and a pair of black drawstring sweatpants that Ryan had left behind for whenever he stayed over. She’d washed them since the last time he’d stayed, but Ryan hadn’t been in the mood to spend the night with her in a while now, so they had just sat here. At least it meant they were still clean and therefore options for Tom to wear. She suspected they were roughly the same size. Plus the sweatpants could be tightened if needed. She gathered both shirt options and the sweatpants in her hands and walked back into the hallway.

Y/n gasped as the bathroom door suddenly opened, revealing a shirtless Tom as he stood there with a towel hanging around his waist. She gulped and quickly looked away from his defined chest. He’d clearly been doing his Marvel workouts. Y/n! She scolded herself. “Umm, uhh, Sorry!” she mumbled.

“Sorry,” Tom echoed. “Do you happen to have any clothes that’ll fit? Maybe a sleep shirt? If not, it’s okay, I can make do with-“ He spoke quickly.

“Yes, uhh…yeah. That’s, that’s umm… that’s what I was just doing actually,” y/n said, trying to compose herself. “These should work, I think. I didn’t know which shirt you’d want, so I brought both”.

“Sweet, thank you, love,” Tom smiled, taking the clothes from y/n.

Y/n nodded and hummed. “I’ll be.. uh, I’ll be out there,” she mumbled, pointing to the living room.

Tom fought the urge to chuckle at y/n’s shy reaction. He quickly changed and checked himself in the mirror. After fixing his damp hair, he took a breath while looking at his reflection as he tried to boost his confidence. After all, his host, y/n, was radiant in both personality and appearance. And, while he knew all of her actions so far was just her being friendly and considerate, he hoped that maybe she found him attractive as well. Her bashful reaction to seeing him shirtless seemed to suggest that she just might.

Tom intentionally let his hand brush against y/n’s in the bowl of popcorn even though he hasn’t finished the last handful that was still in his mouth. When she looked over at him at the contact he smiled warmly before innocently placing a piece of popcorn in his mouth. He swallowed his mouthful as she looked back at the tv. “‘ey, love,” Tom spoke gently, guiding her chin towards him. He smiled at the slightly surprised and bashful look in her eyes. “You’ve got some cheese dust,” he said moving his thumb up to graze the corner of her lips, “right ‘ere”. He said wiping the imaginary cheese dust from her face.

“Oh,” y/n gasped. She touched her lips faintly. “Thank you,” she replied cluelessly. “Was that all of it? Or do I still look like a slob?” She laughed, facing Tom.

Tom shook his head and laughed softly. “No, love, you look beautiful, cheese or no cheese”. “But it’s all gone now,” he smiled.

“Oh good, thank you,” y/n said as she smiled back. She was just glad Tom had helped her not look like such a mess; oblivious to the fact she hadn’t actually had anything on her face in the first place and that it was just an excuse to touch her flirtatiously. “By the way, the clothes fit okay?”

Tom nodded. “Yeah, thank you again, I’ll find a way to get them back to you, I appreciate being able to change,” he said, maintaining eye contact with y/n as he smiled.

“I’m just glad my boyfriend had left at least one set of clothes behind last time he stayed over,” y/n laughed. “Otherwise, you’d have had to wear your sweaty ones from your oh so fun runs earlier,” she teased.

“Your.. your boyfriend..? You have a boyfriend?”Tom asked disappointed. He wasn’t surprised y/n had one; it made sense, look at her. But still, he hadn’t seen photos of her with any guy in any of her photo frames she’d scattered around the apartment or anything. As such, he’d hoped that meant she was single; but, sadly no.

Y/n nodded. “Mhm, yeah, Ryan, he has his own apartment, just down the street”.

“Is.. is he okay with me being here?” Tom asked. “I mean, not that he would get the final say, it’s your place and your life, but um.. I don’t want to make things harder for you,” he feministically rushed out.

Y/n shrugged. “I’m sure he’s fine with it. You needed help, I don’t see why that should be a problem.”

Tom nodded. “Okay, if you’re sure”.

“I’m sure!” Y/n promised with a grin.

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

Tom Holland Masterlist

In Time Series Masterlist Navigation

Peter Parker / Spider-Man Masterlist

All My Works / My Main Masterlist Navigation

[peppydynamicpigeon143]

BRUHHH TOM HOLLAND JOINING THE LOCKWOOD AND CO GANG ARE U SERIOUS

THIS WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD

[biscuitrule]

Guys I’m so stupid how did I just now make the connection that Paddy Holland is Tom Holland’s brother

But also it’s the way that even though Tom is literally Spider-Man (one of the most iconic characters from one of the most successful franchises ever) I think I would be more starstruck to meet Paddy because like he’s Bobby Vernon from Lockwood and Co. and frankly that’s just much more impressive to me

[archiveoftara]

You can be cool but you can't be 'zendaya is my sister in law' cool.

[faefictions]

I need to know who the first group of people you think of is when you see the term "the boys" while scrolling tumblr

Please let me know, im desperate for this knowledge

[penultimatestalematewithdeath]

Proposed timeline of events:

1. Tom Holland trends because of Rihanna’s Super Bowl performance of Umbrella

2. People go to Tom Holland’s social media to see if he has comment

3. People see him promote his little brother, Paddy Holland, in his breakout acting role

4. People look into this show (Lockwood & Co.) that Tom Holland’s little brother is in

5. More USA views on Lockwood & Co. on Netflix

6. Season 2????

[artyandink]

If one of these three men are a snack, comment ‘aye’. If you think all three are a whole meal, comment ‘A Y E’

And do NOT count me as weird for the third one:

And I mean Sonic, but feel free to interpret Shadow or both :)

[youandtom2]

Just putting this out there...

[marvelwitchergilmore]

The Look Of Terror

Summary: Peter Parker x Fe!Reader -> You joined Shield and when you're placed under a certain Team Leader, Peter can't help but worry about you.

Disclaimer: This is more platonic co-worker vibes, I think? Rather than romance? But there is romance in it? Fluff, angst, Peter takes care of the reader. Description of a panic attack, kidnapping, bombs and an asshole of a Team Leader. I'm a little unsure about this one. Comment if you'd like a Part 2???

You were new to the team. 

It was no surprise since you joined a week late into the program that your Team Leader pushed you harder than the rest of them. But you were okay with it, most of the time. In the times where you weren’t, you’d spend a couple hours in the library reading of worlds that didn’t exist - or at least, you hoped didn’t exist. Because, for as much as seeing a fire-breathing dragon would be cool, it could also destroy most of the population of New York in one breath. 

It was six months into the program that Peter finally saw you. 

Not that you had noticed. 

He saw you on your first day of arrival. He heard your name mentioned in passing and that was as far as it went. Until the training rooms had to be pushed into one due to a leak in the women’s bathroom. It was then that you caught Peter’s eye. 

But not because of your looks, although he didn’t fail to notice your beauty. But because of the familiar look in your eyes. 

It took him a while to figure it out; what exactly the look was in the beginning, he couldn’t be too sure. 

For over a month, he studied you. 

You weren’t a part of his team. In fact, you were with a whole other training division. But in the days when he saw you, he studied you as best as he could before it could become border-line creepy. 

He saw you talk to people, but they never became friends with you. You were happy to help out people when they were struggling but most times, you were left on your own. Whilst other groups studied the Shield Handbook together, cutting the 500 page manual into respectable chunks, you sat on your own in the corner. A few people would look over to you and snigger or sneer. One trainee had said aloud about asking you to join them but everyone else shut the idea down right away. You were the rookie. 

What baffled Peter was the fact that the group of trainees, who refused to collaborate with you, were rookie’s too. 

Then, one day, he pulled your file. 

You had the highest test score out of your group. You were intelligent and smart. You had enough strength training to be transferred into a higher level but due to your qualifying status, you would only move up when the rest of the rookie’s did, too. 

So, after all of this, when he found you in the library alone one night, he decided to talk to you. 

“You must know that thing like the back of your hand.” 

Peter saw you jump a little and instantly regretted not making himself known to you sooner. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Oh, no. That’s fine. I-I should be heading home now, anyway.”

“You’ve finished that book three times this week alone. Shouldn’t you be out with the others having a…drink or something?”

“Maybe, but…I kind of prefer my solitude.”

“Ah, the mysterious lonesome type?”

“Some may beg to differ.”

“I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“You’re a part of Abbot's team, aren’t you?”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“I’ve seen your file.”

“You pulled my file?”

“That and I’ve seen him train you twice a week when all agents share the training room.”

A look of realisation crossed over your face. “Oh, shit. Sorry, you’re Agent Parker.”

“Please, call me Peter. Everyone else does.”

“By the handbook says-”

“That all employees refer to their Team Leaders by their working title.” Peter sounded off. “That was something written by Fury to keep HR happy. To be honest, I’ve never really liked it. You’re meant to be a team, and how can that happen if agents are too busy worrying about calling their team leader by their official title.”

“You have a point, but Abbot-”

“Drill it into you.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Well, if you ever need anyone to vent to, you can talk to me.”

“Thank you.” Then after a moment of consideration you asked; “Why you?”

Peter nodded. “I worked with Abbot before Barton came back. I’ve seen how he can train those in his team. I’ve also seen that your group doesn’t exactly seem to strive for trust. It can be hard, working alone. Believe me, I would know.”

“Well, thank you.”

The next day, as you sat alone in the cafeteria, you were slightly startled to find Peter place his food tray down in front of you. “May I?”

“G-Go ahead.”

It shocked you a little; how much Peter was trying to talk to you. By this point, you had been in the program almost six months and no one, other than Abbot when he was barking orders, bothered to try and interact with you - on any scale of capacity. 

And, for the following two weeks, it continued to happen. 

Peter would sit down with you in the cafeteria whenever you had a break from training together. He would join you in the library on late nights when he had to make test scores and you were going over the handbook once more. 

But it wasn’t until one evening when Peter noticed you had been a bit off for a couple of days, that he finally asked you what he’d been dying to ask you for weeks. 

There was a distant look in your eyes. Like as if something had crept its way out of the locked box you kept it sealed in, and was slowly making its way to the front of your brain. 

“What happened?”

It took you a moment to adjust back to reality before you could finally hear Peter’s question. 

“What?”

“What happened?”

“When?”

“Before you joined the programme.”

Peter could see you studying him before he saw a wall go up in front of your eyes. “Nothing.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I already told you why I joined Shield.”

Peter said your name, “I know the look of a horrible memory when I see it. What-”

“Nothing. Nothing happened, Peter. So, can you please just drop it?”

“Yes, sorry.”

You pulled the handbook back in front of you and began to skim through it again and again and again. 

Except, that wall that your build would soon crumble, even as you fought for it to stay standing. 

Three weeks later, and not saying a word to Peter, you found yourself in a training day that Abbot had set up without telling anyone. 

“You’re gonna have to stay on your toes. It’s not easy out there, so, first up!” 

Your name was called. 

Others were called after you and you were given five minutes to understand your mission. And it took everything in you not to stop breathing. 

As Peter made his way down to the training room, he found a “friendly” competition. The other Team Leaders had decided to get involved this time round and people were cheering and chanting and others were completely silent. 

And only then did he understand why. 

In the centre of the crowd, knelt three people and in the middle of them was you. 

No one else noticed, but Peter did. 

Your hands, despite the composure you were holding, were beginning to shake. Your eyes seemed glossier than the last time he had seen you and your breathing wasn’t like anyone else's. It was shattered. 

And, as much as he wanted to stop what was happening, he knew if he did, it would probably make it worse. 

Less than 30 seconds later, you were finished on the task in front of you and you stood back. 

“Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds!” Abbot called out your time. 

Peter watched as you turned your back and removed some of the equipment from your body before pushing your way to the back of the crowd. He rounded the corner of the crowd, but he couldn’t find you. 

A few minutes later, he watched as Abbot awarded one of the Rookie’s a gift-card of some kind and a medal. 

“Okay, that’s it for today! See you tomorrow!”

But you were the only one to leave. 

And Peter was hot on your train. 

From the moment you were given your task, your breathing was hitched in your chest and you couldn’t just quite fill your lungs with enough air to stop them from beating against your heart rapidly. 

Throughout the seven and a half minutes it took you to complete the task Abbot had given to you, you had been slowly losing clear vision due to the tears of old memories ripping their way into your mind. 

And once time had finally been called, you just had to force yourself to hold out a little bit longer. 

But, when your legs began to give out on you, you rushed to find a wall to support you. 

And, you did, for a moment. 

Your breathing was unsteady and out of control. Your head felt like it was spinning and you were going to throw up, all the while you could feel every single particle of blood in your body trying to fight its way into and through your heart. 

In a hazy distance, you heard someone call your name and you tried your best to focus and remain in control, but it didn’t work. 

It wasn’t until you heard a door click open behind you and a steady hand lead you inside that you sank to the floor in a weak attempt to try and ground your emotions. 

“Hey, look at me.”

You looked up and recognised the person who had helped you into the room. 

Peter.

You couldn’t speak. So Peter tried his best to calm you. 

“Just focus on my voice. Can you do that? It’s going to be okay. No one can hurt you here. You’re safe. I need you to keep looking at me. Here, pass me your hand.”

Peter took your trembling hand in his and held it against his heart. 

“I need you to try and focus on the beats. Can you do that for me?”

It took you a moment, but when Peter pressed his hand over yours so it pushed further into his chest, you finally felt his heartbeat against your palm. 

You tried your best to keep track of them, counting each one as they came. 

“Okay, good. Now, can you follow my breaths?”

You tried your best to follow his breaths. Breathing in with him, and breathing out just the same. 

It took a while but eventually your breathing returned, though it pained your chest a little when you did take in a deep breath. 

At some point, Peter had moved to sit beside you, placing an arm around you, yet still holding your hand against his chest. 

You didn’t know how long had passed before Peter spoke. It both felt instant and as if forever had passed. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not yet.”

You didn’t want to recount, just yet. You didn’t want to remember, just yet. 

Eventually the light in the room dimmed and you found yourself standing. Peter had taken off his jumper before placing it on you. He had felt you shivering for the last hour but every time he went to move and give you his zip-neck jumper, he felt your hand hold him tighter not wishing him to move. 

At some point, you found yourself inside of your home with Peter by your side, switching the kettle on without having to ask which is your favourite mug. 

Peter didn’t say anything. He just let you sit by your kitchen island and stare at your hands for as long as you needed. 

“It all started about two years ago.” you started, without even meaning to. “I, uh, I had been working the night shift. I worked in an emergency vet surgery. Anyway, one night, two guys came in. They said they had a horse outside that was giving birth but they couldn’t deliver the foul. It wasn’t rare that we got cases like this, so I grabbed my bag and rushed outside. But, instead of a horse trailer with a labouring mare, I found myself being carted off to a farm ten miles out of town.”

Peter slid the freshly made tea across to you before sitting down on one of the stools allowing the corner of the island to come between the both of you. 

“I had…”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me everything. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

You gave Peter a small nod, too emotionally exhausted to try and fight. 

You took a breath. “I had…found myself on a farm and all I remembered was getting hit over the head and when I woke up I was strapped into a ticking bomb.”

You recounted everything to Peter, from the moment when you woke up and what was going through your head, to managing to find your medical bag which they hadn’t hid well, if at all. And, how, from that, you had tried your best to get out and stop the bomb from going off whilst it was still attached to you. 

The fact that you had, by some miracle, managed to get away before it went off and blew up the barn was beyond you. But once Barton had found out, he wanted you in Shield. You had most of the medical training and with some training, you could become a major asset within Shield, helping eventually train medics in the organisation - even if you had started out as a Vet. 

It was safe to say Peter was pissed about Abbot's actions. 

Hell, it was even in the handbook and probably within the file that Abbot would have full access to since he was your Team Leader. 

You, under no circumstance, were to be put into a situation like you had been put in just hours earlier until you had clearance from a licensed medical therapist. And, after a few questions, Peter found that you hadn’t. 

Yes, you had clearance to train. You had clearance to practise. But when it came to something you had been so close with facing yourself? No. 

Again, time passed and before you knew it, you had come back around and your wall had slowly started to build back up. 

“I should probably go to bed. I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” You tried to assure him. 

Eventually, Peter got up to leave but looking down at your top, you called out to him. 

“Sorry, here’s your top.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Peter turned to leave once again but then turned back. “Oh, here…just in case.”

You looked down and found Peter’s card. It contained his name, office address and his phone number. 

“If Abbot tries something like today again…”

“I’ll be sure to call.” you nodded, though Peter feared that what you were saying had no meaning. That you would continue through it, pushing your emotions against your brick wall as hard as you could before you broke again. 

“I mean it, Y/N. He shouldn’t have done that today.”

“I’ll be okay, Peter. I promise.”

AS the door closed behind him, Peter feared that you had made a promise you couldn’t keep, despite how much he knew you would try to.