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sluttywonwoo · 4 months

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instead of you [part thirty-nine] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

“How much longer until we reach it?”

“You’ve asked that six times in the past ten minutes!”

“That’s because no one’s given me an answer!”

“Because no one knows, Felix! None of us have hiked this path before.”

Felix grumbled something behind his brother’s back but he must not have heard because he didn’t argue further.

The majority of the hike thus far had been uphill, something that the park rangers had neglected to mention when they sent you off into the forest. Thankfully, the mountains and canopy of trees provided some kind of shade but it was still scorching hot. And humid. And you were sweating like crazy.

Everyone was. Minho had already taken his shirt off and Felix had completely sweat through his. That was probably why he was complaining so much. He refused to take it off, though. Something about not wanting to get sunburned again.

“You doing okay?” Jisung asked, looking over at you.

The two of you had found yourselves in the middle of the pack for once, walking behind his parents and in front of his brothers.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered, trying not to sound as out of breath as you felt.

“Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Um...”

“Why do I even ask?”

After fifteen more minutes of walking and a bathroom break, you finally reached the waterfall.

Felix sighed. “That’s it? We walked all this way for this?”

“Shut up, Felix,” Jisung snapped. “It just looks small from the bridge, it’s not actually that small.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty average size,” you added, “maybe even kind of big.”

Minho laughed behind you. Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to hear your comment. To be fair to Felix, it wasn’t a huge waterfall. It certainly wasn’t the biggest waterfall in Hawai’i, but it was one of the few that visitors could swim under. That’s what made it so popular.

And the bridge had made it look smaller than it really was.

There was an area to rinse off before and after getting in the water so you all took turns under the showerhead.

Nikki was the only one who didn’t want to swim, which meant that she was stuck with all of the bags. You felt sort of bad when Jisung handed over the backpack you were sharing but Nikki assured you that it was fine, that she would rather hold them for you than have you rent one of the rusty lockers to store it in.

Waimea Falls required everyone to wear a life jacket, regardless of swimming ability. You knew it was a liability thing but you still couldn’t help but shiver when you slung on the cold, wet vest and buckled it around your chest. Who knew how many people had worn it before you today.

Shoes were optional so you left your sandals in the gravel by the bleachers and tiptoed your way back over to the edge of the water. The boys did the same.

The five of you stood there, staring at the rocks leading down into the lagoon, trying to figure out how to proceed without falling. It was hard to determine the best way in as all of the rocks that were big enough to step on were either jagged and/or slippery.

“Ladies first,” Felix said unceremoniously.

You glared at him but decided to take a step down anyway. Someone had to go first and since everyone else was being a pussy it might as well be you. You moved at a snail’s pace, trying your best to move in a way that wouldn’t send you tumbling down the incline if you misstepped.

The rocks seemed stable enough to hold your weight without sliding around in the mud but one of them wobbled under you upon stepping on it, making you nearly lose your balance.

“Careful!” Jisung and Minho shouted at the same time, causing you to turn around and make a face at them both.

They traded weird looks with each other before turning their attention back to you, who had made significant progress toward the water. By the time you finally reached the edge, the boys had started trekking down behind you, much more haphazardly than you had.

You extended your leg out in front of you to feel it out, trying not to scream when your toes grazed the water. It was freezing, way colder than you expected, but you knew it would feel incredible once you were fully submerged. It was one of if not the hottest days of the trip and you had sweat through everything. Even the life vest they’d saddled you with was beginning to feel sticky.

“How is it?” Jisung called from behind you.

“Feels good!” you lied, not trusting yourself to turn around and show him your face. He’d know you were bluffing instantly.

Since you didn’t want to hold up the line, you took a deep breath and pushed yourself off of the ledge, finding your footing with both feet in the water. The bed of the lagoon was also covered with rocks. They were more slippery than the ones on the path seeing as they were wet and covered with algae so you had to be extra careful.

You moved away from the shore so that the boys could get in after you.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” was Jisung’s shout from behind you.

You turned back to see him submerged up to his waist. He apologized to the people around him for cursing before glaring at you.

“You little brat!” he muttered, lunging at you.

You let out a yelp as the weight of your best friend dragged you under. You both emerged with dripping hair, laughing and sputtering.

“You said it felt good!”

“It does! It’s refreshing!”

“It’s cold as fuck,” he muttered, “and you knew that.”

“What, can’t take a little chill?” you taunted.

He splashed you.

“Are we going to swim over to the waterfall or what?” Minho’s voice echoed from behind you both, sounding annoyed.

Jisung smirked before turning around to face his older brother.

“We don’t all have to go together. You could have gone on without us.”

Felix was the last to get in, gingerly stepping on the algae-covered rocks to make his way over to the three of you. Dom stayed by the edge, content to keep Nikki company from the water. He claimed to be too old to swim against the current just to get thousands of gallons of water dunked on him.

“Let’s go, babe,” Jisung said, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the waterfall.

Swimming to the base of the waterfall proved to be a lot more difficult than it looked. The current was strong and moving against it required a lot of effort. People who weren’t strong swimmers had no chance of making it all the way under.

It was doable for you, but not without struggle. The boys seemed to be in the same boat, save for Minho, who was the fittest out of all of you. He was already several strokes ahead of the rest of you when Jisung called out for him to wait up. He paused and tread water while he waited for you and the twins to catch up.

“I thought we were going together,” Felix panted bitterly.

“Not my fault you guys are slow,” he rebutted.

“Maybe we should hold hands,” Jisung suggested and pointed to another family who was making significantly more progress. “They’re doing it.”

“You think that’s going to work?” you asked.

“Yeah, how do we know you guys aren’t just going to hold me back?”

Felix clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Minho-”

“You could stand to pull some more weight, K-pop boy,” Jisung pointed out.

“Tsk, fine. How should we do this?”

Minho obviously helmed the line. You were stuck between him and Jisung, with Felix bringing up the rear. You didn’t argue about your place in the order but it did feel strange to be holding both Minho and Jisung’s hands at the same time. You couldn’t tell whether they felt similarly but you had to assume they did.

Minho tugged you along and you pulled Jisung in turn. They held on to you tightly so as not to lose you in the tide. You tried to focus on keeping your head above the surface instead of the feeling of both of their hands in yours.

Jisung’s hand-holding strategy actually worked and you made it to the waterfall twice as fast as you would have on your own.

Trying to get under the waterfall was another ordeal. The water pressure was so aggressive that you had to fight against the water in order to get up on the rocks right beneath the stream.

“This kind of hurts!” Jisung shouted over the roaring of the water.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting bruises!” Minho agreed.

“You guys are pussies!” you yelled, even though it did hurt and you wouldn’t be surprised if was bruising you.

“I think Mom is trying to take a picture!” Felix screamed.

Automatically, all four of you posed even though you couldn’t see where Nikki was and you could barely open your eyes under the stream. You grabbed for Jisung but got Minho instead, accidentally squeezing his ass in an effort to hold his hand. How you mixed up the person standing beside you and mis-approximated where their wrist was, you didn’t know, but you immediately let go once you realized your mistake and fumbled for the right person’s hand instead.

If Jisung noticed what happened, he didn’t say anything about it. Minho definitely did notice and you could see him trying not to laugh out of the corner of your eye.

“Should we swim back now?” one of the boys, you weren’t sure which, asked after you had stood there for what felt long enough for their mother to have snapped a couple of photos.

“You guys can, I think y/n and I are going to swim around by ourselves for a bit longer.”

That was news to you but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. You hadn’t been in the water for long anyway and you wanted to make the most of it. And if Jisung wanted to be alone with you, you weren’t going to say no.

Your number one priority was winning him back, making it up to him, as much as you could.

You followed Jisung to a secluded part of the pool, letting him tug you along as you floated on your back. Minho and Felix either got out or fucked off to another part of the lagoon. You weren’t paying attention when you split up and you weren’t about to look for them.

“Did you want to talk about something?” you asked your best friend.

“No, just wanted some space from my brothers.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Did you want to talk about something?” he parroted.

You made a face. “No, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

You could tell he knew what you referring to immediately from the way his expression shifted.

“Not here, yeah?”

You nodded in agreement. He was right, you should have that conversation somewhere private. Still, you took his answer as a good sign. ‘Not here’ implied that there was somewhere that you would have that conversation, which meant that he was willing to have it. You counted that as a win. A very small win, but a win nonetheless.

“What?” Jisung asked, squinting at you through the sunlight.

“Huh?”

“What’s got you smiling like that? What’s on your mind?”

You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out.

“Just happy to be here with you.”

You had dinner at some famous burger place that night. You were too tired to pay much attention to what you were eating or what everyone was talking about but you’re pretty sure the food tasted good.

The restaurant was in the middle of their dinner rush when your party arrived so you had to wait for a table. There was a small surf shop attached to the same building so you went with the boys to check it out while Nikki and Dom scoped out somewhere to sit. Everything was expensive so no one bought anything but window shopping kept you occupied for the time being.

After dinner, you rode with Jisung’s parents back to the resort. He seemed indifferent to your presence this time, which you took as another win. He held your hand in the back seat and you rested your head on his shoulder. Neither of you fell asleep but you kept your eyes closed, enjoying the silence.

“We’re here, kids,” Nikki said softly once Dom had parked in the lot.

Jisung stretched, forcing you to sit up too. You thanked them for the ride, and for dinner since they paid, before Jisung asked if you wanted to take a walk on the beach.

“Sure, let’s go.”

He led you by the hand through the maze of buildings to the hotel’s beach entrance. You passed other couples as you strolled past the pool and the firepits and it made your heart sink a little. You were jealous of them. Jealous that they could enjoy each other’s company out in the open like that. Jealous that they looked so happy. Jealous that they weren’t sacrificing one relationship for another.

You were definitely projecting, they absolutely could have been in the same situation as you and you would never know but you refused to acknowledge that possibility because you were resolute on feeling bitter.

The sun hadn’t fully set yet despite the late hour. Being that it was still the middle of summer, it wouldn’t get dark until much later than usual. You were also convinced that daylight lingered longer in Hawai’i than it did in other places but you had no evidence to back that up.

“Here, I’ll carry your shoes for you,” Jisung offered, holding out his free hand for them.

You paused. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like the feeling of sand in your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

You bent down to undo your sandals and handed them to Jisung. He looped the straps around two of his fingers and resumed holding your hand.

The sand was still warm, holding on to the heat of the day.

“Are we going all the way down to the water?” you asked.

“If you want to,” Jisung answered.

“I don’t really feel like getting wet again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You settled for walking along the outline of the tide where the sand was still dry. You followed the curves of the waves from hours past, tracing the remnants of high tide with your arms out like you were walking on a tightrope. Jisung trailed behind you for a few moments before catching up with you again.

You had pulled your hand out of his grasp moments earlier to run ahead, distracted by the seafoam in the distance. You waited for him and put your arms back by your sides.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you,” you sighed when he reappeared at your side.

“I know,” he replied.

Instead of offering you his hand this time, he gave you his elbow. You took it gently, resting your hand on his bicep.

He was uncharacteristically quiet. You wondered what was on his mind. When he invited you down here, you thought it would be to talk, to finally have that conversation. Maybe it had been and he changed his mind. Or maybe it had never been his intention in the first place.

You were starting to think you’d never get an answer when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

You tensed but kept walking, not wanting to confront whatever expression might be on Jisung’s face. If you stopped, you would have to look at him or stare at the ground. If you continued walking, you could just look straight.

“I... didn’t mean that shit... about wishing I never met you. Or any of it really. I wanted to mean it. But I couldn’t, because none of it’s true. I was just really hurt. I still am, to be honest.”

“I understand,” you responded.

“I want us to move past this,” he continued, “but it still feels really fresh. I mean, I only found out about you and Min a few days ago.”

You nodded as you listened. He was right. It had only been a handful of days even though it felt like an eternity. Being at odds with Jisung was hell. He was your best friend, after all. You had lived life with him by your side for the past four years. You didn’t want to imagine what that would look like without him.

“Right.”

He cocked his head to the side, lost in thought.

“I’m sorry too,” you added, wanting to reiterate just how shitty you felt about the whole thing.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know you are. I knew you were then too. I’m sorry for invalidating your apology-”

“Don’t be!” you interrupted. “My actions and my words... they don’t add up. I would’ve thought I was bullshitting too.”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck and forced a laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy to wrap my head around. But I get it, I think. There’s just something about Minho, isn’t there?”

You snuck a glance at him but didn’t say anything. You had a feeling it was a rhetorical question.

“You must have been miserable this whole time. Trying to push down your feelings for him and then finally acting on them but being consumed by guilt when you finally do.”

“It hasn’t been the best,” you admitted, “but it’s my own fault.”

“Not entirely,” Jisung reasoned.

You were surprised he was coming to your defense but you figured he’d go up to bat for anyone if it was against Minho.

“Enough of it is.”

Your best friend shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re known for your decision-making skills.”

You scoffed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed a real laugh for the first time in days. You had missed hearing it. It made you smile too. You rested your head on his shoulder and for once it felt natural.

“I really am sorry, Ji,” you sighed, your voice wavering.

“I know. I can’t pretend that I’m over it... but I will be. I also know that I can’t ask you to end things with him...”

“You can-”

“No,” he murmured. “I can’t. You would resent me for it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Jisung shook his head and you closed it again. “You would. Maybe unconsciously, but you would. Things wouldn’t be the same.”

“Things won’t be the same if I don’t end things with him,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he agreed solemnly. Then he sighed as if it was something he had already come to terms with. “But you’ll still love me the same. And that’s enough.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids x reader #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #stray kids x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #lee minho x reader #minho x reader #stray kids series

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cherrycheridarling · 1 year

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cherry | h.s.

harry styles x famous!reader

warnings: sad? it's a rollercoaster

summary: how 'cherry' came to be

wc: 2.5k

a/n: can be read w/ baby or on its own

are we rlly surprised abt this? look at my user;)

'Don't you call him baby.'

Harry sat on his plush couch, telly on volume 11 as interviews from The Emmys went live.

"Here we have Y/N Y/L/N! Looking as gorgeous as ever! How are you?" the man asked as he kissed both of your cheeks.

Harry had to agree with the man. You were a stunning picture in a skintight iridescent gown that somehow left little and just enough to the imagination at the same time. The dainty silver accents adorning your ears and wrists, chest bare with a slight shimmer of something that wasn't sweat or glitter, but just pure radiance in Harry's eyes.

You adjusted your stance before answering, "Good, good. And yourself?"

"Fantastic! I hear you're nominated for three awards tonight! Congratulations! How do you feel about all of that?" Harry wasn't surprised by your achievements seeing as he kept his tabs on you ever since the breakup.

You nodded with a timid smile, "I am, yes. It's all a little nerve wracking if I'm being honest with you."

The man grinned before it looked like his attention had been stolen by someone else, "Oh look, there we have your knight in shining armour!"

The camera panned to Tom Holland walking in your direction. Harry forced himself to watch as Tom came to stand beside you and kissed your cheek with an arm around your waist. Even with the microphone being unable to pick up your voices, your small interaction could be read off your lips.

"Hello, darling." Tom's lips moved as he winked.

"Hi, baby." your smile was warm as you spoke.

Harry abruptly turned off his telly at that moment. Memories of that name being used to address him flooded his brain. He threw his head back against the cushions and let the sting wash over him. It'd been a little less than a year since you guys called it quits, but the wounds still bled.

'We're not talking lately.'

"Do you remember that promise we made?" you asked as Harry rested his forehead against your knees while your fingers ran through his hair.

You felt him nod as a tear rolled down your cheek for the hundredth time. "We'd always stay friends and support each other even if we don't last." he replied from below you on his knees while you were sat on the couch.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Can I adjust that promise?"

His movements seize the second the question left your lips. He lifted his head and met your glossy gaze with an equally bloodshot one.

"What do you mean?" his voice quivered in a way that made your heart shatter.

You slid your thumb along his cheekbone, "We need time apart to move on, ange. No communication while we deal with this. We can still support each other and love each other, but we need space in order to let each other go. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry pondered on it for a moment before slightly nodding, "I guess so."

Neither of you said a word after that, just continuing to hold each other until the morning light came in and reminded you that everything still moves on even if you haven't.

'Don't you call him what you used to call me.'

July 23rd 2017:

"Baby, can you grab my purse for me, please?" you semi-shouted from the bottom of the stairs in your home.

Not a minute later, Harry came waltzing down towards you, "I wasn't sure which one you wanted today, so I took it upon myself to choose this one." he held up the Prada shoulder purse with a proud smile.

October 17th 2017:

"No." you deadpanned, but at his immediate frown you continued "Baby, I'm not dressing up as a socket so you can be the plug." you laughed incredulously at his suggestion.

Harry threw his hands in the air, "Come on! That would be the best costume ever!"

December 25th 2017:

"Happy Christmas, baby." you smiled at the man on your phone screen.

His lips turned down into a frown that somehow still looked like a smile, "Happy Christmas, darling. Wish we were together today."

January 1st 2018:

"Happy new year!" Harry screamed along with the room before turning to his love, "No one else I'd rather enter the year with." he smiled softly at you before meeting your lips with a kiss.

Confetti fell around you, champagne broke through the cheers with a 'pop' and yet, to you, it was silent, and there was no one there but him.

You broke apart still grinning, "Happy new year, baby."

'I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best. I'm selfish so I'm hating it.'

"And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to...!" Kevin Hart unfolded the envelope and immediately broke into a wide grin, "Y/N Y/L/N!"

The applause was immediate and deafening. You barely registered the first syllable of your name being called as everyone around you began to congratulate you and shower you with hugs.

You slowly made your way to the stage, being careful to not trip. You greeted Kevin with a hug as he handed you the award and your hands shook. As you stood in front of the mic, your mouth opened and closed like a fish.

"I-I- what?" you finally managed to sputter out as everyone chuckled.

You managed to get your wits about you and began to give out your thanks, while failing to notice the man in the audience who was holding back tears for you.

Jeff leaned over to Harry, "I know this is tough, but there will be cameras on you. Be careful of your expressions." he whispered as Harry momentarily shut his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Harry managed to plaster on a faux smile that would fool anyone else except you. He was ashamed of himself; he should be happy for you, he should've been on his feet cheering for you. But he couldn't. He refused to do that from 12 rows away when he should've been sat beside you. The smile on your face, the glow in your skin. All of it was something he hadn't seen since you were together and seeing it now only brought pain and sorrow to him.

He wished he had stayed home, but Jeff had convinced him that moping around in his home was only fuelling the rumours surrounding your break up, so he watched as you took your seat again and only when the next category was being announced did he excuse himself to the washroom and let the tears flow.

'I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress. Take it as a compliment.'

"Darling!" Harry's voice came booming from your temporarily shared home.

You sat on the couch in the living room and threw your head back, "Yes?!"

"Where's your striped jumper?!" he replied from your walk in closet.

You chose not to reply and instead left your seat to see what chaos he had caused. Upon entering your closet, there were piles of clothes on the floor and shoes tossed in every direction.

You chuckled, "What is going on?"

Harry's head snapped towards you, "I have an interview in 30 minutes and I need that jumper. Please, darling, help." he pouted at you.

You laughed a little more before walking out of the closet and pulling the sweater from a chair next to your bed. You cleared your throat while dangling the sweater from your finger and smirked, "Really should wear your glasses more often."

He covered his face with his hands as he realized he made a mess for no reason. As he took the jumper from your hands with a kiss to your lips and a thank you, you spoke again with a smile, "And get your own clothes."

"Why do that when I have you?" he grinned, "And don't touch any of the mess. I will clean it when I get back." his tone was serious but you struggled to hold in your laugh.

"I'll ju-"

"-No. Pinky promise you won't clean any of it." he held out his pinky with a raised brow.

You rolled your eyes before locking your finger with his. "Fine." the metal of the ruby ring on his finger that used to be yours was cold on your skin

He smiled as he kissed the place where your fingers interlocked and dashed out of the room with one last warning, "You pinky promised! No breaking it!"

"I, I just miss. I just miss your accent and your friends."

"Okay, Your Majesty." Harry mocked your RP accent for the thousandth time as you sat at Beachwood Cafe with Mitch, Sarah, Hazel and Max.

You gasped, "Would you stop that?! I do not sound like the Queen."

He was about to argue before Mitch chimed in, "Sorry, Y/L/N, but you kind of do." he giggled as he spoke.

Your jaw dropped as Harry started to laugh, "This is so unfair. I introduced you guys! You were my friends first! You're supposed to be on my side!"

They all started laughing together at your outburst as you rolled your eyes with a small smile.

"Did you know I still talk to them?"

Hazel was escorted to Harry's dressing room before his show in Vancouver while Max was in charge of finding parking.

Since it was her's and Max's hometown, Harry offered them tickets and backstage entry. It took a lot of debating with himself before he sent the text to Hazel, but his reasoning ultimately came down to not wanting to lose two friendships due to one relationship.

She took a moment to pause before knocking, and sighed a little when Harry looked up through the mirror with red, glassy eyes.

"What's going on, H?" she spoke softly as she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Harry fully turned his chair around and felt his shoulders deflate, "Just miss her." he rolled his lips in between his teeth as a few tears managed to escape.

Hazel's heart fractured a bit in that moment as her phone started buzzing in her pocket with a call from you, "It's Y/N. Give me a minu-"

"-No. Please. I won't say anything. Can you put it on speaker?" he begged and although Hazel knew it was a bad idea she sighed before answering your call and following his request.

"Hey, Y/N/N!"

"Hi, are you at the show?" your voice ran through the room and Harry subconsciously leaned towards to the phone as if it would bring him closer to you.

Hazel suppressed a sigh from watching Harry before replying, "Yeah! It was really nice of him to invite us. What are you up to?"

"About to catch a flight to LA. Just wanted to make sure you got there safe." you laughed lightly through your lie and Harry's eyes automatically shut, trying to savour the sweet sound.

Hazel could hear your lie in your voice, but chose not to address it, "Yeah, Max is just finding parking right now. Why are you going to LA?"

Harry fought the urge to answer her question, forgetting that he wasn't supposed to know the answer.

You sighed slightly, "House hunting. Can't stay at Harry's anymore, so time to find my own place there."

Hazel nodded, forgetting that you couldn't see her before replying, "Oh. I see. Have you talked to H at all?"

Harry's head snapped up at his name being brought into the conversation.

"No, it's best if I don't." a mans voice was heard in the background before you spoke again, "Well, we're about to take off now. If you see him, wish him luck for me, will you?" your sadness was evident throughout your words.

Harry buried his head in his hands again as more tears escaped while Hazel replied, "Of course. Have a safe flight, Y/N/N. Love you, miss you."

"Thanks, love you and miss you too. Bye!" you blew a kiss into the phone before the dial tone was heard.

And for a moment, with his eyes shut, Harry allowed himself to imagine that those words were meant for his ears only.

"Does he take you walking 'round his parents gallery?"

"Hey, Haz," Tyler spoke up from the silence of the recording studio. They had just finished a long session and the rest of the team had already departed for the night, leaving Harry, Sammy and Tyler. "There's a new gallery opening on Saturday. Only there for a few nights. You wanna come with me and Sammy?"

Harry slowly turned in the spinning chair, "Sure. Whose gallery?" he bit into an apple as he finished speaking.

"Nikki Holland? Don't know who she is, but she's got some sick photos on Instagram." Tyler shrugged not noticing how Harry nearly choked on his fruit.

"Holland? As in Tom Holland's mum? Tom Holland as in Y/N's boyfriend, Tom Holland?" Sammy's eyes widened before he pulled out his own phone and went to Tom's instagram page. And sure enough, there was a post and a story of him promoting his mum's new gallery opening. "Just answered my own question." he rolled his lips between his teeth before chancing a glance at Harry.

Harry stared blankly at the floor before clearing his throat, "Probably not the best idea for me to show up there." he paused at their somber expressions, "Honestly, it's fine." he laughed lightly.

"Nah, we won't go either. Probably start rumours if we-"

"-Wait." Harry abruptly announced before reaching for the acoustic guitar on his left.

Tyler and Sammy shared a concerned expression with one another while Harry nervously fumbled with the strings of the instrument.

"Let me just- I just need to-" he struggled to find the right words to say, but there was no need.

Tyler shook his head and put his phone down, "Let's write it."

'Coucou!'

"Tu dors?" you frowned when your friend answered your call with a groggy voice.

She laughed lightly through the phone, "Oui. J'étais sur le point d'être."

"Oh, j'suis désolée."

She chuckled, "Ne t'en fais pas. Que s'est-il passé? A-t-il fait une demande en mariage?"

You sighed with a smile, thinking back on the day you spent with the lovely man behind you, "Bah non-"

"Je peux entendre le sourire effrayant dans ta voix. Que s'est-il passé?" she cut you off while mocking you.

You laughed loudly, "Nan, c'est pas important."

"Qu'avez-vous fait alors? Êtes-vous allé à la plage?"

You turned to look at Harry as he played a soft melody on a guitar. His eyes looked up to meet yours and he offered you a small grin that you returned, "Ouais, on a été à la plage, et maintenant on—"

She cut you off again with a loud laugh, "Allons prendre un verre et discuter. J'ai besoin de voir le sourire effrayant en personne."

You couldn't even deny her accusation. You were at the happiest you could be.

'Parfait! Allez!'

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leclerc-s · 7 months

Text

the blue - part four

masterlist previous next

i think i like him...

congratulations, you're officially the last person to know

HOW COULD ANY OF YOU KNOW WHEN I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW MYSELF??

the way you look at him but don't worry he likes you too

HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT?

easy, the way he looks at you

WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN THOMAS??

well, you look at him like he hung the moon and he looks at you like you're the only person in the room who matters to him.

ASK HIM OUT!!!

no! and risk our friendship? no fucking way

it worked out for me didn't it?

yeah, but it's different.

how is it different amelia?

i don't know it just is.

god you're a fucking idiot. no wonder we're related.

okay rude

i'm being an idiot.

do you want to go on a date?

fuck i like you do you like me?

am i fucking 5?

OH SHIT!

FUCK!

I'M SORRY THAT WAS AN ACCIDENT! I DIDN'T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU!

so you meant to send it to someone else?

NO! FUCK!

amelia, it's okay. i get it if you meant to send it to someone else. it's fine.

jesus fuck how can i write songs but not get through this one fucking thing?

okay, fuck it. i can do this.

do you want to get lunch with me?

i mean we already have plans for tomorrow, so yes amelia, i do.

NO YOU IDIOT!

okay, that was uncalled for.

ME. YOU. DATE?

oh.

forget i said anything. it's okay. i get it. i hope we can still be friends.

read 13:28

14:04

amelia screamed into the nearest pillow scaring her little brother. she had hoped that oscar had gotten busy and wasn't just ignoring her, she didn't want to ruin her friendship with him, not over some stupid feelings.

"mum! she's doing it again!" paddy shouted. nikki holland walked into the room watching as her daughter continued to scream into a pillow. nikki shooed her youngest son out of the room, which he did without protesting. he did not want to watch his sister cry knowing there was nothing he could do. last time she had sobbed for 45 minutes when they were alone without telling anyone what it was about. to this day paddy suspects it was harrison’s fault, it always seemed to be these days.

nikki sat next to her daughter waiting for her to stop her screaming. when amelia's head popped out from inside the pillow, she smiled at her mom. nikki knew her, she knew it wasn't a genuine smile, something was upsetting her.

"what's wrong?" nikki questioned her daughter. amelia smiled, "i’m fine mum."

"no, you aren't. talk to me, is this about harrison?"

amelia groaned, "did everyone know about that?"

nikki nodded, "we did honey. now what's wrong?"

"am i unlovable? is there something about me that people don't love?"

"what?" nikki questioned, "no, you aren't. you're the most loveable person i know, and i'm not just saying that because i'm your mother. what makes you think that?"

"i asked oscar out on a date. he only said oh. i thought he liked me, tom said he did."

nikki pulled her daughter in for a hug, the girl placing her head on her mum's chest listening to her heartbeat, "i'm sure you caught him off-guard. let him get back to you, don't assume the worst."

amelia opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a knock at the door. she exchanged looks with her mum before standing up and going towards the front door. she gasped in surprise when she noticed who was at her front door.

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

i need a favor

what happened to hello tom? how are you tom? how's your day going tom?

hi tom, how's your day? how are you? i need a favor.

i'm great oscar, thanks for asking. what favor do you need?

i need your address

excuse me?

well amelia's address

can i ask why?

i fucked up. amelia asked me out on a date and all i said oh. i have to fix this.

and you plan on fixing this how?

by taking her out on a date? and apologizing profusely for fucking up.

at least you're apologizing. i'm still waiting for harrison to apologize to amelia.

don't fuck this up piastri and my sister is staying with my parents right now. she didn't want go home to her empty apartment yet.

i won't, now what's her favorite flower?

tulips, she loves tulips

take care of her oscar

i promise

NOW

amelia gasped in surprise at who was at her front door. oscar smiled at her, holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand. he looked a bit relieved that she had been the one to answer the door. oscar has silently prayed her parents or brother hadn’t been the one to open the door, that would’ve been awkward.

"hi," he greeted, "i was busy so i didn't answer your text. does the offer still stand?"

"of course," she whispered. oscar held the flowers out to her, "these are for you."

amelia grabbed them, "tulips are my favorite, who told you?"

"a little spider," oscar joked. amelia laughed, and oscar felt his heart skip a beat, "so about that date?"

"now?" amelia questioned, "i'm not dressed properly."

oscar took in her appearance, she was wearing a t-shirt and jeans. a simple outfit and yet she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, "i think you look beautiful."

amelia blushed, "i have to go put these in water," she told him. oscar nodded, "i'll wait here."

paddy appeared behind his sister, "i'll do it. go. get out of the house for once."

amelia jumped, "when did you get here?"

"i saw a cool car in our driveway, i had to know who it was," paddy explained, "hi oscar. what kind of car is that?”

"hello," oscar greeted, “it’s a mclaren.”

"of course it is,” paddy joked, “i want her back home before midnight," paddy threatened, switching his demeanor from the kind boy he had been moments ago.

"paddy!" amelia scolded. paddy and oscar laughed, "this isn't funny."

"it kind of is," oscar said, "she'll be back before midnight mr. holland."

paddy sweetly smiled, "she comes back in tears or anything less than happy and we will hunt you down. understood?"

"yes sir."

"good," paddy said, handing her a jacket and pushing his sister out of their home, "have fun but not too much fun!"

"paddy!"

the boy giggled maniacally before oscar held a hand out for amelia to take. she took his hand, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach at the cause of that simple action. paddy closed the front door as the two began walking towards his car. he shared a knowing look with his mother and he made his back to his room, she fondly rolled her eyes at her youngest.

amelia quickly realized oscar piastri was nothing if not a gentleman. he had opened the car door for her, shutting it behind her before rounding the car and sitting in the driver's seat. he gave her a bright smile before leaving her family’s driveway. the two talked for what felt like hours but was only a few minutes as oscar parked his car in front of a coffee shop. amelia gasped, it was her favorite shop in her hometown, she turned to look at oscar and he just gave her a bright smile.

"you're brother helped out more than i would like to admit," oscar softly said, "but this was the best i could do on such a short notice, you kinda caught me off guard."

amelia smiled at him, before leaning over the console of his car and hugging him, "it was better than my idea."

oscar pulled away from her, ignoring the closeness of their faces, "what was your idea?"

"attempt to cook lunch for us, fail, and order food," she joked.

oscar laughed at her joke and amelia smiled again, at least someone in her life liked her jokes. her brothers didn't understand her jokes half the time, except for paddy, he always got them. her parents didn't understand them at all and her friends always told her not to underestimate her skills. the truth was amelia was a shite cook, there was no denying that, she was a great baker but cooking was a no go.

oscar gave her a final look before getting out of the car, rushed to her side and opened her door, holding a hand out to her, "shall we?"

amelia laughed, "we shall," she said as she intertwined their hands, oscar gave her another smile before leading her inside the coffee shop.

ameliaholland 'in a world of boys, he's a gentleman'

view all comments

landonorris AMELIA? WHAT IS THIS?

↳ ameliaholland it's an instagram post lando. duh.

↳ landonorris I FUCKING KNOW THAT! WHO IS THAT??

↳ ameliaholland that's a secret i'll never tell.

samholland1996 AMELIA? WHAT THE HELL?

↳ ameliaholland isn't it such a cute post?

↳ samholland1996 NO! WHO IS THAT??

↳ ameliaholland please refer to my earlier comment.

harryholland64 AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND!!!

↳ ameliaholland yes??

↳ harryholland64 ANSWER THE FUCKING PHONE!!

↳ ameliaholland can't i'm on a date 🤭

username AMELIA GRACE HOLLAND SOFT LAUNCHING WAS NOT ON MY 2023 BINGO CARD!

oscarpiastri oh?

↳ ameliaholland oh?

↳ username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???? WHAT DOES PASTRY BOY KNOW??

hazosterfield oh.

↳ username the difference between their comments is hilarious to me

username where are the overbearing and overprotective comments from paddy and tom?

↳ username those two probably knew.

danielricciardo AMELIA?? HUH?

↳ ameliaholland cute post right?

↳ danielricciardo i've joined the list of your brothers, i don't know who he is but i'll break his face if he hurts you like you-know-who

zendaya i'm sorry? why wasn't i told about this??

↳ ameliaholland i'm sorry z! it just happened! i'll text you the details later!

↳ zendaya i'm holding you accountable to that!

oscarpiastri posted a new story

seen by logansargeant, landonorris, ameliaholland and others

¡leclerc-s speaks! they're my babies who just had their first date. they are not dating, not yet. the hard launch is when they start officially dating, i'm working up to that. i also clearly don't know how time works so ignore that plot hole, i'll probably fix that later.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the blue series #formula 1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x female oc #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au

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youandtom2 · 10 months

Text

The Hunting Ground (18+)

Dom!Tom Holland x sub!bratty!Reader

Summary: How else would you get adventure back into your life than to visit a speakeasy that's definitly not a kinky-cult-sex-club? Themes: EXPLICIT, BDSM and mentions of BDM, dom/sub, knife play, breath play, unprotect p in v, oral (fem rec.), orgasm denial, overstimulation w/c: 13k oops

a/n: it's late and it's 13k so I'll probs revisit another time whoops. apologies if writing gets sloppy.

MASTERLIST

“Come on. This has got to be a joke. This is the kinkiest cult shit I’ve ever seen.”

“Nope. Not a joke.”

“When I said I was looking for something exciting and adventurous, I didn’t mean a sex club!” You flippantly disregard the masquerade mask onto the couch, whilst your friend Danny, holds his elegantly in his hand as if it is the beholder of all his memories.

“It isn’t a sex club. It’s…an opportunity.” Danny’s lips twist into a smirk that wavers between sweet and sinful. That alone should’ve told you that his opinion on this ‘club’ was simply that. An opinion. A biassed one at that. The other thing Danny doesn’t account for is that opinions are subjective, interchangeable and while he sees his little kinky sex club as an opportunity, you see it more of a shameless hookup with cultic motives.

But you’re curious to hear how he can possibly sell this to you. “Oh yeah? An opportunity for what? Enlighten me.”

Your friend coyly swivels his hips playfully, that all too familiar bashful glow emanating from his olive cheeks. He leans gayly over the edge of the couch with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, entrapped in his childlike manner and embracing his inner Princess Diaries by swinging his feet. He so desperately wants to say ‘to flirt with hot men and recklessly have sex with them with no strings attached’, but to your surprise, his answer is a little more profound and in-depth.

“To meet like-minded people who share similar interests. To embrace a community that doesn’t judge you for what you like, who…take you as you are. It’s actually very liberating.”

“Puh-lease! You threw that innuendo in there on purpose. Look. It’s a sex club. You meet up to have sex. That’s the common ground.”

“Oh my God, you speak about it like it’s a brothel and you couldn’t be more wrong. Okay, okay, I’ll admit, it’s a little provocative, but it’s not like some sex dungeon, it’s a speakeasy. There’s a bar, drinks, music, dancing, it’s totally chill. You don’t even need to have sex, it’s not a guarantee.”

You fold your arms, staring outwardly and chewing your lips as you mull over the possibility that it might not all be what you initially think it is. But the only way to prove otherwise is to go. Dammit you wish you weren't so curious.

“And…what’s this place called?”

Danny smiles contentedly. “The Hunting Ground.”

~~~~~

“Do I really have to wear this?” The flimsy black ribbon of the mask trickles through your fingers. The shell is midnight black with a faint covering of silver lace, embellished with enough sparkle to catch your eye under the streetlights. Ahead of you is what looks like an ordinary bar under the false name of The Playground. The tinted windows and low purple LED lights inside is a clever ruse to fool anyone who is none the wiser to believe that the mystery is revealed when you step inside, leaving no other incentive to keep exploring. However, hidden behind the facade of an ‘ordinary bar’ as confirmed by Danny, is the speakeasy. It’s quietly genius; it’s all hidden in plain sight.

“Yes, you have to wear it; it’s like a pass for entry into the club since it’s invitation-only. Plus, anonymity is kinda a thing here. Especially for newbies if they’re not too sure what they’re looking for. You get all types of people here. You’re bound to find someone who is yours.”

You roll your eyes as you tie the ribbon tightly around your head with a grunt, the thick plastic mask sitting squarely on the bridge of your nose. “Anonymity, sure. These things are as good a disguise as Superman putting on his glasses and all of a sudden he’s Clark Kent and completely unrecognisable.”

“Trust me. They do their job. Oh and one last thing.” Why is he smirking again? “Sub or Dom?”

“Come again?”

“What are you, Sub or Dom?”

You blink. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what that means.”

“God, you’re so vanilla--they’re, um…types of people.” Danny vaguely explains and purses his lips, thinking as he evaluates you. “Hmm, we'll stick to sub for now. When you get inside grab a white cup.”

“Fuck sake.”

You follow Danny down a poorly lit, narrow staircase and you get a sense of entering a restricted area, having it not as well decorated, but then you remember; it’s supposed to be secretive and unwelcoming to any wandering stranger. The staircase is quiet compared to the floors above you and below you, giving off a feeling of limbo, neither here nor there as the pounding of the bass-heavy music distorts your sense of direction. There’s two different songs playing and they blend into each other so well that you can’t quite tell what is coming from where, but the further you descend down the staircase, the more obvious it becomes. The floor above you is phased out when you come to a stone archway, lined with plum velvet curtains hanging at either side where wisps of vapour spill from the room. A fiery red spotlight casts a shadow where the words ‘The Hunting Ground’ are projected on the wall to welcome you. Danny stops you before you enter.

“And you told me this wasn’t a sex club,” you quip, motioning to the entrance to hell.

“Remember it’s just to socialise. Nothing needs to happen, okay? After a drink or two, you’ll start to loosen up and have more fun.”

You huff. “I’ll take your word for it.”

You take one step into the stuffy haze and instantly you feel the change in aura, perhaps because you know what people are here to do. Danny patiently waits with you as you soak in the sights, the smells, the heat and the very suffocating atmosphere of the room in front of you. A fine mist hovers in the air, just enough to hinder your view of anything further than 10 metres in front of you - probably intentional to hide the erotic acts in the corner - and only the blacklights and the dancing neon laser lights shoot through. Unlike the bar above, the music is slower and less adrenaline pumping, perfect to fulfil its purpose of enticing its listeners to socialise rather than all-out partying, but in effect, it makes you more nervous; how do you socialise with people you’ve never met? You bump shoulders with Danny is a quiet plea to stay close.

A few people within eyesight turn their heads as you enter in your sage green dress, making their judgements on you through the narrow slits of their masks, a symbol of membership to the club, identical to the one you wear. Under the cover of darkness, the masks do actually provide a sense of anonymity and you take back an earlier thought; what the hell are these masks going to hide? Everything apparently.

You decide not to linger around the entrance any longer for you feel that others can smell your hesitance a mile off. You make a B-line to the table adorning white cups, directly across the table that hold a much smaller number of black cups, and perpendicular to a table with grey cups. As soon as the rim of the cup touches your lips and alcohol sears your throat, you ease a little.

“God, I feel like I’ve just entered the mafia. Why is this place so stiff?”

Danny laughs inwardly. “Oh they’re stiff alright.” That earns him a swift elbow to the ribcage. “Ow!”

“You said this place was chill and judgement free.”

“It is--”

“Then why do I feel like I’m being victimised?”

For a fleeting moment, you catch Danny’s eyes flitting over to the white cup you hold in your hand, being quickly emptied by you. There’s obviously significance behind the white and black cups and you’re certain Danny knows why as he too picks up a white cup with conviction, but what significance they have is being purposely withheld from you.

It’s definitely a cult thing.

“They just want to get to know you. Give them a chance. It’s all with friendly intentions, I promise.”

“Uh-huh.”

Like Danny said, there’s all sorts of people here; men, women, and more situated around the room whether it’s standing in small clusters around a table or sitting in smaller, more private groups in booths. Few white cups, some grey cups, but black cups hold the majority. Some are dressed more provocative than you would ever dare where some keep their secrets to themselves. Those who begin dancing are booming with confidence, sashaying their hips while others simply observe with a glass of whisky in hand. Even hours into the night, you’re still pondering over the likemindedness of such a diverse group. There must be something that ties these people together, because every hour or so you catch a glimpse of couples' escapades, hand-in-hand as they disappear through another archway with a black curtain.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny murmurs into your ear.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to catch up with a friend. I won’t be long. You can manage your own for a bit, can’t you?”

“Don’t think I have much of a choice.”

Danny quickly disappears into the smog and across the dancefloor, and by the time he reaches the bar, he’s out of your sight and anxiety creeps in. As ever, you find solace in the very alcoholic drink, quietly sipping away in a dark corner of the room.

Or at least you thought you were in the corner of the room…

The solid wall behind you suddenly swings open and you lose your balance, falling backwards into the void that has just opened up. Your heart leaps to your throat and your lungs flood themselves with oxygen to prepare for what you know will be a painful fall and the loss of your dignity. Inches from disaster, a miracle happens when two hands reach out to hook underneath your arms and break your fall, leaving you hovering over the floor until the stranger finds the strength to bring you back to your feet again. Sadly, there’s nothing to be done about your drink that puddles on the floor…

With a breath of relief, you quickly compose yourself, turning around to see that indeed the wall you were standing against was actually a door, and in that doorway now stands the masked stranger that saved you from your fall. He stands just a couple of inches taller than you, dressed in a black suit (it could be navy - it’s just so damn dark in here) but replaces the standard crisp, white shirt with a baby blue one, keeping it casual with undone buttons by his collar. You want to make more guesses of his appearance but this club’s obsession with anonymity is slowly becoming a nuisance.

“I’m so sorry, I really thought that was a wall.”

“No worries, it’s easily done.” His words are smooth and puckish, and you feel like he genuinely believes you when he places a gentle supporting hand against your back.

“Right? Especially with a place like this, I mean, would it hurt to turn up the lights even just a little bit?” An innocent laugh escapes you but the second you see his lips parting in what you can only assume is disbelief, you instantly feel like you might’ve crossed a line. His hand drops and sinks deep into his pocket. So much for no judgement…

“Well, we could but most members here know there’s a door here.”

Caught.

He doesn’t watch for your reaction as he picks up the empty white cup from the floor, long, slender fingers holding it tightly while he studies it for a moment and the corners of his lips tug a little before settling it on a nearby table. You’re still not privy to the colour codes and their meanings, and something itches inside of you when you see this stranger turn to you with a knowing smirk on his face. Because he knows.

He folds his arms, muscles defined in the tight squeeze of his blazer and stands stoically before you. “You’re looking a little lost, newbie.”

“I’m just waiting on my friend Danny. He’s the one who brought me here. I don’t know why to be honest. I don’t really think this is my kind of scene.”

The stranger tilts his head curiously. “How so?”

You snort. Isn’t it obvious? “I mean the mask thing is a little weird. And the segregation of cups? What the hell is that all about? Like, I’m always down for something different but the anti-religion cult vibes just isn’t doing it for me. I haven’t been here that long and already I’ve had so many daggers from people that I just can’t tell whether they want to kill me or eat me.”

“Oh my God, you really have no idea, do you? Tell me then, if this place doesn’t suit your majesty’s preferences, why are you still here?”

This stranger doesn’t need you to take off your mask to know that there’s a scowl taking over your features. Affronted, you decide to mirror him, folding your arms and delivering his own stinking attitude back to him.

“Cut the sass. You asked me a question and I answered it. If you listened, you would’ve heard me say that my friend brought me here. Said that if I was looking for something exciting and adventurous I should come here, but I’m not seeing either. Anyway, what does it matter to you?”

“Careful, newbie. Some people here don’t take too kindly towards being spoken to like that. It can get you into a lot of trouble, unless you’re searching for it, in which case, Danny was right to bring you here. And tell him he should’ve put a straw in your drink too.”

You’re so fed up with these innuendos. “I don’t even know what that means!”

The stranger takes a step forwards and brushes your shoulder with his. You hold your breath as he leans down close to your ear and murmurs words that sound like a threat. A shiver descends down your spine. “Ask him to explain it. Tell him that Tom told him too.”

Your stance stays strong as the stranger sweeps past you in an obtrusive manner without a word to spare. Finally out of sight, you give in to the urge to roll your eyes and scoff with as much conviction until satisfied, having suppressed it in front of that stranger. You’re never one to be so outwardly rude to someone, but unless it’s warranted, then by all means, give them hell.

The interaction has somewhat soured your mood, and considering that this place has yet to prove any of Danny’s claims of what a ‘friendly, non judgemental’ place this is, you might make the move to leave. You’ve been here long enough and you doubt that the fun has yet to come.

Not three steps towards your leave, you’re stopped by Danny emerging from the smog like a phantom. “Oh hey! You’re alive! See? I told you’d be fine.”

“Yeah, not fine, Danny. Don’t leave me ever again.”

“Such a drama queen. Where’s your drink?”

“Spilled it almost falling over. By the way, what do the colours on the cups mean? Some guy ‘Tom’ said that you were to tell me what they mean.”

His smile drops and hangs ajar, eyes wide as he processes the words, the name you’ve just invoked. “Tom--did you just say Tom?”

“Yes, why? He also said that you should’ve put a straw in my drink too. Danny, for the love of God, what the fuck does that mean?”

Annoyingly, he ignores your last question. “What did you say to him?”

Danny devotes all of his attention to you as you recount the interaction from beginning to end, sure not to leave any details out. As your friend, all of your expectations are placed on him taking your side in it all, but with each word you spill, he cringes further and further into himself.

“Then I told him to cut the sass--he was being so rude to me!”

“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” You’re struggling to understand why your friend has descended into a fit of laughter, creasing over until he can no longer catch his breath. It’s great that he’s finding it so hilarious that he can’t even seem to straighten himself up to give you an answer, but what’s even better is that you can’t even begin to imagine how many people are witness to Danny descending into mania while you stand with your arms folded, a slack jaw and a look that could kill. And even if some can’t see it, they can bloody well hear it. “I cannot believe you said that to him!”

“Danny, I don’t have time for this. If you don’t tell me at least something, I’m leaving.”

“Wait, wait, wait, sorry, I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell you.” After wiping the tears from his eyes, he latches onto your arms and pulls you into his side, directing you to look out at the room before you. “Okay, so you remember the question I asked you before we came in? About being a sub or a dom?” You nod. “The cups are representative of that. White for sub, black for dom. Grey if you don’t particularly have a preference. They’re sometimes called switches.”

“Okay, but what does sub and dom actually mean?”

“They’re just abbreviations. Submissive or Dominant if you want to be proper. They define what a person likes to be in the bedroom. Dominants are usually controlling, they like to manipulate and gain pleasure from using submissives in whatever way they like. Submissives gain pleasure from being controlled, from being told what to do and will usually go through extreme measures to satisfy their doms, and in lieu, themselves. For example, see over there?” Danny points to a booth of what looks like two guys sitting on either side of a girl. They are shadowing over her, running fingertips up and down her leg whilst she sits bashfully in the middle. “Two doms and a sub.”

You look to another area of the room and in the corner you see a woman, dressed in the tightest latex corset you could imagine, and she looks fucking amazing in it. Full of luscious curves. Her confidence is striking as she walks with her head high like she owns everything in the room. She somehow makes picking up a black cup look sexy, drinking from it until it’s empty but inexplicably doesn’t swallow. With her puffed cheeks, she grabs the face of a man who kneels beside her, opening his mouth—“Oh my God!” The words spill from your lips as you watch the woman spit her drink into the man’s mouth, swallowing with glee in his eyes.

“Anyone can be sub or dom. That’s why the cups make it so much easier to identify who’s who and cuts out all the small chat bullshit in between.”

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. This is a fucking sex club. “But how did you know I was going to be a sub?”

“I just guessed. It takes a certain confidence and skill to know how to be a dom, and no offence honey, but I don’t think you’d be a good dom.”

“And the straw?”

“Signifies a bratty sub. A sub who likes to be controlled but also loves the fight against it. Anything to piss their dom off.”

“Hold on. A brat?! Who the fuck does this Tom guy think he is? He’s talked to me for no more than five minutes and he calls me a brat?”

“Shhh!! Shut up!!! Oh my God!!” He hurriedly ushers you away from prying ears and you feel a sort of trepidation when he looks around cautiously. “Honey, you know I love you and I care for you but you have seriously fucked up to the point where I literally cannot protect you from what’s about to happen.”

“What? How?”

“Tom’s the owner of this place.” He’s trying to hold in his laughter again. “And you just stood there and insulted everything about his club to him--oh my GOD you are so dead. I’m weak just thinking about it.” Had he not been squealing and bouncing on his tip-toes in a nervous but weirdly excited way, you probably would’ve taken Danny’s warning a little more seriously. In Danny’s overly-dramatic fashion, his translation of ‘dead’ just means that you’re only slightly in trouble.

“So what, he’ll probably just kick me out.”

“You better wish that’s what he’ll do because Tom is a capital D-O-M and is a stickler for obedience. He has everyone, sub or dom, address him as sir. It’s like one of his rules.”

“Sir? Really? Are we back in school?”

Your own mocking laughter is the last thing you hear before a voice creeps up behind you, settling deep into the canals of your ear and shocking you into a small but powerful fright. “We can be if you like. At least then I can teach you a lesson or two about how to respect me, newbie.” The way his voice instantly scorches everything inside you is mildly terrifying. It’s the mixer in your soup of emotions; trepidation, anxiety, curiosity, exhilaration, anticipation, swirling together in the pit of your stomach.

You and Danny’s eyes are locked in a stupor, both of you donning guilt-ridden, colourless faces. You think it wise to follow Danny’s lead in not speaking, not moving because only he knows the repercussions that you face. Besides, if you listened to what your brain initially told you to do, you would be in a lot more trouble.

A wordless plea twinkles in your eye and your heart plummets when you see your friend respond with tightly pursed lips and a subtle shake of the head.

“Next time you bring your friends, Danny, I would expect you to inform them on how to conduct themselves around me. You should know better.”

“Sorry, sir.” Danny’s voice wobbles. Fucking wobbles. Loud and proud Danny, centre of attention on the worst of days, always one to speak his mind and is never afraid of judgement, and now he’s…scared.

“Now go. Justin’s waiting for you.” The unfamiliar person Danny has become swiftly brushes past you with no more than a final apologetic look and disappears further into the centre of the room. A certain desperation keeps your eyes on him for as long as you possibly can until you eventually accept your defeat, standing here alone with Tom stalking very close behind you. You notice his shadow standing just on the coast of your peripheral, lurking.

After an excruciating silence, Tom eventually murmurs into your ear, just the edges of his mask skimming the side of your hairline.

“Follow me to my office. We need to have a chat about rules.”

“Okay,” you breathe.

Sure enough the door you nearly fell through enters the hallway leading to his office. It’s well lit, spotlighting the framed memorabilia on the wall and you almost choke a gasp when you see what they contain. Whips, paddles, cuffs, chains, anything of an erotic nature is framed, dated and hung on these walls in plain sight. Tom catches a glance of your awestruck eyes from over his shoulder, smirking wickedly. Little do you know that that isn’t even half of his collection.

He enters the office first leaving you to nervously trail in behind him.

“Sit.”

The tickle of velvet feathers your bare thighs, knees already knocking together while Tom takes a stand behind his desk, underneath the low-intensity spotlight that shines down on him from above. Your eyes skate over his features the second he unties his mask, shadows hugging every sharp angle from the crook of his brow bone to the contour of his cheeks. Holy fuck. Your knees lock tighter together.

“Mask off.” It falls to your lap. When you look back up at him, you see that he doesn’t bother hiding how he takes in every inch of you and it makes the burn of his stare even more obvious. “What do you know already?”

“Um, not much. Danny told me about the masks, Doms and Subs, the thing about the cups, addressing you as ‘sir’ and…” you clear your throat, a previous anger returning, “having a straw in my cup.”

“Ah, so he explained it to you, did he?” Fuck, even his grin is perfect.

You bite your gums, eyes averting. “Wish he didn’t.”

A piercing whistle rings in your ear, short and sharp in the small, panelled office causing an audible wince. “Oi, eyes up here.” Did he just whistle at you? “I’m going to handle this very delicately because you’re new, but if you keep testing my patience then I won’t even give you the chance to back out.”

What the fuck.

“Since your friend failed to explain the rules, I’ll have to do it instead. This is my private establishment and I expect anyone who enters it to follow my rules, including newbies like you. Rule number one: respect. Respect for me, respect for others, respect for the property. Simple, yes?”

“Yes.” His eyes widened slightly, “sir.”

Tom begins to circle around his desk, nearing you. You tuck your feet in underneath the chair as he leans against the desk a foot in front of you. “Rule number two: boundaries. Boundaries must be set by every individual and must be adhered to by every individual. That includes things they consent to and things they don’t consent to, and safe-words should be agreed to and abided by also. Yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I know you know rule number three.”

But does he know that you also hate rule number three? Grinding your teeth together, you bite back his answer. “Yes. Sir--” Before you’re able to utter another syllable from your lips, Tom has your cheeks in the pinch of his fingers, pulling you from your seat until you’re just a breath away from his own. Despite the circumstances of your racing heart and your throbbing cheeks, you come to realise that Tom has brown eyes, that his suit is really black, that he has one strand of hair that curls against the rest. Shit. You’re really dipping your toes into muddy water here.

“See this fucking attitude of yours? Drop it. If you’re really so eager to talk, you’ll tell me what it is you want out of this. And know that before you start speaking, you’re on your last warning.” Thankfully, his grip loosens but it doesn’t disappear completely. Keeping you just as reigned in as before, his fingers sink to the curve of your chin and curl around it gently. It’s hypnotising enough that it coaxes you into spilling the truth.

“A little bit of excitement and adventure. Danny suggested I could find it here. So I came to find out for myself.”

“And?”

“I’m…not sure yet.”

“We can certainly offer what you’re looking for, but it depends what kind of adventure you want to take. Do you want to explore or do you want to experience?”

“What’s the difference?”

Tom drinks in your curiosity, content with a quirk to his wet lips. All is silent in his sound-proof office, the beat of your own heart thundering in your ears and it’s the only thing you can tune into while the incredibly intimidating man in front of you sadistically drags out each and every second. “We can start off slow, test your endurance and your tolerances, discover your likes and dislikes, introduce new things one at a time, a soft start over a number of weeks.”

“...Or?”

His pupils dilate. “Everything all at once. A full session, right here, right now. Thrown in right at the deep end. No restrictions and I get full control. An experience to say the very least.”

You gasp and the breath gets stuck in your throat. As the idea is spoken into words, you can’t help but picture everything you saw in the hallway, the whips, the paddles, the chains, the ludicrousy of them ever being used as sources of pleasure and begin to feel yourself being overwhelmed. Albeit, the rebellious side of you plagues you with the mentality of saying ‘fuck it’ and trying it anyway, its voice ringing with the sound of your youth; willing to try everything, to say that you were brave enough to try it, to run away from the boring life of always saying no because you just weren’t sure. You might even find that it’s something you like…

“What do you say?” He whispers with the small coaxing of his thumb gracing over your pout. “And don’t leave it up to me. I think you know what I would prefer.”

You take a breath, cheeks already flushing knowing what’s to come. “I…I want the experience.”

He doesn’t move aside from his lids opening a fraction wider. “Say it again. To be sure.”

“I want the experience.”

A slow, salacious moan sings through his sigh, his breath crashing against your skin like a wave. “Mmmm, I was so hoping you would say that. I’ve been wanting to put this brat back in her place all…night…long. Now I can. All. Night. Long.” Warmth encircles your neck and you realise that his hand has completely captured your throat, controlling every breath you breathe. You desperately try to whimper but even then, all your sounds are clamped down by him. Sensing danger, your own hands reach for his wrist as he pushes you back against the spine of the chair and shadows over you with fire in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Safe word?”

“Err…” You don’t have one. You’ll have to make one up. What did you have for dinner last night? “Pasta.”

Tom chuckles but accepts it. “Pasta it is.”

When your one and only chance to speak is taken, Tom quickly readjusts his grip on your throat again, closing it off until your skin is tinted red with exertion. He sinks low, invading your space until there’s nothing but him in your darkening sights, until his lips skim the tips of yours.

“I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you all night. Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep that urge at bay? So fucking hard. I knew you were a newbie, but fuck, you were so fucking rude. You know, you never even thanked me for helping you up earlier. Instead, you chose to insult my club and my customers, and when you do that, you insult me. That doesn’t fly with me and something will need to be done about that mouth of yours.”

You gasp erratically, fighting for breath and his vendetta against you refuses to relent. Just as blackness consumes your vision, just as you're hanging on the precipice of consciousness, he finally relieves the tension and you gulp down air like it’s your drug, your lifeline. Almost simultaneously, Tom thrashes his lips against yours, seizing back whatever oxygen you just gained in a vicious attack. His tongue slips in almost too seamlessly, brushing against your own and tasting every inch he can reach.

From one method of suffocation to another. With his hand no longer occupied at the base of your throat, you find it clamped to the roots of your hair, keeping you detained as he forcefully kisses and licks every part of your mouth, barely leaving any time to breathe. It isn’t painful as such, but god damn it’s overwhelming. The small squeak of struggle easily gets swallowed up by him and he growls for more. In time, another is drawn out but this time it's the result of Tom’s other hand pulling down the neckline of your dress and finding your tits, pinching and squeezing with a passion that’s guaranteed to leave behind a bruise. To say you completely underestimated what the experience is and how little prepared you are for it, is under-statement of the fucking century.

He really isn’t shy, is he?

Minutes go by and you’re losing sensation in your swollen lips and Tom can sense that too; you become lethargic, sloppy and out of control but that’s exactly what Tom is waiting for. He can feel the plumpness of your lips as he drags them out slowly between his teeth, perfect to have wrapped around his cock.

He stands to his tallest, your hair still tight in his grip. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

“I’m…I’m sorry, sir.”

“What else?”

“Th-thank you for helping me up, sir.”

“There’s actually one thing you should know about me,” he murmurs darkly. “If someone is apologising or thanking me, I expect them to show their regret or their gratitude to me. Usually on their knees. That way, I know they mean it.”

“And if I don’t?” You are genuinely curious.

A shadow casts over his face, eyes glowering at your words. He clenches his jaw so tightly that you have to remind yourself to unclench yours out of fear. In quiet, articulated words, he provides you with the first piece of insight of what kind of night lies ahead of you. “I will fuck you and edge you against this desk until you are spent of every piece of sanity that keeps your bratty brain together. Even if you beg, even if you are crying out for release, I will not stop until you are nothing but my cum-filled slut.”

“Fucking hell,” you whimper quietly, but he hears it all the same.

“I would think very carefully about your next words, newbie, or you’re going to become very familiar with my temper.”

Hey, you said you were up for the experience…right?

It takes just a fraction of your lips to curl into a smirk for Tom to realise your motives. Provoked by just the smallest of your smiles, he runs his tongue along the lining of his cheek. He can’t quite tell if he’s insulted or pleased, regardless, the result of either is the same; he will have you reduced to absolutely nothing if his life depends on it. After all, he doesn’t allow insults to run dry on him, he snuffs them out as soon as possible and that’s the lesson you need to learn.

“Don’t fucking do it,” he warns one last time. How generous of him.

The air is tight and feverish, and so very, very quiet. Until…”Fuck. You.”

Your words trigger a pregnant pause, leaving just enough time to hear a pin drop before something sinister happens. A cacophony fills the room: the wooden scraping of the chair legs as Tom yanks you from it, the squeal and the grunt that marry together, the clutter of objects as they fall from the desk to the floor, the resounding thump as your body mercilessly collides with the wooden desk and subsequent the yelp of pain to be heard by no one other than Tom.

The brute’s groping hands impatiently tug at your dress, whipping it up to sit around your torso and the moment your ass is exposed to him, he wastes no time to drill his hips into yours in a desperate bid to split your legs wider and keep you still. The sweltering heat of your cunt seeps onto his trousers and, even contained, his cock feels it all. The harder he pushes to force you down, the harder the edge of the desk cuts through your pelvis, and the longer you stay there, the louder your pleas become. And every second of it all is like heroin to him. This is his high.

Tom rips your underwear from you, the thin material reduced to rags in seconds and just as quick, they become your bindings. With your hands now tied behind your back by the remains of your wet thong and your head smothered against the wooden surface, you are unequivocally oppressed.

“Stay there, and don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t bother trying that shit with me. You’re too late. You’ve already made your decision to be a brat, so I’ll fuck you like one.”

The recognisable sound of chain links clinking together stops your heart dead in your chest. “Wait, what are you doing?” You try to shimmy a look over your shoulder to take a peak, but you can’t see Tom crouching down behind you.

“Extra precaution.” Cold metal tightly hugs your ankles, grinding away at your bone with every tug. There’s little room to move, you can barely bend your knee without causing yourself harm. You didn’t want to believe it, but the reality is true: he’s chaining you to his desk.

“No fucking way.”

“Yes way. This is what you asked for.” He leans down to leave a patronising kiss to the shell of your ear, unbinding your hands and placing them exactly where he wants them, gripped to the edge of the desk beside your head. Not chained, but the wordless warning to keep them there is evident in the squeeze to your wrists. You’re almost crucified to the desk. It’s enough to make your sweltering body shiver. “And I’ll gladly provide.”

Without warning, he spits into your ass and stops to watch it trickle down to your clit with hunger ruining his patience. He collects it with deft fingers, spreading it through every lip of your cunt, all the way back to gloss your puckered hole. You can feel every movement of his whether feathered or anchored, following the path of his fingers from your asshole to your clit and back again, only stopping to teasingly circle your entrance. He repeats it over and over and over again until you’re leaking with your own slick, glistening underneath the singular spotlight and the fire of Tom’s eyes. It’s tantalising. Worse yet because you can’t move to stop him. You’re stuck with a burning cheek pressed against the desk and your hands trapped under what feels like Tom’s invisible reins.

“Look over to my clock and tell me what time it is.”

“It’s 11:57pm.”

“Good to know.”

By 11:59pm he has you teetering towards the edge of your first orgasm with as little as two fingers and a thumb violating your cunt. By the turn of a new day, he has you wishing you had just said sorry and meant it.

“Such a tight little pussy.” He groans behind you, littering small kisses along the base of your spine and your ass. His two fingers enter you again, anchoring down on the spot that winds you up so perfectly, stroking it with the curl of his knuckle and just when you both sense the coil tightening, he picks up speed and power. Anxiety and excitement broil in your stomach.

“Oh God, f-fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He already knows this. He doesn’t need you telling him. In fact, he’s familiarised himself with the quivering of your thighs, the shaking of your body and already, he knows exactly when to stop. “No! Fuck!” You grieve over the loss of your climax quietly with a small groan laced with heavy breaths.

His gruff, irritated voice buzzes straight down your ear, vibrating with impatience. “You will take what I give you. And you will thank me for it.”

The voice that spills from your lips is hardly recognisable. Whining, winging and moping, you don’t quite understand where the grovelling came from and how it took over, but you can’t find it in you to stop it.

“Thank you, sir.”

And just like that, the routine starts again and without a doubt, the result is the same.

Muscles ache, bones shaking, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of liquifying here on his desk. Alas, Tom possesses the ability to keep you solid like no other man has, keeping you somewhat stable and conscious enough to make you feel every last drop of his torment. No matter what sweet relief you feel when he gently massages your cunt, it’s completely forgotten about the moment he slaps the back of your thighs for moving your hands one centimetre out of place. And just like that, you’re back in the room.

When Tom painfully edges you for the sixth time, he asks you to read the time again. The digits of the numbers have blurred since the last time you checked, but you can just make them out. “It’s 12:32am”

He smirks. “Good to know. Fuck, look at the mess you’re making on my floor.” A flat palm smacks against your cunt, seizing at the stimulation. Your thighs beg to squeeze together, anything to build up some friction to tame the urge but the chains rattle beneath you, keeping you contained.

He tames the fire with the lick of his fingers that curl eloquently onto your clit and swivels it around in circles in the same, insatiable manner as before. At first, you think he’s going to build you up again like he has done for the last thirty-something minutes and you’re not so sure that your mind and body can take the strain, but you feel the pressure of his other hand anchoring down onto your back, pressing your stomach flat against the wooden desk and eliminating any chance you have of escaping. Not that you had any before, but Tom’s a man of guarantee rather than possibilities.

It’s new and the prospect that he might allow to cum reignites the exhilaration in your core.

Effortlessly, he sets your nerves on fire, plucking every one with overstimulation and you're on the cusp of the well-desired orgasm that you’ve waited for for what seems like all night. You writhe so desperately for it that your pebbled nipples are starting to chafe underneath you.

Tom’s maniacal laugh drifts into your ears, his lips pressing soft, tender kisses against your ear and your neck. “What do you want?”

You open your mouth and moans spill out, not the words of an answer. He continues to ruin you anyway. “I want…I want to cum. Please!”

“So you don’t want my forgiveness? You’d rather cum instead? So fucking selfish of you.”

He rips his fingers from you and the sensation is lost. “NO!”

“Yessss.”

~~~~~

You still haven’t came yet. How the fuck have you not been allowed to cum in all the pleasure Tom’s fingers and teasing words have granted you? He hasn’t allowed you to move either leaving all of your muscles, joints and sanity aching against the stiff wood as you remain prisoner to his chains. And as his prisoner, all of your self-control has been stripped from you. With your eyes closed, voice gone, mind vacant, Tom decides to finally, finally, re-evaluate the situation.

And by re-evaluate, you mean change position.

Now unchained, he forces you to lie on your back and you’re thankful that the desk is long enough to support your head, because when you are being punished with extremities, the littlest things can be a saving grace.

“Tell me the time.”

You look over, Tom catching a glint of your red cheeks and the imprints of the wooden grain etched into your skin. “It’s…it’s 1:23am.”

He grins wickedly, licking his lips, and with a smooth wink, he replies. “Good to know.”

“Please, Tom.” The crack is your voice is liquid gold in Tom’s ears and with his hands skating over your thighs, he hears what you have to say. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I am…so sorry. Please--I…I can’t take it anymore.”

“What is it you want?”

“I want your forgiveness. Please, sir.”

He sees it. He really does; the desperation in the tear that leaves your eye, the look of absolute surrender donning your features in fear that he won’t accept your apology, and even in the way your body warms at his touch tells him that there’s nothing else that you desire. That’s the part he loves most and the main attraction for his dominant tendencies; the moment when the bad turn good. When they’re at such a loss with their original intentions that they have no other option but to surrender and submit. From brazen words to pitiful pleas. From bratty attitudes to willful compliance. From ‘fuck you’s to ‘thank you’s. When that switch is pulled, that’s when Tom knows he’s won.

He holds your legs dearly in his hands, your swollen cunt perched directly in front of him as he crouches to the floor. It’s red, puffy and glistening in the light, screaming out to be touched, filled and ultimately freed of the orgasm that is running ragged inside.

He eases the slight quiver in your thighs with a grounding kiss, powerful enough to emboss just the traces of teeth marks onto your skin.

“What a good girl you’ve become.” The same kiss is planted on your other thigh, just a hint closer to your crying cunt. “I’ll tell you another thing about me,” he whispers, feeling the softness of your skin against his lips. “I don’t just dominate and manipulate people, I manipulate pleasure too. I control it. I can stop it from happening, but sometimes I can be in the mood to make sure it never stops happening.”

You take a breath and hold it. The anticipation of what’s about to happen savagely ruins your mind that you just can’t settle your pulse, and even if you try to slowly release that breath, you realise that it is all in vain. Your heart still positively thunders in your chest.

“And guess what, sweetheart?”

Traces of your voice weakly spill out. “What?”

“I’m in that exact mood.”

Tom doesn’t waste a second before his tongue is licking a fat, wet strip up the centre of your cunt and completely destroys your sanity. It’s slow, meticulous in its travels as it covers every inch of you from your hole to your clit and your body involuntarily searches for more. It’s like a wave, rolling over your cunt before crashing into the bundle of nerves at the end. Your cries vibrate through your body, all to be felt by Tom when his lips tightly seal around your cunt, suffocating it with the heat of his mouth and the lashings of his tongue. It’s incredibly enthralling; being constantly aware of every small minuscule change in direction. From thrusting into your hole with tenacity to swirling tightly around your clit in a frenzy, there’s no telling what he’ll do next.

Your body drips with sweat and you can’t decide if it’s from all the involuntary squirming upon the table or if it's the fire within, being fuelled by Tom’s uncontained lust. There’s a small explosion waiting to happen inside you, and Tom holds the detonation trigger.

“Holy fuck.”

“Mmmmm.”

With his head buried beneath your thighs, his hands blindly roam your body. They descend down your thighs and over the valleys of your hip bones, shaping the contours of your waist before feeling the grooves of your ribcage as they expand with each pant you breathe, until he finds your tits, groping and pinching where he can. In both of your minds though, his hands are an afterthought, especially when his gorgeous mouth is massaging your pussy so rhythmically, moving against you like a ship on a wave.

“Ohhhh my God,” you whimper, feeling the burn in your abdomen descend deeper and deeper towards your cunt. You’re so close it hurts. Your legs start to twitch closer together.

“Legs open,” he mumbles. “And look at me. Look at who’s got you shaking.”

You cast your eyes downward, unblinking as he sucks and pulls at your cunt with his lips, making what you think to be the most salacious, delicious sounds a man could make while eating you out.

“F-fuck. Tom, please—.”

Tom’s dark lashes lift, lids heavy as he stares at you with such forbidden intentions that it’s enough to make you shiver. Neither of you break the connection and you think it might just be the final nail in the coffin. With a deathly snarl, he claws at the back of your thighs, lifting them until they are pressed harshly against your chest and pans all of his attention, mind, body and soul into forcing you to cum. You sob as his tongue darts out, abusing your clit in all directions and it slingshots you directly towards the climax you have been aching for.

“Tom!”

With a final flick of his tongue, you crash into your orgasm. It immediately wreaks havoc on your system and splinters your sanity completely, so much that you can’t tell whether you're ascending or crumbling right here on his desk. Your lips part to scream, but your consciousness is shattered into a million pieces and your voice is lost. Wood creaks as your nails dig into the edge of the desk, white-knuckled and numb with a grip so tight you swear you feel your bones begin to bend under the strain.

Like he promises, Tom doesn’t stop. Despite being trapped between your thighs, despite the wriggling and writhing, your pleas and desperate whispers, Tom doesn’t stop. Not for one second.

Every flick of his tongue is more intimate than the last, plucking at your nerves so harshly, nerves that are already pulsing and in need of mercy. Regardless, Tom remains kneeling, feasting on you like you are his last meal, last drink, last breath he’ll ever take.

Swimming through the pain, you come out of the other side to find another climax already waiting, just seconds from bursting as drastically as the first one. With one final pleading look to Tom, his dark eyes swallow you whole, subliminally telling you that he’s more than ready to keep this cycle going for as long as he deems necessary.

Mercilessly, his lips seal around your cunt, tongue slithering itself straight deep into your entrance, still not yet satisfied with what he’s tasted all ready. You’re so wet, and with Tom’s constant laving and licking he only just adds to the mess that he spreads with his hands to your thighs until the glossy sheen catches your eyes. The sparkle of it makes you truly realise for yourself just how aroused he has made you, the sight so alien from your own eyes. No man has ever worn you down like this before. It’s…unnerving. Only because you’re not sure if this is supposed to be what it’s like.

As another orgasm explodes, your body shudders violently on the table, his hands digging themselves into the crooks of your knees being the only thing to keep you from completely wriggling away. Your head collapses against the desk and gives way to a desperate whimper. It isn’t cute, it isn’t coy or coquettish like what you’ve heard before in porn or films. It’s raw, painful and very, very real.

It never seems to end. You’ve lost the ability to determine when one climax ends and when the next starts.

By the fifth time - at least, you think - he claims yet another, an hour later, you break.

After his torture renders you thoughtless, mindless and perhaps a tad vacant, your instincts quickly take over. Your hands whip from the silent hold he had on them and swing down to push Tom’s head full of curls away from your aching cunt while it still throbs through the orgasm. He grabs your wrists, far too quickly for your liking. Tom watches your every movement through his brows, still latched onto your clit, giving nothing away of the disapproval you know he would be demonstrating had he not been so adamant in eating every particle of you. “Please,” your hoarse voice scratches your throat, sounding nothing like you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll do anything, please--ah, fuck--it’s too much.”

Slowly, deathly slowly, Tom’s lips detach from you, finally granting you freedom, salvation, relief. Yet he just can’t resist recoiling every other second for just one last taste, one last swift lap of his tongue from entrance to clit in one clean strip. The moment all touch detaches from you, your thighs swing close, nursing the pulse that squeezes at your abused clit, taming the orgasm as it flickers its last flame.

“Fucking hell,” you pant. “You truly are a sadist.”

Tom only chuckles, deep, dark, leaking from lips soaked in your slick. It rumbles straight to your core. “Tell me the time, sweetheart.”

Bleary eyes lazily drag themselves over to the clock and after a few blinks, the numbers sharpen. “It’s 2:38am.”

His fingers tickle up your shin, tracing circles around your knee. “So, so good--” you gasp, darting to catch his hand before it sinks between your thighs. He smirks, “--to know.”

Your sadist allows you just one minute, you know because he counts it, to cool down and let your body reset; a glass of water, a clean rag and a comfy seat, unshackled and dressed. He also very calmly warns you as he sheds his blazer and unbuttons his cufflinks, rolling his sleeve up his tanned, muscular arm, that although it’s very late into the night, traipsing on the verge of closing, that you still have a long night ahead of you.

A small breath narrowly slips from your lips while you hold his stare. You can’t even dwell on the gravitas of the situation, not risking spending the valuable seconds of your - likely - only cool down. So you bite your lip, sit yourself down and quietly regain your energy.

Your heart beat doesn’t slow as quickly as you want it to. The exhilaration doesn’t leave your system either, stuck in a perpetual cycle of replaying all that had just unfolded.

You force your way through a breathing exercise sitting on the chair he originally placed you in, facing forward, blocking him out behind you because you know that one look at him and he would detonate all that you had worked to subdue. Once calm, the tether between mind and body reconnects and there’s one thing that screams down the line.

Filled with pleasure, yet still feeling empty. Yet to be fucked.

Tom alerts you that your cool down has come to an end as he saunters out of the dark corner behind you. It felt like barely a second. He had watched you the entire time, eyes roaming your figure, how it shook, how it quivered, how you barely managed to stand on your own two feet as you jumped from the desk, body scorching with the heat from your core. You were like a new-born deer learning to walk while he was a wolf waiting in the shadows.

Sat on the chair, you spin around to complain, attitude brimming, mouth open, words at the ready and…“Hmph!” His hand clamps down hard onto your mouth, pinching your nose with the other. Not a breath slips through.

“Here’s me thinking you had learned to know better than to talk back to me.” His body arches over your head above you, tilting your head back to catch the panic glaze over your wide eyes. You think he’s going to do something rash, something to make you regret even thinking about turning around to answer him back; a slap to the face, a tug to your roots, something as evil as his wicked voice sounds in your ear.

So you can't exactly blame your heart for tripping over itself when, as smooth as butter, he lowers his head, lips puckering to lay a slight kiss to your forehead. It feels like air, an offering that doesn’t conceal something malice behind it. A fragile dusting of comfort to your skin, gentle like a snowflake feathering down onto the ground. Your conscience arrows towards it.

When he lifts his hands from your mouth and nose, you don’t find yourself desperately sucking in the air you lost. Rather, you inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. It had to be that small, insignificant little kiss that lay your nerves to rest.

Tom is one hell of a manipulator.

His lips remain lingering on your skin, skating over the surface, mirroring his hands as they trickle down your cheeks and hold your jaw in their embrace. He whispers…“Do you think you can behave like my good girl again?” A small hum of confirmation buzzes at your lips. It isn’t enough for him. “Take this as your warning. If you decide to be a brat, if you decide to not listen to every word I say from now on, know that I cannot be responsible for what happens to you.”

The severity of his caution has your eyes opening just a fraction wider, able to read the same warning that traces his words in his eyes. He means it. Really means it. Danny’s words echo around your head. ‘He’s a stickler for obedience’. What is he about to do to you that it’s imperative you listen to what he says?

You could say no. You could invoke upon your safe word and make it stop right now. But when you delve deeper into the part of you that made you agree to this in the first place, you find that it still roars with life, telling you that your need for adventure hasn’t quite been satiated.

You swallow, throat bobbing under his digits. “I understand.”

He scrunches his nose in delight. “Perfect.”

You don’t turn to follow his movements to the back of his office, your ears tell you what you need to know. A cupboard door squeaks open, old, rickety, likely an antique. Then rustling. Objects hard, soft, textured, plastic, rubber, metal. A hum of satisfaction, then the closing squeak of the door, different to the first. His footsteps near you, perching directly behind you while you feel the soft sweep of his torso brush against your hair.

Then darkness. Soft, pillowy darkness that floods your vision. Remnants of light trapped in your irises float around like shooting stars before fading completely. It’s the only thing you can hone in on as the knot tied behind your head tightens, confirming that he has indeed blindfolded you.

“Remember your safe word.” He breathes into your ear in earnest. Pasta. “Don’t hesitate to use it.”

“Yes, sir.” You don’t know if he’s still expecting you to say that, but you do it anyway to stay in good graces with him. You’re not entirely sure if it will make a difference to the impending danger Tom warned you of. Even if it doesn’t, Tom’s lip still curls anyway.

“Good,” a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth has you blushing, “now don’t move.”

A single breath is all you have to prepare yourself before something cold eases across the skin of your arm. Insubstantial, almost weightless, it falls from the curve of your right shoulder and descends down until it reaches your hand, resting on the velvet arm. The sensation is ghostly but frigid, gliding but piercing. You can’t quite work out what it is…

The same icy coldness retraces its path back up your arm, floating and gliding along your clavicle and stops directly at the base of your throat, the pit where your collar bones meet.

It knicks your skin.

“Oh my God--”

“Don’t. Move.”

Holy fuck. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It’s a knife. It is a fucking knife.

That’s the metal object you heard. And its sharpest point is resting directly against your neck.

Your skin pales and your stomach swirls with nausea. All your efforts to stay still and keep calm drains very quickly and panic floods in. Any chills the knife aroused in its cold path is replaced by small beads of sweat, your entire body blazing, screaming danger. Surprisingly, among other things, your nipples begin pebbling, brushing harder against the silk slip of a dress that adorns your body the more the blade's sharpest edge tickles along your skin. Your heart pounds, the sound of panic-infused adrenaline thrumming in your ears, comparable to the time you went on that rickety, old roller coaster when you were younger.

You guess the memory isn’t too dissimilar; forced to feel the thrill of having your own safety rest in someone else’s hands. You have no control here.

It’s…intoxicating.

A dark admission on your behalf, but you’re here for the experience, right?

You dare not speak, dare not break his rules as the peak of the very sharp knife trails lightly up the column of your throat as its runway, bumping over your trachea, scraping the finest layer of your skin, commanding you to incline your head as it rises higher and higher. Your lungs expand and you can’t deflate them until the knife flicks off your chin. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

In the stone cold silence of his room, the resonating shwing of the knife rings in your ears. A small respite.

From what you can hear, Tom moves behind you somewhere. The creak of the floorboard dances from the left to the right and back again, giving you not one hint of where he plans to strike next, subjecting you to the torment of crippling anticipation until he does.

Suddenly the blade comes into contact once more with your skin, laying its long, razor sharp edge against your neck. Your body freezes, your nails scratch the edge of the armchair.

“Stand,” Tom commands sharply. The knife’s blade maintains the same pressure on you, even as you come to a stand, knees knocking beneath you.

Seconds later, the chair clatters behind you, just the swiftest of touches of velvet to your calves before it crashes off to your left, and where four legs once sat now stand just two. Tom. The warmth of his breath flowing past your ear is a stark contrast to the cool blade on your throat. But it’s the low grumble bubbling against your back that plucks a chord deep in your stomach. You can feel yourself getting wetter…

“I can feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribcage, newbie. Worried?”

Yes…

“Or is it more than that? Excitement? Anxiety? Lust? Desire? What is it? Tell me, a penny for your thoughts.”

“Nerves. Mostly. But…exhilaration and curiosity. And confusion.”

“About?”

“Do people actually get off on this?”

He chuckles at your naivety. “Lots of people do. It’s perfect for keeping any brat in their place. But you’ll find it’s mostly the sort that spend all day bossing people about. Whose jobs are to take on the burden of responsibility, leadership, authority. If it’s been a particularly long and hard day for them, they come here. This is their relief.”

“To be held at knife point?”

“To relinquish control. To let someone else take the reins for once. To be controlled rather than being in control. The knife just adds that flare, the incentive to keep them in that headspace of receiving orders instead of being the one to make them. It could be a gun if you’d like,” he jests. You’d shake your head, but you might slice your throat in the process.

You take a constricted breath, feeling the weight of the knife’s edge becoming just that little bit heavier. “And…do you like it? Being the one in control?”

He presses himself against you as if to mould the contours of your body into his, lips furrowing deep into the crook of your outstretched neck roaming where they please. His free hand anchors down onto your hip, slithering its way across the expanse of your abdomen where, if he held you long enough, would feel the flutter of butterflies wings coming from within. Alas, he spreads his fingers, sinking lower onto your pelvis, teasing the curve of your pubic bone and presses down hard, bending you into him. As if the knife he holds against your neck isn’t controlling enough.

His erection pokes and prods at your backside. He’s so hard you release a whimper. What you would give to feel him inside you.

Tom’s words speak directly onto your neck like he’s tattooing them onto you. “I love it.” A beat, then--“Tell me,” he says, low in tone and volume. “Your dress. Any sentimental attachment to it?”

“No.”

The knife’s blade glides to the strap of your dress on your shoulder and picks it up, pulling it taut. “Good.”

One tug and the material snaps.

A small yelp falls out and a flinch has your shoulders raising just an inch closer to your ear. The integrity of your dress now hangs precariously with just one strap holding on for dear life. If one thing is for certain, it won’t be holding on for much longer. You smother the urge to scold him for ruining your dress, your property, and lest you forget the threat of the very sharp knife he holds against you, it’s only the straps, you could tie them back together as a temporary solution. An easy fix.

The knife repeats its actions on the other side until your dress hangs lifelessly around your hips. The cold air bites at your nipples and Tom doesn’t wait one second before he brings the tip to circle around the little bud.

“Oh--” You can’t stop your head tilting back onto Tom’s shoulder when the slight overdose of adrenaline makes you dizzy. The tickling sensation refuses to relent, crossing over the valley between your tits to tease your other bud just as salaciously.

Just when you find pleasure of the tip running rings around your nipples, when Tom’s hand sinks to cup your pantiless sex, when his scent rushes in through your nose, a harsh slap of the blade's flat edge to your tit whips you back to caution. It’s unexpected. Being blindfolded, every touch is. Any touch you feel, whether blade or not, makes you flinch. Quick as a bolt of lightning surging through your body. It’s torturous because in your darkness, in your paranoia, you’re permanently recoiled, shielding, flinching at nothing, waiting for the next hit.

He’ll strike. You know he will. Not knowing when is killing you. And he knows it.

“You asked if I like what I do-” his finger sinks into you, skimming over your clit wet with your slick, “-from what I can feel, I think you like it too.” Your hips buck to gain more friction from both his fingers and from his hard cock pressed against your ass, desperate to feel that euphoria of pleasure again. A sick, twisted crack of satisfaction surges through you when you hear him moan. “Shame you’ve forgotten your manners.”

The surface of the knife slaps you again, harsh against your nipple. “Ow! T-thank you, sir.”

“Better. Now move.”

A few blind steps clumsily place you facing a wall, palms resting flat against the wallpaper while Tom kicks your feet further apart. He makes sure that while he puppeteers you to never let you forget that the knife he holds is always within close proximity, that if you dare defy him, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Gentle scrapes, warning knicks, cold presses, even to go as far as break skin would he warn you.

The audacity he has, though, when he takes the knife and slices his way through the remaining fabric of your dress, leaving you to stand stark naked before him. That’s going to be less easy to fix…

“You ripped my dress!”

“Problem?” His voice is challenging, subliminally daring you to bite the bait.

“How the hell am I supposed to get home with no clothes?”

The fiery attitude that tries to bloom inside dies the instant he presses the flat edge of the blade flush against your cunt. The cold surface lying against your heat causes a stutter in your breath. It pushes upwards, almost lifting you off from your feet and onto your tiptoes from fear that any slight movement of defiance would trigger excruciating pain. It’s dangerous, careless, and reckless, and you wish you could scream it, thrash around, push him away and yell in his face. The compulsion is overwhelming. If only you didn’t have a knife to your cunt…

“Telling me your problem isn’t going to make it my problem.”

Your jaw slacks, away from his prying eyes and you suppose you could allow yourself just one moment of freedom. Just one moment of no restraint because releasing what you’re dying to say would just be as gratifying as the first time Tom allowed you to cum. You can easily feel the knot that’s dying to unwind, and saying what intransigent words would tease out the knot inside you, and also send him reeling.

He wants to call you a bratty sub? Fine. That’s what he’ll get.

“You are such a bastard, do you know that? I think you’ve spent too much time being told ‘yes, sir, of course, sir, thank you, sir’ that it’s all gotten to your head. Maybe you could do with being reminded that not everything you do deserves that.”

Quick as a whip, the blade snaps to your neck, digging into your skin that you feel it tearing your skin. The wince is evidence of your pain, but Tom ignores it, settling on placing his focus not on the knife he holds against you, but how quickly he can undo his belt, his trousers, springing his hard cock free and lining it up with your sopping cunt.

Without a warning, because you don’t deserve one, he thrusts into your core, holding your breath hostage under the knife. “So fucking tight,” he stutters to himself. Even for him, the sensation is immense. His next message is for you. “Cheeky little bitch. Think you’re clever? Think you’re funny? We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re begging me to stop.”

Your bodies clash as Tom begins rutting his hips against your ass, the staccato notes of skin on skin and the room swallows every snap, barely making out the door. He fills you, stretches you, and ruins you within seconds and you can’t explain how the pain you feel translates so quickly into pleasure. You feel yourself needing more of it. The stretch, the burn, the knife, it’s indescribable.

His relentless pace maintains, stopping every ten or so seconds to ensure he fills every inch of you, submerging himself to the hilt and mercilessly grinding his hips against you, rolling around your cunt. Without fail, your hands claw at the wallpaper when he does, begging for reprieve.

“When I tell you,” he pants, lips pursed and eyes ablaze, still holding the knife firmly against your neck. “You are going to give me everything.”

He drops himself, snatching a slab of flesh between your neck and shoulder between his teeth and bites viciously in his frustration and you howl. His thrusts only become faster and harsher.

“I need to feel you squeeze around my cock.” A hand slides between your bodies and starts toying with your clit. “I’m not going to stop until I feel you cum around me.”

Tom effortlessly tugs at the elastic band in your stomach and you are about to snap. He overloads your senses, violating your sensitive cunt to the point where you can feel it pulse in anticipation of the orgasm that is threatening to spill. Under the knife that now trails down your body, a pressure builds and it clenches your muscles with its tight grip, and with each pounding Tom hits you with, it grows a little closer to letting go.

Tom fucks you in phases, fast, slow, harsh, gentle, silent, loud, anything and everything thrown into his efforts to completely tear you apart. If it’s regret he’s after, he’s got it. If it’s an apology he wants, it’s there for the taking. If he desires to hear you begging, then it’s on the horizon. You’re willing to give because you’re not sure you know where your limits are, and with your legging threatening to crumble beneath you, you sense that you’re about to get a good idea.

Tears brim your eyes only to be soaked up by the blindfold, a quiet plea for release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please! ” Tom denies relief, keeping you squirming on his cock until his needs are satisfied. He has no care for you writhing to get away, because he can easily drag you back where he wants you with just a swift reminder of the blade that pierces your skin. You’re certain by now that you have tiny little cuts littered over your body, accidental or not.

“Tom, stop! I can’t! It’s too much. Fuck!” He doesn’t heed your cries because to him, they are the symphonies he is waiting to hear.

Your entire body quivers and with the flick of his deft fingers and the thrust of his cock, you come undone. There’s no holding it in anymore. The elastic band snaps and a white-hot wash of pleasure convulses through your body. Blood pumping at your core but Tom isn’t relenting.

The squeeze of your orgasm around his cock is suffocating, but yet just as painfully pleasurable as he needs it to be for the euphoric feeling to consume him. Finally, as the walls of your cunt contract once more, he cums inside you. But by this point, you are weak and Tom can clearly see just how destroyed you are. Nevertheless, his selfishness convinces him to pull away and sink into you over and over again, slower and with purpose.

“Don’t you have something to say to me, sweetheart?”

“I’m s-sorry, fuck, I’m sorry!”

“Taking me so well. My little cocksleeve, aren’t you?” He peels away the blindfold to find your eyes over your shoulder, but in your pain and exhaustion you can’t focus on much else and your eyes serve a very glazed-over look. “Look at me,” he spits, you obey. “You’re mine. This pussy is mine. Remember that any time you want to act like a brat.” He thrusts into you again as a testament to his words.

“Yes,” you meekly whisper. The word comes out of your mouth before your sex-inebriated mind can comprehend what he actually said. Once it does, you gulp.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Stay still.” Blinded by bliss, Tom pulls from you and with his size, it’s a feeling equivalent to an orgasm in itself and you hiss. Your pussy is hot, swollen, pulsing and leaking and yet somehow, as evident as it is for how sensitive it is, Tom can’t resist one more taste. The knife clatters to the ground. Salvation.

“No, no, no, no, it’s too much, Tom, please, I’m begging you.” The words drip with a desperation you don’t recognise. He simply hushes you, kneels behind you, splits you apart and continues to savour the taste of your arousal, meticulously circling his tongue around the small bundle of nerves once again. The warm, wet muscle glides from entrance to clit, cleaning you up of your wetness and replacing it with his own. For as excruciating as it is to endure so soon after an orgasm, you find yourself melting into the feeling and dizziness envelopes you in a warm hug.

~~~~

“Tell me the time,” he murmurs, turning you around.

Your eyes peer to the clock. “Fuck, it’s…it’s 4:29am. When does this place close?”

Tom sniggers, floating over you with a smirk. “It closed an hour and a half ago.”

“What?! Why am I still here?”

“I’m the owner of this place. I decide who gets to stay and I promised you an experience did I not?”

“You did,” you agree quietly. The slight stickiness between your thighs bears a reminder of the experience and suddenly you’re burning again. You bite your lip, trying to contain the coy giggle like a teenager with a crush. “Some experience that was.”

“Sweetheart, that was child’s play,” he laughs.

“What?”

He pulls you close, skin to skin, soothing out your muscles in a gentle massage. “You didn’t actually think I was going to show you everything, did you?”

Would it be stupid of you to admit that you did? “I don’t know, you did say--”

“That I would give you an experience. Something new, something outside your comfort zone, something you hadn’t done before, an adventure.”

“But--” But the paddles, the chains, the whips, all the things you saw outside…

Not another word lets slip before he cups your cheeks, holding your stare and wordlessly silencing you. “If I had shown you everything, there would be no incentive for you to come back again now would there?” You shake your head. “While you may think I’m a sadist, there are some things within BDSM that newbies like you just can’t be thrown into. Trust me. I wouldn’t put you through that. At least, not yet.”

“Like what? Tell me, I wanna know.”

Tom’s lip curls. He’ll definitely be seeing you around here soon enough given you’re so invested. “Voyeurism, roleplay, flogging, bondage, anal, wax play, primal, orgies, consensual non-consent--”

Your brain fumbles over his words. “Wait what? What’s that?”

The way his eyes lit up so brightly. He brings you closer to brush his nose against yours. “Consensual non-consent or CNC. A fetish where people enjoy being either the victim with the extreme lack of control or the predator with extreme control. Sometimes called rape play--” your eyes widen, “--but it is thoroughly negotiated beforehand and varies from scene to scene. Consent, as well as safe words, are vital. But for some people, verbally communicating consent takes away from the mood. To overcome that, they assign consent to an object. It would be agreed beforehand, could be a red scrunchie that you tie in your hair. If you came here one night wearing a red scrunchie, I would know that you would consent to me taking control over you. Perhaps drag you away against your will, take you somewhere where no one would see, make you get on your knees, suck my cock…” his voice reduces to a whisper and lets you feel his words on your lips. “Would do things to you…”

“Oh…”

Tom sighs, pulling away and composing himself. “For another time.” He winks. “But for now, you need to clean up. There’s a bathroom through that door. Feel free.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

~~~~

You don’t emerge from your bedroom until early afternoon the next day. In your true stubborn nature, you do anything you can to prolong the confrontation with Danny. He knows what prevailed between you and Tom, and munching away at a bowl of cereal, you find him smirking at the breakfast bar. All because he knows he was right, he knows that bringing you to the Hunting Ground was the ideal thing for you. You can’t deny him of it.

His eyes find the bite mark on your neck first, bruised and marked. Then to the large T-shirt that he’s certain isn’t yours. The memory of Tom dressing you in it last night has your heart thrashing against your ribs.

“So how did the kinky-cultish-sex club turn out for you?” He grins, a smile stolen from the Cheshire cat.

You click your tongue, deliberating the two ways you could go about this. Against your better character, you grin back at him, colour rushing to your cheeks.

“When can we go back?”

#ive been reading a lot of spicy books recently so this is why this exists #this is foul #knife play??? who am i #truly foul #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #smut #dom!tom holland #sub!bratty!reader #tom holland x you #the hunting ground #peter parker #dark!tom holland

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waitimcomingtoo · 2 years

Text

I remember that fight, 2:30 am

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom worries about your relationship when he realizes you never fight

Masterlist

“Look at this picture she just sent me.” Tom smiled proudly as he showed his phone to Harrison. Harrison looked over and saw a picture you had texted Tom of you and Tessa in your bed. “We can’t wait for you to come home” was written under the picture.

“I hate you.” Harrison scoffed and looked away.

“You’re just jealous.” Tom sighed happily as he went to text you back.

“Yeah. I am jealous. You have the most unrealistically perfect relationship any of us have ever seen and insist on rubbing it in our faces on a daily basis.” Harrison said with a roll of his eyes.

“More like hourly basis.” Harry added.

“I can’t help it.” Tom shrugged. “I’m in love.”

“We know.” Tuwaine mumbled under his breath.

“I guess I can’t even blame him. I’d probably be the same way if I fell in love.” Harry said as he looked around at the group.

“Really? You haven’t been in love before?” Tuwaine asked in surprised.

“Never. Not even close.” Harry shrugged. “I never date a girl long enough to fall in love. I guess I have pretty high standards.”

“I don’t. My dick has led me places I wouldn’t even go with a gun.” Tuwaine said, making all the boys roll their eyes.

“Oh God.” Harrison chuckled and covered his face. Tuwaine smiled proudly at the reaction he got until he noticed Sam wasn’t laughing.

“What’s wrong with you? That was hilarious and you didn’t even crack a smile. You’ve been quiet all night.” Tuwaine asked as he nudged Sam.

“Sorry guys. I’m just a little distracted. I think Chrissy and I broke up. We had a huge fight last night.” Sam frowned and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You guys are great together.” Harry assured his brother.

“I don’t know about this time. It was really bad. Like really bad.” Sam sighed.

“I’m sure it wasn’t bad enough for a breakup.” Tom tried to comfort him.

“I don’t know. You know when you have one of those huge blowout fights that come out of nowhere?” Sam asked sadly.

“Not really.” Tom shrugged.

“Yes you do. It’s like when you say one thing that’s kinda uncalled for and she has a comeback that pisses you off and then you get smart with her and just starting bringing up shit that has nothing to do with the original fight.”

“Yep.” Harrison nodded. “And then you forget what the fight was even about because you’re way more focused on winning the fight then actually listening to her. You know those fights.”

“No.” Tom realized. “I don’t know those fights.”

“Tom, come on. It’s just us. You can be real with us.” Harrison assured him.

“I am being real.” Tom insisted. “We don’t fight like that.”

“You’ve had to have one of those fights that makes you want to break up and start over with someone else until you’ve calmed down and you’re like “oh wait, I love her. I’m lost without her”. And then you beg for forgiveness because being right isn’t worth losing her.”

“We don’t fight like that.” Tom shook his head. “We don’t really fight at all.”

“Ever?” Tuwaine asked skeptically.

“No. Never.”

“Come on. All couples fight.” Sam insisted.

“Not us. I value her opinion, even if it’s different from mine. I listen to what she has to say and she does the same for me. No fights break out when you know how to communicate.” Tom said with a proud shrug. He thought he would impress the boys, but instead, everyone looked at each other and laughed.

“What? What’s funny?” Tom wondered.

“Tom, it doesn’t matter how well you communicate. Fights are always gonna happen. They cannot be avoided.” Harrison told him.

“Not necessarily.” Tom shrugged.

“Yes necessarily.” Harrison insisted. “Because sometimes, you just need to yell. You just need to disagree and scream at someone. And sometimes you’re actually mad at your significant other and sometimes, they just happened to be there when you needed to let out some steam. It happens. Then you apologize and get over it. But it still happened.”

“Sometimes you don’t apologize. And then they hold on to it. And then they start to hate you.” Harry said with a grimace.

“Yep. Girls are really good at remembering things because they used to gather berries in caveman time. It’s in the DNA. They can pin pint every thing you’ve ever done wrong and every time you didn’t apologize. It’s scary how intelligent they are.” Tuwaine added.

“Tell me about it.” Sam sighed.

“Maybe that’s your girlfriends, but Y/n is different.” Tom told them. “She’s intelligent but she doesn’t use it against me. We just don’t fight.”

“There is no way you and Y/n don’t fight. All couples fight.” Harry insisted.

“Not us. I guess we’re just perfect.” Tom said with another smug expression. Everyone laughed again and Tom’s smile dropped.

“What? What is your problem this time?” Tom groaned.

“Tom, if you’re not fighting, something is wrong.” Tuwaine told him.

“What? Nothings wrong. Why would you think that?” Tom asked his friends.

“Because no two people, no matter how much they love each other, get along 100% of the time. If you’re not fighting, something is missing.” Harry said, and everyone nodded in agreement.

“Like what?” Tom began to worry.

“Maybe she doesn’t pick fights because she doesn’t see the point.” Sam shrugged.

“Yeah. Maybe she says everything is okay when it really isn’t because she doesn’t think a fight is worth it.” Tuwaine agreed. Tom thought about what they said and slowly put things together.

“You mean… she doesn’t think I’m worth it, don’t you?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. Maybe.” Harry said with a sympathetic smile.

“Oh.” Tom said and looked down at the floor. An uncomfortable silence filled the room as all the boys looked at each other.

“You know what I was thinking about the other day? The apartment from ICarly. It was huge and had multiple floors, including a huge studio. It was right across the hallway from Freddie’s apartment but I think his was just one floor. How did Spencer, a freelance artist, afford such a big place?” Harry asked to change the subject. All the boys started talking about how they afforded it while Tom continued to stare at the floor, deep in thought.

Around 2 am, Tom pulled into his driveway and went inside his house. You were sitting on the couch with Tessa on your lap and an old romantic comedy on the TV. Tom stood in the doorway for a minute and watched you, getting a sad feeling in his chest. It was a Friday night and you were watching a romantic movie alone while he went out with his friends. One of you had to be home to watch Tessa and you had offered to do it so that Tom could have a night out. It made him sad to think of you putting on the movie and watching it by yourself with no one to laugh along with. It wasn’t the first time you stayed home with the dog so that Tom could stay out all night either. It was a common occurrence but Tom couldn’t remember if he had ever thanked you for doing that. He knew you should be pissed off at him, but somehow weren’t.

“Hey.” Tom said as he joined you on the couch. He kissed you hello before kissing Tessa some scratches behind the ear.

“Hey. How was it?” You asked as you hit pause on your movie.

“It was good. It’s always nice to see them.” Tom said as he noticed the half eaten bowl of popcorn on the table. If he had stayed home with you, the bowl would’ve been empty because you would’ve had someone to share it with. Instead, he had left you there all alone, making his guilt build.

“Sorry I didn’t text you about how late I’d be.” He said as he tore his eyes away from the bowl.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you had fun.”

“I did. But still. I should’ve been more considerate and told you when to expect me home so you weren’t sitting up waiting for me all night.“ Tom said as he carefully watched your reaction to see if you were upset.

“I don’t mind waiting up. I just like to know you made it home safe.”

“Well thank you. And thank you for watching Tessa too. I really appreciate it.” Tom said before pulling you closer to kiss your forehead.

“Aw. You’re welcome.” You smiled and rested your head on his chest. Tom rested his head on top of yours as another sinking feeling settled in his stomach. You seemed so happy to hear him say he appreciated you, which made him realize how little he said that. He picked the remote off your lap and hit play on the movie so that you could finish it together.

The next day, Tom was playing video games on the couch while you hastily gathered your things and threw them into your bag.

“I’m running super late. Can you put the dishwasher on after you eat?” You asked as you frantically buttoned your coat.

“Yeah. Sure.” Tom replied without looking up from his screen.

“Thanks. And can you take the chicken out if the freezer around 5? It should be defrosted by the time I get home.”

“No problem.”

“You’re the best. Bye. Love you.“ You kissed Tom’s head before running out of the house.

“Love you.” He called back and went back to his game.

A few hours later, Tom heard the front door open. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch as he fiddled with the buttons on his controller.

“Hi honey. I’m home.” You said as you walked over to the couch to kiss Tom hello.

“Hi. How was work?” Tom asked you.

“I’ve had better days. I’m just happy to be home. It was a long day.” You sighed and set your bag down. You opened the dishwasher to get out some plates and saw that it was exactly the way you left it that morning.

“Oh.” You said and shut the door.

“What?” Tom wondered.

“You didn’t run the dishwasher?” You asked him with a disappointment smile.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” Tom realized as he got off the couch.

“It’s okay. I’ll run it now. We can just use bowls for dinner.” You sighed and got some bowls out of the cabinet.

“Right…..Dinner.” Tom gulped and looked at the empty counter top.

“You didn’t take the chicken out, did you?” You asked when you heard his tone.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve been so wrapped up in my game. We can take it out now.” Tom tried to fix his mistake and got the chicken out of the freezer.

“Yeah. We can. But it’s not defrosted so it’s not really gonna do much.”

“I’m sorry.” Tom realized you were right and put the chicken back.

“Yeah. You said that.” You sighed and rubbed your tired eyes. Tom nervously chewed his lip as he looked at you, sure that you were gonna yell this time.

“It’s fine. I probably would’ve forgotten too. I should’ve written it down for you.” You said after a minute.

“No. It’s my fault.” Tom insisted. “I should’ve done what you asked me to do.”

“We can just order Chinese food or something.” You shrugged and pulled your phone out to place the order.

“Are you mad?”

“No. I’m not mad.” You replied, making Tom frown. He knew you should be mad and was worried that you weren’t. He thought about the conversation he had with his friends the day before and gulped.

“Are you sure? It’s okay if you are. You can yell at me. I can take it.”

“I’m not gonna yell at you.” You laughed like that was silly to suggest.

“But you had a long day and you’re exhausted and you had to come home to see that I didn’t do any of the things you asked me to do because I was sitting on my ass playing video games all day.” Tom said, growing slightly frustrated now over that fact that you weren’t frustrated.

“It’s fine, Tom. I’m too tired to cook anyway. It’s actually better that we’re ordering food.”

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” Tom asked skeptically, almost hoping you’d say yes.

“I’m sure. Besides, we have that dinner with my parents on Friday. The restaurant is literally known for the chicken. We don’t want to get sick of eating chicken before the dinner.”

“Okay. You’re right.” Tom nodded and sat back down. He watched as you started the dishwasher and let out a little sigh. If you were angry over this, his worried his friends might be right about you not thinking he was worth it.

Come Thursday, Tom had to go to set for a reshoot. He promised you he’d be back in time for dinner with your parents and had every intention of keeping his promise. But when he got home early Saturday morning and found you sitting alone at the kitchen table, he realized he fucked up.

“Oh my God. The dinner. I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.” Tom covered his mouth his mouth with his hand.

“I know.” You said without looking up at him.

“How was it? Were your parents mad?” Tom asked as he slid into the seat across from you.

“No. I told them you were sick.”

“Oh. Okay.” Tom nodded and watched your face carefully for a reaction. You finally looked up at him and sucked in a sharp breath before letting out a frustrated laugh.

“You know, this dinner was really important to me. I’ve been talking about it all week. I put it on the calendar with a huge circle around it. And I put a reminder on your phone. You promised me you wouldn’t miss it. You promised you’d get home on time. How could you forget?”

“I don’t know. I’m so so sorry. We were doing this one scene and it kept going wrong and we finally got it right but then the audio cut out and we had to do it all over again. I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you as soon as we went overtime.”

“Yeah. That would’ve been nice.” You rolled your eyes and got up from the table. This was the first time you were showing actual annoyance with Tom and he was starting ti get nervous.

“Can we reschedule? Maybe we can go out with them tomorrow.” Tom suggested in a desperate attempt to make things right.

“They leave tomorrow, Tom.” You sighed. “They were only in town for a few days. I’ve told you this.”

“Right. I’m sorry.” He said again as he watched your face. You looked at him for a minute and he thought you might scream, but you just sighed instead.

“It’s fine.“ You said and started to walk away.

“Are you mad?” Tom asked as he followed after you.

“No. I’m not mad.” You replied, making Tom stop in his tracks.

“Why not?” He asked, sounding a little annoyed. You turned around and looked at him in surprise.

“Why not?” You asked for clarification.

“Yeah. Why aren’t you mad?”

“Um, do you want me to be mad?” You asked with a confused laugh.

“Yes! I do actually!” Tom raised his voice. “I want you to be mad. I want you to yell at me. I did a really shitty thing to you and it wasn’t okay. You should be mad at me.”

“Fine, Tom. You know what? I am mad at you.”

“Then why aren’t you yelling at me?” Tom shouted, making your face fall.

“Why are you yelling at me? What did I do wrong?” You asked quietly.

“You didn’t know anything wrong. I’m just frustrated. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice.” Tom said in a softer tone as he approached you. He reached out to touch you but you took a step back.

“But you did.” You said as you held yourself in your arms. Tom noticed your behavior and stepped back to give you space.

“Because you never do.” Tom said quietly. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we never fight?”

“We never fight because I don’t want to us fight. I could scream at you every time you do something shitty, but I don’t want to do that. I let it go specifically for the sake of avoiding a fight.”

“But that’s not healthy. You can’t just repress your feelings every time I piss you off. You need to let that out. You need to start a fight.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t want to fight.” You said as you tried to walk away again. Tom followed after you, not ready to drop the topic yet.

“Why not?” Tom shouted. “Why don’t you ever want to fight?”

“Because I’m sick of fighting! I’ve been fighting my whole life! I’m over it. I’m done. I don’t want to do that anymore, okay? I don’t want to fight anyone ever again.” You shouted back, stunning Tom to silence. It was the first time you had ever raised your voice at him and he didn’t know how to react. You both blinked in surprise as a silence settled in the room.

“What are you talking about?” Tom asked quietly.

“Nothing.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. “Can we just drop this? Please?”

“I can’t drop this. I need to know why we never fight. Because if it’s for the reason I think it is then I need to know that right now.”

“What reason are you thinking?” You frowned and folded your arms. Tom looked at you for a second as he chewed his bottom lip.

“My friends put this idea in my head that maybe….” He trailed off and looked down at the ground.

“Maybe you don’t fight with me because you don’t think this relationship is worth fighting for.” Tom said without looking up. He held his breath as he anxiously waited for you to confirm his worse nightmares. Instead, he heard soft footsteps as you walked over to him. You placed your hands on either side of his face and lifted it up so he could look at you.

“Tommy, that’s no true. That’s not true at all.” You said in a soft voice as you rubbed your thumbs against his cheeks.

“Then why don’t you fight for us?” He asked quietly.

“Come here.” You nodded towards the couch before taking him by the hand and sitting down with him. You held on to his hand and closed your eyes as he looked at you expectantly.

“My dad used to yell a lot.” You said and slowly looked up at Tom. He gave you a gentle nod to assure you that he was ready to listen.

“He didn’t like me. He used to, at some point. But once I hit puberty, he didn’t like me anymore. Once I started having my own opinions and my own personality, he stopped liking me. I don’t really know what happened but something just changed. We used to do these “daddy daughter day” things where’d we’d spend the day together. Now I dread being alone in a room with him. I can’t talk to him. It’s like I don’t even know him. He feels like a total stranger and I literally have to struggle to make small talk. And part of me is sad because he tries to talk to me but I don’t really know what to say back. He makes an effort to start conversations but I barely say anything. I feel bad about it but I know why I do it and I can’t stop.”

“Why do you do it?” Tom asked quietly as he squeezed your hand.

“Because I resent him. I resent him so much.” You admitted as an embarrassed tear fell down your face. Tom wiped your tear with his free hand and continued to listen.

“He was always so loud. Always yelling, always picking fights, always screaming and throwing things and banging on walls. He never hit any of us but sometimes, I really thought he would. It was so easy to set him off. I never wanted to say anything as a kid because I was so scared of sending him into another yelling rage. It’s scary watching a grown man scream and punch tables and slam doors. It was scary when I was little and it’s scary now. That’s why I can’t speak to him. I hate him for scaring me my whole life. I hate him for how loud and angry he was. No matter what he does now, I will never forget what he did back then. He’s given me everything I ever needed but he was mean. He was a mean man. And I never, ever wanted to be like him. That’s why I don’t yell at you or raise my voice. I never want to scare you the way he scared me. I never want to make you feel the way he made me feel. And I never wanted you to raise your voice at me in return. That’s why I don’t pick fights or get mad at you. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to yell or scream. I don’t want to be like my parents. I resented my mom for staying with him. I resented her for allowing him to stay because I knew, even as a little kid, I knew that your partner isn’t supposed to treat you that way. You shouldn’t have to be scared in your own home. You shouldn’t have to get scolded by a grown ass man for making a decision. I hated their relationship and promised myself I would never end up like them. So I’m sorry if it bothers you that I don’t yell. I’m sorry if you want us to fight. But I can’t fight you, Tom. I don’t have any fight left.”

You sat in silence for a moment and held your breath for every second of it. You braced yourself for the goodbye, because that was all you had even known, but Tom caught you by surprise. He reached out and put his hand on your face, slowly tilting it up to look at him.

“We don’t have to fight, baby doll. Not if you don’t want to. But if I do something wrong, you need to tell me. And you can do that without raising your voice or starting a fight. But you can’t just let me get away with things for the sake of keeping the peace. Because if you keep doing that, you’re just gonna end up resenting me too.”

“I know. I know that deep down.” You sighed. “But I just don’t want to risk it. I don’t want to correct you because I don’t want you to react badly. What I do works. We don’t fight. We don’t go to bed angry. And we don’t scream at each other. It works.”

“It works for now. But it won’t work forever. What I did today, missing the dinner with your parents, that was a really shitty thing to do. It’s even worse now that I know how nervous your dad makes you. I should’ve been there.”

“Yeah. You should’ve.” You smiled sadly.

“And next time, I will be.” He promised you. “And I’m gonna start doing things the first time you ask me too. And texting you when I know I’ll be out late. I’m going to be a better boyfriend for you. I’m gonna be a better man.”

“I’d like that.” You said as your sad smile turned into a hopeful one.

“Me too.” Tom returned the smile. “And since we’re talking about things the other does, I just have one little complaint.”

“Oh, okay. What is it?”

“You leave every single cabinet-“

“Don’t start.” You immediately cut him off.

“-open and I just don’t understand it.” He continued. “I don’t understand why you can’t just close them when you’re done.”

“If I’m gonna go in there again later, why would I close it?”

“You do this with the drawers too in our bedroom. They’re all open. All the time.”

“Because I’m gonna go back in there later.”

“So close it and open it up when you need it go back in there.”

“Why would I do that when I could just leave it open?” You shrugged, making Tom rub his tired eyes.

“Oh my God. You were right. We should just keep all of this inside.” He said through a tired laugh. You laughed as well and felt the tension in the room dissipate.

“I’ll close the cabinets if it means that much to you.” You told him as you squeezed his hand.

“And I’ll kill your dad if it means that much to you.” He said in the same gentle tone.

“I would appreciate that.” You laughed, making Tom laugh as well.

“So we’re good?” He asked hopefully.

“We’re good.” You told him. “Starting tomorrow, we’ll do better.”

The next day, Tom came home late to find you on the couch with Tessa asleep in your lap. He put his hand over his mouth when he realized he went back on the promises you made just mere hours ago.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I totally forgot to text you. I’m so…” Tom trailed off when he looked around the kitchen as saw multiple drawers and cabinets open. He looked at you and you gave him a sheepish smile.

“We’ll start tomorrow.” You said in unison.

Tag List 🏷

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor

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

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

@mara-twins @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @thisisthebiplace @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman @smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger @electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland @thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie @tomshufflepuff

@maybemona @alexxcorona113

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction

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shellshocklove · 11 months

Text

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: your last encounter with the King has left you in quite the pickle.

warnings: swearing, mentions of vomiting, abortion, blood

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is the last post-epilogue blurb. this is their ending. it makes me really happy that people have enjoyed this story so much. like beyond happy:( i’m still open to do blurbs pre-epilogue for them, but i’ll only do them if i get a request. if not this will be the last thing i write for them. also full disclosure: i’m not british, which means idk if this is accurate portrayal of a british school. so, if it’s not, then please excuse that lmao

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You’re so fucking stupid.

So incredibly stupid.

A cold crept up your back as you leaned against the tiled wall of your bathroom. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried to stave off the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

You shouldn’t have gone to the reunion. But when The Vice-Chancellor of your old university calls you personally, basically begging you to attend – what were you supposed to do? And you definitely shouldn’t have drunk so much wine, but the servers kept pouring it, and every time you’d looked at Tom, he’d looked a little rosier.

You missed him. Missed him every day. The painful look on his face as you’d left the palace, right after he became king, haunted you every day. You hated being the one to hurt him. But he hurt you, too.

Why did he have to want to see you? Make someone else beg you to be there. And why did you say yes? Why did you need to see him just as badly?

“Soo,” Tom had started, digging into his scallop entrée, “how’s life?”.

You’d giggled in response, sending him a ‘Are you serious right now?’ look, before taking a bite of your own entrée.

“What?” he’d faked innocence, “I’m only making conversation– can’t I do that?” he’d shrugged.

You’d giggled again, “No, you can”. You took another bite, buying yourself some time before you’d answered, “Life’s good, I guess? No complaints at this point in time”. Except the constant longing for someone you can’t have.

“At this point in time? So… there was a time where you had complaints?” he’d queried, with a worried kink in his eyebrow.

“Don’t we all have difficult periods in our life?” you’d mused, trying to keep your face from revealing too much. He didn’t need to know how heartbroken you’d been after his wedding. He’d moved on… and so should you.

“Yeah…” he’d agreed, eyes drilling into his plate, “we do”.

You’d felt your body fall at his tone. He’d given you a rare peek into his psyche. A look into a beaten king.

“What about you?” you’d asked softly, “You doing okay?”. You’d wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him, but you didn’t.

A weak smile spread across his face before he’d nodded, “Yeah… I’m fine” he’d said unconvincingly. Then he’d cleared his throat changing the topic before the conversation got too personal,

“Are you still working at that primary school?”.

“No,” you’d shook your head, “I teach sixth form now– history A-levels”.

“Really?” he’d perked up, a smile ghosting over his face.

“Yeah,” you’d chuckled, “shaping the future or whatever”.

“Good for you, darling!” he’d smiled with moony eyes, “Do you like it?”.

“I actually do– teenagers can be…” you’d given him a look which made him laugh, “but the pay is better, and maybe it’s silly, but I really feel like I’m making a difference!”.

“It’s not silly– you’re not silly” he’d reassured you.

You’d felt your heart swell in your chest and grow two sizes. He had to stop doing that to you. You shouldn’t be pining for a married man.

“Well…” you’d started, tongue kissing your teeth, “We can’t all be kings and run multiple charities” you’d shrugged, teasing.

Your words made him giggle, before he’d shot you a teasing side eye.

You hated how easy you’d gotten swept up in conversation with Tom. How easy it was to forget everything around you. The world blurring at the edges like a vignette, as Tom took centrefold in your life again.

It had felt like it did all those years ago. An ease between you, one you’ve never felt with anyone else. He pulled away all your restraints – and you let him. How could you not? When his touch felt like buzzing electricity against your skin. And his kiss burned your lips with longing. Everything felt right with him. Every worry, and all guilt went quiet.

And you hated yourself for it. It was eating away at you. Growing inside of you alongside something else.

Two lines. Pregnant.

You couldn’t even look at the test. It only made you want to cry. You were pregnant with the King of England’s baby. How could you be so stupid?

You couldn’t stop the scenarios from flashing behind your eyes. Tom standing over a crib, a loving smile on his face as he watched over your sleeping baby. Or Tom with his hands reaching out to your toddler taking their first wobbling steps towards him. Birthday parties and first days of school. Holidays and road trips. Fights, and first loves and first heartbreaks. Growing your family and growing old together.

Wrapping your hands around your stomach you allowed a sob to escape you, echoing against the tiles.

“Love? You feeling okay? You look a little green” Mr. Khan asked you as he plopped down beside you in the corner sofa of the teacher’s lounge.

“I feel a little green” you admitted and sunk deeper into the pillows.

Morning sickness, you’d realised, had been wrongly named. It should’ve just been called sickness because that’s how you felt all the time. Sick. Morning, day, and night.

If your calculations were right, you were only about two months along. To have it confirmed, you had a doctor’s appointment later, after your last class of the day. You didn’t look forward to it. You obviously needed an abortion, sooner rather than later, but it was an awfully hard decision to make.

Maybe it serves you right to suffer. This was the consequences of your actions. Of being the other woman.

In a way, you wanted and didn’t want Tom to know. He should know about his baby, his child – it’s only right he knows. But… how would he react? Would he be happy? Sad? Angry? Would he blame you for being irresponsible? Would he blame himself? Your head and heart hurt thinking about it. But the choice was taken from you, and from him. You had no way of contacting him. No phone number, no email, nothing.

“Want me to get you anything?” Rhys asked, rubbing a friendly hand on your shoulder, “I could get you a Coke from the machine?”.

“That would be great– thank you Rhys!” you smiled weakly.

Mr. Rhys Khan, maths teacher, and probably your best friend at work (or maybe just your only friend. You didn’t go out much). He was only two years older than you, which made him easy for you to gravitate too when you’d started working here a year ago. The rest of the staff was pushing fifty, and sometimes it was nice to speak to someone who wasn’t a moody teenager, or a middle-aged man educating you on proper lawn maintenance. You didn’t even own a house. Only renting a shitty flat, in what would probably be classified as a not so good neighbourhood. Rhys was a welcomed sight, and it didn’t hurt that he was funny, and kind, and… good looking.

“Here you go M'lady” he cracked open the can for you, “One of our finest Cokes straight from our cellar”.

You didn’t think you had it in you to laugh in your state, but you did. He handed you the can and sat down beside you again. He watched you as you took a small sip.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“After one sip?”

“Yeah! I cast a spell over it on my way back– it’s supposed to make you feel better in an instant” he said.

“Thank you, Rhys!” you gave him a meek, but grateful smile before taking another sip. His hand came down to rub at your shoulder again.

“Are you sure you’re okay though? As beautiful as you are, you really don’t look well” he said, concern coating his words.

You didn’t have time to answer – your words cut off by the headmaster, Mr. White, entering the teacher’s lounge with a booming voice.

“Thank you all for coming to this lunch meeting!” he clapped his hands, making sure to get everybody’s attention. “I’m gonna keep it short and sweet, ok guys!? I know we all have lunches to eat, and emails to reply to, and classes to prepare.”.

This man was too enthusiastic for his own good.

“I have an announcement!” he said solemnly. Pressing his lips together you didn’t know if he wanted to create suspense – he didn’t – or if he was psyching himself up to deliver bad news.

“I’ve called this meeting to inform you all that next week we’ll be visited by the King and Queen!”

The news sunk like a stone in water. You were gonna be sick. Nervously you shifted forward in your seat. A hand wrapping around your waist, as the other held your Coke can in a shaky grip.

“They’re here with their charity– who we all know contributes funds to our school. There will be press, and the royal couple wants to visit every class– so let’s all make sure that we’ve prepared our pupils for the visit, before then. I will be sending out an email with more information, and don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any questions! That was it guys! Let’s get back to our lunch!”.

You flinched as Mr. White clapped his hands again – signalling all his staff to get back to work. Rhys rubbed your back soothingly. Unaware of your panicked heart.

You were definitely going to be sick.

“Good morning, everybody!” your voice cut through the steady hum of conversation filling the classroom.

You got a few ‘good morning’s back from your pupils, which you honestly looked at as a win. Some days you didn’t even get a ‘hello’. But it was early, and they were teenagers – when you looked back at yourself at seventeen – you were glad you’d never be seventeen again. So, you gave them a pass.

As your pupils settled in their seats you got your computer ready with today’s PowerPoint.

“As you all know,” you started, taking a deep breath, “We have some very special guests coming later. A royal visit. That means that the rest of the day will be a little different, and after lunch you’re all free to go home”.

The promise of school being out, got a few cheers. It made you chuckle before you clicked to the next slide on your presentation, showing the plan for the day.

“We started working through our curriculum on the British monarchy a few weeks ago, you guys remember we talked about Queen Victoria last week?” you got a few nods.

“Anyone remember how long her reign was?” you asked, looking at your half-asleep pupils.

In the front, a hand shot up in the air. It was Louis. He was kind of a history nerd, and your most devoted pupil. He got picked on by the others a lot and you tried your best to look out for him a little extra.

“Yes, Louis?”

“Sixty-three years, seven months and two days” he answered dutifully.

In the back of the classroom, you heard a snicker. You decided to ignore it for now.

“That’s right, Louis! And her reign is known as the Victorian era. She became queen when she was very young! She was only eighteen years old– can you guys imagine that? She was only a year older than you are now. She has that in common with our king– King Thomas. He was only twenty-four when he became king” you tried to keep your face neutral when you talked about him, but it was hard. It felt weird talking about him like you didn’t know him, not when you were carrying his baby in your belly.

“Ms. y/l/n” a hand shot up in the back. It was Fatima.

“Yes, Fatima?”

“Why do we need to be visited by the king and queen? They’re colonisers and I don’t understand why we’re celebrating them!?” she said.

“That’s very true, Fatima! Great point– and we’ll be talking more about this topic next week…” you paused for a second before you continued, “To be completely honest with you– the reason they’re here today is because one of their charities supports our school. It’s because of money, like so much else in this world. I understand your concern– I really do, but there’s nothing I can do about it unfortunately”.

“So, even if we don’t want to meet them– we have to?” she countered.

You stepped around your desk to lean against it. “I’m not gonna force you to do anything– I completely understand wanting to not meet them” you understood more than anything actually, “but I can’t promise the same from Mr. White” you gave her a beaten smile.

“That is such bullshit!” she said.

You stepped back behind your desk, “That is very true, Fatima!”.

You continued going through the plan for the day, trying your best to tie what you’d already talked about, about the British monarchy, into Tom and the modern monarchy. You quickly went through the etiquette of meeting a member of the royal family (this was extremely important that you go through, according to Mr. White).

“The King and Queen will be arriving soon,” you glanced quickly at the clock over the door, “then we’ll all gather in the auditorium where the King will be holding a speech, and then after that we’ll all go back here, and they’ll visit each class. I’m not sure what they’ll do– but I’m guessing they’ll greet you all, and ask you guys a few questions, and maybe answer some if you have them. After that you can all go home for the day. That sound alright?” you finished.

You got a few nods.

“Okay, then– let’s clean up in here and walk together to the auditorium”

Leaning back against the wall, standing on the stairs of your school’s auditorium, reality hit you.

Your stomach actually hurt. Nerves travelled through you like electricity all the way to your fingertips. You were sure that if you were unlucky enough, you’d meet the eyes of Queen Genevieve, and she’d know what you’d done. Scared you’d look like a guilty puppy after being caught making a mess.

“You excited?” Mr. Khan said over your shoulder, startling you. He stood on the step above you with a wide grin, teeth bared, as you turned to look at him over your shoulder.

“Would it be treason to say no?” you whispered in his ear.

He laughed, barely noticeable over the high-volumed conversation, “Probably!”.

“What did you say your dad called the monarchy again?” he asked, leaning back against the wall like you did.

“A fascist regime” you recalled, “After the Sex–”.

He cut you off, remembering with a nod, “After the Sex Pistols song”.

“God,” he started, “I would’ve loved to see King Thomas’ face if you told him that” he laughed.

You felt your body freeze to ice at his words. “Wh–What do you mean?” you stuttered out.

“Later, when they’re visiting our classrooms– how do you think he’d react if you told him that” he continued laughing.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, you said “Oh… I don’t know– maybe he’d find it refreshing to hear?”.

A memory flicked before your eyes for a second. You and Tom in your room – when he’d visited your flat for the first time. The night you had your first kiss. You knew for a fact he found it refreshing. It was the reason he’d kissed you. You didn’t dare linger on that memory too long. It made your stomach hurt even more. A sharp stabbing pain, moving from your front to your lower back.

It made you wince, and Rhys noticed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concern coating his tongue.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, “I–I just have a stomach ache” you explained.

“Again? You need to get that checked out, love!”.

You gave him a meek smile. Maybe you should tell him you were pregnant. It wouldn’t matter either way if he knew – you had the date for your abortion scheduled already.

“Settle down, settle down– LIAM! SIT DOWN!” you heard the voice of one of your colleagues. You pushed yourself off the wall, sending Rhys a sorry smile for having your conversation cut short before you joined your colleagues in quieting down your pupils.

A moment later, your heart stopped as you watched him walk through the auditorium door, with his wife on his arm. Beside them, they were escorted by the headmaster Mr. White. The room went quiet immediately.

You leaned back against the wall again beside Rhys, trying to steady yourself. Tom looked as handsome as ever, and you ached. That wound in your heart ripped open again. Instinctively, a hand came down to rest over your belly, soothing both yourself and your baby.

Dragging your eyes away from him, they landed on his wife, Queen Genevieve. She looked stunning. Her hair was perfectly curled, bouncing with every step she took. Her make-up was smooth and spotless. She was wearing the most beautiful dress that fit her perfectly. You couldn’t help but wonder what he’d ever seen in you. He’s married to the most perfect woman in the world. Her smile shone like diamonds as she waved to the pupils.

Mr. White escorted them to the front row, where two seats had been picked out just for them. Carefully, Tom helped Queen Genevieve sit. He treated her like she was made of glass, asking her if she was okay, if you read his lips correctly. After her affirmative nod, he stood up straighter and gave a wave to the audience before Mr. White led him up the stairs to the stage.

He waved again as he walked with sure steps to the middle of the stage. He was clad in a light grey suit, still clinging to the end of summer. Slipping a hand inside his jacket, he fished out a stack of cards. He looked happy. His smile pearly white, eyes crinkling.

Another sharp pain stabbed you.

You couldn’t look at him as he started his speech. His voice echoed through the room, but you felt so far away. You pressed your hand a little harder to your belly. You couldn’t hear a single word he said, just his familiar voice. It used to be calming, and it still was. But now guilt bit its sharp teeth in you.

Another sharp pain knifed your lower half, twisting its way to your lower back. Involuntarily, you hunched forward, clinging to yourself.

“y/n? Love?” Rhys whispered beside you, a comforting hand coming down to rest against your back, “What’s going on?”.

He sounded worried – which made you worried.

The pain came with quicker intervals, and you started to find it hard to breathe. Panic washed over you. Hand tightening around yourself, both trying to keep yourself standing upright, but also helping you cling to the reality of the situation.

A tear rolled down your cheek, but not from the pain.

Gathering all your strength you turned your head to look at Tom. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe, somehow, he understood what was happening. His eyes locked with yours in that exact moment.

He stumbled over his words. A mixture of happy recognition, and sadness flicking over his face, which then turned to concern. You shook your head. You don’t know at what. To tell him you’re okay, and not to worry? To tell him that it was over? To tell him your baby is dead?

“y/n!” it was Rhys in your ear, his voice erratic, “You have blood coming down your legs”.

“I–I think I’m having a miscarriage” you stuttered.

He looked at you like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Then he started nodding. Like he was coming up with a plan in his head. He didn’t say a word, only wrapped an arm around you to help you down the stairs. One step at a time.

You felt Tom’s eyes on you, as he struggled through the rest of his speech. Thankfully the lights were dimmed enough to make your shaky exit nothing but an annoying stain in the audience’s side vision.

That was the worst day of your life. And the last time you saw Tom in person. Rhys took you to the emergency room where they confirmed your suspicions. You were having a miscarriage. The rest of the day was like a black hole in your memory, and you were glad. You wanted to forget. The only thing you remembered was Rhys. He never left your side – not even once.

You managed to get the rest of the week off work, both to recover and to mourn. It was strange. Mourning someone you’d already decided not to have.

On the day you’d had your abortion scheduled, flowers got delivered to your flat. It was a big bouquet of white roses. It came with a card. Only two words were spelled out in a handwriting you recognized right away.

“I’m sorry

- T”

You didn’t know what he was apologising for, at the time. For falling in love with you? For getting you pregnant? For your loss? But how could he even know about your loss, and his.

Your answer came a couple of weeks later. A simple news push-notification on your phone.

“ROYAL BABY!” it read.

previous: the reunion |

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat, @lnmp89, @petrspideyparker, @hollandweather, @userholland, @imawhoreforu, @onepieceya, @sparklingsin, @annathesillyfriend, @mayal0pez, @transparentpsychicempathkid, @fic-rewind, @spideysmb, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @mannien, @moonlightdotmp3, @padlockedhearts, @moniffazictress11, @all4koo, @angelayse, @svechnibrock, @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx, @xxtomspideyxx, @i83andrew, @clockblobber, @fangirlinggalore, @luciwritesstuff, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @lol-just-kidding002, @allywthsr, @captainsbestgal, @readheadwriter, @parkersdahlia, @cosmicryuz, @tomxxxhollandxxx, @the-not-so-silent-back-up, @rebloggingtheficsilove, @peterdarlingg, @obsessedprincess, @alltoowelltom, @hey-im-bored504, @storybookholland, @sadisticsongbird, @prettyjendeukie, @marsbars09, @mixedfandxms, @ahalliwell5, @t-lostinworlds

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb #prince!tom holland #royal au #uni au #college au #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland smut #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

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kidney9-9 · 5 months

Text

A Busy Christmas Season - Tom Holland

Hi hope you enjoy reading this :) thank you! Requests are open and I hope to start writing more soon. Happy holidays!

Tom Holland x Reader [Angst with Happy ending/Fluff] Warnings: Cursing, crying, breakdown Word Count: 2.7k

Your eyes widened at the list of preparations for the Christmas party at your work and the other list of Christmas gifts you had to find and buy for your family and friends. And then there was the fact, that your boss decided that you could handle a bit more work with this new assignment that had you researching about celebrities and their favorite restaurants.

Fuck, this was a lot of work for this week. You shouldn’t have waited this long to buy the gifts for your family and friends, but you were waiting for your paycheck that came earlier today, since you didn’t want to dip into your savings account.

You sighed as you put your keys into your car, making sure you had everything with you – your purse, your work laptop, wallet, and phone. You glanced down to your phone as you put your seatbelt on, seeing the screensaver with you and Tom, the picture making you smile briefly. Tom was over at his friend’s place at the moment, so he had no idea that you were going to run some errands for Christmas and work.

You had sung along to the music on your playlist as you drove to a shopping center to buy the supplies for the Christmas party at work and hopefully find some gifts for your friends and family. You groaned as you realized there was traffic on the way there.

By the time you got there, you wasted an extra hour sitting in traffic! It seemed that other people were also Christmas shopping this week, but it still was annoying to deal with, especially when you were on schedule today.

You rushed into the store, grabbing the supplies for the work party, throwing in some extra snacks and drinks. You bought it with the company credit card, sighing in relief when it went through without any trouble.

You ran into another store, buying one of your friends a pair of shoes they said they wanted before. Then found some funny gag gifts for Tom, laughing slightly as you put it in the cart. Then you found a sweet bracelet for another friend, gift cards for a few family members to their favorite places. You got Tom’s family some cozy blankets for the chilly season and a family friendly board game, since you knew they loved playing those.

Finally, the only person you had left to buy a gift for was Tom himself. Sure, you got a few gag gifts for him, but you wanted to get something to show how much you loved him and appreciated him this Christmas.

Checking the time on your phone, you groaned loudly as a surge of panicked stress came up. You only had two hours to bring the supplies to your work and you had to finish that assignment that you hadn’t had time to work on! You quickly bought everything and rushed to your car, accidentally running your cart into the back of someone else’s car as they were backing up.

You gasped as you pulled the cart back, looking at the big scratch and small dent it made on the car. The person honked at you, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, cursing your luck as the person came out of his car, screaming at you.

“How could you not look where you were going, you freak?! Do you know you’re not supposed to be running in a parking lot?!” He yelled, waving his hands to you.

You sighed, “I’m so sorry, what’s your name and phone number? And your insurance? I’ll try my best to fix this as fast as I can, but I need to leave right now.”

He shook his head, “You’re not leaving here until I get video evidence that this happened. We’re going into the store over there to get the evidence. I’m not about to be scammed by a stupid girl like you.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not going to scam you? What made you think I was?” Your attitude slipped, and the man’s eyes widened at you.

“There it is, right there, your generation’s behavior is disgusting to its elders. How horrible. I bet you enjoy disrespecting everyone and being a degenerate.” He scoffed at you.

You breathed in deeply, holding back your fuming anger and stress. “You can go into the store. I’m going to let you take a picture of my ID and phone number, because I’m leaving now. And you’re not dragging me into a mess right now, because I already have so much else to do, understand?”

He coughed in shock at your response, “So horrifying to see this behavior in today’s society. I worked so hard for your generation to enjoy its freedom. Now pull out your ID, young lady.”

You rolled your eyes at him and pulled out everything, practically shoving it his way so he could take pictures of it. He even took a picture of your face, close up, saying he needed the evidence in case he wanted to take you to court.

As you finally left the parking lot, you almost sped to your workplace. Once you got there, you took a seat in your office with the supplies in your hands. You looked around in confusion, wondering where your notepad was with all the extra details you needed for your assignment.

“Anyone see my notepad?” You called out, ignoring the fact that you could hear your stress in your voice.

“Patricia threw it out, said it wasn’t festive enough and that you don’t use it.” Your coworker came up to you, glancing into your office.

“What? She did what?” You groaned out, “It had everything I needed! It was a new notepad!”

“Go ask Patricia where she threw it out.” He shrugged back to you. You breathed in deeply, trying to calm your anger and stress.

“Fine. I will.” You spoke softly but anger filled your tone. Patricia was in the break room, sipping some coffee as you walked in. You asked where your notepad was, and she said the janitor already threw the trash out for today and it was out in the back of the building probably. She apologized to you shortly before adding, “You never used it, how was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe don’t go into my office when I’m not there?” You sarcastically shot back. She gasped at your tone, and you ignored it and paced to the garbage cans to the back of the building.

By the time you got back, you were trying to stop yourself from crying and had trash sticking to parts of your outfit. You smelled disgusting, and you felt even worse. Your boss walked up to you and cleared her throat, “You’re needed in my office as soon as possible.”

You nodded shakily, putting your notebook on your desk, and walked with her to her office. “Is this about the office party? I have the supplies at my desk.” You asked her, feeling anxious at the look she sent you.

“No. This is about your attitude to your coworkers. One of them – anonymously, came into my office and begged me to reprimand you for your behavior. They said something about the way you were angry about what they did and that you were mean to them. I have never heard of something like this from you, I’m disappointed. I’m handing your assignment off to William since he has a kinder approach to his coworkers, compared to you at the moment. Check yourself before you come to work again. This will not be acceptable again, this is your official warning.” She lectured you.

You did your best to hold in your gasp and your cries, and nodded silently and left the room. You quickly rushed to your office, and unceremoniously dumped the supplies for the office party in the break room. You stared at Patricia’s coffee mug in the sink, grabbed it and took it with you as you left the office.

You drove home with one hand on the steering wheel and the other hand gripping tightly on Patricia’s ugly coffee mug.

Once you got home, you slammed the door shut and fell to the floor sobbing hard.

“Stupid Patricia, you weirdo. I hope you trip on a fucking Lego.” You sobbed out, clutching the mug in your hands. You didn’t hear Tom approaching you from the kitchen. He gazed at you with full concern and worry.

“Baby?” He called out.

“And – and – old mean man, what the fuck? I hope your license gets taken away.” You sobbed out, hitting your head back against the door repeatedly, not hearing Tom.

“This is all my fault, fuck.” You cried out, dropping the mug to the floor, thankfully not cracking it. Your eyes were squeezed shut and sobs huffed out of your throat.

“Darling! What’s going on?” Tom spoke up louder, dropping on the floor next to you and curling his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace.

“Tom?” you sobbed out, digging your head into neck, trying to breath in without crying again but you couldn’t stop your sobbing.

He rubbed your back with one of his hands and brought the other to the back of your head. He stroked it softly, whispering sweet things to you, “It’s going to be okay, baby. Shh, listen to my voice. You’ve got it, honey.”

You continued to sob for a while until you felt exhausted. The cries slowly turned into sniffles as you slowly blinked into his neck, “I got snot on you…” You whimpered quietly.

“Oh baby, it’s okay. Do you wanna talk about it?” He mumbled back to you, kissing your forehead as he brought you close to him.

“No, not now.” You felt another tear slip and you rolled your eyes, “It’s stupid. Fuck, I still got to get the gifts out of the car.”

“No, it’s not stupid and no, you’re not getting stuff out of the car right now baby. You’re going to go take a bath right now.” He responded to you. He picked you up and you sleepily cuddled into his arms, not refusing him.

“I’m tired.” You yawned as he set you on the bed softly. He hummed back to you with soft eyes looking down at your body. He noticed some of the trash on your outfit, and picked it off, a bit confused, but he didn’t bring it up.

He helped you take your shirt off first, and then your pants, and then the rest of your clothing. You shivered softly and he pulled a blanket on top of you, then rushed to the bathroom and started a warm bath. He lit some of your favorite calming candles and put some lavender bubble bath into the water.

When he walked back into the bedroom, you were slipping to sleep and he smiled down at you, sitting next to you on the bed. He pressed kisses on your face, waking you up just slightly.

“Baby, I’m going to take you to the bath now, is that okay?” He whispered to you, watching as you nodded back to him a yes. He picked you up, holding you close as the blanket fell to the floor from your body. You breathed in deeply, close to his neck again, just enjoying the fact that he was here with you and that he was holding you close.

“Mm, you smell good.” You murmured, and Tom smiled down at you. He slowly placed you into the full bathtub, with a fluffy towel on the edge where he put your neck and head.

“Yeah? I’m wearing the cologne you got me for my birthday.” He whispered back to you, smiling as you blinked slowly at him, waking up a bit.

You looked around, slipping back into awareness, “Oh, Tom…” Your eyes started to tear up and Tom quickly slipped his hand underwater, squeezing yours.

“Aw baby, don’t cry, it’s okay now.” He mumbled to you, kissing your cheek softly.

You pouted at him, eyes still watering, “You’re so sweet, I love you so much.” You sniffled, and he grinned at you, pressing a kiss to your pout.

“Mm, I love you too, honey. You deserve the best in the world.” He whispered back, before helping you wash yourself. He scrubbed your arms with washcloth, dragging soap up and down your body as you rested in the bath.

“Tom?” You hummed out, gazing at him softly. He nodded back for you to continue.

“Thank you. Do you wanna get in?” You asked gently, holding onto one of his hands and squeezing.

He smiled back to you and nodded, “Sure thing, sweetheart. One second.” He pulled back and undressed himself. You scooted to the center of the bath to give him space to get in behind you. Once he settled in, his legs were on either side of your body and you were resting up against his chest. The warmth from his body and the bath made you sleepy again, and you pressed a slow kiss to his arm when you turned to cuddle close to him.

“Love you baby.” He whispered, brushing his hand through your hair. You mumbled it back before you drifted off to sleep, the stress from today washing off of you.

Tom stayed in the tub with you for another thirty minutes, making sure he washed you up good. Once he was ready to get out, he picked you up bridal style and pulled a towel over your body so you wouldn’t get cold.

He placed you on the bed and dried you off with soft and caring hands and then went back into the bathroom to tidy up. When he came back, you were cuddling with one of your favorite blankets on the bed. He smiled at the sight and went to go wash your clothes in the laundry room. Once he tossed them into the washing machine, he went into the kitchen and started making your favorite meal.

It took a little bit of time, thankfully he had the supplies beforehand, and then set it up on the night stand next to you. Before he woke you up, he set up the TV in the room and found one of your comfort shows. He pressed play and put the volume low.

He woke you up with a kiss to your forehead. You blinked up in surprise as the smell of the food hit your nose and you gazed over the room. He set everything up perfectly.

“This is amazing, Tom.” You spoke up softly, gazing to him with love in your eyes. He settled into the bed next to you and kissed your cheek.

“For my perfect girl.” He whispered back, smiling at you as you cuddled close to him again.

“Not that perfect! I can’t find a gift for you for Christmas.” You laughed softly and shook your head.

He raised his eyebrows and then shrugged, “I already got my gift for Christmas. It’s okay.”

“What?” You laughed, a bit confused at his answer.

“Yeah, it’s perfect. My Christmas gift is you, here in my arms, smiling so sweet like that, my love. Thank you.” He murmured to you, kissing your cheek again. You put the dish down on the nightstand before you fully turned to him and put your hands around his body, pulling him into a hug.

“Baby, you’re so kind. I love you so much.” You whispered back.

“I love you too, darling.” He hummed into your embrace.

Bonus Scene:

“Wait, that annoying girl threw out your work? And she didn’t get in trouble? I can’t believe that shit…but I’m glad you stole her mug. We could smash it.” Tom suggested to you, tossing the mug in the air, and catching it.

You rolled your eyes but laughed, “I was thinking about doing that, but she’ll probably complain and say that I did it. It’s okay, I’ll just return it to work tomorrow.”

“Also, about that old guy, I’m pretty sure he’s the one that would get in trouble legally for almost hitting you! But don’t worry about it, I’ll deal with him today while you take a break.” Tom brought up and your eyes widened.

“Uh, wait really? I thought I’d get into trouble for running in a parking lot. And what are you going to do about it?” You asked, laughing when he made a funny face.

“I’ll be like James Bond, agent 007 and I’ll do spy things to him, so he doesn’t bother you again.” Tom chuckled back, punching the air.

“You’re so dumb, I love you.” You laughed back and he pulled you into a hug, laughing with you.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

88 notes · View notes

sunkissedpages · 6 months

Text

instead of you [part sixty] || th

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst

word count: 3.1k

“How much longer until we reach it?”

“You’ve asked that six times in the past ten minutes!”

“That’s because no one’s given me an answer!”

“Because no one knows, Harry! None of us have hiked this path before.”

Harry grumbled something behind his brother’s back but he must not have heard it because he didn't argue further.

Everyone was. Tom had already taken his shirt off and Harry had completely sweat through his. That was probably why he was complaining so much. He refused to take it off, though. Something about not wanting to get sunburned again.

“You doing okay?” Sam asked, looking over at you.

The two of you had found yourselves in the middle of the pack for once, walking behind his parents and in front of his brothers.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered, trying not to sound as out of breath as you felt.

“Did you bring your inhaler?”

“Um...”

“Why do I even ask?”

After fifteen more minutes of walking and a bathroom break, you finally reached the waterfall.

Harry sighed. “That’s it? We walked all this way for this?”

“Shut up, Harry,” Sam snapped. “It just looks small from the bridge, it’s not actually that small.”

“I’d say it’s a pretty average size,” you added, “maybe even kind of big.”

Tom laughed behind you. Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to hear your comment. To be fair to Harry, it wasn’t a huge waterfall. It certainly wasn’t the biggest waterfall in Hawai’i, but it was one of the few that visitors could swim under. That’s what made it so popular.

And the bridge had made it look smaller than it really was.

There was an area to rinse off before and after getting in the water so you all took turns under the showerhead.

Nikki was the only one who didn’t want to swim, which meant that she was stuck with all of the bags. You felt sort of bad when Sam handed over the backpack you were sharing but Nikki assured you that it was fine, that she would rather hold them for you than have you rent one of the rusty lockers to store it in.

Shoes were optional so you left your sandals in the gravel by the bleachers and tiptoed your way back over to the edge of the water. The boys did the same.

“Ladies first,” Harry said unceremoniously.

The rocks seemed stable enough to hold your weight without sliding around in the mud but one of them wobbled under you upon stepping on it, making you nearly lose your balance.

“Careful!” Sam and Tom shouted at the same time, causing you to turn around and make a face at them both.

“How is it?” Sam called from behind you.

“Feels good!” you lied, not trusting yourself to turn around and show him your face. He’d know you were bluffing instantly.

You moved away from the shore so that the boys could get in after you.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ!” was Sam’s shout from behind you.

You turned back to see him submerged up to his waist. He apologized to the people around him for cursing before glaring at you.

“You little brat!” he muttered, lunging at you.

You let out a yelp as the weight of your best friend dragged you under. You both emerged with dripping hair, laughing and sputtering.

“You said it felt good!”

“It does! It’s refreshing!”

“It’s cold as fuck,” he muttered, “and you knew that.”

“What, can’t take a little chill?” you taunted.

He splashed you.

“Are we going to swim over to the waterfall or what?” Tom’s voice echoed from behind you both, sounding annoyed.

Sam smirked before turning around to face his older brother.

“We don’t all have to go together. You could have gone on without us.”

Harry was the last to get in, gingerly stepping on the algae-covered rocks to make his way over to the three of you. Dom stayed by the edge, content to keep Nikki company from the water. He claimed to be too old to swim against the current just to get thousands of gallons of water dunked on him.

“Let’s go, babe,” Sam said, jerking his head over his shoulder in the direction of the waterfall.

It was doable for you, but not without struggle. The boys seemed to be in the same boat, save for Tom, who was the fittest out of all of you. He was already several strokes ahead of the rest of you when Sam called out for him to wait up. He paused and tread water while he waited for you and the twins to catch up.

“I thought we were going together,” Harry panted bitterly.

“Not my fault you guys are slow,” he rebutted.

“Maybe we should hold hands,” Sam suggested and pointed to another family who was making significantly more progress. “They’re doing it.”

“You think that’s going to work?” you asked.

“Yeah, how do we know you guys aren’t just going to hold me back?”

Harry clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Tom-”

“You could stand to pull some more way, Spider-man,” Sam pointed out.

“Tsk, fine. How should we do this?”

Tom obviously helmed the line. You were stuck between him and Sam, with Harry bringing up the rear. You didn’t argue about your place in the order but it did feel strange to be holding both Tom and Sam’s hands at the same time. You couldn’t tell whether they felt similarly but you had to assume they did.

Tom tugged you along and you pulled Sam in turn. They held on to you tightly so as not to lose you in the tide. You tried to focus on keeping your head above the surface instead of the feeling of both of their hands in yours.

Sam’s hand-holding strategy actually worked and you made it to the waterfall twice as fast as you would have on your own.

Trying to get under the waterfall was another ordeal. The water pressure was so aggressive that you had to fight against the water in order to get up on the rocks right beneath the stream.

“This kind of hurts!” Sam shouted over the roaring of the water.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting bruises!” Tom agreed.

“You guys are pussies!” you yelled, even though it did hurt and you wouldn’t be surprised if was bruising you.

“I think Mum is trying to take a picture!” Harry screamed.

Automatically, all four of you posed even though you couldn’t see where Nikki was and you could barely open your eyes under the stream. You grabbed for Sam but got Tom instead, accidentally squeezing his ass in an effort to hold his hand. How you mixed up the person standing beside you and mis-approximated where their wrist was, you didn’t know, but you immediately let go once you realized your mistake and fumbled for the right person’s hand instead.

If Sam noticed what happened, he didn’t say anything about it. Tom definitely did notice and you could see him trying not to laugh out of the corner of your eye.

“Should we swim back now?” one of the boys, you weren’t sure which, asked after you had stood there for what felt long enough for their mother to have snapped a couple of photos.

“You guys can, I think y/n and I are going to swim around by ourselves for a bit longer.”

That was news to you but you weren’t necessarily upset about it. You hadn’t been in the water for long anyway and you wanted to make the most of it. And if Sam wanted to be alone with you, you weren’t going to say no.

Your number one priority was winning him back, making it up to him, as much as you could.

You followed Sam to a secluded part of the pool, letting him tug you along as you floated on your back. Tom and Harry either got out or fucked off to another part of the lagoon. You weren’t paying attention when you split up and you weren’t about to look for them.

“Did you want to talk about something?” you asked your best friend.

“No, just wanted some space from my brothers.”

“Oh, ok.”

“Did you want to talk about something?” he parroted.

You made a face. “No, unless you’ve changed your mind.”

You could tell he knew what you referring to immediately from the way his expression shifted.

“Not here, yeah?”

“What?” Sam asked, squinting at you through the sunlight.

“Huh?”

“What’s got you smiling like that? What’s on your mind?”

You hadn’t realized you were smiling until he pointed it out.

“Just happy to be here with you.”

After dinner, you rode with Sam’s parents back to the resort. He seemed indifferent to your presence this time, which you took as another win. He held your hand in the back seat and you rested your head on his shoulder. Neither of you fell asleep but you kept your eyes closed, enjoying the silence.

“We’re here, kids,” Nikki said softly once Dom had parked in the lot.

Sam stretched, forcing you to sit up too. You thanked them for the ride, and for dinner since they paid, before Sam asked if you wanted to take a walk on the beach.

“Sure, let’s go.”

“Here, I’ll carry your shoes for you,” Sam offered, holding out his free hand for them.

You paused. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like the feeling of sand in your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

You bent down to undo your sandals and handed them to Sam. He looped the straps around two of his fingers and resumed holding your hand.

The sand was still warm, holding on to the heat of the day.

“Are we going all the way down to the water?” you asked.

“If you want to,” Sam answered.

“I don’t really feel like getting wet again.”

“That’s fine with me.”

You settled for walking along the outline of the tide where the sand was still dry. You followed the curves of the waves from hours past, tracing the remnants of high tide with your arms out like you were walking on a tightrope. Sam trailed behind you for a few moments before catching up with you again.

You had pulled your hand out of his grasp moments earlier to run ahead, distracted by the seafoam in the distance. You waited for him and put your arms back by your sides.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ditch you,” you sighed when he reappeared at your side.

“I know,” he replied.

Instead of offering you his hand this time, he gave you his elbow. You took it gently, resting your hand on his bicep.

You were starting to think you’d never get an answer when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry for what I said.”

You tensed but kept walking, not wanting to confront whatever expression might be on Sam’s face. If you stopped, you would have to look at him or stare at the ground. If you continued walking, you could just look straight.

“I understand,” you responded.

“I want us to move past this,” he continued, “but it still feels really fresh. I mean, I only found out about you and Tom a few days ago.”

You nodded as you listened. He was right. It had only been a handful of days even though it felt like an eternity. Being at odds with Sam was hell. He was your best friend, after all. You had lived life with him by your side for the past four years. You didn’t want to imagine what that would look like without him.

“Right.”

He cocked his head to the side, lost in thought.

“I’m sorry too,” you added, wanting to reiterate just how shitty you felt about the whole thing.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know you are. I knew you were then too. I’m sorry for invalidating your apology-”

“Don’t be!” you interrupted. “My actions and my words... they don’t add up. I would’ve thought I was bullshitting too.”

Sam forced a laugh. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy to wrap my head around. But I get it, I think. There’s just something about Tom, isn’t there?”

You snuck a glance at him but didn’t say anything. You had a feeling it was a rhetorical question.

“You must have been miserable this whole time. Trying to push down your feelings for him and then finally acting on them but being consumed by guilt when you finally do.”

“It hasn’t been the best,” you admitted, “but it’s my own fault.”

“Not entirely,” Sam reasoned.

You were surprised he was coming to your defense but you figured he’d go up to bat for anyone if it was against Tom.

“Enough of it is.”

Your best friend shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re known for your decision-making skills.”

“I really am sorry, Sammy,” you sighed, your voice wavering.

“I know. I can’t pretend that I’m over it... but I will be. I also know that I can’t ask you to end things with him...”

“You can-”

“No,” he murmured. “I can’t. You would resent me for it.” You opened your mouth to protest but Sam shook his head and you closed it again. “You would. Maybe unconsciously, but you would. Things wouldn’t be the same.”

“Things won’t be the same if I don’t end things with him,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he agreed solemnly. Then he sighed as if it was something he had already come to terms with. “But you’ll still love me the same. And that’s enough.”

this one made me emo to write but I hope you enjoyed it lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you #iou #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x female reader #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland series #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic

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shawnxstyles · 1 year

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Kk so it 2 in the morning and I’m horny so fem reader x tom Holland or Nathan Drake which ever you prefer where tom/ Nathan is always cocky in public and reader is shy and quiet but In bed the opposite and reader is like really dominant and stuff and Tom/Nathan is kinda like babyish idk only if your ok with it tho tyyyyy

talkative

warnings: smut; (unprotected sex, cockwarming, dirty talk), fluff, and language

note: i wrote this very fast because i feel bad for procrastinating my other writings :) also, i’m not a huge fan of sub!male but i tried it anyway (probably won’t do again)

(slight) sub!ceo!tom x (slight) dom!reader

—

“we made it official in january,” tom chats with his co-worker, harrison, and his wife that are seated across the table from you. tom squeezes your hand on the white-cloth table. tonight was a simple dinner with tom’s best employee who has been working with him for years. they grew to be great friends over time.

“you always did know how to close a deal,” both men share a hearty laugh while you smile softly at tom. he returns a smile graciously, making your chest bubble with love.

even months after the wedding, that honeymoon feeling never faded away. every day with tom was like a dream. you couldn’t have asked for anyone or anything else.

“well, you two make just the loveliest pair,” harrison’s wife compliments with a fond expression. yours and tom’s smiles deepen with love and warmth as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“we do, don’t we, darling?” tom puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you in for a forehead kiss. a heated rush runs through your head at the action. you were never good at pda; it always made you flushed and you couldn’t hide how it affected you.

you talked little throughout the rest of the dinner. sure, if someone asked you a question or two you’d answer, but you were never the most talkative. you grew up a listener, curious to hear what others had to say. however, when it was just you and tom, you were more open and detailed when you spoke.

especially when it came to the bedroom. you didn’t know you were that talkative until you met tom. well, until you had sex with tom.

it was freeing and comforting to know that there was always someone who was just as curious as you. so, out of curiosity, you married him.

even with separate chairs, you leaned close into tom’s side as the night continued. your hands intertwined under the table, resting on your smooth legs. tom would rub reassuring circles over your knuckles and occasionally kiss your temple to remind you that he was right there. his little actions of care was something that you not only craved but grew to need.

a familiar, fuzzy feeling burned in your lower stomach that you had to endure until you went home.

when the dinner ended, you all said your polite goodbyes and shared charming smiles. tom and you walked toward the car and headed home.

—

as tom and you got ready for bed, your need for him was growing uncomfortable.

“tom.”

“yes, baby?”

“i need you.”

with the simplest words, you were crawling over tom’s lap in an instant. your silk nightgown rose to your hips as your legs spread over his hard bulge underneath his boxers.

“you’re already hard?” your hands rested on his muscular shoulders as you rolled your hips in a circular motion. tom groaned and put his hands on your hips to guide you. “poor tommy.”

“‘course i am. looked fucking gorgeous in that dress tonight,” he huffed out as your movements got faster. “fuck. need to be inside you.”

“why should i let you?” you teasingly questioned as you pulled down the delicate straps of your gown, revealing your pebbled nipples. licking your lips, you stopped rolling your hips until tom gave you an answer. he puffed out, irritated at how much control you have over him.

“i waited all night. talked to harry and madeline the whole time so i wouldn’t be too tempted to take you in the bathroom stall,” tom negotiated breathlessly.

“hmm. i guess that’s valid enough,” you shifted your panties to the side while tom hastingly slid down his boxers. his eagerness to be with you always caused a smug smile on your face. you were just as eager, but way better at hiding it clearly.

you rubbed your arousal against his cock, edging you both. without wasting any more time, you lifted your body up and angled his cock deep inside of you. you both hiss at the feeling as if you’ve never been together. but your bodies knew each other more than anyone else you knew.

his smooth, rough hands caress your sides as you pick up your pace. your breasts bounce as both of your moans collide in the heated air. your hands crawl around his neck and dig into his scalp. your cunt squeezes his cock causing him to whimper with a rough bite of his lips.

“k-kiss me,” tom moans with his head moving loosely.

“what, no ‘please’?”

“baby, please fucking kiss me,” his fingers twist your nipples, nearly stealing all your words from you. you bite your lip at the pinch of pain, leaning into his touch.

“that’s more like it.”

your lips crash together in a burning kiss. the fire between you two never seemed to dwindle, and you both melted together as if you were one. your hips never ruined their accelerated pace, even when tom began to thrust up into you.

the additional movement had you both moaning and groaning desperately against each other’s mouths. too immersed in tom’s lips, you were blind to notice tom slipping his hand between you both. he slyly rubs your throbbing clit, getting you closer to your orgasm.

sweat dampened at your foreheads while your legs burned from the vertical repetition. you felt tom’s cock twitch inside of you, alerting you that he was very close.

“come inside of me. i need your cum in me, tommy,” you encouragingly demanded in shaky breaths. obeying, tom releases inside of you, coating your walls.

“come with me, darling,” tom directed. you clutch around his length, squeezing everything out of him. the sensation of his fingers and his orgasm have you coming right soon after. he guides your hips as you ride out your blissful highs together.

all that can be heard are your panting breaths and your racing hearts as your forehead falls onto his shoulder. tom caresses and rubs your back, cock still sitting warm inside of you. neither of you make any movements, too afraid to ruin the euphoric experience. you both close your eyes, but know better than to fall asleep like this. you both know you’d feel sore and achy if you didn’t lay down on the bed.

but you wanted his cock to stay warm and tucked into you forever.

“c’mon, darling, let’s go to sleep,” tom insists, slowly lifting you up.

“but i want you in me,” you whine, not caring how dramatic you may sound. tom reassures you that he’ll slide back inside of you once you’re lying down.

tom’s body disconnects from yours and you feel a wrath of coldness flood your body. you remove your panties completely and discard them somewhere across your bedroom floor.

once you’re laying down comfortably, tom fulfills his promise and gently slides back into you. you hum at the satisfying thickness and fullness that fills you. you can’t help but rub your ass into him, causing him to hiss from behind you.

“goodnight, you minx,” tom tucks your hair to the side and kisses your cheek lovingly.

“goodnight,” you smile, all warm and cozy.

it’s easy to fall asleep when you’re entwined with the love of your life.

—

tags: @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland fan fics #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you

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websterss · 2 years

Text

𝐌𝐘 𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐒, 𝐖𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 — 𝐓𝐎𝐌!𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓: I was wondering if you can, I could request Tom Holland Peter Parker x reader where in the nwh scene instead of aunt may dying it’s the reader. I just love how in that scene Peter was emotional and the way he said “you’re ok, you’re ok”, made me cry like so bad I hope this makes sense I have so many ideas I wanna share but I just choose this one.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): ANGST, mentions of dying, mentions of blood, SOME fluff

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 8,883

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Tom!Peter Parker x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: Hope you enjoy it! ♡

𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐭 - 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“So the chip in the back of Doc’s neck was designed to protect his brain from the A-I system that’s controlling these tentacles, but if you look here…” Peter turned the hologram human model around so the back was facing them. He pulled out the hologram chip and held it out to Norman. “The chip is fried and rather than him being in control of the tentacles, the tentacles are now in control of him.” Peter explained further. “Which I guess explains why he is so miserable all the time!” He sighed but turned to the door just in time to meet your eyes as you entered the room. “Hey.” He smiled.

“H-Hey.” You laughed looking back over your shoulder to where you just were in the kitchen.

“What?” He laughed along with you.

“Nothing, although I think someone needs to tell May that Doctor Octavius isn’t actually an octopus.”

“No.” He emphasized.

“Yeah…she even offered to put salt in his water.” You burst out laughing.

“Oh no!” He laughed out loud. Oh, he felt bad for her. His aunt was too pure for this world. You bit your lip, not believing she just said that to the poor man. You shook your head and looked back up at him.

“You need anything?” You leaned on the open door.

“N-No I think we’re good- Norman?” He looked over at him.

“I could use a glass of water if it isn’t too much to ask for?” He smiled over at you. “Please.” You straightened your back and nodded sure at him.

“Yeah, of course, be right back.” You gestured with your thumb and left the room.

“She’s pretty.” Norman smirked, not missing a beat as he looked over at Peter. Peter blushed mad red.

“Shut up!” He chuckled nervously.

“How’d you two meet?” He asked as he started preparing the tools that were going to be needed.

“Funny enough… a science fair.” He shrugged, expanding the hologram. He found a headpiece that would help him see the new chip closer.

“Did you win first place or-”

“No, she uh- beat my friend Ned and I by a long shot.” He paused, sticking his tongue out to concentrate.

“What’d you build?” Norman was curious.

“A self-made electric motor with ten kilowatts of power, yet we thought it wasn’t really cool to present once we saw all the other inventions everyone else came up with. I kind of used Spider-Man connections to try and help us win. I brought in a car that had a built-in electric motor.”

“So you cheated?”

“Well when you put it that way…it doesn’t sound right, but yeah we cheated, and I wasn’t proud of it. The judges said the electric sports car was very compelling.”

“Oh.” Norman winced.

“Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “We ended up getting second place.”

“What did Y/n make?”

“A glitter bomb.”

“A glitter-”

“A glitter bomb.” Peter nodded yes. “Y/n and her nana’s mail used to get stolen, mostly packages. So Y/n decided to engineer a device that would explode glitter as soon as the packages would be opened. I believe she even added a camera to capture the footage of the guy who kept stealing from them. We actually put him in jail.” He felt proud.

“Huh? What kind of bomb was this, again?”

“It was basically a small box like-tank with a pneumatic system. She customized these aluminum pressure tanks that were filled with air pressurized to 80 psi, which was nestled on the bottom of the tank. S-She had this whole hall effect sensor that sensed magnets, which were attached to the lid, and once the lid came off it would trigger the air to rush into the pistons and shoot up like a punch, thus releasing the glitter to ‘explode’ and cover the criminals in pink.” Peter lit up like a Christmas tree. “Completely harmless, but super effective.” He stopped and thought for a second. He turned around and looked over at your bag that sat on the floor a few feet from him. “I-I think she actually has one with her right now. It’s in her bag.” He laughed, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I swear she takes any chance to cover someone up in glitter.”

“Incredible…Smart girl, I’d say that was indeed a well-deserved first place trophy.” Norman patted Peter’s back and focused back on the chip in front of them, but not before looking over at your tote bag with a quick glance. He quickly turned back around as Peter spoke up again.

“Her intelligence amazes me every day.” He spoke fondly of you. You loved science just as much as he did, one of the many things that brought you closer. Science and inventing stuff, it’s what you were good at. He had been excited to meet someone else who geeked off about physics and math like him. He thought meeting you couldn’t get any better, but once you found out that he was Spider-Man, you decided to take the liberty of creating him extra web fluid for his web shooters. Most girlfriends would carry around inhalers, or even epi-pens, but you carried around web cartilages. You had one in the pocket of your jacket right now.

The two fell into silence before Norman leaned forward to inspect the little arms of the machine moving amongst the chip. He had never seen technology so advanced. Peter looked ridiculous with his tongue poking out as he slowly but carefully grabbed one of the sticks that he had to connect to the chip. “Remarkable, the technology and you. When all this is over. If you need a job and you’re willing to commute to another universe-” The machine roared and then buzzed as the completion was successful. Peter lifted the mask and breathed heavily.

“It worked!” He exclaimed, grabbing the chip and ran past Norman. “That totally worked!” You were barely walking over to the room to hand Norman his drink before Peter zoomed past you making you knock the glass out of your hand. It fell, shattering on the floor.

“Peter!”

“Sorry!” He skidded as he ran to the staircase. He looked to May moving in a hurry. “I got it, I did it, I did it!” He pointed to the chip. “Um, can you send him up?”

“Here we go.” May leaned forward to start making Doctor Octavius’s tentacles lift him in the air. “Hold on now.” She looked up at Doctor Octavius.

“All of these humiliations never cease.” Otto exclaimed as his tentacles lifted him up to the balcony of the stairs. “You, keep your science fair project away from me!”

Peter now stood behind him. You stood next to May, staring up at the two of them.

“Hey, you need to learn to have faith.” Norman tried getting him to think positively.

“Says the reckless fool who turned himself into a monster!” Otto sneered down at him.

“Please stop moving.” Peter begged as Otto began squirming. “Hold still!”

“Don’t you dare!” Peter frowned as he gripped his head. You all stood below, the anticipation was killing you. You hoped this worked. “I swear when I get out of this I’m gonna rip you-”

You tensed as his head fell forward. Peter stilled, his eyes widening. “Doc?”

“W-Why isn’t he moving?” You stuttered, looking over at the men in the room with you and May. You swallowed nervously, looking up at Peter. “Was that supposed to happen?”

“Doc?” Peter called out to him again. He was slowly getting scared. Oh god, what if he killed him. “Doc?” He panicked as he stepped forward. “Doctor Octav-” He was cut off by the loud gasp that fell from Otto’s lips.

“O-Oh, thank god!” You felt relieved, you placed a hand on your chest.

“It’s so quiet.” Otto muttered. “Those voices…inside my head.” He shook his head. He was stunned. “I almost…” He almost forgot what it felt like.

“Otto?” Norman could not believe his eyes.

“Yes, Norman.” Otto smiled, lowering himself onto his feet. “I-It’s me.” Peter jumped off the rail, landing in front of Otto. He sighed in relief as well.

“Well, would you look at that?” You turned your head to the Sandman.

Peter reached over to his right and released the bond that had been connected to the nano part of his suit, which had merged with Otto’s tentacles. You watched in amazement as the nanos retracted from the tentacles and shifted back onto his suit again. The golden design was now back again.

“I’m grateful, dear boy, truly.” They shook hands.

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” Peter nodded.

“How can I help?” Otto immediately felt better than he ever did before.

You sighed as you stared at the broken glass before you. After snooping around, you found a broom and a dustpan. You sighed, bending down to sweep the glass up. You stopped upon seeing red-covered feet standing before you. Peter crouched down. “Here, let me help you.” He tried taking the broom from you, but you refused.

“No.” You shook your head no. For a second he thought you were mad at him but then he saw you smirk. “You get the pan.” You held it out for him to take.

“I’ll take whatever I get.” He shrugged.

“I’m proud of you, ya know.” He looked up.

“Yeah?” He hummed.

“Mmhmm. You could have let them die, could have sent them back, but-” You turned back to look at the other two standing in the open space a few feet away. “You’re actually helping them.” You turned back to face him. “You’re giving them a second chance.”

“Well…you gave me one…” He shrugged. You looked down. You remembered there had been a time where your relationship hit rock bottom. You were both angry and upset, harsh words were thrown at each other, and things ended. You thought that that was it, that it was over and done for, but you didn’t want to lose him, and he couldn’t go another day without seeing you. So you gave this now healthy new dynamic between you two another try. It was barely getting to a good place until recent events happened, and now you two had hardly seen each other. You hardly got to have a moment together and it scared you because you considered all the worst things. You imagined that the two of you would break up again, yet you knew you could not go through that again. The first time hurt enough as it did and you two were a mess because of it. Yet funny enough you possibly dying wasn’t one of the worst things you considered that could happen. You could never imagine leaving Peter behind, you just couldn’t.

“That I did.” You smiled at him.

“Do you regret it?”

“Do you?” You eyed him wearily.

“No.” He answered immediately. “You?” He now eyed you wearily. He knew just how badly he fucked up. How he fucked up everyone’s lives. How he screwed up your chances of getting into MIT, how he- how he fucked up as a boyfriend, and now the only time both of you have had a second to breathe was over broken glass. You looked up and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips.

“No.” You shook your head. He nodded, feeling reassured.

You two worked together to collect any leftover minerals of glass. You got up and Peter carefully walked over to the little kitchen to dispose of the glass in the trash bin. You brush yourself off then head up the stairs to put back the broom in the little closet you found it in. You had passed the wall when you felt yourself being pushed up against it. “Peter?” Your chest rose and fell as he trapped you with his hands. You could feel the heat come off him as his eyes darkened.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” His eyes fell down to your lips waiting like a question.

“O-Okay.” You gasped as Peter smashed his lips against yours. You sighed into the kiss, longing to feel him closer. You gripped his hair feeling his lips move in sync with yours. You couldn’t open your eyes. If you did, you thought this would all be over. His touch would become unfamiliar, and the smell of him would dissipate into the air like nothing. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly allowing your tongue to slip inside. You both were breathing heavily as your bodies pressed together heatedly. You didn’t know how much you missed this. You missed feeling that familiar warmth blossom in your chest as he held you firmly. That little spark was ignited again as you displayed your wants and needs through every tug and pull, and bite and kiss. Usually, you would both be in your room, door locked, blinds shut, but you were reduced to sneaking in a heated make-out session in an apartment filled with men who could kill you in an instant.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled back gasping for air. “I’m sorry, I’ve been wanting to do that these past weeks.”

“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to do that so…” You leaned back on the wall, trying to calm down your breathing. Your hair was a mess and your lips were swollen. God, you couldn’t have looked sexier and prettier than right now in this state.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his head against yours.

You closed your eyes, caressing the exposed skin on his neck. “What are you sorry for, mister?” You hummed in question.

“For everything that’s happened.” He sighed heavily. There was a knot in his chest. “I’ve screwed up big time, and I’ve hurt you, MJ, Ned, and May, everyone’s lives are ruined because of me.”

“Hey!” Your voice was firm. “None of that, okay?” You cupped his face. “You did not ruin our lives, okay?” You pressed your head against his head again. “What’s with all the negativity? You just had a breakthrough with Doctor Octavius!” You laughed, pointing to the stairwell. “You’re making up for it by helping them, Peter. You’re fixing it! That’s all that really matters.” You leaned in and kissed him sweetly. “All that matters.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his neck. Peter melted under your touch and your lips letting his head fall to the side. He opened his eyes and gently lifted your chin to look at him.

“I love you.” He caressed your face. “So much…I’d carry you into that room over there, but-” He just had to make a quip any chance he got.

“Oh yeah, no totally.” You agreed that now was not the time. “Later?” You offered.

“Definitely later.”

You tugged him by the back of his hair and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss. One hand propped up against the wall over you and the other cupped over your left cheek as he savored the way your lips felt pressed against his. How your hands were soft as your fingers carded through his hair, how he could hear the thud of your heart combined with his own. That was the only thing keeping him sane, knowing that your heart was still beating and that you were okay. If any given day it just stopped thudding against your chest like it was doing right now. He’d break. Probably even turn his whole room upside down. Though he didn’t want to find out what he would do.

“Where’d you go?” You giggle softly, pulling him back to reality.

“I was just listening…” He brushed it off. He leaned over to press a kiss to your neck.

“To what?”

He pulled back. He grasped your left hand and placed it over your heart. You felt it pound against your palm. “My heart?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. Peter nodded in response.

“Feel that?” You nodded, placing your other hand over his gloved one. “It’s healthy, and strong, and beating, and that’s all that really matters to me.” He furrowed his brows. He was serious. “You’re all that matters to me.”

“P-Peter.” You got all choked up. “Everything’s gonna be okay-”

“You can’t know that for sure.” He let his head fall against yours. “I just don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“I’m a big girl, Peter. I can handle myself.” You laughed it off.

“I don’t doubt it.” He agreed solemnly.

“Then stop worrying about me so much! Worry about them and helping them, okay?” You gestured to the staircase. “Okay?” You moved your head to meet his eyes.

“I’m always gonna worry about you. I can’t lose you. I can’t go through that again, and if something were to happen to you, then I wouldn’t be able to forgive my-” You nodded as you pulled him into another kiss, this one much slower.

“Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“Y/n please-”

“I love you.” You held his attention. “I love you too much to ever put you through that kind of pain. I know I don’t usually run when you tell me to, but I will this time. Okay? I’ll run, just say the word, and I’ll book it the opposite direction away from the fight. I promise I won’t try and be a hero this time.” You were crying by now. You were nodding rapidly to reassure him. “I’ll run because I love you too much. I-I can’t lose you either.” You pulled him closer by the neck and crushed your lips against his.

“I love you.” He shed a tear as he whispered against your lips. “You hear me. I love you.” He breathed out. “I love you, so so much.”

“I love you, more.” Your voice cracked as your lips moved together.

After your moment together, you quickly composed yourselves and quickly made your way down the steps. Peter let go of your hand as he walked over to start on the device for Electro. You grabbed another glass and filled it with fresh water. You hadn’t forgotten that Norman had asked for some, so you quickly made your way into the storage room where he was writing down equations and what looked like formulas.

“How does it feel Norman?” Otto asked him. “You’re about to become whole again.” He nodded. “No more, darker half. Just you.”

“Just me.” Norman trailed off. He stood still for a second before turning around slowly to reciprocate the smile that Otto gave him.

“Knock, knock.” You tapped your knuckles against the door. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” You chuckled nervously.

“Ahh Y/n, no of course not. Come in come in.” Norman ushered you forward.

“I got that water you asked for. Sorry, it took so long. Peter made me drop the first glass.”

“S’alright. Better late than never right?” He nudged your shoulder.

“Y-Yeah…right.”

“So…glitter bombs huh?” Norman smirked. You closed your eyes groaning. “All in good fun dear girl.”

“I’m guessing Peter told you about the science fair.” You scratched your head with your finger.

“Indeed he did. He also told me how remarkably intelligent you are. Aluminum pressure tanks, hall effect sensors.” You felt your cheeks heat up as he listed off the built of your bomb. “Incredible…smart girl!” He praised you. “I believe Peter’s described your bomb as, harmless but effective.” He smiled gently.

“Yeah, I mainly built it for fun. A little surprise for burglars. Harmless where it can’t endanger anyone, yet effective enough to get the message across.” You half-heartedly laughed.

“Ahh yes, by covering them in sparkles and glitter.” He hummed.

“What else would I cover them in?” You furrowed your brows, feeling sort of uneasy under his stare. You laughed to lighten up the mood thinking he was just teasing, but what he asked next startled you.

“Have you ever considered turning them into real bombs?”

“Excuse me?” You tilted your head.

“Ya know, giving them an upgrade.” He shrugged nonchalantly thinking it was a simple thing to say.

“No.” You said firmly. “They’re not supposed to cause any harm. They’re-”

“Harmless and effective, yes.” He hummed again. Eyeing you were narrowed eyes. “But imagine if they were more effective and useful in a dangerous situation…”

“I-I’ve never had to rely on them though. Peter always-”

“Keeps you out of harm’s way?”

You nodded yes.

“How chivalrous of him.” He chuckled. “But- what happens when you can’t always rely on him, what then?”

“I-” You were about to give him an earful, but stopped yourself. What would you do if you couldn’t rely on him to save you? “I-I don’t know…” You finally answered.

“He’s lucky to have you, ya know.” Norman smiled at you. You looked over at him, the corner of your lips turning upward. “It’s good to have someone who knows the ins and outs, the risks, and how truly dangerous it is to be a superhero.” You felt small under his gaze. “You balance each other out well…” And that was all he said.

“Well, I’m lucky to have him.” You tilted your head. Then excuse yourself from the room. You smiled gently over at Otto then left the room.

“What was that all about?” Otto questioned him.

“Just making small talk.” Norman smirked.

You had almost collided with Peter when you were exiting the room.

“Ugh.”

“Oof.” You both groaned, but he steadied you to prevent you from falling.

“Hey, woah, you okay?” Peter’s eyes grew with worry. He noticed how shaken you were. “What happened? What’s wrong?” He glanced over your shoulder into the room you practically ran out of. You quickly shook your head. You didn’t want him to worry about something silly. So you brushed it off even if you felt like something was wrong.

“N-Nothing…I-I’m fine, promise.” You hoped he wouldn’t see past your fake ass smile.

“You sure?” He rubbed your arms up and down gently.

“Yeah…” You nodded again. “I-I’m gonna go find, May- have her make me some tea maybe…” You walked around him. Your back was turned to him, but he stopped you.

“Y/n.”

You turned around. “Mhmm?” Your eyes watch him with patience.

“Love you.” He muttered softly.

“Love you more.” You smiled then frown as you watched him turn around first this time and disappear into the room with Otto…and also Norman.

“Something feels off.” Max shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He looked down at the device Peter had placed on his chest.

“What do you mean?” William asked.

“I don’t like this…”

“Leave it alone. The sooner you guys get through this, the sooner we go home.”

Beep.

Another green light lit up, filling up the circle.

Peter had been in a trance writing formulas out to try and test for Norman’s serum when he felt his spider-sense go off. His eyes widened, and his breathing increased. He stood up abruptly feeling a need to find you and May immediately.

“Peter, what’s wrong?” Otto asked him in concern.

“I don’t know…” He walked out of the room feeling like everything was dialed up to eleven. “M-May…Y/n.” He called out to you. You looked up from the book you carried with you and got up instantly hearing worry in his voice.

“What is it, Peter?” May waved around some sage in the air. You followed behind her.

“Peter?” You furrowed your brows. You walked past May on the steps and walked up behind him. You gently placed one of your hands on his shoulder. “Hey talk to me, what’s wrong?”

You all stood there in anticipation waiting for him to say something. He looked around frantically. Feeling nervous and scared at the same time. He spared a glance to Max.

“What’s going on?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Max eyed him, feeling uneasy as the boy stared at him.

“Peter?” Everyone’s voices felt distant. As though a muffler were placed over his ears.

He took a deep breath, making himself relax. He opened them up, grunting as he shot a web out. Norman’s hand was now stuck to Dum-E.

Your breath hitched as Norman slowly turned his gaze onto Peter. Your book fell out of your grasp, thumping against the floor.

“That’s some neat trick…” Norman’s voice sounded deeper. “That sense of yours…”

“Norman?” Otto stepped forward, hoping to reach his friend.

“Norman’s on sabbatical, honey.” The goblin smirked.

“The hell?” Max eyed the man standing before him.

“The goblin…” Peter whispered.

Peter’s eyes hardened as he stared at Norman. He slowly looked over to May silently communicating with her. She slowly backed away and rushed over to grab your tote bag and the two serums they had been working on. As for you. You stepped closer to Peter. Hiding behind him like a shy scared kid meeting a stranger for the first time. Peter wrapped his right arm around your waist and your lower back, pressing you into his back. Your eyes were the only thing the goblin saw.

“No more, darker half, did you really think that I’d let that happen? That I’d let you take away my power just because you’re blind to what true power can bring you.”

“You don’t know me.” Peter scoffed.

“Don’t I?” The goblin taunted him.

“I saw how she trapped you…” Peter looked over to May walking back out the room with your bag. “Fighting her holy moral mission.” May appeared. She turned to look at him. This was not the man she was trying to help. She gripped your bag tightly in her right hand.

Peter kept his gaze on Norman. May was tense, but so were you. She looked at Peter, then at you nodding slightly. She didn’t need to say anything to tell you that you needed to get the hell out of there.

“That girlfriend of yours is just as blind as you are.” This made Peter fume as his grip on you tightened feeling protective of you. “She doesn’t know her true potential…hasn’t pushed herself to see what her knowledge and with the right motivation can create. Just from what you told me about her Peter…she’s meant for greater things.” He smirked at you.

“Like what? Making real bombs, and hurting people?” Peter’s eyes widened at your words. Was that why you ran out looking frightened? Because Norman said that to you? “Harmful, yet effective, right? That’s what you want, isn’t it?” You stepped out. “Screw you, I’m good, thanks!” You scowled at him.

“We don’t need you to save us.” The goblin continued, brushing your words off. “We don’t need to be fixed!” He turned and gestured to the device on Max’s chest that was close to turning green. “These are not curses.”

Beep.

“They’re gifts!”

“Norman no…” Otto shook his head.

“Quiet lap dog!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Peter stared him down.

“I’ve watched you from deep behind Norman’s cowardly eyes. Struggling to have everything you want, while the world tries to make you choose.”

Beep.

“Gods don’t have to choose…we take!” The goblin shook his head, smirking.

“Y/n, May, run!” He released you, pushing you to the door. Without a second thought, you picked up your feet and bolted. May was hot on your heels. You had promised him you’d run, and that’s exactly what you were gonna do.

All hell broke loose.

You and May quickly reached the elevator. She began pressing the button to go down rapidly, but even then an elevator was going to be too slow for you two. You halted turning your head to hear the loud commotion coming from Happy’s complex. You felt a pang in your heart.

“Y/n sweetie, come on. Peter can handle himself.” May looked up watching the lights flickering above you.

“Not alone-” Your voice cracked, as more crashing and bangs made you flinch. You closed your eyes and grunted.

“Y/N.” May used her mom voice on you and gripped your arm and tugged you to the door with the exit sign above it. The stairs would be a lot faster. “Come on!”

You hurried down each step behind her. She took one of the serums out and handed you your bag. “Here, take it. The other serum is in there.” You took the bag and tightened it in your hand like May had done, not wanting it to slip out of your grasp.

As soon as you made it out to the lobby. You skidded to a stop and jumped back as the ceiling fell. Two bodies smashed through the ceiling. The rumble had separated you and May. Her standing by the looby entrance and you on the other side where the elevator doors were located. You took out the serum, seeing the Goblin climb on top of your boyfriend.

“Your weakness Peter is morality. It’s choking you!” Goblin mocked him as his hands tightened around his neck. “Can you feel it?” You had taken one look at May before you both ran forward and plunged the serums into his neck. You quickly backed away from the man.

“Ahh!”

“Ugh!” Peter gasped as Norman’s hands released their grip.

You stared in bewilderment as he stood up, unphased. Taking the injections out of his neck and tossing them outside. “It didn’t work.”

You looked over at Peter turning around on his stomach, trying his best to stand up.

“Norman was right. He got it from you…that pathetic-”

“Stop it!” You cried out as he slammed his foot into Peter’s back.

“-sickness!” He leaned down and picked him up. Holding him by his hair. Peter heaved in and out. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned down and leaned in Peter’s ear. “He tried to fix me…”

“M-May- no- May…” Peter grunted. She had yanked down a loose metal-looking mallet hanging from the ceiling.

“Now I’m gonna fix you…” Goblin said this as his hoverboard arrived at the front entrance. Peter’s heart sank.

“Hey!” You yelled. The Goblin had turned around in time for his face to collide with your bag. What had been inside it made him stumble away from Peter a bit. Peter caught himself with his hands as he fell forward.

He tried again. “May run, please.” His voice was disgruntled and raspy. He needed you two to be safe. “Y-Y/n…r-run!” He begged. You had turned around to face him and that had been your first mistake. Your second was letting your guard down. This gave the Goblin an opening to have enough time to grab you and throw you across the lobby like a ragdoll.

“Y/N!” Peter watched in horror as your back collided with the wall. Your head lulling to the side, you were knocked out cold.

The hoverboard came rushing in through the doors. Glass splattering everywhere. May had been hit directly on the back. She was thrown from the impact.

“MAY!”

Peter grunted as the Goblin jumped on the board. He pushed himself up with all the strength he could muster.

“Peter, Peter, Peter. No good deed goes unpunished.” Peter caught Norman’s eyes looking over at you unconscious, and May laying on the ground in pain. “You’ll thank me later.” He smirked and threw one of his pumpkin bombs in the air.

“No!” Peter threw himself in the air as he tried to catch the bomb. His fingertips had only brushed against the bomb…then it set off. Throwing him back.

You were awoken by the sound of a voice talking. You didn’t know how long you were out. All you knew was that pain was currently running up and down your back.

“Y/n? Y/n, hey can you hear me?” He cried, shaking you lightly. You groaned as your eyes opened and closed. “Hey, baby, I’m here. Can you hear my voice?” He sniffled as he brushed a hair out of your face.

You took a deep breath as your eyes opened wide. Your eyes wandered before they settled onto Peter who was crouched down in front of you. “P-Pete?”

“Oh thank god.” He choked up. He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Oh, you’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Norm-” You began to panic, sitting up straighter, but Peter made you rest against the wall by pushing on your shoulder.

“He got away, he’s not here.” Peter shook his head. “We’re okay. You’re okay.”

“I knew…” You winched as you tried sitting up then gulped. “I knew something was off about him- I-I should have told you I wasn’t fine-” You hiccuped. “H-He kept talking about m-my glitter bomb.” God, he should have never told him about that. His head fell down. One of his hands fell on your legs, rubbing it slowly. You were looking around at the mess. The whole lobby was unrecognizable. Then you realized…You noticed quickly that you couldn’t feel any mobility in your legs. You looked down at Peter’s hand rubbing against your leggings and you whimpered. Peter lifted his head hearing you cry. He gave you a once over, then reached forward to cup your face.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Where does it hurt? Where are you in pain?”

“I-I can’t-” You shook your head. “I-I can’t feel my legs, Peter.” Peter looked down at your legs. They looked still. He felt a pang in his heart. He slowly placed his hand at the tip of your shoes and squeezed. He looked up in question, but you continued shaking your head. He moved back up closer to you, trying to find where you could have gotten hurt. He moved his head to look at your back. He lifted your shirt just a tad bit and right then and there he wanted to cry. His heart broke seeing purple and red combined. He touched you lightly and pulled his hand towards him. The red drops of blood were darker than his own suit. Your spinal cord must’ve taken the blow, and now you were bleeding out. He clenched his jaw to try and keep his cool.

“W-What?” You shivered. “What’s wrong? You okay?” He only shook his head no. No, he was far from okay. “H-How bad is it…P-Pete?” You slowly reached out with your left hand to grasp his hand tightly. Yet, it felt weak to Peter though. “Peter?”

“S-Somebody help I need an ambulance! Please, somebody, help us!” He yelled out again like he had with May. Though no one was coming to help him save his loved ones…and that pained him.

“What happened?”

He took a deep breath and turned back to look at you. He reached forward caressing your cheeks lovingly. Smiling like everything was okay. “Nothing happened, you’re okay, you’re okay. We’re gonna get you out of here, and I’m gonna get you to a doctor, and they’ll fix you up, and you’ll be good as new again!” He nodded. He wanted so hard to believe the words that slipped past his mouth, but he just needed you to stay awake for him, yet you didn’t show any signs of being tired.

You could see right through him though. He was trying so hard not to cry. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears slipped. You opened them to look up at the ceiling. Blinking away your watery eyes.

“Where’s M-May?” Your voice rasped. You were going in and out of consciousness when you heard him plead for her to open her eyes.

“N-No.” He shook his head. His face scrunched in pain. This made you break down. He continued caressing you. He was calm as long as he heard your heart still beating.

“I-I’m sorry.” A tear fell down your cheek. Peter immediately looked up, shaking his head.

“W-What are you sorry for, huh?” He half-heartedly laughed. His voice cracked as he kept caressing you.

“I-I said…I said I wouldn’t be a he-hero.” Your lips trembled. “I said-” You swallowed down the knot in your throat. “I said I’d run and I didn’t.” You let out a sob.

“This is not your fault, do you hear me?” He held your face. “This was all Norman, not you.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your temple as silent cries slipped past your lips. “This is not your fault.”

Thoomp-thump.

Healthy, strong, and beating, it’s still healthy, strong, and beating. He kept reminding himself.

He looked at the lobby’s front entrance where a swat team was waiting for him. Guns were being pulled out. He didn’t like the looks of it. Your breathing was still regulating normally, that was a good thing, right? You were alive and that was enough to ease him. He continued to stare at the entrance while his thumb kept sliding back and forth across your left cheek.

You had your head to the side. You weren’t saying anything, but from the rise and fall of your chest was slowing, he could tell you were having trouble getting air.

“Hey, you okay? Where else does it hurt?” He wiped away the dirt that smudged on your right cheek. “Y/n-”

“-S-Shhh.” You furrowed your brows, focusing your ears on that stupid ticking noise. “W-What is that?” You croaked. You were growing tired and that noise was driving you to insanity. “W-Where’s that coming from?” Peter looked at you confused. He let go of your hand and stood up slowly.

“What’s what?” He looked around the lobby.

“Listen.”

He moved around walking over some of the rubble. “Y/n, I don’t hear anything.” He shook his head.

“Just listen…t-tick, tick, tick.” You made the sounds as you looked left and right. Why the hell did it sound so close?

He strained his ears finally being able to hear it. “What is that?” You were right, there was something ticking. “Where’s it coming from?” Peter started furiously looking under pieces of rubble, his heart started picking up. He did not like the sound of it. If there was another bomb in the room with you two…he had to find it.

You watched him panic as he grunted. You could still hear it even with him throwing pieces of concrete around. You finally strained your ears more and suddenly looked to your left. You noticed a red dot blinking against the cotton fabric of your tote bag. You held your breath as you shakingly reached for the handle and tugged it closer.

“Why is it getting louder?” He exclaimed as he tugged at his hair with his hands. He sighed, then looked back to see you pull out something from your bag. It was the fucking bomb! He felt his flight or fight response kick in and scurried to you. He groaned, holding his side where his ribs were broken. He pressed two middle fingers down to shoot out a web, but nothing came out. He was out… He hopped on his good side trying to reach you. “Y/n!”

You gasped for air seeing the timer on 2 seconds. You looked up with wide eyes, feeling your heart plummet to the bottom of your stomach. “Peter!” You cried as you threw the device in your hands. Yet when it hit zero it exploded, just like any bomb would. The blast sent you both back. It made your head collide with the wall. Your eyes wavered as you groaned in agony. There was a slight ringing in your ears. You reached up weakly touching the tips of your ears only to pull your hand back slowly to see blood. The blast threw Peter back. He gasped as he landed on his back. You were feeling dazed, your vision becoming slightly blurry, you heaved slowly trying to breathe. You couldn’t. You heard the sound of cracking and breaking, suddenly. You slowly looked up and felt scared as the ceiling above you started falling. “P-Pet-”

Peter didn’t know how long he had been knocked out. Woke up in shock. He was sweating and everything hurt.

“Y-Y/n…” He croaked out your name as he rolled over. He gasped for air as he made himself get up. The blast had caused more concrete to fall from the ceiling making it harder for him to reach you. He had to climb over a few pieces of rubble before his eyes caught sight of you. “N-No!” He yelled out in agony as he pushed himself forward. He grunted as he threw the rubble that fell on you. He breathed heavily as soon as he removed the last piece off of you. He choked back a sob, seeing the sight of you. Your ears were bleeding and so was your nose. Your neck had been curled in on itself. He shook his head whimpering. “Y-Y/n…” No response. “Hey, can you hear me? It’s P-Peter. Y-Y/n?” He let out a stifled sob. He held your face gently, turning it so he could take a good look at you. “Please!” He shook you just slightly. “Please look at me, please. Open your eyes for me, yeah? Let me see those y/e/c eyes…just let me see them. Please!” He begged and begged and begged. “What are you doing? Can you just wake up and talk to me, please. Let me hear your voice one more time, yeah? Please…please- say something.” He realized just how quiet the open space felt. His body shook as he fell forward on you.

…..

Silence had taken over the rhythm of your thuds. He couldn’t hear your heart beating anymore. A strangled sob released from his body. He yelled out in agony, punching the wall next to you. He made an indent. He could feel his knuckles throb, but he didn’t care. He sobbed, pulling his fist away from the wall. He looked up at the ceiling, blinking away tears, then he looked down at your limp body. He placed his hands back on your face removing any loose strands of hair that covered your eyes.

“It’s okay…It’s okay.” He squeezed his eyes shut. You weren’t gonna be okay and it was all his fault. “You’re okay now, you’re okay.” He raised his head to kiss your temple. “I-I love you.” He whispered over and over. “I love you, I Iove you so much.”

“Peter, run!” Happy had yelled out as he was shoved up against the hood of his own car.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He kissed your temple over and over, even giving you one on your cheek, and then a soft yet slow chaste one on your chapped lips. He pulled back caressing you and running his thumbs over your cheeks again. “I’m so sorry…”

“Alright Parker come out with your hands up!”

“I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry!” He got up as soon as bullets started being fired at him. He checked himself to see if he had gotten grazed, but he hadn’t…and then he bolted with one last glance at you laying in the rumble.

Peter ran to the only place he felt the safest. The roof of Midtown High. It was the only place that he felt would bring him some peace of mind, but nothing was bringing him any peace knowing that you and May were dead. He had never felt more alone than he did on that roof. So when his two best friends arrived. He looked over at them before breaking down altogether once more. They immediately fell down to his side. Soothing and holding him. Telling him reassuring things that they hoped would calm him down, but nothing was going to soothe the ache in his heart.

MJ had been the first to notice your absence. Her head lifted as an uneasy feeling wrapped around her giving her goosebumps. From the lack of your presence and the heartbroken look Peter had. It wasn’t hard to figure out, she didn’t want to say anything though. She didn’t want her worst fears to be true.

Yet instead, Ned was the one to ask.

“P-Peter…where’s Y/n?” Ned looked around the roof for any sign of you, but as he looked back at Peter’s torn guilt look. He felt his heart tear in two. Peter shook his head as he curled his arms around his knees tighter. He sobbed, letting his head fall forward.

“I-I couldn’t save them…” His body shook. MJ placed a hand over her mouth as tears threatened to spill. This day just kept getting worse, and now you were gone. “I-I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t get to her in time. S-She’s dead because of me.” He clutched his head tightly as the voices in his head kept building up and screaming at him. “May and Y/n are dead because of me.” He just wanted them to go away. “Why!” MJ and Ned wrapped their arms around him. It was your voice, his, and Norman’s combined. Just one after the other, taunting him, mocking him, and breaking him.

What kind of bomb was this, again?

I-I think she actually has one with her right now. It’s in her bag.

She’s pretty.

H-Hey.

You need anything?

I-I can’t feel my legs.

What’s wrong?

N-Nothing…I-I’m fine, promise.

It’s in her bag.

What kind of bomb was this, again?

I knew…I knew something was off about him- I-I should have told you I wasn’t fine.

Nothing is gonna happen to me.

She’s pretty.

…in her bag.

W-What is that?

Just listen…t-tick, tick, tick.

What kind of bomb was this, again?

TICK.

Nothing is gonna happen to me.

TICK.

It’s healthy, and strong, and beating, and that’s all that really matters to me. You’re all that matters to me.

TICK.

Harmful, yet effective, right? That’s what you want, isn’t it?

TICK.

Where’d you go?

I was just listening…

To what? My heart?

THOOMP-THUMP.

TICK.

That’s all that really matters.

TICK.

Everything’s gonna be okay.

TICK.

Be okay…

TICK

All that really matters to me.

TICK.

Nothing….

NOTHING…

NOTHING is gonna happen to me.

Nothing…

I love you.

I love you too much to ever put you through that kind of pain.

TICK.

Ned and MJ noticed him tense up, they moved back as his head slowly lifted. He stared off into the night. His jaw clenched and his face hardened.

“Peter?” MJ grew worried by his silence. “Peter, talk to us?” Something had gone off in him to be acting this way.

“Peter, man?” Ned furrowed his eyes.

Peter!

BOOM.

“I’m gonna kill ‘em…” His voice rasped.

Extra Scene:

Though Peter felt that getting vengeance for you and May was the answer. His other two former Spider-Man told him that there had been something to fight for. That you and May hadn’t died for nothing. Peter 2 had managed to prevent him from killing Norman. What good would killing him have done if everyone else had been cured except him? So with all the anger left inside him, he had plunged the serum into Norman’s neck and watched as he was cured. It wasn’t going to bring you back, but he had helped him, he helped them all…and now no one knew who he was.

He had to find a new place to live and he had ended up renting from Mr. Ditkovich, a somewhat decent landlord…not really. The place was run-down, but it was going to be his home. For how long, he wasn’t sure. At least he got the place looking somewhat decent by the end of the night.

Peter was moving around some boxes, the box contained some of his and your stuff combined that he would go through later, but as he clumsy set it down, there was a swish of something sliding across the floor. He caught sight of something white and walked away with another box now in his hands to another spot in the small apartment, but he quickly halted in his step. He did a double-take seeing the slip of notebook paper on the ground. He set the box with some of his stuff down and walked over to pick it up. It was folded in half hiding the written content. He opened up the fold and he had never felt pain strike him so badly the way seeing your handwriting did. He sat on the edge of the bed. His thumb smoothed over your swirls and loops. He couldn’t be upset about the fact he found this certain piece of paper though. If anything it made him laugh a little, something he hadn’t done in a while. He smiled genuinely seeing the ridiculous title you had tried giving the list: Y/n & Peter’s Super Duper Spidey-Tastic, SAFE, CRAZY ASS, SAFE, BADASS, SAFE Bucket List.

He shook his head thinking back to the time where he kept fighting you for the stupid black pen, he tried to reason with you about how you two should make the bucket list safe for your sake, but you weren’t having none of it. You still ended up crossing out his added words.

“You’re staring.” You had peeked an eye open, having just woken up. You had briefly made eye contact with Peter, who had been leaning on his arm watching you sleep like the weirdo he was.

“I’m admiring.“

"Staring-”

“-Taking you all in because you’re beautiful.” He leaned down to peck your lips but you groaned.

“I have morning breath.” You laughed trying to shove him away.

“Don’t care…” He leaned in capturing your lips with his own. He hummed softly, savoring the slow kiss. He pulled back and smiled down at you. “What do you wanna do today?”

“Mmmm…” You looked off wondering what you and Peter could do to drag out the day ahead of you.

“We could go to Mr. Delmars for sandwiches, a picnic in the park, I could swing us to the tallest view in the city again?” All his suggestions sounded amazing but you thought something new could be fun.

“W-Why don’t we make a bucket list?” You shied away from his eyes only to have him gently turn your chin to look at him.

“A bucket list…”

“I-I know it’s stupid forget-”

“No, no, no. It’s actually– a great idea!” He got up all excited and sat back.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” He exclaimed.

“Okay, okay.” You sat up too. Your smile grew by the millisecond.

“What would we even do?” Peter chuckled, scratching his head. He had no clue what you two would even write down.

“Umm…” You furrowed your brows. Your tongue was poking against your cheek in thought. “Huh? Um, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” You giggled.

“Like we always do.” Peter’s eyes met yours.

“Like we always do…” You nodded. Your eyes widened as he reached forward to wrap his arms alright your waist.

“Argh, come here you.” He had pulled you on top of him. His head was now against your pillows. He laughed as you pushed yourself up so as to not crush him. “Hi.” His eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Hi there.” You giggled.

“I love you.” He leaned forward to peck your lips.

Warmth had spread all over you. Your eyes crinkled at the edges too. You smiled down at the brunette with nothing but love for him.

“I love you too.” You leaned down and pecked his lips.

Tears spilled on the piece of paper after realizing you guys never really did get to do anything, except one, on the list. He could recall how excited you were to do all these things, now it felt like you two wrote it all for nothing. He thought of crumbling up the paper, but the last thing on the list made him choke out a sob. The ink had been different from the rest of the nine things on the list. A bit more harsh than your typical delicate looking penmanship. He felt his heart skip realizing that you had added it at a different point and time. You wrote the last item on your own accord because it was something you had wanted to do. It was something you hoped to possibly make happen one day. You loved him so much, and this only added to it.

1. See a show on Broadway 2. Save up for a place in Brooklyn 3. Horse carriage around NY in December 4. Try new ice cream flavors 5. Drive through Brooklyn bridge 6. Let Y/n try on the Spider-Man Suit 7. Take a picture together at every tallest point 8. Skate at the Rockefeller center both dressed as Spider-Man 9. Get matching tattoos 10. Get married after college

“I’m so sorry, baby.” Peter sniffled, bringing the list up to his lips, kissing it gently. He was going to have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life. He was going to have to adjust to waking up and turning over on his other side only to remember that you wouldn’t be lying there sleeping peacefully next to him, and he was going to have to learn to be okay with that. You’d remain a memory, a constant reminder that your smile would no longer grace others, and you’d remain in his heart. The only safe place he could protect you from here on out.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x fem!reader #tom!peter parker x reader #my gif #writings by juls

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