i’ll always love you ˗ˏˋtom holland x best friend!reader ´ˎ˗
disclaimer; gif not mine!
warnings: swearing, angst, a failed relationship, miscommunication, inspired by a prompt i saw
word count: 800+
summary: best friends to strangers in the blink of an eye
Tom chased after you but you ignored him, focusing on the sand falling into place between your toes before disappearing and being replaced. You slowed down, letting Tom’s pleas and cries envelope you. Your breath was choppy and your cheeks were damp, tears streaming down your face.
You wiped your eyes, rubbing furiously like that would take away the pain you felt. Someone placed a hand on your shoulder, and you knew exactly who it was by the smallest touch, familiar as it had been for years.
“Y/N, please, listen to me!” Tom pleaded, putting his hands on your cheeks and rubbing away the tears on your cheeks, his thumb caressing your face delicately. You could see the unhappiness in his face, the broken hope. It made you hurt inside, giving you a ache in your chest.
“No, Tom! You kissed me!” you pulled away, almost reluctant. No, completely reluctant. He hurt you. He knew he did. But he was Tom Holland. He was your best friend. He was your world, your sun, your everything. And you had to let him go.
“And you didn’t stop me!” he yelled, throwing his hands in the air. The tears left dry streaks on his face, the red in his eyes visible from miles away. He was a mess. The wind was ruining his hair, tousling the curls. He looked seconds away from just tearing the skin off his body just to get rid of his own guilt.
You sobbed, a gutteral sound escaping your mouth. “No, Tom. I didn’t. But we talked about this! I can’t, I can’t do this! I can’t fucking date you! I can’t deal with your lifestyle, I never have been able to! And you told me you wouldn’t keep pushing, but you did! I-I-I just..” you trailed off, your hands entangled in your hair and making you want to sob.
Tom trembled under your gaze, the guilt eating up at his chest. He pulled his hands out of his curls and looked you over, emotions blurring on his face. “So this is it?” he whispered. You took a step towards him, automatically. Out of instinct.
“I-I-” you hesitated. Everything flashed by, all your memories together; playing on the playground as kids, watching him perform Billy Elliot, dance classes together, saying goodbye as he went off to his school with Harrison. Red carpet premieres, all the silly things you’d come up with on set, the inside jokes. Having karaoke parties in the trailer. Accompanying him to every movie release, most recently ‘No Way Home.’ You remember everything you’d ever done together. How could you forget? They were the fuel you used to get to work every morning, to wake up after a terrible nightmare. He was the reason you were still alive, still there. Still whole.
“This is goodbye, isn’t it.” tears blurred Tom’s vision as he remembered all the moments you were there for him, the crying, the breakdowns, the complaints and anger issues that came with having no private life. He’d blamed himself for years for making you feel uncomfortable, but he knew. He knew that deep down, you’d never wanted it to work. Because you thought it couldn’t.
You nodded, tears falling freely. You held your arms out for the boy, and he embraced you, one last time. You took in his comfort, his presence, the way he knew exactly where not to lay a hand on you. You sobbed into his shoulder, and he was shaking, trembling, tears staining your shirt. Neither of you cared. Neither of you had to. You both knew it was over, this was the end. You’d held on for too long, dangling on two ends of a cliff with only a worn string to hold you together. And now it was time to let go.
You stepped back, holding your hand out for a fist bump. Tom’s ring fit perfectly with yours, the small sun falling into place. You both refused to wipe your tears, sobbing and trembling under the wind.
“I love you.” he whispered. “I love you like the moon loves the stars. I love you like the sky loves the ocean. I’ll love you until everything stops, everything lets go, and even then I’ll love you still.” his hand fell from yours.
You sobbed, an animalistic sound falling from your throat. “I love you, Tom Holland. I love you because you make me feel like me. You make me want to run through fields of grass filled with laughter. And some days I may hate you, some I may miss you, and some I may just feel you in the back of my head. But I will always have a place in my heart to love you, Tom.” you fell into his arms, the both of you crying on your knees on the road, embracing each other.
“I’m sorry.” he cried.
“So am I.” you kissed his temple, running your hands through his curls and standing. The both of you looked toward each other, reluctant to let go, but you turned, walking off. You to your car, Tom to his house.
No matter what, you’d always have each other. And you knew it. Even if you had to let go.
authors note; i apologize in advance and offer cookies * ˚ ✦
𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞
andrew!peter parker x reader (tasm based)
summary: best friends to lovers with our spidey <3 | fluff (tw; wounds, mentions of blood, mentions of food)
a/n: I didn’t get time to write cause it was christmas and I wanted to publish a fic because it was a christmas so yeah, that’s not a good combo. I did it tho! Merry christmas, love you!
Peter was not having a good time. He was tired from spiderman-ing all day long, and though doing assignments with you technically wasn’t a break, it still felt like the only thing he looked forwards to.
Which is why he was irritated when he saw a robbery happening in the apartment near yours. He could never let crime run its course — he always had to try and stop it, even at the expense of his own mental health.
He took a look at his wrist-watch and promised himself that he’d make it quick. He knew you hated it when he showed up late.
Luckily, he had previously done some tinkering and could now make the spiderman suit appear with just a click on his hand.
After taking a quick look at the mirror (because you always gotta look good while taking down law-breakers), he opened the door and walked right in.
To make things more fun for him, the robber wasn’t the type to quickly back away. After some mild chasing and breaking some ridiculously expensive paintings, Peter used webs to attach him to the wall, knowing when the home-owners were back, they’d hand him over to the cops.
“Until then you reflect on your doings, okay?” Peter said shrewdly. “Repent, reflect, do whatever you want! God, I sound like a priest.”
He briskly walked away, but not before feeling the cut in his leg, which had apparently happened while the robber stabbed him with a glass piece moments ago. It wasn’t that deep, but the shards were dangerously spread over the wound. He knew he needed medical attention, so he decided to cancel the plans with you and go back to his house.
But that’s not how exactly things went. When he stepped out into the hallway and started limping, he heard your voice.
“Uh, hello?” you called out, seeing the red figure stop in surprise.
A little backstory here — you were his best friend, meaning you almost came across his secret frequently before. You could never prove it and the possibility that your Peter was Spiderman was too unlikely, so you had let it go.
He turned to you in utter disbelief, thinking for a moment that he was caught, but under the sudden appearance of Spiderman right outside your building, you were only shocked.
“You’re—” you started, and he heaved a sigh of relief when he remembered his mask was still on.
“Spiderman,” he nodded, limping forwards to shake your hand. “Nice to meet your acquaintance.”
He remembered to change his voice, because you’d recognize him otherwise. While making his tone deeper was kind of difficult, he had to do it, for the sake of his anonymity.
“Spiderman,” you repeated, shaking his hand uncertainly. What would anyone typically do when a city-known superhero suddenly introduce themselves?
“Uh, I’ll be on my way,” Peter said quickly, trying to not make himself too suspicious.
“You can come in!” You objected, pointing to his leg. “I have first-aid.”
“Is it really? Because that looks like it hurts a lot,” you pressed on.
Peter’s brain went into overdrive. He didn’t make the best decisions under stress. Or under general circumstances.
“Okay, sure,” he gave in, following you inside your familiar household.
You did some awkward quick cleaning, like taking the empty doritos pack and throwing it into the trashcan, as well as adding two more pillows into the sofa so he could rest properly.
Peter sat down, then watched as you hunted down the first-aid box.
“I have to admit, I have no idea what I’m doing,” you said, sitting down beside him and taking the equipment out.
“I can do it myself,” he replied kindly, trying to take the bandages from you, but you glared at him until he backed off.
You worked on cleaning the wounds, then made double-sure that all of the glass shards were gone. You quickly covered up the wound with cotton and bandages, because you knew you can’t do stitches on your own.
“Wanna talk about it?” you asked when you were done.
He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk unless absolutely necessary. He could say one wrong thing and you’d know it’s really your bestfriend under the mask.
A sudden clink made you jump up and rush to the kitchen.
“Sorry, I had some cookies in the oven!” you yelled over your shoulders, then put on your oven mitts to take them out.
To your surprise, Spiderman had followed you to the kitchen. He seemed interested in what was happening, so you assumed he was hungry.
“Do you want one? Or two?” you asked, pointing to the freshly baked batch.
He again shook his head and pointed to the leftover mixture instead. You stared at him in confusion, so he sighed as if to say do-I-have-to-do-everything-here? He opened your cupboard and took all the labelled ingredients, muttering to himself.
He finally let out a “ah-ha!” when he found cornstarch. He took off the lid and put some in the mixture, then poured it into the mold. After a clap, he placed them in the oven, then stood back appreciatingly.
“Spiderman is secretly a chef? Noted,” you said, smiling.
Baking cookies took approximately 15 minutes and you thought he’ll probably leave before then, but Spiderman was actually watching shows on your T.V to pass time.
You pinched your hands multiple times to see you were not dreaming, but nope, he was still there, so effortlessly at home, as if he had been there a thousand times before.
You decided to do a quick study on him, because it wasn’t everyday someone could say they baked cookies with Spiderman. You did want to know how his webs worked, but his hands looked normal as far as you could see. It would have been much better if he just took off his suit.
Wait what, you thought, trying not to blush. Stupid brain.
As one show ended, he stood up slowly (his wound hasn’t magically disappeared, suggesting he was human) and walked around the living room, as if having a self-guided tour.
He took a picture from the cupboard, the one of you and Peter. You wished you could have seen what his expression was, because he was still staring at it even after you went back to the kitchen and got the new batch of cookies out of the oven.
“That’s my best friend, I love him,” you said, putting the plate on the table and plopping down on the couch yourself. You took one cookie and bit it timidly, your eyes immediately widening. “These are delicious. Kinda tastes familiar but delicious anyway.”
He tilted his head to one side, inviting you to say more about Peter.
“I love him as my best friend — or maybe more, I don’t know,” you sighed. “Doesn’t matter, here, have some cookies.”
He didn’t respond at all, making you turn to see if he’s still there.
“Mr. Spiderman? You alright?”
He coughed. “He sounds very lucky.”
Peter always made mistakes because of you — stammering answers in class because you were watching him from next seat, almost walking into a wall every time you’re talking with him, and now this. When he heard your confession, he did the most stupid mistake of his life.
He accidentally used his real voice.
You stood up, unable to believe it. “The cookies.”
“What?” Peter asked, momentarily distracted. Maybe you didn’t notice his slip-up?
“I know why they taste familiar,” you continued in disbelief. “They’re Aunt May’s recipe.”
“Uhm, t-they are?” he gulped, trying to think of escape plans. The window was open, so he decided to use that if necessary.
“Oh my gods—”
“Is this a bad time to ask you out for a date?” he interrupted, then watched your face grow more angry.
In retrospect, he’d also be pissed off if his bestfriend hid the fact that they were literally a superhero.
“Peter Parker, you lying little—”
Yup, bad time, he decided, then ran to the window and threw himself out.
“What the-?” you poked your head out of the window and saw him using webs to swing across the buildings, away from you.
“YOU CAN’T JUST RUN AWAY!” you yelled, hardly caring about who was listening.
“I can try!” His voice came back. “I’ll see you at the date tomorrow!”
“WHAT DATE?” you asked, but he had already disappeared off into the night.
Muttering under your breath about annoying spiders, you closed the window, then mentally started thinking of what to wear tomorrow.
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Help! I Am Experiencing The Highly Predictable and Eminently Logical Consequences of My Decision Not To Get Vaccinated And People Are Acting Like It's All My Fault!
Ask APW, A Practical Wedding, 20 August 2021:
My best friend is getting married outside of the US. I am her only bridesmaid/maid of honor and we have been best friends for 15+ years. Because of covid, things have been rocky. I have not been vaccinated. She has. The border is only letting vaccinated US citizens in. Therefore I cannot go. She basically hates me because I won’t get vaccinated. I’ve tried to explain my reasoning, but she honestly doesn’t care and has tunnel vision for the pro-vax. I feel like I am losing my best friend because of this. I plan on scheduling a photo shoot for us in her wedding dress and me in my bridesmaid’s dress for when she returns. I’m just not sure what else to do.
Dear (Former) Maid Of Honor,
It's reportedly been a rough 18 months, hasn't it? You see just hundreds and thousands of news reports — who knows if you can believe them! — about a "global pandemic" killing "millions" of people, supposedly over 700,000 people in the United States alone, but it's a little hard to square that with your personal gut feeling that COVID is just not that big of a deal! So it's really hard to know who to trust right now — on the one hand, we have near-universal agreement from medical experts and professional and governmental entities from around the globe that deadly COVID can largely be prevented with a very safe vaccine that is accessible widely in the United States, but on the other hand, this email forward from your brother-in-law's buddy says that mainlining a horse dewormer is the only way to protect yourself from the worldwide vaccine cabal! (And by the way, have you invested in the gold standard? Just something to think about, no pressure to buy now!)
Your bestie is honestly being a pretty big baby about not wanting to subject herself or others to a likely carrier of a deadly disease, or at least, that's probably what doctors and other sheeple would say. Some people, sadly your bestie included, get all het up about "the best medical science and knowledge available," and totally ignore the grainy meme their best friend saw on Facebook. And to top it off, she's letting this so-called peer-reviewed research that shows vaccines prevent serious COVID in the vast, vast majority of cases dictate the way she hosts a sizable group gathering of potential carriers and victims and everyone they know or even interact with? Come on! Talk about tunnel vision blocking out what really matters — having a party with you at it!
You made the free and full decision not to get vaccinated and that is simply not your fault, and you should not be held responsible for making this decision just because it's a decision you made on purpose, based on your own judgment, as a result of something you wanted specifically to do. What's more, your best friend, of all people, shouldn't try to make it your fault by having a destination wedding in a country that sounds like it is also going out of its way to oppress you personally by asserting some kind of sovereign right to govern itself. No one here is looking at the big picture, except for you — which means you're the only one seeing and standing up to the mass global vaccine conspiracy, engineered by hundreds and maybe even thousands of evil masterminds across time and geography and politics. Come to think of it, it sort of sounds like your best friend might be in on it. Why else would she decline to put herself and her loved ones at risk of contracting a dangerous virus? What other reasons could she possibly have to conduct her own fucking wedding on her own fucking terms, if not because she hates you personally for being so smart and free? She's being manipulated by the jab squad! This has deliberately engineered, decades-old pro-vax scheme written all over it!
Regardless of whether your best friend has been brainwashed by a vast and wide-ranging medical conspiracy, the bottom line is this: choosing not to get vaccinated is your personal choice, and nobody else has the right to make any choices related to your decision, because that would be a violation of your freedoms. Everybody has to like everything you do, and if they don't cheerily accept and accommodate your refusal to do one easy and free thing to keep yourself and the people around you healthy and safe, they're selfish, short-sighted assholes who hate you personally. There is literally no other reason not to want to travel internationally with and spend time in close quarters beside a willfully unvaccinated adult in the year 2021. (The photo shoot is a super cute idea, BTW — out of an abundance of caution, you might want to check on your local ICU's visitation rules before booking the photographer.)