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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3

thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are

warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )

^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots

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“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.

“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.

“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”

You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.

You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.

He must really really be unhappy.

You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.

This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.

Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.

And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.

Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.

But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).

“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.

“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”

“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”

“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”

You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.

Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.

“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.

He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.

Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.

It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.

“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.

“Hello?”

“Harry it’s me”

“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.

“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”

“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.

“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”

“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.

“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”

“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”

“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”

“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.

Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”

Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“

“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“

“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.

With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“

“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”

“You live across the road.”

“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.

The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.

There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.

“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”

“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.

“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.

“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”

~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~

tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #harry holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #peter parker

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joyfulholland · 3 years

Text

The Peace Treaty - Mob!Tom

....when your father orders you to make peace with Tom Holland, heir to the other crime family, you find working together is not as horrendous as you once thought.....

a/n: enemies to lovers with mob!Tom...this was a labour of love but I really like how this turned out and I hope you do too! i was largely inspired by all of my insanely talented friend Hannah’s (@duskholland) mob!Tom writing, which is an absolute must read for anyone and everyone! please let me know what you think! this was nearly a smut but I changed my mind so if anyone would be interested in a part 2 please send me a message!

warnings: swearing, lots of mentions of violence, some mentions of blood/injuries

word count: 6.1k

All weddings have a little drama somewhere, but you thought having to throw a knife to stop the unwanted guest escaping was a tad excessive.

Luckily, the majority of the wedding party and guests were out in the gardens, so it was only a select few who had seen you interrupt the man’s swift exit. You smirked in triumph as he turned back to face you, his posture having slumped realising that not only was he cornered, but severely outnumbered. Smoothing out the cobalt silk that was your bridesmaid dress, you took one step forward, before pausing at the cough from the man beside you.

Tom wordlessly flipped the pistol he was holding so that you could easily take it from him. His actions caused you to raise an eyebrow, and he smirked as he revealed the second handgun tucked into his waistband.

“Knew you wouldn’t be able to carry in that dress.” He grinned, eyes scanning your figure as you took the weapon from him. “Figured I better bring a spare so you wouldn’t have to miss out on the action.”

“Thank you.” You didn’t hide the surprise in your tone, still not used to his friendly attitude. Gesturing at the man still in the doorway, whose eyes were darting between you both, and the four other men behind you, you returned to the task at hand. “Shall we?”

“After you darling.”

~one week earlier~

“You can’t be serious Dad.”

Your father rolled his eyes from where he was seated across from you in front of the fire, the sound of laughter and music drifting under the door to his study from the party going on outside. Taking another sip of his whisky, he sighed at the incredulous look still plastered on your face.

“It’s time you made peace with him. I’m getting old, it’ll be your turn to run things soon, and we’d like to retire knowing the two of you aren’t at each other’s throats and throwing everything we built away. Besides, your sister’s wedding is almost here, and I want it to run smoothly.”

Sinking back into your chair, you let out a frustrated sigh before raising your own drink to your lips. Growing up as the eldest daughter of one of the two biggest crime families in London, you’d been raised preparing for the day it would be your turn to take on the “family business”, and you had relished in the prospect. The only issue you had taken to the entire affair, one which it seemed your father was now determined to resolve, was the heir to the other notorious family with whom you shared your work: Tom Holland.

One year older than you, the rivalry between you had started young. Both determined to prove you would one day be capable heads of your respective families, you’d attempted to one up each other at every opportunity available. Where he had excelled in marksmanship, your skill with a knife was incomparable to anyone else. When he began working for his father full time, you had begged your own to let you do the same, pleading that the fact he was older irrelevant. His specialty was smuggling, so you made disposal yours. The two of you even had a private scoreboard of times your activities had namelessly been displayed on the news, bragging that you were more successful at getting away with it than the other.

“Just shag him already.” Your younger sister, Isabelle, had groaned not a month before, as you’d finished regaling her with your recent triumph over him. “You’ve both been madly in love since you were about two years old.”

You’d almost spat your wine at her, the statement causing you off guard. Whilst it was no secret that Tom had suddenly become incredibly attractive over the course of a summer away when he was seventeen, you had made that fact irrelevant as your feelings towards him held nothing but contempt.

“I’m not in love with him.” Your words had come out as defiant, but it had only caused her to snort into her own drink. “Belle, he’s an arrogant, selfish arsehole who has done nothing but show as much hate towards me as I have to him since we were old enough to throw building blocks at each other.”

“I think you meant passion, not hate, but whatever.” She rolled her eyes, knowing when to drop a subject. “But it would be better for us all if you got along at least, and so help me God if the sexual tension between the two of you ruins my wedding I’ll murder you, heir to the firm or not.”

Which led you back to sitting across from your father, who had just informed you that he’d agreed with Tom’s father Dominic that the two of them were to hold ‘peace treaty’ talks between you.

“Did Belle put you up to this?” You asked suspiciously, eyes flashing to the door where you knew she would be holding court as the host of the wedding shower.

“She and your mother may have suggested it.”

“So she snitched to the both of you.”

“Actually, I think it was your mother’s idea first, she’s been speaking about it for a while.”

The smile on his face let you know you were defeated. It seemed they had all colluded together to force you into the ceasefire of your battle with Tom, and there was no way to escape it. Letting out another disgruntled sigh, you finished the remainder of your drink before rising from the chair.

“I assume he’s here.” The tone of your voice made your father let out a bark of laughter, and you knew you sounded like a child who had just been reprimanded. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Not waiting for an answer, you crossed the room and re-joined the party that your father had pulled you from, rearranging your face into a fake smile as you passed guests in various states of enjoyment on your way to the main reception area in your family estate. You’d barely stepped over the threshold of the doorway when his voice rang clearly above the music.

“Well, if it isn’t my new best friend.”

Turning to face him, you saw Tom push up from where he was leaning against the wall. Your eyes quickly scanned his body, noting the near-empty glass held loosely between two ring-clad fingers. His black suit jacket fitted him perfectly over a crisp white shirt, which had the top three buttons undone to reveal a thin gold chain around his neck. He was flanked on either side by his two most loyal friends, Harrison and Tuwaine, both of whom offered you a smile. Whilst the rivalry between yourself and Tom was strong, neither of you had ever taken any issue to those in both of your inner circles.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s had the play nice speech.” Skipping any greetings, you return the other men’s smiles before focusing on Tom. He gives a short chuckle at your words before raising his glass to his lips and finishing the remainder of his drink. “For the record, I have no intentions of becoming friends.”

“I’m wounded darling.” Tom’s still wearing an obnoxious smirk as a server comes to offer you a glass of champagne, taking away his empty glass in the process. “I thought we could make a a good team, make everyone even happier.”

“In your dreams, Holland.” You know he’s just baiting you, but with the prospect of at least a couple more hours of party ahead of you, your patience for him was limited. “We can be civil at events and make an effort in any deals. But that’s it. We are not, and never will be a team.”

Not giving him time to answer, you swiftly turned on your heels and entered further into the crowd of people celebrating your sister’s upcoming nuptials, determined not to let him ruin this night for you anymore, and not to think about him until the next time you saw him.

Which, it turned out, would be sooner than you had hoped.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The following morning, you had retreated back to your own apartment.

Having cited ‘business’ as your reason, you knew that your family had seen into your lie, and that you wanted to be able to sulk in peace. You’d promised, under threats of bodily harm, to return two days before the wedding, giving you a good four days to get your bad mood out of the way.

The alone time only lasted fifteen hours.

It was drawing close to two a.m. when the banging on your door disturbed you. You hadn’t fallen asleep yet, having been going over some files at your desk, but the loud beating had startled you, and was unexpected enough for you to grab your gun from your bottom draw before approaching the source. Checking the spy hole, a string of curses left your mouth as you unchained and unlocked the door.

Tom fell through the threshold, his brown curls dishevelled, and his knuckles bruised. A thin trail of blood trickled down the side of his face from a slash above his left eyebrow, and a dark patch pooling on his shoulder alluded to there being another injury beneath his shirt. Quickly shutting the door behind him and relocking it, you spun to glare at the man who was now propping himself up against the wall of your hall.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked him, taking another survey of his injuries, and noting the yellowing skin under his eye that had a blue tinge. He had never been to your apartment before, but it didn’t shock you that he knew the address, especially as you knew his. Instead, you chose to ask the next most prominent question. “Have you been stabbed or shot?”

“I was close by, needed to tell you something.” He ignores your question, so you move past him to get to your bathroom, noting the wince he tried to hide as he moved to follow. Gingerly sitting on the edge of your bathtub, he watches as you grab a first aid kit from the cabinet under your sink. “You don’t need to do that.”

“I’m not going to stand here and watch you bleed.” You roll your eyes at him as you turn to face him, gesturing towards his shirt as a hint for him to remove it. He does so slowly, grimacing as he tries not to move his shoulder. You can’t help but take a sharp gasp when you see the gash running over the top of his skin, clear that a bullet had skimmed past him and not quite missed. Tom sends you a weak smile as you turn back to grab something to clean the wound. “What were you so desperate to tell me anyway? You could have just called.”

“Like you’d have answered.” Tom jokes as you step forward to begin patching him up, a hiss falling through his lips as you make contact with his injury. “You’ve made it clear that you only want to speak to me on a need-to-know basis, and this was urgent. That’s going to need stitches isn’t it? Just try and stem the bleeding until I get home, Haz is pretty decent at sewing me up.”

Your eyes flashed to meet his for a brief second before returning to his shoulder, nodding at his question. You couldn’t deny that you probably would have rejected his call and had nothing else to say to him in response. Grabbing some gauze, you start to tightly pad over the wound, waiting for him to continue.

“I ran into Jason.” His words promptly stop your actions, and your eyes connect again. Jason Boule was the son of another crime family, one whom which neither your father or Tom’s had gotten ever along with, and one who had been attempting to sabotage both of your businesses for years. “I think they’re trying to get someone into the wedding.”

“What did he say?” You ask, finishing with his shoulder before grabbing something to start cleaning up his face. “And what did you say to make him shoot at you?”

“Asked me to pass on congratulations to the happy couple, claimed he was disappointed he hadn’t received an invite, that he was sure it was going to be a day to remember.” Tom spoke the last few words with gritted teeth as you wiped over the cut along his face. “Then he…I may have said something about how vermin weren’t usually invited to weddings, which is about when he shot at me.”

“You missed something out in the middle.” You smirked as it was Tom’s turn to roll his eyes, having not missed the way he’d changed his mind mid-sentence, passing him an instant-cool pack from your kit. “Hold that on your eye.”

“Thanks.” He muttered, doing as you told him. You waited expectantly, and he groaned before carrying on. “He may have said some shit about you in the middle, which I may have punched him for, but that wasn’t important to the alluding to sending someone to the wedding point.”

“You punched him for bad-mouthing me?”

“Well, yeah. Just because I give you shit for not being as good as me, doesn’t give him any right to. Especially not what he said, which I won’t repeat for the fact it was disgusting.”

Eyes once again locked on his, you found yourself lost for words. Tom had tried to joke it off, but the idea of him defending you, in any situation, felt like a foreign concept. Dropping your gaze down, you sucked in a breath at the realisation of the intimate situation the two of you were in: you, standing between his legs as he sat, shirtless, with only centimetres separating the two of you. As you raised your eyes slowly back to his, you found Tom’s gaze still fixed firmly on your face. A moment passed, and for a brief second you found yourself leaning closer, until a loud buzzing signalled Tom’s phone ringing in his pocket. Snapping yourself out of it, you took a step back, eyes returning to his and forcing your face to remain neutral as he glanced at his screen and sighed.

“You should get home, get your shoulder looked at properly.” Your words shattered the tension that had surrounded you both momentarily, and Tom coughed before nodding and reaching for his discarded shirt. “Thank you, Tom, for coming to tell me.”

“All part of the peace treaty.” His smile looked forced as he pulled his shirt back on and stood, passing you back the ice pack and making his way to leave your apartment. “You wanna tell your Dad-“

“No.” You cut him off quickly, running a hand through your hair as you think through the situation. “I… this wedding is important, and I don’t want him worrying. We can sort it right?”

“OK.” He nods, his usual smirk returning. “You’ll actually have to answer my calls though.”

“It’s a sacrifice I’m sure I can manage.” You roll your eyes at him, and Tom chuckles with a nod before going to unlock your door. “I’ll speak to some of my guys in the morning.”

“And you said we couldn’t be a team.”

“Go home Holland.” You sigh, gently pushing him out of your apartment. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Counting down the hours darling.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

The next few days were filled with flurries of phone calls between yourself and Tom, some more pleasant than others. Almost all of the calls were logistical; how many people the two of you planned on telling, whether or not to station someone at the exits. In an attempt to remain focused, you tried to keep your tone formal and business like, not deviating from the matter at hand.

The problem was Tom had other plans.

You’d be halfway through discussing exit routes when he’d suddenly ask your opinion on his suit for the wedding, or you’d be texting him floor plans and he would send back a picture of options for his shoes. And then of course, once or twice, the two of you would disagree about something and end up fighting, with one of you hanging up on the other before calling back almost immediately because it really wasn’t an issue you had time to ignore. Trying to balance getting along after so many years of competition, in addition to doing everything you could to ignore the moment that had transpired between you the night in your bathroom, as well as calls from your sister about last minute wedding worries was giving you a permanent migraine.

The day before the wedding, he called you just as you were finishing dinner with your family.

“Now’s really not the time.” You murmured, skipping any formal greeting as you stepped into the empty hallway. “I’ve just-“

“Come outside.” He cut you off, tone matching yours. “Got something you’ll wanna see.”

Not giving you a chance to respond, the line cut off, leaving you no choice but to follow his orders. Stepping into the snug, where everyone had retired to after finishing, you flashed an apologetic smile.

“I’ve just got to step out for a bit.” You told them, earning an eye roll from your mother and a curious look from your father. You shook your head slightly, reassuring him not to worry. “Won’t be too long.”

“If you’re not back when I go to bed I will kill you.” Isabelle sighed, head tilting back over the sofa from where she was seated in front of you. “Promise me you’ll stop and say good night.”

“Promise.” You mutter, dipping forward to kiss her forehead before retreating from the room. Hurrying down the hallway, you slipped out of the large front doors to see the outline of Tom leaning against his car, parked close to the doors of your garage. Crossing the gravel, the cool evening breeze made you shiver as you walked the dark to meet him, the hem of your dress grazing against your thighs. Getting close enough to make out his features, you called out to him. “Roddy let you in the gate?”

“Told him I had a meeting with you, he let me in no questions asked.” He hummed; body still angled from where he was leaning on the hood of his jaguar. “Figured you must have told him something.”

“Warned him we could have an unexpected visitor tomorrow so to not question you if you turned up.” You affirmed, crossing your arms around you in an attempt to keep warm. “What is it you wanted to show me?”

Tom’s eyes dropped to your arms and smirked, before pushing off his car and opening the door, tilting his head at it as a signal to get in. You did so wordlessly, sighing in content as he shut the door behind you and the heat of his car engulfed you. The car smelled more like Tom’s aftershave than any air freshener, which only strengthened when Tom had slipped into the driver’s seat moments later. As he reached across you to open the glove box, you held your breath as his arm, exposed from where he’d rolled up his sleeves, grazed your body, mind still determined to rid yourself of any minor attraction to him. Tom pulled out a large envelope, fingers brushing yours as he gave it to you before settling back into his own seat. Sliding out the contents, you found printed emails containing directions to your father’s study, as well as photographs of your family estate, and the name of a company which you were in the middle of a business deal with.

“May or may not have hacked into Boule’s emails.” Tom explained before you could ask, your eyes lifting from the papers in front of you to meet his. “I know we didn’t agree on that, but Paddy is becoming one hell of a whiz kid at it, so asked him to see if he could find anything.”

Smiling at the mention of Tom’s youngest brother, you returned your attention to the documents, speed reading through them as Tom waited for you to reply. Noticing the names on the email addresses, your eyebrows raised in surprise.

“You aren’t kidding about Paddy.” The surprise in your tone made Tom chuckle, and you lifted your gaze back to him. “These were coded, weren’t they?”

“Told you, kids got skills. Think we’re pretty lucky he’s already one of the family, or we’d all be fighting over him.”

“Well at least now we know what Jason’s coming after.”

“And that he’s only sending one guy. We’ll barely have anything to do.”

You chuckled softly at his words, leaning back against the chair and letting your gaze wander over the darkened landscape of your estate. You could only just make out the large marquee that had been erected for the wedding, most of it obscured by the dark as well as part of the house.

“Think we could have always worked together like this?” Tom’s words startle you, and you tilt your head to the side to find him mirroring your position. “You know, if you could have just admitted I was better when we were kids, then it would have been fine.”

You let out a short laugh, watching his lips pull into a grin at the sound. Seeing how smug he was, an idea flashed into your head. Before Tom could realise what was happening, you pushed yourself off your chair and swung your legs to straddle over his, pulling the small knife you had tucked into your belt free to press loosely against his neck.

“What was that about being better than me?” You asked, grinning as his expression changed from one of shock to frustration, his eyes rolling as he raised one hand to push gently at your hip. “You’re getting slow, Holland.”

“Doesn’t count.” He protested, eyes following your hand as you flipped the small blade back into the safety of its holder. “You’ve pulled bigger knives on me than that. Anyway, that wasn’t fair, I’m unarmed.”

“So I wouldn’t find your gun in the armrest box beside us?” You tease, settling back on Tom’s thighs and opening up the compartment to prove your point. “Oh, look, I was right.”

“You’re acting like you know more about me than I do you, but I’m well aware that you have another knife strapped on you, so this works both ways.”

“How do you know I have two?”

“Because you’ve been carrying two knives since you were seventeen after that job we had to do together that almost went wrong, and you only had one.”

“You remember that?”

“Course I do, you stole my car keys and refused to let me drive myself home.”

“Because you’d been shot.”

“I was barely bleeding.”

“That’s because the bullet was still stuck in your ribcage. Just because I hated you didn’t mean I wanted you to die. Besides, I was right. You passed out barely five minutes later.”

“You hated me?”

“Back then? Immensely.”

“And now?”

You hadn’t realised that you’d been getting closer to him, but as Tom asked his question, you felt his breath fan across your face. He’d sat up straighter, his hands sliding up to sit on your waist, whilst yours sat at the base of his chest, your eyes level and lips centimetres apart. Up close, you could see the mark left behind above his eyebrow from the fight a few nights prior, and the yellow tint below his eye where his bruising hadn’t fully healed. Tom’s eyes didn’t leave yours as he waited for you to answer, his thumbs dragging slow circles against your sides.

“Maybe a little less.”

You were sure your words had been inaudible, but Tom somehow seemed to hear them, and he smiled before lifting one of his hands to cup your neck and bring your head forward to close the gap between you. His lips brushed over yours tentatively as your eyes fluttered closed, both of you still hesitant in this unchartered territory. As his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, you emitted a soft sigh, hands tightening around the fabric of his shirt to pull him closer.

Doing so changed the mood from hesitation to excitement, and Tom tightened the grip on your neck as the kiss deepened. His other hand, which had still been sitting on your waist, slowly moved down and dipped below your dress until it was holding the back of your thigh. Breaking the kiss to catch your breath, Tom used his hold on your head to angle it, his lips trailing steadily along your jaw.

“If you leave any marks I’ll stab you.” Your threat was undermined by the moan that immediately followed it, as Tom found the spot by your ear, and you felt him grin against your skin before he pressed a final kiss to you and pulled back to meet your gaze. “I mean it, I’m not walking down the aisle behind my sister covered in hickies. It’ll be your funeral instead.”

“I love it when you threaten to kill me.” He smirks, darting forward to capture your lips once more. Pushing him lightly, he groaned as he fell back against his chair, the hand on your neck falling to his side. “Alright, alright. You don’t need to worry darling, because as much as I want to, the first time I fuck you isn’t going to be in my car.”

“The first time?” You push back from him, raising an eyebrow as he smirked. Tom simply hummed at your question, the hand on your neck dropping to grab both of yours. You waited for him to respond, only growing annoyed as he did nothing but smirk at you. Losing your patience with him, you wrench your hands free to lean across and open the car door. “You’re so infuriating, that’s why we never worked as a team. Your ego.”

“Definitely nothing to do with your temper either.” You weren’t looking at his face as you climbed out of the car, but you could practically hear him roll his eyes. Smoothing out your dress as the cool, evening breeze engulfed you once more, you turned to head back to the house, before he called out behind you. “You’re welcome, by the way. For the information.”

“Thanks!” You shout back, not turning your head as you continue back to the house. Tom’s laugh carries across the driveway, followed by the sound of his car door closing. Reaching the front door, you look back as you step back inside, watching as his engine purred to life before gliding back towards the gates. Quietly closing the door, you begin making your way to your room, noticing that most of your family had already made their way to bed. Stopping at the door before yours, you knock softly before hearing a muffled come in, cracking open the door to smile at your sister. “Just wanted to know if I’m being killed or not?”

“I’ll let you off.” Isabelle rolled her eyes from where she was laying in her bed but grinned back as you leant against the door frame. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good.”

“You’d tell me if there was something, right?”

“Absolutely.” You lied, pushing off the wall to cross the room and press a kiss to her cheek. “Now get some beauty sleep, or Adam won’t want to marry you.”

“Like you’d let him back out.” Belle joked, referring to how her husband-to-be worked for the family business. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You hummed back, before leaving the room and entering your own. Flipping on the light, you sighed before preparing for bed, thinking of what was to come in the next twenty-four hours.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“After you darling.”

Your eyes returned to the intruder cornered by the door, thinking over how you’d ended up here. The wedding itself had gone without a hitch; your sister and her now husband had exchanged rings and vows in front of everyone without any noticeable hiccups. You’d spotted Tom as you’d led the bridesmaids down the aisle and had determinedly kept your gaze away from him throughout the ceremony, only exchanging a curt nod as you’d left to take part in the official photo’s, trusting him to keep an eye. It was the only contact you’d had with him until you spotted what you’d been waiting all day to see, Freddie, one of your men, signalling you from across the reception party. Politely excusing yourself from the conversation you were in, you had wordlessly tapped Tom’s arm on your way back to your family house, hearing him do the same before following with Harrison and Tuwaine behind him. With the advanced knowledge you had gained from Paddy’s hacking abilities, the two of you, each flanked by two of your men, had found and cornered the intruder before he’d made it farther than the entry hall.

“I know Boule sent you, and why he sent you, and given the occasion, I don’t have time or patience to waste on your excuses.” You sighed, stopping in front as Freddie and Ralph moved to stand either side of him. Toying with the gun you now held, you watched as his eyes darted between the weapon and your face. “So you’re going to swiftly leave, and run and tell him nice try, but maybe next time. Because if you try anything else, the next knife I throw won’t miss.”

He hadn’t got a chance to respond before Freddie and Ralph had taken him by both arms, nodding at you before escorting him out of the building. You watched them go, as Tom followed suit. For a second, you thought he was leaving too, before he stopped to retrieve the knife you had thrown earlier, still lodged in the door. Wordlessly returning to you, he held the blade out for you to take, and you offered him a tight smile as you swapped it for the gun he had offered you earlier.

“Not that you need it,” Tom joked as you returned the knife to the strap on your inner thigh. Your eyes found his in surprise, watching as he replaced both of the guns he now held in his waistband. “What with you having two and all.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, before spinning on your heel to face his two friends. “We should get back.”

“She can’t possibly have two knives on her?” Harrison hissed to Tom, the three men a few paces behind you as you made your way back to the garden.

“Oh, trust me, she can.”

“Where?”

Smiling to yourself as the fresh air engulfed you once more, you re-entered the marquee to see no change to the scene from when you had left it: some people dancing, some milling around speaking and laughing, others still finishing their food at various tables. Eyes scanning the guests around you, they landed on the bride herself striding across the room determinedly in your direction.

“You lied to me.” She accused, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the dancefloor. Isabelle released her grip on you as the music changed to a slower song, wrapping instead wrapping them around you to sway slowly to the music. “You said that everything was fine, and then you sneak off to stop one of Boule’s men breaking into Dad’s study.”

“How the hell did you find out?” The smile was still on your face as the two of you spun in a small circle, mainly because despite her tone, she was still beaming herself. “I didn’t even tell Dad.”

“Roddy told me.” Her tone was smug as her eyes wandered from your face to look around the tent. “After I watched you leave that is. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own sister leave my wedding?”

“Well, I hoped the wedding thing might cause some distraction.”

“Fat chance.” She snorted, eyes returning to yours. “I’ve got a particular skill set that comes in handy. Don’t think I didn’t see Tom follow.”

“He was the one who found out about it originally.” Your tone changed as you thought over what had transpired between you. “You know he brought an extra gun because he knew I wouldn’t be able to have on today?”

“The fact that it surprises you is hilarious.” She laughs, stepping back from you and unwrapping her arms, only to link her fingers through yours instead. “You know that he’s-“

“Don’t say it.”

“Fine. I’ll let him tell you.”

“What-“

“Mind if I cut in?” You whipped your head to find Tom behind you, watching as he sent a winning smile to your sister. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks Tom, she’s all yours.” Belle grinned back, pulling you in to kiss your cheek, before muttering in your ear, “You’ll thank me eventually.”

Releasing you completely, you watched as she passed Tom with another smile, walking straight into her new husband’s outstretched arms. Your gaze returned to the man in front of you, watching cautiously as he held out his hand.

“Oh, come on.” He laughed, seeing your hesitation. “Think about how happy our father’s will be to see their peace treaty working.”

Rolling your eyes, you placed your hand in his and allow him to pull you closer, your other hand rising up to rest on his shoulder.

“You stormed away last night before I could explain myself.” His voice was low in your ear as he began to move the two of you in time with the music. “Never have been a fan of letting me have the last word.”

“If this is an apology it sucks so far.” You reply, your tone light as you try not to focus on the warmth of his hand on your waist.

“I’m not going to apologise, it wasn’t the right moment.”

“You said that like you’ve been planning it.”

“Only every day since you stole my car keys.”

“Now I know you’re taking the piss.”

Pulling back to meet his gaze, you found nothing but sincerity as he took a breath to explain.

“You got the money we went there for whilst simultaneously holding three men twice your size at gunpoint, and then got us both out of there despite the fact I’d been shot. Then you took my keys and yelled at me whilst taking me home until I passed out.” The look on his face now was nothing like you had ever seen, his eyes searching yours as he continued. “Darling, as much as I really do enjoy the way you look when you’re mad at me, the main reason I’ve been antagonising you more and more the past few years was so I actually have a chance to spend time with you. Now if I’m making a complete twat of myself, say the word and we can continue the way we are and forget I ever said a word of this.”

“Tom-“

“You know you only ever call me that when I’ve been shot.” He mutters, a hint of his usual smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Should I be worried?”

“You know I was already reluctant to admit that I might feel the same way, and now I’m going to take it back...”

Your words died on your lips as he silenced you with his own, dropping your hand to cradle your face as he kissed you softly. You could feel him grinning against you before he pulled back, thumb dragging softly against the skin of your cheek.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you now, you know.” You mutter, unable to stop your own smile taking over. “I mean, if you think that just because we’re together I’d start letting you-”

“Letting me?” Tom’s bark of laughter inspired your smile to grow even more, the incredulous look in his eyes quickly morphing into his trademark smirk. “I’m sorry, who was it who discovered Boule’s plans for today?”

“Only because you got into a fight over me. Admit it Holland, I’m your weakness. It’s not my fault you’re so in awe of my talents.”

“If I kiss you again, will you stop being so competitive?”

“Depends, maybe you should it try and find out.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

did you like it? did you hate it? let me know either way as well as anything else you want to see me write!

tagging some lovely people: @gonzalezyon @nowayhomeparker @sinisterspidey

#tom holland oneshot #mob!tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mob!tomfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland writing #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #tom holland blog

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duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Prologue) | Tom Holland

Summary ↠ There’s just something about Tom Holland that makes your blood boil. He walks around like he owns the world, always with an unhelpful quip or irritating smirk on hand. You can’t stand him, and your feud has burned hard and bright for three years. Everything changes following an explosive evening at the Oscars, when a questionable encounter with the paparazzi lands you in some hot water with PR... fake dating au; enemies to lovers; actor!y/n.

Word count ↠ 4.6k

Warnings ↠ Alcohol, paparazzi, swearing, discussions of misogyny and the corruption of fame, Tom and Y/N are both very petty, dramatic assholes.

A/N ↠ Ahhh it’s here! I was really shocked by how many people responded to the announcement post for the series -- I hope so much that this doesn’t disappoint anyone lol. This series is my baby, and I’m very excited to share it with you all. Before we dive into the fake dating, we must first explore a very critical evening for Tom and Y/N... hahahah. This was a lot of fun to write. Please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts! :D

(Tom’s in the FFH premiere outfit because I’m still in love with that fit, and the jury’s out for whether or not the actual Tom needs glasses to see; this version of him just uses them as a fashion statement lmao)

((The biggest thank you ever to V, mischiefandi, for being this series’ no.1 supporter and proofing this -- love you mate))

Series masterpost

ZERO: The Oscars (Y)

The atmosphere at Vanity Fair’s Oscars after-party is electric.

The soft boom of the latest pop tunes seeps into the air, mixing with the warm lights and the sounds of clinking champagne flutes. The room holds Hollywood’s best, and it seems no matter which direction you tilt your head, your eyes find themselves settling over a familiar face. You’re walking amongst legends tonight, and as you throw back your third glass of champagne of the evening, you let a small smile unfurl across your lips.

It isn’t your first time attending the Oscars, but it is the first time you haven’t felt utterly out of your depth surrounded by people of this calibre. When you’d first started in the acting industry, you’d found it incredibly unsettling to enter a room full of Oscar-winners. Even now you remember how your hands had felt slick with sweat as you’d nervously been introduced to Meryl Streep and Viola Davis, and how you’d felt imposter syndrome on a scale you’d never imagined possible. Time and experience have brought you many things, but most importantly, they have gifted you confidence. You’re 24 now, and the string of achievements and nominations tied to your belt is so impressive that they deem you no longer an outsider at the Oscars; instead, it’s as if you’ve been accepted into the fold.

But for all the enjoyment of the lavish after-party, you can’t stop your mood from plummeting. It’s all fun and games until your eyes sweep the room and settle on a smirking figure standing in the corner:

Tom Holland.

Just the sight of him makes your nostrils flare.

You think it must be true what they say: once you start to dislike someone, it’s as if every single thing they do irritates you. This is how you feel with Tom. Even the smallest, most insignificant details about him somehow manage to annoy you. You cannot stand the smell of his hair gel, and you detest the way he stubbornly refuses to mend his phone screen. Your teeth grit together every time you see that smug smirking grin hanging from his lips, and you get worked up by the way he always seems to swagger around as if he owns the room. The grievances fall into several categories: his aesthetic choices, his generally smug demeanour, and his irritating personality, and it all fosters your deep, unyielding disapproval of the man.

Tom infuriates you beyond belief - beyond words. And he’s standing across the room right now, staring at you over the rim of his wine glass with a teasing smirk hanging from his stupid lips.

You try to ignore him at first. You lick your lips and return your attention to a conversation with some of your co-stars. You know better than to try and approach anyone else tonight. Your reputation, as your PR team likes to put it, is ‘fragile’ at the moment. A string of uncomplimentary ex-lovers and a few disgruntled directors have shattered your pristine public image, making you regarded as both a rising talent and loose cannon by the media. There’s been a common trend recently of news outlets dragging your name through the mud, and the desperate words of PR as they’d begged you not to cause a scene tonight drift through your mind as you contemplate wandering over to Tom.

You know it isn’t in your best interests to engage with the man - no matter the occasion, your conversations always end explosively - but Tom is just standing there, staring at you persistently, and you just can’t help it.

Your tongue flicks out across your lower lip as you feel his hot gaze trailing around your made-up cheek. His eyes are intense - holding power over you, to the point where you have you excuse yourself from your conversation. An exasperated sigh slips past your lips as you turn around, preparing yourself for your encounter. Your stare finds him, and it follows Tom as he strides across the party towards you, one hand hanging easily from his trouser pocket as the other clasps an intricately engraved wine glass.

The frown on your lips deepens the nearer Tom gets, and as more details of his figure draw into focus. He’s got his chestnut waves slicked back tonight, with a few stray strands hanging out across his forehead. It makes him look dishevelled, but in a devilishly handsome sort of way - which makes sense, given you’re reasonably sure he must have some kind of relationship with Lucifer himself. Stretched across the wide expanse of his shoulders is a deep burgundy suit, and it cages him in tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Your lips curl into a poisonous grimace as your eyes finally fall on the glasses perched on his nose; you’re sure Tom doesn’t even need glasses, and it riles you up to see him parading the frames as a fashion statement.

But perhaps the thing about his ensemble that annoys you the most is the fact that you can’t look away. No matter how hard you beg yourself, you can’t drag your gaze away from Tom’s swagger, or the tight hold he has on the stem of the glass, or the way his eyes dance with a dark, mischievous glint as he falls to a stop in front of you. Tom is many things to you, but it’s undeniable that you find him attractive, and that fact often keeps you seething well into the early hours of the morning.

“Y/N,” Tom greets, his voice dripping charm. “Lovely to see you again.” His thin pink lips twist up into a smirk, and you find yourself clenching your fingers into fists around the tender stem of your champagne flute.

“Tom.” You step forwards, and your lips catch at his cheek as you press a firm, unwavering greeting to his face. You feel his warm hand slip from his pocket, and it grazes across your hip as Tom holds you closer. “You look to be enjoying yourself.”

When you pull back, you linger near him, allowing Tom to return the gesture by pressing his hot mouth to your cheek. He smells of rich, overpowering cologne, and you scrunch your nose up as his lips burn against your skin.

“It’s quite the party tonight,” he returns, stepping back. Tom’s beady little brown eyes run across your figure, taking in the long designer gown and the decadent sparkly necklace hanging from your neck. He graces you with an approving nod. “Are you having a nice time?”

“I was.” You pause to take a long sip of champagne, finding comfort in the way the bubbles pop against your tongue. You hope the alcohol will help to take the edge off the way your heart has started to pound against your ribs. “It’s a shame you had to come over here and ruin my mood.”

“Couldn’t help but notice you were staring at me, love,” he says, “Thought maybe you had something you’d like to say to me.”

You feel a hot spike of irritation as his lips curve effortlessly around the word love. Tom has always been a fan of pet names. The ease in which they roll from his tongue in that smooth, accented voice never fails to charm the room, and though you like to think you’re immune to his allure, you can feel the word spinning around your head like a broken record.

“Not really,” you return coolly, maintaining your composure with the poise and precision of a seasoned actress. You even manage to flash him an apologetic smile. “No big award for you tonight, though? Must be heartbreaking.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Are you really still caught up on the BAFTA?” He asks, his voice lower and harder.

The mood between you dips, and instinctively you find yourself moving away into a quieter corner of the room. As you drift away from the hordes of celebrities guzzling champagne, it’s as if the facade between you breaks down. Your smirk becomes harder, your eyes less forgiving - and in return, Tom’s smile sours into a grimace, and he holds himself straighter. The masks you wear come off, leaving you both bare and exposed.

“No,” you respond darkly. You’re tucked away in the corner of the party, with your back almost against the wall as Tom lingers in front of you. Both of you have discarded your drinks glasses. “I couldn’t care less that you won the BAFTA, Tom. If the jury decided you were worthy, then you were worthy. I would have to be very unreasonable to disagree with the committee.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, Y/N.” Tom tilts his head to the side, flashing the tips of his shiny white teeth as his mouth loosens into a wild smile.

“Fine.” You give him an excessive sigh, and you let your eyes drift towards his mouth. “I don’t buy it, Tom.”

Tom’s suit jacket breaks out into wrinkles as he crosses his arms across his chest. “You don’t buy what?”

“This act.”

Tom almost rolls his eyes again. “And which act are you referring to, Y/N?”

“The Mr Nice Guy Act, Thomas.” The way he flexes his jaw makes you lean nearer and smirk. “Everyone here thinks you’re such a wonderful man, but I see right through it.”

It’s hard to know precisely when your feelings towards Tom became so hostile, but you like to pinpoint the night of the BAFTAs in 2017 as the day you surpassed the point of no return. You were younger then - both of you - and things quickly got out of hand. You know Tom likes to pinpoint your ‘jealousy’ following his win and your snub at the awards show as the catalyst for your tumultuous relationship, but both of you know that night was the product of several cumulative events.

Your best friend had worked with Tom’s mate Harrison, all those years ago in 2016. You knew Harrison through her, and you got on well enough with him, so when the BAFTA academy had nominated both you and Tom as contenders for Rising Star, Harrison had orchestrated an exchange of phone numbers. However, given your packed schedule and press engagements, you had failed to respond to all of Tom’s attempts to contact you.

One thing led to another. Tom assumed you were dodging his texts and started bad-mouthing you to Harrison. Word travelled to you that this guy - the competition - was throwing shade to your name, and so you might have made a few choice remarks about him on Ellen and suggested that Tobey Maguire was the best Spider-Man. Whatever. It was all so petty and childish, and it’d escalated to boiling point on the night of the BAFTAs when Tom hadn’t been able to shut up and thrust his win right into your face - quite literally. You can still remember the way he’d clutched the trophy as he’d shown it off in all its grandeur.

Ever since then, your relationship has been poisonous. A case of miscommunication and petty jealousy turned hostile, and now you’re in far too deep to even think about mending the fractured dynamic.

“I am a nice guy,” Tom tells you. His eyes skim across your face, and you don’t miss the way they drag across the curve of your lower lip.

“As if.” You ponder which anecdote you should fall back on to prove your point, and it takes a while to select one: the pool of Tom’s past mistakes and moves against you is vast and wide. “Would a nice guy conveniently forget to invite me to Harrison’s birthday party?”

Tom winces, and something almost like regret flickers out across his face before he meets your eyes and hardens up his gaze. “I’ve already told you that was a case of miscommunication,” he says slowly, patronising. “I doubt you would have enjoyed it anyway, Y/N. Wasn’t exactly your type of party.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Your hand finds your waist, gripping firmly at your flesh to stop your fingers from shaking. The way Tom looks at you so intensely makes you feel strung-out and bare, and it’s almost as if he can see straight through you.

“It was a small, intimate gathering. From what I’ve been hearing, you’re a fan of the larger, more explosive parties, aren’t you?”

You could throttle him. You could really, truly throttle him. You know with certainty that Tom’s referring to the latest smear the media had run against you, which had placed you at an illegal rave in Downtown LA and cost you a role in a film you were passionate about.

“You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the tabloids, Tom.”

“Maybe not.” Tom’s closer to you now. You find your back brushing up against the wall as he steps nearer yet again, his shiny leather shoes sparkling beneath the light curving out from the chandeliers. “I’d like to think I know you quite well, though, Y/N. We have known each other for several years.”

“I’d use the word ‘known’ very loosely if I were you. I think it’s more like, ‘been plagued by’, but you do you, Tom.”

He laughs, and this time the noise is lighter. You feel a little woozy from the champagne - or maybe it’s his cologne - and you let your hand wander up to rest on the top of Tom’s suit. You drag your fingers across the smooth material, marvelling at how soft the designer garb is to touch.

“Do you like my suit?” Tom asks, his voice lower than before. There’s a strange charge to the air between you, and you find yourself nodding.

“I disagree with the glasses, but your suit is decent. I have to admit that this colour looks flattering on you.” The bold burgundy tones bring out the warmth in his eyes, even if the stupid thin frames of his glasses obscure them. You watch as his pupils widen and feel the warmth of Tom’s breath as he inches in closer.

“Thanks,” he says. Tom’s hand winds around your waist. “Your dress is very nice.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. You briefly wish that you had another glass of champagne to keep you occupied because you find your other hand joining the first and finding purchase on Tom’s shoulder. He’s very close to you, and there’s nowhere left to move because you’d backed up against the wall. Fleetingly you wonder what it must look like, to be hidden away at the back of the party and caged in like this, but you decide that the flurry of heated emotions passing through his eyes and the way his thumb pads over your waist is worth it.

Neither of you says a word, but you watch through wide eyes as Tom’s gaze flickers out across your lower lip. He inches in closer, almost painfully slowly, his demeanour radiating a shaky confidence as he tilts the angle of his head. You watch the hard lines of his mouth dissolve, and his smirk melts away into something like a smile as his eyes flutter shut. Now Tom is very close - so, so close - and the gap between your mouths narrows by the second.

He’s going to kiss you. You know he’s going to kiss you. Why is he going to kiss you? Why are you going to let him kiss you-

“Y/N! Hey, congrats on the film. I saw it last week with my wife, and she loved it-”

Tom springs back. You gasp a short breath of air as your eyes widen, and the film of scattered emotions that had temporarily disarmed you shatters. Tom’s cheeks are bright red, and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do as he jams his hands into his trouser pockets and stares at the floor.

“-Oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?”

Your throat tickles as you shake your head, looking up to see Mark Ruffalo standing there, his expression relaxed but growing in confusion as he drinks in the awkward tension rippling between you and Tom.

“No,” you say immediately, a bite to your voice. You refuse to look at Tom. “You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Mark releases a breath of relief and launches back into his speech, complimenting you profusely on your performance. You become distracted as you listen to him, but not enough to forget about the way Tom had leaned closer and brushed his thumb across your side almost gently. After a few moments of conversation, you can’t stop yourself from glancing over towards Tom, only to notice that he’s slunk away elsewhere. His absence makes your heart twist.

Another hour slips away, and you find yourself returning to the Moët for release. You can feel your composure gliding away from you with each fateful sip. Tom seems to have vanished, and you find yourself questioning if he’s so embarrassed by your moment in the corner that he had to leave. You wonder if that would be better than him staying.

But eventually, your eyes seek him out, as they always seem to do. And you catch him chatting with a woman, his arm around her shoulders and his lips brushed against her ear. Tom seems to feel your gaze on him, and his deep brown eyes meet with yours. He raises his eyebrows and whispers something into the woman’s ear that makes her laugh, and it sends something whipping down your spine.

It isn’t just jealousy - it goes deeper than that. It’s the realisation that you could never get away with this behaviour. You know that if the roles were reversed and it was you who had been seen getting close to two men in one night, you would be assigned a whole host of derogatory names. The double standards that exist in this artificial world of cameras and headlines make you feel sick to your stomach. You are not jealous of the woman beneath Tom’s arm, though you will admit it makes you feel uneasy - it’s the hypocrisy of it all that makes you seethe.

“Excuse me,” you mutter to no one in particular. Tom’s eyes slip away from yours as you put down your empty glass and turn, heading in the direction of an exit. You wander the vast, glittering ballroom for a few moments before spying a door embedded in the back wall that leads out into a dark alleyway.

When you step out onto the street, the cold February air seems to bring your tipsiness to the forefront of your mind. You giggle softly to yourself and wrap your arms around your chest, your fingers rubbing rapid fiery circles across your exposed flesh as you try to drum up a heat.

You lean back against the wall and stare up at the vacant sky. LA is too polluted to see the stars, but you like to imagine they’re staring down back at you. In the distance, you can hear the sounds of laughter coming out from the hall, and out at the end of the alley you can see the street, cloaked in dark paparazzi vans and dim amber street-lamps, but tucked away up here alone, you feel at peace.

“Cinderella runs away from the ball, yet again.”

You scowl. Your eyes move away from the dark blanket of clouds to see Tom. He’s ditched the glasses, but you can see the legs sticking out from the pocket sewn to the top of his suit.

“Joined by her ugly pumpkin.” You screw up your nose at your own words, cursing your fizzled mind for messing up the tale. “That’s not right, is it?”

Tom approaches you, his cheeks full of a rosy tipsiness. “Dunno,” he murmurs. “Think I like it better than being called your ugly sister, though.”

“Ew.”

You share a loud, unruly laugh with Tom, your voices mixing almost melodically. When you sigh, you lean further against the wall.

“I hate it in there,” you find yourself admitting. “So many people were talking about me behind my back. It’s like they think I can’t tell that they’ve just been discussing me when I walk over and the conversation falls silent.” You slot your fingers together and play around with your thumbs. “Everything is so fake. It’s like a game to them.”

A cool breeze floats down the alley, and you find yourself shivering.

“It is a game,” Tom says slowly, all whilst slipping off his suit jacket. He holds it out to you, raising an eyebrow when you shake your head. “It’s cold, Y/N. I know you’re stubborn, but neither of us wants you to freeze out here.”

The mood between you feels tender, and you let yourself accept his warm jacket. You throw it across your shoulders and feel the warm embrace of his suit, and the husky traces of cologne nestled to the fabric, but Tom’s looking at you with an intense gaze, and the sight of his golden browns draws you back to the scenes from inside the party.

“Saw you chatting with a woman inside,” you say, words a little sharper. “Trying to see how many times you have to try it on before someone bites?”

Tom flinches. The air fills with the sound of him clicking his tongue as he rubs his hands together. “You are so fucking petty, Y/N.”

You raise an eyebrow, responding to his clipped voice with surprise. “Hit a nerve, have I?”

He groans softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, “I shouldn’t swear at you. You just get under my bloody skin.”

You shrug. “You’ve said worse.”

“So have you.”

“Only because you deserve it.”

Tom’s bearing in on you again, but this time you feel more at ease. The scent of his cologne mixes with the sweet champagne that lays fresh across your palette, and it makes you feel delirious. You can’t stop yourself from reaching up and draping your hands across his shoulders, bringing him nearer.

“You drive me crazy,” Tom admits. His voice is husky, his eyes dark and intense. In the slight breeze, strands of his hair waft across his forehead.

“I can’t stand you,” you return. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as his hands dig into your waist. The rough render on the building behind you digs into your back as you loop your arms around Tom’s neck and bring him in closer.

“Neither can I, darling.”

It’s like magnetism - some sort of invisible force pulling you in before you can even fathom it. One moment you’re staring at Tom, scepticism in your eyes and anxiety thick in your chest, the next he’s surged forwards and captured your lips in a messy, sensational kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and your fingers tighten against the short hair at the nape of his neck as you kiss him back harshly. Your noses bump and your teeth collide as Tom grabs at your sides with fervour, and having him clutching at you is so hot that it takes your breath away. The kiss is messy and hurried, and it seems to melt down all the built-up tension and frustration you’ve been nurturing for years. It makes your head hurt, and all you can focus on is how crazy it is that you are kissing Tom Holland - and, horrifyingly, how much you don’t seem to hate it.

It comes crashing down when there’s a round of flashes, and you hear the telltale sound of paparazzi photographs.

“Shit!” You push Tom away from you immediately, your breath hitching as your head snaps down to the end of the alley. Unbeknownst to either of you, you’ve been spotted by the men with those large, invasive lenses. The flashes continue, and you turn away, your actions almost in slow motion as you feel a wave of nausea travel across your chest.

“Y/N!”

“Tom, Tom!”

“Are you dating?”

“Having a bit of fun tonight, Y/N?”

A chorus of cataclysmic yells come racing down the alley and the howls of the paparazzi mix with the loud sound of camera shutters.

“Fuck.” Tom grabs your arm, and he pulls you away from them, bringing you both back into the party. There’s a tightness in your chest as you gasp for breath, walking in dizzying strides as you card your fingers through your hair anxiously.

“No, no, no,” you mutter to yourself. You can hear the calls of the paparazzi ringing in your ears, and you dig your fingers into your temples for relief as you snap your head to glare at Tom. “Why did you just kiss me? What’s wrong with you?”

Tom looks pale, and his eyes are round with shock, but he still manages to stare at you incredulously. “You kissed me too?”

You bury your head in your hands. “This is it - this is the last straw. They’re going to have a field day with this.” You peek out at Tom through gaps in your fingers, laughing humourlessly. Your chest burns as you take in his disarmed expression and his deep chocolate eyes. “This is the end.”

“It… It was just one kiss.”

You shake your head furiously. “They’ll run with it. They’ll make a spectacle of us.” Your nails dig into the soft palms of your hands. “You are such an asshole.”

Tom’s mouth, a little red and puffy, twists into something of a snarl. “You kissed me! Why is this my fault?”

“It’s always your fault.” You pause and shake your head. You can’t help but fall back on the naive thought that this truly is all Tom’s fault. You’d been fine before him. You’d been looking into the starless sky. You’d been at peace. He’d just had to waltz on out and trick you into his lips. “Well, I hope you enjoy the end of your career.”

He raises a thin eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’ve been associated with me, which is the equivalent of getting a big black line scored right across your name.” You reach up and jerk his jacket from your shoulders, and roughly shove it back into Tom’s hands.

“I think you’re overreacting.”

“Really?” Your gaze hardens. “This is all just a game, Tom, don’t you see? We don’t get to decide who stays on top.” You laugh humourlessly, your tongue tasting sourly of champagne. “We have fucked up.”

Tom sets his jaw. One by one, he stuffs his arms through his suit jacket and tugs it back around his body, sinking into it forcibly. He pulls his glasses from the pocket and places them back on the bridge of his nose, balancing them crookedly.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom remarks, his voice cold and sharp. You briefly wonder if he understands the magnitude of the situation, and as he sweeps away without so much as a kiss on the cheek goodbye, you realise he probably does.

Without yet wholly understanding it, one drunken kiss has sealed your fate. As you stand there, twiddling with your thumbs in the back corner of the Vanity Fair party, your mind races. You know with absolute certainty that things will never be the same again, but not even your wildest dreams could compare to what is about to come.

buckle up bc I’m about to take us on a ride and a half. may as well have ended this with an ellipsis lmao.

↠ next part

any thoughts?! I am actually dying to know what you’re thinking lmao!! my askbox is open :D

taglist can be found in the series masterpost, which is the pinned post at the top of my blog

masterlist linked in my description

#tom holland #Tom Holland x reader #Tom Holland x y/n #Tom Holland imagine #Tom Holland series #Tom Holland fic #tfg #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #my writing

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years

Text

Je Veux - Tom Holland Smut

The one where Tom is a biker and you’ve been trying to get him to take your virginity, but he’s been keeping you away until the day you’re in need of a ride.

Warnings: pwp, motorcycles, loss of virginity, cursing, teasing from both sides, sexual activities in a public environment, a lot of dirty talk, impatient Tom, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, dominant Tom, possessive Tom, breeding kink

Word count: 3.1K

A/N: Okay, so here it is! My Tom Holland Biker! AU! It’s pretty much only smut, the plot was just sprinkled in there. I took A LOT of creative liberties with the whole motorcycle idea, mostly because I have no clue how they work, so just bear with me and pretend that everything I say is actually physically possible. Also, DO NOT TRY any of this at home, mostly because I’ve been burned by a motorcycle before and a lot of the positions described here can’t really be considered safe. Hope you guys like it nonetheless and don’t forget to let me know if you did and what else you want to read next!

Tom’s P.O.V.

“Come on, princess. I’ll give you a ride home.” I watched with great pleasure as her eyes grew twice their normal size, her mind undoubtedly struggling to comprehend what I was offering. “Come on, now. Isn’t this what you wanted? Or are you finally prepared to admit that I’m better kept away?” I could see the precise moment my words sunk into her. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, her hands coming to cross in front of her body.

“Thank you for your offer, Tom. I would never say no to your offer for a ride.” The double entendre wasn’t lost on me, and I only started to realize my own mistake when she sized up the motorcycle. “I’ve never ridden one before. I’m going to need you to help me.”

I gulped hard before cautiously approaching her, my own hands on my hips as I thought over this situation I had quite literally put myself into. “Am I supposed to ride in the front or in the back?” The question brought a smirk to my lips, reigniting the flames of mischief I had in me.

“Well, usually people would ride in the back, but with you, sugar…” I squeezed her jaw with my thumb and pointer finger. “... I can’t very well do that, now can I? You’re going upfront, so I can keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t fall out of the bike.”

The look she gave me let me know she knew for sure I had something up my sleeve, but nonetheless, I couldn’t wipe away the huge grin I bore on my face as I got up on the bike and waited for her to approach me. She did so, albeit slowly, clearly trying to get a grip over the situation. Poor thing didn’t know I’d never allow her that.

As soon as she was within reach, I picked her up, depositing her in front of me, her legs on each side of the motorcycle. I leaned down to kiss the back of her shoulder that was exposed to me, courtesy of the incredibly tempting sundress she had decided to wear, and that’s when she realized how screwed up she was.

“Oh.” Was all that I heard as she tried to adjust her skirt around us.

“Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll keep it down around here.” And with that, I pressed myself against her more firmly, pressing a hand on her lower abdomen to make sure she’d feel my cock straining under my jeans. She didn’t say anything after that, which I took as an invitation to start up the bike.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I wasn’t prepared for the shiver that went through my entire body as the machine’s engine came alive under me. Quickly, I realized what his plan was all about. He had pretty much sat me over a vibrator, even if it wasn’t a powerful one. As the bike purred under me, I started to tremble, and I had to be thankful for Tom’s strong thighs on each side of my body and his hands that caged me in.

“You’re not second-guessing yourself, right princess? ‘Cause this is exactly what you wanted.” He was right. This was what I had been asking him for ages, and now that he was giving me a taste of it, I could see why he thought it might be too much for me. But as my eyes rolled back and my body started to go limp against his, just as he was pulling up in front of my house, I knew he was wrong. This was all I had ever wanted. “There you go, princess. Now that your thirst is satiated, do you see how it’s pointless to keep tempting me?” These words were whispered against my neck, where he deposited another quick kiss. And that small gesture made me smile, because if anything was obvious after this little ride, was that he was hanging on by a thread when it came to his own desire for me.

I pulled one of his hands, placing it underneath my skirt, now fully relying on his strong body to keep me upright as I sank back into him. “Do you think I’ve ruined your motorcycle?” As his fingers came in contact with the wetness that was still dripping from me, moistening my panties that were now rubbing against the leather in our seat, I heard a sharp intake of breath.

“Shit.” Was all he said before his fingers grew more fidgety, and he rubbed my underwear against me, almost like he was testing the wetness. “Fuck,” he cursed again, and I released a long moan as one of his thick fingers bypassed the lace that kept him away from my emptiness and penetrated me with it.

Suddenly, there wasn’t enough air in the world to keep me alive and I was gasping as I struggled against him and the cage of his arms, desperate to keep the finger inside of me moving. It was the first time someone touched me like that and I was already on edge from my last orgasm, so I knew it would take very little for me to cum again.

“Fucking hell.” I heard him whisper right over my ear, eliciting goosebumps all over my body before he unceremoniously retreated his finger and started up the bike again.

Tom’s P.O.V.

“I have to see this.” It was all the explanation I gave her as I quickly took us up on one of the trails that started on the other side of the street, just opposite of her house. It was only ever in the summer that it was used, right when tourists strolled into town, so I knew the probability of us getting interrupted was minimal.

As soon as we reached a clearing, I turned off the motorcycle and climbed down, adjusting her so her body was now laid down over the seat, in the opposite direction it was facing before. “Now, princess… Let me take a look at this mess you’ve made.” Slowly, I inched up her skirt until it was completely out of the way and her panties were in full view. Besides the fact that they were fucking white lace, her moisture had completely glued them to her pussy lips, making it very clear that they were, in fact, ruined. “Oh, fuck.” I pressed my thumb against her clit, only to glance up at her in surprise when she whimpered underneath my simple touch. “You really haven’t been touched before, have you?”

Gathering some of the excess moisture, I lazily glided my fingers up and down her cunt while she trembled. “I told you that.” I huffed, my eyes now fixed on the movement I was making.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Doesn’t mean I believed you.” I would have scoffed if I could, but as it were, his fingers had deftly pushed away my underwear so that he could penetrate me with a single finger again and all I could do was whimper. From the way that he bit down on his bottom lip, he seemed to have liked that very much, his eyes never straying from the place he was working on.

“Then…” a breathy sigh left my lips as he picked up his pace, thrusting his finger desperately inside my aching heat. “Then why did you avoid me? I thought you didn’t want to be my first.” That caught his attention, but fortunately, instead of clearing his mind, it seemed to have scrambled it even further.

“I didn’t, but that’s what’s going to happen now.” My heartbeat - that was already scary fast - picked up so quickly at his words that all at once I realized I was cumming around his finger, much to his delight. “Fuck yes, baby girl. I need you really wet if I’m going to get my cock inside of you, so here, take another finger.” Suddenly, I was choking on air, the new intrusion much more difficult to adjust to than the last one. Still, it was in no way an unpleasant sensation, and before long I was desperately thrusting back against him.

A loud moan escaped my lips at the dirty wet sounds from my pussy that got lost in the woods as he fingerfucked me against his bike. “Fuck,” he whispered, and I opened my eyes just enough to see that he had released his lower lip and was currently looking at me with dark eyes and an open mouth, from where labored breaths escaped. “Fucking cum already, I still need to open you up more before I fuck you and I feel like I’m going to burst any moment now.”

With that rant out of his chest, he picked up his pace, until I was, once again, trembling with desire underneath him. “There you go… One more finger, princess. Then you can have daddy’s cock.” I probably would have questioned the self-appointed nickname if it hadn’t made me moan out loud again. The smug idiot simply smirked, finally pushing one last finger in me, as promised, while I struggled yet again to accept the invasion. I was so focused on the pleasure he was giving me that I only realized he had pushed his jeans down and was playing with himself when his grunts reached my ears, forcing my eyes open in surprise.

He never stopped his movements on either of our bodies, but that cocky smile was back on his lips, despite the continuous breathless sounds escaping him at the sight of my widened eyes. He was huge, and so freaking hard, his red tip weeping precum while he caressed himself.

“You like it, baby girl?”

A breathless “mhmm” was all he could get from me at that moment.

“Do you want it inside of you?” A gasp echoed around the trees as his fingers grazed a particular spot that made me see white light.

“So, so much…” I whispered, just before succumbing to the pleasure once more.

He waited for me to come down to Earth, never stopping his movements on either of our bodies, but significantly decreasing the speed. When the last tremble of my thighs ceased, he finally pulled away from my pussy, and I tried not to whimper at the feeling of emptiness that overcame me - failing miserably. Thankfully, it allowed me to see another smirk break through Tom’s handsome face, as he appreciated the needy state he had put me in.

“Don’t worry, darling… I’ll take care of you.” And then I was in his arms again, and he was pulling me to stand up from the bike. As I did so, he wrapped his arms around me, his mouth meeting mine in a kiss that was pure desire and possession. I melted against him, allowing him full control of my body, because the truth was, I was his. I had been his for a long time now, and this moment was only solidifying it.

When we broke apart for air, he forcefully turned me around, pushing my back down so I’d lay over the seat of the bike again, only this time, with my breasts pressed against the seat I was once sat on.

Tom’s P.O.V.

“Oh, fuck.” That was all I could say as I took in the sight before me. I had pushed her skirt away so it wouldn’t be hiding anything from me anymore, but even though she still had her underwear on, I felt my knees buckling just from seeing her like that, her ass in the air, the lace sticking to her wet pussy.

Licking my lips, I quickly pushed down her panties until they pooled around her ankles and leaned down to taste her essence. “Oh…” Such a small noise, but it went straight to my cock, that was throbbing in my hand by now. She was such a fucking treasure. I wanted to ruin her. I’d make sure of it.

“Spread your fucking legs,” I growled, still intoxicated by her taste, and when she immediately struggled to obey me, separating her legs as far as the fabric around her ankles allowed her to do so, I buried my face on her pussy from behind, devouring her like she was the last meal I had been granted in this life.

“T-Tom!” She screamed, her fingers scrambling to tightly hold her up against the bike, while I could feel her legs shaking on both sides of my face.

“Shhh…” I tried to calm her down, one of my hands softly caressing the back of her thigh. “Let me get a taste of you, yeah? I told you I’ll take care of you, darling. Just relax.” I raised my other hand to squeeze her ass while struggling to keep her standing and still while my chin dripped with her juices. She tasted delicious. Better than those chocolate milkshakes she’d always order and I’d steal a sip from.

Her legs trembled more anxiously as I brought her to another release, and although I was tempted to keep my face buried in her and drink her release, I knew neither of us would resist much longer. So after she drenched my face with a strangled cry, I forced myself to rise from my position and take a much better spot, still behind her.

She kept trembling when I slowly pushed the head of my cock between her pussy lips, and I knew that her orgasm was still taking over her, but in some part in the depths of her desire, she felt as every inch of me slowly struggled to open her up to welcome me. I knew she was aware of what was happening, that I was taking her virginity just like she’d begged me to do for months, only it was in the middle of a forest and on top of my bike, but she was too weak to express any sort of reaction other than another weak “Oh”, as she fought to keep herself up against the motorcycle.

“Yes, baby,” I whispered as I finally bottomed out, after what felt like hours, but couldn’t have been more than a couple of minutes. My right hand came up to caress the back of her head, hoping to help her relax and better accept my intrusion, and as I felt the muscles of her thighs soften, I took advantage of my grip on her hair to pull her up against me. “See, princess? Just like that, you’re not a virgin anymore.”

She gasped, but if it was due to my words or the way I pushed her down against the bike again, I’ll never know, because I’d done enough waiting. It was time to start moving. Despite feeling like I desperately needed to fuck her, wildly, untamedly, I kept my movements slow, at least at first. I didn’t want her hurting any more than she had to. So I moved at a snail’s pace, making sure she’d feel every inch of my cock as I slowly dragged it out of her, just to push it in again.

When her somewhat pained whimpers subsided, giving place to loud moans of pleasure, I started to pick up my movements. My hands held her hips tightly, unworried about leaving marks behind because I knew she’d be left with much more than that after I was done with her.

“Does this feel good, baby girl? Do you like the feeling of my cock stuffed in your tight little pussy?” My filthy words made her moan.

“Y-yes…” She was able to breathe out.

“That’s good, baby, you know why?” I teased her, my fingers digging even deeper into her perfect skin.

“N-no.”

“Because the only man who’ll ever get to fill you will be me, princess. You’ll only ever know what my cock feels like.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I whined in appreciation as one of Tom’s hands found my clit and started rubbing. This was precisely what I wanted, to experience him in the most primal way possible. Knowing that being inside of me made him want to make me his left me a mess, and I couldn’t stop sobbing as he started to thrust into me violently, the tip of his cock hitting my cervix almost furiously. “F-fuck, Tom!” His groans were animalistic, and his pace never faltered, despite my obviously pained moans.

“Cum for me, princess. Milk me for all I’m worth. I want to fill your womb with my cum.” His words did it for me. I came with a desperate scream of his name, and just when my senses started to come back to me, I heard him moan my name before feeling a warmth spread from inside of me.

My legs were trembling, so I felt thankful that he was still holding me up. Still, he never pulled away from me, instead pulling me so my back was against his chest. He deposited sweet kisses against my sweaty neck, while I tried to catch my breath.

“T-tom,” I decided to call his attention to the problem before it was too late. “You came inside of me.”

My only response was a dismissive “mhm”, while he kept on sucking on my skin, one of his hands fondling my heaving breast.

“Tom,” I tried again. “You know I’m not in any sort of contraceptive method.” That finally made him raise his head, and I closed my eyes tightly, prepared for some sort of outburst, but all I got was a low chuckle.

“Which part of ‘you’re mine’ didn’t you understand? I know you’re not protected, that’s why I made sure to cum inside of you.” My mind wasn’t keeping up with him, and I wasn’t sure if I could attribute it solely to how thoroughly he had fucked me.

I supposed he noticed my confusion, because before I could understand what was going on, he was turning me around and picking me up so I could sit on the bike again, facing him. His hands brushed a few stray strands out of my face, and he smiled so sweetly at me that it almost made me forget I still had his cum dripping down my thigh.

“Now no one can keep us apart, baby girl. Not even your parents. And everyone will know you belong to me.” He sealed his promise with another deep kiss and I knew right then that I’d made the right choice by accepting his ride. Now I’d get to be forever his.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland insert fanficiton #tom holland x you #tom holland #smut #au #biker au #my fics

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cocochannel00 · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Date

Boyfriend!Harry plans a date in the era of social distancing...

A big PSA to all of my lovely followers: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WEAR A MASK AND SOCIAL DISTANCE WHEN IN PUBLIC. DON’T PUT YOURSELF AND OTHER PEOPLE AT RISK

Harry knew how important your work was to you. You were an essential worker during the COVID pandemic and had been working rigours 12+ hour shift at the hospital. You had barely seen or talked to Harry over the last couple of months, mainly because he had been locked down in LA for the first half of quarantine and you had been basically living in the hospital lounge. You had been dating Harry for almost a year now so you knew what it was like to have him far away, but this time it felt different. This time all you wanted to was spend your day off curled up in bed with Harry and watch as he tried to imitate Heath Ledger's accent in 10 Things I Hate About You instead of watching it by yourself. I guess you’d just have to spend the day wallowing in self pity with your tub of ice cream.

You were half way through your movie when your phone rang. Too lazy to look at who’s calling to picked up the phone and spoke a quick hello.

“You. Me. Date tonight. No excuses” the person said through the phone.

“Why Tom Holland I’m flattered, but I’m sorry, I have a boyfriend already” you replied back as a joke.

“Ha ha very funny (y/n) and besides I know you don’t have Tom’s number yet. But seriously, I’ve been home nearly a week and I haven’t seen you in person.” Harry spoke.

“Haz, 4 patients on my floor tested positive for COVID this week. I don’t want to expose you or god forbid Anne or Gemma to it”

“We can do a social distance date, I’ll plan the whole thing,” Harry practically begged.

“Harry I don’t know...” you stated with a sigh.

“I know today is your day off and you’re probably curled up in bed with some ice cream right now so hear me out. You stay in your room and relax for the rest of the day and I’ll spend the day planning our date tonight. Please, love, I really want to see you even if it’s six feet apart and with a mask” Harry pleaded.

“Ok ok fine I’ll go on a social distancing date with you but only if you promise to stay 6 ft away” you said sternly.

“I’ll bring a measuring tape so you can double check” he replied as you laughed.

“Wonderful, I can’t wait. Do I need to wear something special to this date tonight?” You asked curiously.

“That’s a surprise for later”

“Harold you know I hate surprises” you whined over the phone.

“I know that’s why I love them. Now I need to go, I have lots of planning to do for tonight. Love you”

“Love you too, H. See you tonight” you replied before hanging up the phone.

You were excited yet nervous to see Harry in person. Seeing his face through zoom was one thing but seeming all of him in person without being able to run up and hug him could very well crush you on the spot. All you knew for sure was that thinking about this date was take up your entire day. You weren’t one for grand cheesy gestures and you hated being the center of attention so you prayed that Harry didn’t go overboard on the whole evening.

You groaned quietly as you rolled over the the other side of your bed (usually Harry’s side) and checked the alarm clock to see it was only 5 pm so you had at least another 3 hours of wallowing in self pity until Harry came back. For once you just wanted the clock to move faster. Sinking back down into your sheets you ran a hand through your wet hair from your morning shower. You knew you should have brushed it earlier so that it didn’t frizz , but you hadn’t been expecting company and you didn’t really care what you looked like under all your PPE at the hospital. Just as you were beginning to detangle your hair you got a message from Harry.

Harry: Wear pajamas tonight, we’re going extra comfy. Love you - H

You smiled at the message and placed the phone back onto your lap. Nothing could ever put a smile on your face faster than Harry’s name popping up on your screen. Back when you first started dating and you had been stressed about going back to work after visiting him on tour he would send you pictures of puppies every morning just to cheer you up. Now he’s resorted to other much less innocent tactics to try and cheer you up when you’re have a bad day, but you couldn’t complain (especially during quarantine). With all that said, Harry continues to surprise you daily so to say you were excited for your date night would be an understatement. The only thing getting you through the wait was knowing you needed to take at least a 2 hour nap before he got there otherwise you would pass out during your date tonight.

——————— /// ——————— // ——————-

You woke up to the sound of “Kiwi” blasting in your ear as the timer you had set went off. Carefully, you untangled yourself from your excessively long phone charger before check the time and realizing you only had ten minutes to get ready. How many times had you pressed snooze in your sleep? You were in too much of a rush to figure it out as you raced to your closet to put on a comfy pair of pajama shorts and an old college t shirt. Even though Harry said it was going to be casual you decided to still go through the effort of putting on a bit of concealer and foundation to try and cover up the bags under your eyes. You were just rubbing in your moisturizer when you got another text from Harry.

Harry: I’m downstairs, don’t look out your window. Come to the backyard when you’re ready because our date night is about to begin. - H

You grinned widely at the message and quickly finished putting on the rest of your make-up while also running a brush through your hair. Your hair had definitely had better days but it was too late to do anything besides put your hair in a bun to try and keep the frizz down with the growing humidity. With one last look in the mirror, you went downstairs to go meet Harry.

You carefully made your way to the door and grabbed one of your cloth masks off of the counter before putting it on and opening the door to your backyard. Your porch had been covered in fairy lights and two mountains of pillows had been placed on opposite sides of the backyard. In the middle their stood a giant sheet with a projector set up underneath it. It looked like something out of a rom-com and you were shocked that Harry was able to set all of this up without you knowing. Just as you were about to call out Harry’s name you saw him walk in through the back door with a mask on, a bottle of wine in his hands. He was wearing one of your favorite striped shirts that you said made him look like Where’s Waldo’s cousin.

“I know it’s not exactly how I would have liked to see you on our first date in months, but I made sure to measure out the 1 meter (6 feet) for the cushions” Harry stated as he placed the bottle of wine down on a table next to a box of pizza.

Your eyes began to water at the sight of him in front of you. It had been so long since you had seen him in person and so much had happened in your life in the last couple months that all you wanted to do was run up and wrap your arms around him. You impulsively put your arms out and took a couple of steps forward before you remembered that you couldn’t touch him and put your hands down. A tear fell down your cheek just as Harry looked up from the bottle he was attempting to open.

“Y/n what’s wrong love. Did I do something wrong?” He asked cautiously as you shook your head.

“Just missed you a lot. Wanted to give you a hug, but I don’t want to risk it” you replied softly as you took off your mask and wiped the stray tears from your face.

Harry slowly took off his mask and gave you a sympathetic smile, “Wish I could run up and hug you too, love. Missed you so much these past couple of weeks. Thought I was going to go crazy with Jeff and all that baking in LA”.

You chuckled softly at his efforts of lightening the mood before scrunching your nose the extensive facial hair you didn’t remember seeing before.

“When did you grow that fuzz ball on your face?” you questioned sarcastically as you made your way over to one of the pillow piles.

Harry scoffed at your remark and ran his hand across his face, “Excuse me miss [y/l/n] but this has taken me nearly four months to grow and I’d say it is much more than just a fuzz ball”

“You’re right Har, you definitely grew it out to pornstar level. Proud of you baby” you said with a giggle as Harry glared at you.

“I did not come here to get harassed about my new look” Harry grumbled jokingly as he gave you his cheshire smile.

“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make fun of your tremendous accomplishments. Thank you by the way, for putting all of this together. This was really sweet. Oh my god, stop, is this your fuzzy sweater” You said with a squeal as you put on his multicolored cardigan he had placed on top of a blanket. You inhaled the smell of his Tom Ford cologne and smiled.

“I figured since I can’t give you a hug yet, you could wear that” he replied back as he carefully opened the box of pizza he had placed on a small table in the middle of the porch.

You moaned softly as you stared at the pizza just a few feet away from you.

“Why have I never heard you moan like that for me in bed?” Harry joked as you glared at him.

“That was my foodgasm moan. You know damn well I don’t keep quiet with you so I don’t want to hear any complaints. Now, give me two slices of that delicious pizza please”

Harry laughed at your response as he placed his mask back on and put on some hand sanitizer before placing two piece of pizza on a plate and pouring you a glass of wine. He walked over to you carefully and placed the food and the glass on a tray next to you that you hadn’t seen. You thanked him before placing the tray in your lap and taking a sip of your wine. Harry began to grab himself a slice when you shouted his name and took out your phone.

“Wait I want to get a picture of you in person. I can’t keep stalking your fans’ accounts to get pictures of you.” you mumbled as you tapped on your camera.

Harry nodded grudgingly before he took off his mask and began posing with the bottle of wine.

“I think I could be one of those influencers” he joked as he nearly spilled the wine onto his shirt.

“I think maybe we should leave that to the pros” you replied jokingly as you curled up into your pillow fort and began munching on your food.

Harry sat down in the the pillow fort adjacent to yours on your porch. The two of you talked as you ate and tried to catch each other up on anything that you had missed on your various facetime calls. It was nice to be able to see him in person and know that he was okay. You had been so worried he would catch it while in LA and even though he wasn’t in one of the high risk categories you had witnessed several health people die of the disease and you didn’t even want to think about Harry in that situation. After you had both finished your meals Harry decided to put on “10 Things I Hate About You” and proceed to jump up next to the sheet you guys were using for a screen and act out the entire bleacher serenade live.

You could not keep the smile off of your face that night. Harry had this way of making you forget all of your problems when you were with him and you were grateful to have found someone as caring as him.

“ I love you H, thank you for a wonderful night” you whispered as the credits rolled onto the screen.

“Anything for you love. Glad I got to see for a bit even if you did fall asleep on me halfway through the movie.” He replied back with a grin.

“It wasn’t my fault! You made my pillow fort to cozy, how could I resist a cat nap?” you stated as you smiled at him.

“Can’t blame you for it. Got a couple of cute pictures of you sleeping for my lock screen though.” He replied with a smirk as you groaned.

“Harry I was definitely drooling, you need to delete those” you said as Harry shook his head.

“Can’t do that. Got to show mom our lovely date night”

“Fine, but no one else sees that picture besides Anne. I can’t have Mitch and Jeff teasing me everytime I see them like with the whole ketchup fiasco.” you mumbled as you began to fold the blanket you had wrapped around your body during the movie.

“Leave everything there love, you need to go get some sleep before your shift tomorrow. I’ll clean all of this up, you just head inside for me” Harry stated as he turned off the projector and began taking down the sheet.

“Are you sure?” you asked hesitantly.

‘Yes, love, you need your rest. Go, come on. I can’t have you falling asleep while taking care of your patients.” Harry replied.

You hesitated for a minute before buttoning up the sweater Harry had given you and putting your mask back on.

“I don’t want to leave here without giving you a hug” you stated softly as Harry looked at you with a small smile.

“(Y/n) if you want a hug all you have to do is ask, would have given you one the minute I got here. Let me grab my mask.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this? I got tested two days ago for COVID and the last 6 have been negative but I don’t get the results till tomorrow and I don’t want you to get ill” you replied with a hesitant look.

“Love I think with all of the hand washing and the masks we’ll be okay, but I’ll only give you one if you want it” he said as he put on his mask and adjusted the nose wire.

“I want one” you said as Harry opened his arms up for you.

You practically jumped into his arms and nearly started sobbing from the first really physical contact you’ve had with anybody in weeks.

“God I love you so much (Y/n)” Harry stated as he tugged you closer and placed a kiss on your temple through his mask.

“I love you too H” you replied back as you closed your eyes tight and tried to hold on as long as possible.

“Good now come on, get to bed so you’re well rested for tomorrow. I’ll come back tomorrow night with some dinner after your shift so we can eat together again. Would that be ok?” he asked as he placed his hands on your hips.

“That would be lovely. I get off at 8 tomorrow”

“I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t worry” Harry stated.

“Ok, I’ll go. I love you” you replied as you carefully untangled yourself from Harry and slowly made your way inside.

“I love you too. good night Haz”

“Night love, see you tomorrow”

———————————————————————

@thereal(y/n) Someone tell my boyfriend that he’s not cool enough to be sponsored by this amazing wine

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@harrystyles Tell that to Gucci

@annetwist You two are too cute

@jeffazoff Sharing is caring Harold

Masterlist

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #boyfriend!harry #one direction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #fluff!harry #harry styles masterlist

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queen-bunnyears · 3 years

Text

Chapter Two - Christmas Eve

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x Reader, Tom Holland x Reader (not at the same time)

Summary: Every year with Christmas Tom, his brothers, some friends and you rented a house in Scotland to celebrate the holidays and New Years Eve with a lot of friends. Last year’s christmas you and Harrison had something special going on, and this year he brings his new girlfriend. Chaos ensues.

Am I ignoring corona christmas lockdown in this fic? You bet your ass I am.

Am I posting three chapters in one night cus I forgot to post the first two? Yes ma’am I am.

Wordcount: 1,6k

Warnings: consuming of alcohol, probs some swearing.

Chapter one - Chapter three

24 December 2020

Your car looked lonely in the empty parking space next to the cottage. You and Tom were early to make the house ready for everyone. Decorating the house with Tom and Harrison was tradition, but Harrison couldn't make it in time so it was just the two of you. You took boxes with lights, food and drinks from your trunk. The whole car was stuffed to the ceiling with enough food and drinks for everyone who was coming, about 10 friends.

"Hey dreamy! Could you get those light strings? If you hang them around the porch I‘ll take the beer crates inside," Tom said, waving his hand in front of your face. You laughed and got to hanging strings of small lights around the porch and fence. When you were done the whole garden lit up. In the meantime Tom had emptied your car. You walked into the house. The christmas tree wasn't decorated yet, but the house already looked cosier than before. Tom walked in, two beers in his hands.

"A beer while decorating?"

"Let's ﬁrst pick rooms. Is that okay? I want to have a good room if I am gonna be the only single lady this week," you laughed, taking the beer from his hands, "but I won't say no to beer,"

You raced Tom up the stairs, going left and opening a door. You threw your bag on the bed and sat down on it, taking a sip of your beer.

"Okay you won," he laughed. The room you had claimed was the prettiest of all rooms in the house. It had an ensuite bathroom, and a balcony. A large queen sized bed made the dream complete. Most other rooms were half the size of this one, so you were always ﬁxed on claiming it as soon as you arrived. Tom and Harrison usually shared the other master room next to yours, with two single beds, so Tom wasn’t really upset you beat him. He threw his bag in the room next door and raced you down the stairs again.

Decorating time had started, and you knew you were going to be putting up lights and christmas decorations for hours. All I want for Christmas came on, you started singing along, hearing Tom bring in the ladder and scream from the top of his lungs, singing the song you had heard four times in the car already. Nothing could beat christmas.

“Sam!” you hugged Sam tightly. You and Sam were close every year at christmas. Your shared love for cooking got you spending hours in the kitchen together, making two excessive dinners for the actual christmas days, but also making lots of snacks and often cooking supper for everyone. You had met over coffee a week ago just for planning meals and groceries.

“Y/n! So good to see you. How are you?” he asked. You chatted lightly, helping him and his girlfriend put their stuff in one of the empty rooms. By five Sam, Tuwaine and Jacob had arrived, only Harrison and Harry hadn’t yet. Everyone was in their bedroom, unpacking their bags. You walked to your car to grab your pillow you had left in the car, when you saw Harrison standing next to his car.

“Hey Haz, “ you said, waving with your pillow in your hands.

“Hey,” he said. Damn he looked good. His hair had grown a bit since you saw him last time, half a year ago. It looked more like last Christmas.

“I should go back inside, see you later,” you said awkwardly, and turned around hurrying back into the cottage.

"Oh, this room is pretty!" You looked up over the bag you were unpacking and saw a pretty woman standing next to the door. "I see it's taken. I'm sorry,”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. There has to be an empty room left. You are Harry's girl right?”

‘No Harrison”s girlfriend actually,’ she smiled. “Lily,” she extended her hand for you to shake, “you must be Y/n. Hazzi told me so much about you!”

“Oh, did he?” you said, shaking her hand, “I suppose only the bad parts. Please tell me everything he said during dinner,”

“Oh I will! He spoke in detail about your talents for cooking,” you laughed. When she left you sat down on your bed, trying to oppress your laughter. How did he find her? You had never met someone who looked so subtly like you. The haircut, colour, her eye color, body shape… Yet there was something quite different about her. You remembered her calling Haz Hazzi, and you smiled. You were never gonna let him live that down.

“Hey, so Haz brought his girlfriend,” you looked up to see Tom standing in your door, his pillow in his hands.

“Yeah I just met her. So you came here to fix the bed situation?”

“Well Haz proposed swapping rooms, you and me sharing the double and them getting this one,”

“He can kiss my ass. No way I am giving up the private bathroom and balcony for his unprepared ass,” you muttered. Harrison wasn’t going to take your room, you weren’t gonna let that happen.

“I thought so. So can you share your queen bed with me? I really don’t feel like sharing a room with them,” Tom said, already throwing his pillow your way.

“Sure,” you looked at your massive bed, “I think there is enough room for both of us.”

“What did you think of her?” Tom let himself fall onto the bed, sat up and patted the spot next to him. You sat down.

“Really Tom, I am fine,”

“Okay, if you’re not you’ll tell me right?” he asked, eyes studying your face.

“Yeah Tom, I will. The only thing is,-” you hesitated, and Tom nudged you to keep talking, “Is it just me or does she look a bit like, well… Me?” Tom laughed a bit.

“Yeah I thought so too. I guess Haz has a type,” you laughed too, giving him a hug.

“Go get your bags, before I have taken up the entire closet,” you said. You were happy he was moving into your room. It was less lonely, and wasn’t that what Christmas was all about?

“Actually, I gotta do a last grocery run. Sam wanted a specific spice he hadn’t put on the list,” Tom said, making a funny face.

“And you just go get it?” you rolled your eyes, “Well you do you,”

“Hey Y/n”

“Jeez, should I put a non disturb sign on the door?” you muttered, looking up to see Harrison. ‘How are you doing Haz?”

‘Uhm yeah,” he hesitated, “Great. How are you? How’s the bathtub?”

“It’s lovely,” you rolled your eyes, “Tell me, you didn’t actually think I would swap rooms with you did you?”

“No not really. I’ve known you for long enough to know you won’t give up your room because someone else was unprepared or unannounced,” he laughed. You smiled, glad it wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be.

“Well I just value my bathtime,” flashes of him fingering you in the bathtub last year flew through your mind, but you tried to ignore it. He hadn’t changed much since last year, but that was probably just the outside.

“Have you met Lily?”

“Yeah I have. She seems really sweet Haz,” you said honestly. “I am happy for you both.”

“Thanks. I was afraid it was gonna be awkward between us you know,” he said.

“Yeah me too. But it’ll be fine. See you later,” you hesitated, but then added teasingly, “Hazzi,”

“God isn’t that embarrassing. A terrible nickname, but she really likes it,” he laughed.

You didn’t exactly know how many glasses you had of Harry’s “Christmas eve special”, but you knew you were drunk. It was one A.M., and you and Tom had been singing “Lonely this Christmas” from the top of your lungs, dancing around together, nearly knocking over the Christmas tree. Most were already to bed, but Harrison, Harry, Tom and you were still up. You broke yourself free from under Tom’s arm, heading towards the bathroom. You felt a hand on your arm and tried to shake it off.

“Y/n,” were you mistaken or did Haz look completely sober? You apparently said that out loud, because he laughed. “Yeah I haven’t drank anything love,” You stepped back.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore Haz,” you said, stumbling towards the hallway. “Go to Lily,”

“I just wanted to say that you look good,” you weren’t sure if you heard him right. Your head was slightly spinning, and somewhere in your mind you registered Harry asking if you wanted one last drink.

“What?” Your eyes half closed, you tried to focus on what Harrison said.

“You look good Y/n. Happy, I mean,”

“Okay. I am,” he kept his hand on your arm and you really needed him to let you go. You needed to pee. You wanted to have fun, not have Harrison make you sad. “I gotta go.” you said, shaking his hand off.

When you finally sat down on the toilet you held your head in your hands. Being drunk around Harrison appeared to be a bad idea. When you made your way back to the living room he was gone. Only Tom and Harry were there, together on the couch watching The Grinch. Tom looked up when you came in and gestured beside him on the couch. You dropped your body down and took another sip of your drink. Stupid Harrison.

Chapter three

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfic #queen bunnyears #My writing #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x reader

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okay-bnha · 4 years

Text

Fake Laughter

A/N: I wrote something. It’s really crappy, but I wrote something. Stay safe!

“We have to do something!” I exclaimed, looking over at Tom. “They’ll be back here any minute!”

“Don’t worry!” He replied into his microphone. “I got a plan.”

“Perfect,” the director said, flipping through the script from outside the black box, “now we gotta record some sound effects.”

“Sound effects?” I asked, taking a drink of water.

“What kind of sounds effects?” Tom added, adjusting his headphones.

It started off as a way to get some extra cash, but now it’s something that I love. I found the ad online, so I went for it. Now, I’m co-starring with Tom Holland in a new animated film.

Tom was a delight to meet. I knew him already because of his recurring role as Spider-Man, but as Tom Holland, he was the nicest person ever. We became pretty close friends soon after.

“Mainly laughter, since this is a kids movie,” the director replied, “but a few gasps and grunts of pain, but not so much.”

I looked over at Tom. “You first?”

He nodded his head. “Sure, why not.”

He put his mouth a little closer to the microphone. “Punch me.”

I was taken aback at his comment. “What?”

“Punch me.” He repeated, gesturing to his arm. “Don’t worry, no hard feelings depending on how hard you do it.”

“Alright, your call.” I replied, walking closer to him. I stepped back slightly with my right foot and swung my fist into his arm.

He groaned and stepped backward, rubbing his arm. He smiled slightly and playfully punched me back. “Ow! Not so hard, jeez.”

“You asked for a punch,” I reminded him, stepping back to behind my mic, “so I gave you a punch.”

“So if I asked you for a dollar, would you give me a twenty?” He asked, sarcastically.

I scoffed. “Of course not. I’m broke.”

“Excellent job, Y/N,” the director said, “You could really hear the pain behind his voice.”

“Because it was pain.” Tom reminded us. I chuckled and rolled my eyes.

“Wimp.” I told him. He stuck out his tongue at me. I scoffed. “Very mature.”

“Now the laughter,” the director reminded us, “It needs to be a hearty one, not a simple short one.”

“You first.” Tom told me. “I’m still recovering from my brutal assault.”

I rolled my eyes, but obliged. I let out a half forced, somewhat strained laughter and Tom laughed at my attempt. The director put his face into his palms.

“You call that laughter?” Tom asked. He mimicked my laugh into his mic and the sound check guys laughed at him. I glared at them, then at Tom.

“Yeah well, it’s hard to laugh when nothing funny is happening.” I told him, defending myself.

“You want me to tell you a joke?” Tom offered. “I’m pretty great at jokes.”

“Tom, your jokes are terrible.” I told him. His face grew in fake disbelief as his put his hand on his heart.

“You wound me with your lies,” he said, “my jokes are amazing!”

“Alright fine,” I said, crossing my arms, “you laugh.”

“Fine, I will.” He said, adjusting his headphones and putting his mouth near the mic.

He pulled an even worse laugh attempt than I did. The guys in sound check were cracking up.

“‘You call that laughter?’“ I mimicked, laughing. “That was amazing.”

“Shut up!” He told me. He glared at the team and they stopped laughing, well, tried to at least.

“Come on, guys,” the director pleaded, “we’ve been recording all day. Some simple hearty laughter so we can end the night.”

He was right. We started early this morning and we were all tired.

“Try again, Tom,” I told him, giving him a nudge, “give us a better laugh than the one earlier.” I giggled, remembering the failed attempt.

He smiled and playfully glared at me. “No, because you’ll just laugh again.”

“Then at least we’ll get someone’s laugh sooner.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” I told him, stepping closer. He continued to glare at me, until he rolled his eyes. I smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

Tom poked my stomach. “It’s not like you could do better.”

I flinched and covered my stomach. Tom rose a brow, followed by a mischievous smirk. “Oh, this is golden.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, stepping back slowly.

“Ticklish?” He asked, stepping towards me.

I scoffed. “Yeah, right.” I said, growing slightly worried as he started picking up his pace.

“Really?” He asked, astonished. “Then, surely you wouldn’t mind explaining why you flinched.”

I ran.

I almost made it to the door, until Tom grabbed my hand and I tripped on the wire of his mic. I fell and scrambled to stand, until he pinned me.

“No!” I exclaimed, trying to push him off.

“I didn’t even do anything yet.” He stated, laughing at my attempts to push him off. “Don’t make me pin your arms.”

“Get oHOFF!” I yelped as I felt a squeeze on my side. I shot my arms down.

“You lied to me?” He asked, shocked. “Shame on you, Y/N.”

“I dihidn’t liie!” I told him. “Gehet your hahand out!”

“Lift up your arm and I’ll take my hand out.” He told me, slightly wiggling his fingers. I flinched.

“You’re lyHIHING!” I yelled as I felt him squeeze my knee. “Nohoho!”

“Alright, you asked for this.” He told me, pinning my arms under his knees. I struggled against his hold.

“Tom please!” I told him, pulling at my arms. “Don’t!”

“Are you guys recording?” He shouted from his position. A couple faint ‘yes’s echoed back, since we were in a black box.

“Do noHOHOT TOHOM!” I laughed at I felt his hands dig into my stomach. I started struggling against him even harder. “Stohohop!”

“Lying to your bestest friend Tom, are we?” he asked, moving his fingers down to my hips. “Surely Y/N wouldn’t do that!”

I bucked my hips and my laughter escalated. “NAHAHAH TOHOHOM!”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked, squeezing the little pudge connecting my stomach and hip.

I shrieked, tugging harder at my arms. “LEHEHET MEHE GOHOHAHAH!”

“Wittle Y/N can’t handle a bit of tickling?” He teased, moving his hands higher. My laughter grew higher, to the point of me banging my legs onto the floor.

“NOHAHAH SHEHE CAHAHAN’T!” I laughed.

“What about here?” He asked, lightly scratching at my ribs.

I screamed.

“NAHAHAHAH! GEHEHEHET OHOHOAHAHA!” I told him, struggling harder. I kicked my legs more furiously.

Tom wore such a mischievous grin that made me want to slap it off him. “Jack pot.”

“NONO NOHAHAHAHAH- PLEHEHEAHAH!!” I screamed. He laughed at my dismay.

“Last I checked,” He said, ignoring my pleas, “Women had one more rib than men do. Let’s double check, shall we?”

As he moved his fingers higher, my laughter grew silent. I grew weaker, and soon just let him.

“Now I’ve got to start again since you weren’t helping me!” He exclaimed, digging his fingers harder into my abdomen.

“STAHAHAHAH!” I yelled, attempting to buck him off one last time. To my surprise, and his, it worked.

He slid off me and I jumped up to pin him. He tried to retaliate, but I grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head with all the strength I had left.

“We needed your laughter, too.” I reminded him, poking at his exposed stomach. His shirt had ridden up, causing him to stifle a giggle.

“Was that a giggle, Tom?” I asked, causing him to giggle again. I had no mercy into digging into his stomach.

“STOHOHOP!” He yelled, struggling agains my hold. He almost succeeded, until I moved my hands upward, causing his laugh to go excessively higher.

“NAHAHAHAH- STAHAHA!” He screamed as I wiggled my fingers under his arms. I saw his face grow redder and slight tears in his eyes.

“Aw,” I teased, digging into his hollows, “Is Tom a little sensitive under his arms?”

“SHUHUAHAHAH!” He screamed, but soon was silent. He stopped struggling and just took my torture.

I moved my hands to his neck and he scrunched his shoulders, letting out a very unmanly shriek.

I laughed at his reaction, causing him to escape. He caught me off guard, so he bucked me off and stood up picking me up afterward. I struggled against him, until he went to my mic. I was confused, until he pinned my arms up and held them above my head in his arms, leaving my torso exposed.

“Make sure to add this to the movie.” He told the team, and then wiggle his fingers into my ribs. I screamed and let out hysterical laughter.

“NAHAHAH STAHAHAHA- LEHEHEHAHAH!” I couldn’t form full sentences as he went ham on my ribs. I couldn’t see anything through the tears in my eyes, and my kicking was growing less effective because I was getting weaker by the second.

Tom took mercy as my laughter remained silent for a while, and let me go, but kept my arms pinned at my sides. I used this to taser his sides with my free hand and yelped and let me go. I rubbed my ribs and glared at him.

“We got all that we needed.” The director said, chuckling at us. He stood up and told the crew to wrap it up. “See you guys tomorrow at nine am. Get some rest.” He looked at me and Tom. “Especially you two.”

Tom and I exchanged glances and nodded our heads. He nodded his and headed out. “Lock up after yourselves.”

I punched Tom on his arm as I grabbed my backpack from the floor. “You’re so gonna regret that.”

“And if you try to get your revenge, I’ll just pin you down quick and tickle you till you pass out.” He replied, tasering my sides and running away.

I shrieked and ran after him. “Get back here!”

Let’s just say, I wasn’t the only one laughing in our hotel room.

#ticklish!reader #ticklish!tom #tickle fic #ler!tom #ler!reader

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trashinaglass-archive · 5 years

Text

Aftercare

Y/n helps Tom with his tattoo aftercare

Request: hey! your writing is really awesome and i saw that requests were open, so i was wondering if you could write something about tom’s tattoo and the reader trying to help him care for it while it heals, but tom is ticklish and keeps pulling away?? no pressure if this isn’t something you’d like to write, appreciate all you do!! xoxoxo

A/n: IM IN LOVE WITH THIS OMG I love Tom’s tattoo so much and I can’t even imagine how much caring for a tattoo on the bottom of the foot would suck.

A man^^

“Are you sure that’s where you want it?” You asked Tom as you parked at the tattoo studio, a cringe on your face. “I mean I’m not trying to psych you out or anything, but shit, Tom, that’s gonna kill.”

“I know, but that’s where I want it. I don’t want to get an obvious place tattooed- I mean what if it messes with my chance of a job I really want?”

“Whatever you want, gorg, but I just hope you can take it,” you said, stepping out of the car.

“Of course I can take it, darling. I’m fucking Spider-Man,” he reminded you for the umpteenth time.

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

. . .

You stood next to Tom as he lay on the table, his foot out and ready for the artist as he prepared everything. He placed the stencil on Tom’s foot, smoothing it out and slowly peeling it back to leave a purple spider outline. “Check it? Make sure it’s how you want it,” the artist said pulling out a mirror for Tom to see.

“That’s perfect,” Tom confirmed with a nod.

“Alright- lay back, try not to move your foot, and if you have to, let me know and I’ll stop. Ready?”

Tom nodded his head, holding a hand out for you to grab. You held his hand between both of yours, feeling him squeeze tightly as the needle touched his sensitive skin. His other free hand moved to run through his hair as his face scrunched up in pain.

“You good?” You asked him, your hand rubbing his arm soothingly.

“Yep,” he answered, opening his eyes to look at you. “You want to get anything tattooed while we’re here?” He asked to distract himself from the pain.

“Oh yeah, I totally want to get a portrait of your face tattooed on my butt,” you joked.

He laughed, “so you can sit on my face more often?”

“Nah, so you can kiss my ass,” you joked back.

Tom puffed out a laugh, “okay, love.” You stepped toward the artist to see the bottom of his foot, a black ink spot in the way but the outline of a spider quickly coming together. “Shit,” Tom mumbled as the needle hit a particularly sensitive spot.

“Need a break?” The artist asked hearing Tom’s reaction.

“No, keep going,” Tom told him, ready to get it done. The artist nodded his head once and went back to work.

“Look at you, tough guy,” you teased. “How’s it feel?”

“It’s like fifty percent tickle, fifty percent suck,” he said making the artist laugh.

“That’s the best way to sum up how it feels,” he agreed. “My buddy sketched a devil guy and tattooed it on the sole of my foot, and yeah- definitely half tickle, half suck.”

“How bad is the fading?” you asked him.

“It just depends, but it will fade. Because you’re going to walking- it’s just going to happen, but it’s sick and you can always touch it up so it’s fine, or at least I think so.”

The tattoo was finished after a little while longer, Tom looking at the ink in the mirror before the artist wrapped it up and sent you on your way. You stopped at the store before going home, picking up the suggested soap and ointment for the healing process.

“Does it still hurt?” You asked as you got home, watching Tom walk on his toes.

“It kind of burns, but it’s not bad. It’s much more tolerable than earlier.” He sat on the couch, lifting his foot so he could look at his new tattoo. You sat next to him, looking over it with him.

“It does look really cool,” you admitted. “I had doubts when you said spider on foot.”

“Will you wash it for me?” He asked you, pouting his lips for added effect.

“Why can’t you do it yourself?”

“Because it still hurts, and you’re a lot more gentle than I am,” he answered. “Please? I love you.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile appearing on your face at how sweet the boy is. “Fine. Come sit over the sink.” You grabbed the soap and ointment, washing your hands before gesturing for him to jump on the counter, his foot hanging over the well of the sink.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” you requested. He’d been through enough pain tonight, you couldn’t bare being the cause to more. He nodded his head, patiently waiting for you to start. You turned the water on making sure it was warm and pumped a few squirts of the soap in your hand, lathering it up before using your fingertips to wash over the irritated black lines.

Tom pulled his foot away from you with the first touch. You looked up at him, scared you had hurt him but saw a scrunched smile on his face. “It tickles,” he said innocently.

“Boy,” You said back with a laugh. Looking back down to continue cleaning the area, eventually having to hold his leg down with how much he squirmed. You couldn’t blame him though, you knew just how torturous is was for someone to touch the bottom of your foot. “Why are you going to ask me to do this if you’re going to squirm the whole time?”

“Because you’re the best,” he offered.

“Yeah I am.” You rinsed off the soap and gently pat the surface dry with a paper towel, grabbing the ointment next. “Are you going to squirm over this too?” You asked as you squirted a small amount on your finger.

“Not if you behave yourself.”

“Boy,” You said again making Tom laugh. You applied the ointment to his skin and rubbing it in circles along the area. As you expected, he began twitching and trying to pull away from you. “Stop!” You yelled at him, but you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

“You’re tickling me! You stop,” he defended himself. You took a new paper towel, softly blotting the excess ointment off before slapping the top of his foot.

“I’m done. I’m not doing that again because you can’t keep still,” you joked.

“I can’t help it- I’m sorry,” he laughed. “But thank you, love. I appreciate it.” You reached up to place a kiss to his lips before he jumped off the counter, careful to keep his foot off the ground.

“You’re welcome, gorg.”

. . .

You had dinner the next night with Tom and his parents. After having a delicious meal, you helped Nikki clean up in the kitchen. You were talking to Paddy as he asked about about something when Nikki’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“What’s that on your foot?”

You turned to see Tom in the middle of the kitchen, walking around doing a handstand. He dropped to his feet hearing his mom’s question. “Why are you doing a handstand in the kitchen?” You asked him the follow up question.

“Nothing- nothing!” he replied with wide eyes, unsure if he’d be in trouble or not.

“Did you get a tattoo?” Nikki asked him.

“Yeah,” he sighed out. “Just yesterday, it’s for Spider-Man.” He leaned against the counter and picked his foot up showing the scabbed tattoo, Paddy moving to look at it also.

“Sick!” Paddy exclaimed.

“You didn’t tell them you got a tattoo?” You asked him. Knowing how close the Holland clan were, you’d thought he’d given them the play by play.

“I didn’t think I had to?” He answered with a question. You and Nikki traded a knowing look, shaking your head at the boy you adored so much.

Added the last part bc the interview where he talks about his mom “what’s that on your foot?” is one of my all time fav interview moments

Taglist: @lucychg @yourwonderbelle @rageyoudamnednerd @maliburumofficial @cutiepiemimi13 @happywolves81 @lifeandloveandhappiness @madeinthemidnightmemories @castellandiangelo @meaganjm @spnobsessedmemes @h-oneyholland @babylsn @harrydesires @xxtomxo (add yourself here)

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader

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pass-the-bechdel · 5 years

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Marvel Cinematic Universe: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)

Does it pass the Bechdel Test?

Yes, twice.

How many female characters (with names and lines) are there?

Eight (34.78% of cast).

How many male characters (with names and lines) are there?

Fifteen.

Positive Content Rating:

Three.

General Film Quality:

Neither characters nor plot are engaging enough to hold strong interest, making the film feel longer than it is, plus there’s one character in particular whose behaviour seriously rankles. It’s not a terrible movie, but it is thoroughly uninspiring.

MORE INFO (and potential spoilers) UNDER THE CUT:

Passing the Bechdel:

Liz manages a brief pass with her mother before the dance. Liz says goodbye to Betty.

Female characters:

Betty Brant.

Liz Toomes.

Michelle.

Marjory.

May Parker.

Karen.

Mrs Toomes.

Pepper Potts.

Male characters:

Adrian Toomes.

Mason.

Peter Parker.

Happy Hogan.

Tony Stark.

Jason Ionelli.

Ned.

Flash.

Abraham.

Mr Delmar.

Gary.

Steve Rogers.

Coach Wilson.

Shocker.

Aaron Davis.

OTHER NOTES:

Ah, here’s Peter’s video log from Civil War, where he has no idea why he’s even there and it’s completely irresponsible and inappropriate for Tony to have brought him in on something catastrophically dangerous with no preparation and none of the knowledge necessary to make an informed decision! I hate it. This makes me extremely hate Tony. I know I mentioned it already when I reviewed Civil War, but it’s super-true and not going to change any time soon.

See, this thing where Peter is sacrificing academic and social experiences to hang out for Tony’s promised phone call? That’s on Tony. You can’t just rope a kid into your bullshit and then kick him back out into the world with a vague false promise and no follow-up of any kind. That’s not how kids work. It’s not fair to people in general, but it is especially not how kids work.

Peter having to run because he’s in the suburbs and there are no tall buildings is probably the best gag in this movie.

The inclusion of that little detail about the Washington Monument being built by slaves. Mmmhmm.

I find the plotting of this film very dull and predictable, like ‘oh, and now we’ll have another action set piece, now some cutesy highschool stuff’, etc, and as such I feel it drags excessively and I’m just sitting here waiting for each bit to be done with so that we can get to the next, so that it can be over too, because I’m not attached enough to any one or thing that’s happening for the predictable beats to hold internal interest. That said, the Washington Monument piece is pretty good.

The ludicrous ferry accident, not so much.

Tony shows up, lot of shit-talking, blaming Peter for not magically intuiting information which Tony didn’t give him. Urgh. I deeply, deeply hate this version of Tony.

Toomes reveal is the most inspired choice of the film. Keaton kills it on Toomes’ own revelation of Peter’s identity.

This movie sure does go on.

This ‘screwed the pooch’ joke makes me want to bleach my ears. Also, this whole Avenger/press conference business is still Tony completely failing to appreciate how he’s upended this kid’s life; the right thing to do in this situation is not to lean into it and go ‘ok, but what if I upended it...more?’, just like the right way to deal with it was emphatically not to just kick the kid to the curb to figure things out for himself after that initial upending. I imagine I would have enjoyed this film sooo much more if I were not raging at Tony throughout.

Ok, let me just purge on the Tony thing before I go any further, otherwise I’m never gonna be able to focus properly on the rest of the movie. I hate what they’ve done with Tony. That’s obvious. I really, deeply disagree with it. Tony was a hard character to get to like, but the Iron Man films did really solid, intelligent work at achieving it despite the many and sundry hurdles, and the key to that was the fact that they had Tony, consistently, recognising the ways that his actions hurt others and then making the effort to fix that and fix himself, not just blowing it off, making some flashy gesture or throwing some money at the problem and then breezing on out like everything’s fine and none of it’s on him. The Avengers films - particularly Ultron - did significant work at tarnishing the character development of the Iron Man films, and then Civil War came in and - amidst the many, many sins Tony committed in that movie - handed the introduction of Spider-Man over to Tony in an act of incredibly irresponsible and reckless child endangerment, which this film proceeded to double-down on by having Tony completely fail to be a reasonable, thinking adult at any point. Frankly, I don’t feel that Tony’s initial decision to involve Peter in Civil War is forgivable, there’s no walking that back, but the least he could have done is to recognise that fact and make appropriate amends, which - as above - does not mean ignoring the kid any more than it means pandering to his hero complex. It makes me feel really, really old to be saying it, but Peter is a minor, he doesn’t have a strong perspective on the world yet, but he’s also old enough and wise enough that he can’t just have people throwing rules at him and expecting obedience; he needs to be treated with the respect of having things explained, but he also needs oversight because he isn’t mature enough to make choices without it. He needs guidance. That’s the position which Tony actively puts himself in and then fails to follow through on, and it leaves Peter feeling that he has to prove himself, that he has to further endanger himself in order to win the mentorship that Tony promised. As a character response and an emotional position for Peter, that’s great story fodder and logical follow-on from his introduction, and I can’t fault that. For Tony Stark though, who manages to both start and end this movie without actually learning anything, it makes me infuriated beyond belief.

THAT SAID, let’s segue to the natural place: to Peter. The good news is, if this film gets only one thing right, it’s that very precise balance of Peter’s age, with all its accompanying tumult; Peter is mature enough to feel like he’s in control of his life and choices and capable of taking on new, big, adult things, but not mature enough to realise the limitations that come with his age in terms of experience and worldview. He has that ‘teenagers think they know everything’ factor, but without it being conveyed as either too arrogant or too whiny to be palatable. It’s a tough ask for teen characters, generally, as the creative forces behind them are almost invariably adults (and usually have been for quite some time), and it’s hard to recapture the mentality of a teen once you’ve grown beyond that mentality yourself. When Peter declares that school doesn’t matter anymore because he’s ‘probably never coming back’, he’s gonna become an Avenger and that’s his whole life plan right now, no real details, no clarity in what exactly that means for his day-to-day life or where he gets his income or how things might go in the long term, that’s a classic teen moment for him: his future is a concept, all of its parts internally encompassed, and it’s not just that he dismisses the questions, logistics, and concerns that an adult would know to raise, it’s that these things don’t even occur to him in the first place. Peter is in this middle-position, the transition from child to adult, and he’s not as far through that transition as he thinks he is (teenagers never are). Altogether, I may not be enamoured by this film, nor am I especially compelled by Tom Holland’s take on this character (he’s not bad, he’s just...not that enthralling, either), but the particular pitch of Peter’s mentality is spot-on without being, in itself, just another tromp through dull and overwrought teen-angst cliches.

The rest of the movie, on the other hand...I feel kinda bad about spending that over-long first paragraph railing against a certain billionaire who could have done us all a favour and not been in this film (or at least, not as prominently), giving Peter more of a chance to explore his spider-self and what it means to his life on his own terms, instead of being so heavily influenced by how he fits into the wider universe, and then maybe we could have fleshed out more of Peter’s normal life in order to make all the extraneous pieces of this story more meaningful, and less, y’know, extraneous. As-is, I don’t feel like I’ve got a lot to say about it, it’s fairly generic and unremarkable, and while there are some good set-up pieces - Toomes’ whole descent-to-criminal-enterprise-due-to-economic-pressures thing has great narrative potential and scope for reflection upon capitalism in the real world - the story never explores any of those pieces enough to even half-ass a real analysis of the idea. Toomes is rendered a mostly stock villain, the same as Liz gets little to make her more than a bland Love Interest, May is an interchangeable maternal figure, and Ned - while fun and easily a highlight in a cast that’s hardly vying for the title - is also a bit of a heavy-handed stereotype sitting in the comic relief/sidekick chair (the fact that he essentially references this in-story, fourth-wall-denting style, does not make it less uninspired). And I’m not sure how we’re supposed to see Zendaya’s MJ as anything other than a gimmick at this point, kinda seems like she was literally only there so that her preferred name could be used as a weightless ‘reveal’ at the end. Like I said up in the notes, I found the movie to be excessively predictable in a bad way, bringing me out of the viewing experience to count off the minutes and story beats, and as such, even though this is not the worst film Marvel has churned out to date, it is one of my least favourites. I know there are a lot of people who loved it, who love Tom Holland’s version of Peter Parker and found this movie light and fun, and it’s not that I can’t see where they’re coming from with that...I guess it’s just that whatever parts of the story are self-contained are so recycled from so many other films of this ilk, I can’t find anything to attach to, and then the rest of the story which could have been spent making something a little more interesting from those basic, predictable bones, instead is wasted on an over-emphasis on placing this movie into the MCU’s larger framework (an ironic waste of resources since you can easily skip this film without getting confused watching the next MCU movies with Spider-Man in them, Infinity War and Endgame). Anyway. I fear I’m just gonna start repeating myself for lack of anything else to say; I don’t care for this movie, it had at least a good little piece of heart in it but it wasted too much time on things which did not enhance this story or the wider universe anyway, I hate Tony Stark now. The end.

#Marvel Cinematic Universe #MCU #Spider-Man: Homecoming #Bechdel Test #female representation #Spider-Man

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stealth-spiderr · 6 years

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loosen your tie // t.h.

oKAY i know these are slow coming but i’ve been falling asleep in the middle of writing rip. this is @rainbow-marvel‘s request for the 2k celebration with the prompt “i felt it there that night and caught you blushing”

summary // accidentally swapped phones lead to night time moments that wouldn’t ever happen during the day. only neither you or tom can just forget it happened over the weekend

pairing // ceo!tom x assitant!reader

warnings // swearing as usual and like lowkey drinking as well

word count // 2,030

It was a few minutes after 8pm as you skidded to a stop in front of your boss’s door. You’d somehow grabbed his phone instead of yours when you’d left the office three hours earlier for a dinner with your best friend.

Although Tom Holland put on a stern front for his employees, he was always kind to you, you had a relationship with him that you were comfortable enough to make jokes with him and he would let you and sometimes even joke back. As his assistant you obviously worked close with him, some people would say closer than necessary but you would just say you’re exceptionally dedicated and hard working. And absolutely not harbouring a crush on the young CEO, you were human after all. But humans make mistakes such as switching phones with their bosses, so here you were catching your breath at his office door. Hesitating to knock as you were only wearing jeans, which you’d hastily pulled onto your bare legs when Tom’s phone had rung, revealing that it wasn’t your own, and a navy blue cropped t-shirt. You hadn’t even grabbed a jacket in your rush to return the phone, you were lucky you’d even got shoes on, granted they weren’t actually matching, you had on two different coloured converse.

“Mother fucker,” you whisper to yourself before pounding your fist in the door.

You hear a small thump before Tom’s groggy voice calling you to come in. You suck in a breath and open the door, immediately starting an apology and explaining how it had taken you so long to realise you had his phone. He holds up his hand and you stop talking before rubbing his head where you notice a red patch forming above his brow. You guess the small thump was his head hitting his desk, possibly from falling from his hand where he had fallen asleep.

“I’m not mad at you, love, I just needed it back is all,” he says, bringing his eyes to you for the first time.

He freezes as he sees your attire, but recovers quickly and meets your eyes, holding a hand out. You walk over and place his phone in his palm and he opens his desk draw and pulls out your phone, handing it over. His gaze drifts down your frame again, taking you in whilst you’re not wearing a pencil skirt and blazer.

“I’ve never imagined you in casual clothes before,” he says, although he’s not entirely sure why.

“Well I didn’t think you’d ever see me in them so it’s a night of firsts, Mr. Holland,” you reply, tugging the crop top down a little.

He stands from his desk and walks over to the liquor cabinet he has, pours him self a glass of scotch before looking at you and tilting the bottle as a silent question.

“Oh, no thanks, I really ought to be going. I need to get some beauty sleep and all that,” you politely decline.

“Nonsense, you’re beautiful already,” Tom replies without a second thought. “Indulge me, (Y/N), tell me something I don’t know about you.”

When he turns to face you again you’re looking down to your shoes, mismatched he notices, biting your lip with the hint of a smile at the corner. He steps right up to you, closer than he’s ever been, closer than he knows he should be, and takes one finger off one glass to tilt your chin up. You jump slightly from the contact, not excepting it at all but take the glass from his hand. He mutters a cheers as he clinks his glass yours and brings it to his lips. You’re basically entranced as you watch him sip the alcohol, his tongue gliding out over his lips to collect excess liquid. You finally blink and look back at his eyes, which are glistening slightly with mischief.

“Seriously, darling, what are some other firsts you are yet to experience?”

“First drink with my boss,” you say, quickly to cover other thoughts running through your head.

You tilt the glass to your mouth and down the whole thing, screwing up your face as you do because, fuck, it tastes awful.

“You drink this all the time with a straight face, what the hell?”

“I suppose it’s an acquired taste.”

“It’s disgusting is what it is.”

He chuckles, taking another sip of his drink and leaning on his desk.

“So do you usually stay here this late?” you ask, leaning beside him.

“Most days,” you swat him lightly on the chest. “What was that for?”

“You always make me leave at 5 and say you’re right behind me, you liar!”

“I don’t want you over working yourself, you go above and beyond for me already.”

You stand and move in front of him. “What about you, you never seem to stop. Look at you, past 8 at night, on a Friday of all days, with your bloody tie still done up.”

You reach forward and loosen the tie, heat rises in your cheeks as Tom places his hands on your bare waist, they’re warm against your skin. You don’t meet his eyes as you undo the top two buttons of his shirt and tug the tie looser again.

“There you go,” you whisper.

You’re about to drop your hands when his grabs them, slowly moving them around his neck until he can link your fingers together. His hands drop back to your waist and he pulls you closer, you feel his breath fan over your face as he leans in.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you say. “Isn’t it frowned upon for assistants to hook up with their bosses?”

“What are they gonna do, fire me?” Tom replies with a smirk.

“Could fire me.”

“I’ll fire whoever fires you, and then rehire you.”

Your noses are brushing, you can feel his lips ghosting over yours when he speaks. Just as you find the courage to close the virtually non-existent gap between you, his phone rings. Sending you stepping backwards, almost tripping over your feet as you keep going until your back hits the door.

“(Y/N), wait, it’s not important-”

“No, I need to go. I’m tired, and I need to go, I’m sorry, good night.”

You can barely form a sentence as you get out of the office, your head spinning. It doesn’t stop spinning even when you get home. How were you going to show your face to him on Monday morning? You flop on to your bed and scream straight into your pillow.

Monday morning arrives faster than you’d have liked, you contemplated calling in sick but eventually decided against it, knowing you’d have to suck it up and face Tom at some point. The sooner you did, the less time you’d spend freaking out about it.

In the mornings Tom arrived an hour earlier than the usual start time of 9am, which meant that you usually did too. Today, however, you were going to show up at 9am, when you knew Tom would have a meeting to dash off to, and therefore no time to talk to you. You got off the elevator and ran into Laura, who worked just below you in the chain of command, she looked at you with wide eyes and gripped your wrist.

“What did you do to piss off Holland?” she asks in a hushed voice.

You fain confusion. ��Nothing comes to mind, why?”

“Hunny, you got orange sticky-noted.”

You try not to panic, but it doesn’t work and you run to your desk, Laura trailing close behind. See if someone at Holland Industries arrives at their desk to find an orange sticky note on it, ‘my office asap!’ usually scrawled on it, that person is usually packing up their desk before the day is out. But there was no way that that was Tom’s intent for you, right?

The note catches your eye immediately, it’s stuck over the name plate on your desk and it’s blank. You reach over and drop your bag on the lower section only to see another sticky note, covered in Tom’s handwriting. You knock your bag over it so Laura doesn’t see it and quickly turn to her.

“Are you gonna see him now?” she questions.

“Can’t, he’s in a meeting.

She nods before rubbing your arm reassuringly and heading off. You move around your desk and sit down, grabbing the note with the writing on it.

(Y/N), I’m sorry if I over stepped on Friday night, it was very unprofessional of me, regardless of the late hour. Please talk to me at your earliest convenience, and mine, I have a lot more I’d like to say.

He didn’t sign it off, of course he doesn’t need to, who else would it be from? You’re slightly annoyed by the fact he’s essentially forced you to have a conversation with him. Everyone would question why you didn’t see him after the appearance of the sticky note on your desk, so what other choice did you have? You couldn’t very well tell anyone why you wouldn’t enter his office.

It was two hours later, you were in the middle of a phone call when Tom returned from his meeting, he drops some paperwork on your keyboard, not even looking at you. There’s another sticky note on the top, it just says ‘please’. You look up to see everyone who noticed Tom’s return is now watching you like a hawk, knowing you’d now have to go see him, mostly likely, to their knowledge, to be fired.

You finish up the phone call before heading to Tom’s door and quietly knocking, hoping he won’t hear it.

“Who is it?” he calls, with a hopeful tone.

“Me,” you answer, stupidly.

But he knows your voice, and a wave of relief washes through him as he calls you in. You wave a little after closing the door behind you and loitering by it.

“Please,” Tom gestures to a chair on the opposite side of the desk to him. “How are you?”

“Alright,” you answer, sitting down.

“You were late this morning, I was worried.”

“Wasn’t technically late, I’m normally only in that early because you are. Why were you worried?”

“I thought I’d frightened you away.”

“What am I gonna do, quit my job because you tried to kiss me?”

“I’m sure people have quit over less.”

“I’m sure. Why did you, though? Try to kiss me?”

“Because I believe there’s something between us,” Tom says, taking a deep breath to continue, “I notice how hard you work, always offering to work back, and coming in early apparently. You joke around, but not all the time, enough to be endearing and not annoying. Plus you come in everyday looking like you’ve stepped out of a business fashion magazine which leaves my stomach in knots like nothing else. Maybe it’s just me, but I really don’t think it is because I felt it there that night, and I caught you blushing, don’t think I missed that.”

You don’t meet Tom’s eye as you let the words sink in, trying not freak out about the fact your feelings are mutual.

“I think you’re right,” you begin, “but I think you went about it the wrong way. I would have rather had this conversation, and possibly a date before you tried to kiss me.”

Tom looks to you as a grin breaks out on his face.

“A date, huh? How’s tomorrow sound?”

“Busy, it’s Tuesday, we’re gonna be here-”

“Nope, clear tomorrow.”

“Can’t this wait until Saturday?”

“You think I’m going to wait until Saturday to kiss you?”

“Obviously not, whatever Tom Holland wants, he gets.”

You’re just teasing, and you know he knows by the little smirk on his face. You roll your eyes and head towards the door.

“It has to be tomorrow, they have cheaper tickets at cinemas,” he calls.

“Because that makes all the difference to you,” you laugh, opening the door

“Just direct anyone who gives you grief about cancelling tomorrow to me, alright?”

You nod and taking your leave, closing the door behind you and biting back a smile.

let me know if you do or don’t wanna be tagged!! tag list // @tomsfireheart // @tomhoellandb // @laucontrerasv // @spidey-pal // @paper-goonie // @hottrashformarvel // @gayvodkatour // @webfluihd // @starksparker // @h-osterfield // @upsidedownparker // @shuriismyqueen // @spideymood //@thewiseandfree // @stephie-senpai // @bi-writes // @peters-vlogs // @noneighborhood // @caloe-vera // @starlightfound // @lafayettes-baguettes-1 // @lemirabitur // @lilleone // @yoinksholland // @ablogbypeteparker // @iaiabear // @rainbow-marvel //

tom tag list // @assumeimapenguin // @idontlooklikereginageorge //

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #ceo!tom #ceo!tom holland #em writes #2k(ool) celebration

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ritebeforeyoureyes · 6 years

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A Little Jealous

This was kind of a collection of prompts that I got in my inbox. I decided to merge a few together to create this little smutty piece. So, be warned. Also, to the anon who asked how to send in prompts, a message in my inbox or a PM is perfectly fine x

Masterlist – Plot: Tom witnesses Zac and Zendaya’s chemistry and grows jealous.

A Little Jealous (One-Shot)

Tom sat on the side lines as he watched his girlfriend do her thing. She and her co-stars, Hugh Jackman and Zac Efron, were in the starting leg of The Greatest Showman promotion tour and their first stop was London. And, as per usual, Tom was there to support his girl whenever he could.

Zac and Zendaya were being put side by side throughout the duration of the tour, their interviews consisting of the same reworded questions about their chemistry and their characters’ monumental kiss. Tom couldn’t really hear much of what was being asked or said in response so all he could do was pay attention to their body language. There was something about Zac’s quick glances towards Z that bothered him. At first, it wasn’t that noticeable to bystanders, but Tom had picked up on it instantly. It was his girlfriend, after all.

He’d watch helplessly as Zac would touch her shoulder momentarily, smile brightly at her as she gushed over something the interviewer said. The little snippets of adoration from Zac was making jealousy bubble within Tom and he found himself glaring, his eyes narrowing thinly. However, the icing on the cake, for Tom, had been when Zac had called Zendaya his favourite on-screen kiss. It was made hundred times worse because Zendaya had chuckled the slick comment off with a funny face in tow. Zendaya could laugh it off, but Tom evidently couldn’t – he was fuming. Tom hadn’t seen Zendaya interact with another man so closely and it didn’t sit right with him. He was the only man who got to laugh at her jokes and shower her with compliments; he didn’t like that another guy was calling her his favourite kiss, regardless of the extended meaning behind it.

Following the comment, Tom stayed angry for hours, the jealousy slowly cooking dangerously within him. He had had to wait whilst Zendaya finished up her interviews and had tried to distract himself with Darnell’s banterful personality. It had preoccupied him for a while, the two of them sneaking out of the hotel ballroom in search of the rumoured Moèt vending machine. They’d found it and had a midday drink, sneakily, before Tom had retired up to Zendaya’s hotel room. He knew if he walked back into the ballroom, he would do something he would regret, and he didn’t want to do that. It was getting harder and harder to keep their relationship a secret, but he wasn’t going to disrespect Zendaya’s wishes by outing them in such a public setting.

So, Tom waited. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He watched the clock tick slowly. He read the room service menu, three times. It had been hours, the sky darkening suddenly, before Z was back upstairs. As soon as she entered the room, a loud sigh escaped her lips and she discarded of her heels. Within seconds, she was her usual casual self; stripping of her couture blazer so she was left in bottoms and a skin-tight vest.

“I’m done.” She huffed, flopping down onto the bed next to him. “I’m ready for pizza and ice cream!” Like the child that she was, Zendaya grabbed onto the menu in his hand, her eyes scanning the kids’ section. “Why does the kids’ menu always have nicer stuff? I really want the veggie fries …” Zendaya glanced up at Tom before correcting herself. “I meant veggie chips.” Zendaya teased, her eyes rolling. Tom and she had had this argument before; the difference between fries and chips. Zendaya didn’t really get why Tom called them ‘chips’ and she’d just presumptuously concluded that all Brits were stupid. But when Tom didn’t retaliate to her teasing comment, she lifted her body over his so that they were making eye contact. “What’s up with you?” Tom just shrugged, his arm reaching over for the TV remote. “Hey!”

“You’re his favourite kiss, huh?” Tom scoffed, the anger clear in his tone. Zendaya blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting this kind of reaction and she pushed her body over his. Her leg swung around his torso so that she was straddling his hips, both of her palms flat against his chest. “I can’t believe he pulled that shit.” Personally, Tom thought it was a little unprofessional for Zac to make such a declaration in an interview. But deep down, he knew, if he got the chance to, he wouldn’t hesitate to confess that Zendaya was his favourite kiss too.

“Is somebody a little jealous?” Zendaya prodded, a glint of mischievousness prevalent on her face. Secretly, she was hoping her poking fun at Tom would result in him vocalising how much she meant to him. She never had to ask for compliments from Tom, he dished them out as often as breakfast around the world. However, after a few weeks apart, it felt like an eternity since Tom, in person, had told Zendaya how he felt about her.

“Is he a good kisser?” Tom let out a grunt of disapproval, not liking the mental image of his girl kissing anybody but him. He gripped at her hips, his hands splaying out across them. Her frame looked so tiny under his hold and that seemed to turn them both on. Tom’s gesture was possessive and Zendaya groaned as he used his hold to forcefully rotate her hips. She could feel his evident arousal pressed against her and her head fell back, hair flowing across her back. “Does he make you feel like this?” Tom gripped her tighter this time, forcing her core against his erection in a circular motion. Zendaya’s mouth opened and closed, no words escaping her as she was blinded by her own lust. She clung to his shirt, her long nails scratching at the flimsy material in a desperate display; she was trying to tell him she wanted it off. “Huh, tell me.”

“N-no.” Zendaya stuttered. She was now willingly rocking against him; the moans escaping them simulatenously. Zendaya’s was much louder than Tom’s guttural moan and he couldn’t stop staring at her as she moved. Her eyes occasionally fluttering closed, her pink lips opened in pleasure; it was the sexiest sight Tom had ever seen.

“You’re so beautiful, Z.” Tom sat up to lift his shirt over his head. He pressed his bare chest tightly to hers now, his hand wrapping round her back to hoist her higher onto him. With a swift motion, Tom was pushing Zendaya’s top up and over her head too. It was thrown aimlessly, joining a darkened abyss in the corner of the room. The movement made Zendaya’s breathe catch in the back of her throat and she used a hand against Tom’s shoulder to steady herself. “So fucking beautiful.”

As soon as Tom complimented her, she felt a shoot of pleasure throb at her core. She was always somebody who was turned on by the vocal reassurance of her significant other and it was safe to say, with Tom, it was a lot. “You’re mine, baby girl. Only mine.” Tom peppered kisses against the skin that was left exposed. He started on her face before descending down to her jaw and to her neck. His tongue flicked out to trail a pattern down her collar bone, his teeth clawing at the strap of her bra. Leisurely, he pulled one strap down the tops of her arms and Zendaya was in heaven. He never failed to make her feel beautiful, even when she was achy and bummy after a busy day at work. He loved to cherish her and that was exactly what she was feeling right now – worshipped. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“Yours.” She whispered before dragging his face back up to meet her lips. Everywhere was aching, the need for him to touch her everywhere suddenly dominant. His hands immediately went to the sides of her head, tangling in her hair so that her face was now angled. The new position allowed their lips to crash together, his tongue gaining deeper access into her mouth. Her usual taste of mint and ice cream was evident on her taste buds and Tom urged for more.

The kiss became hot and heavy from the moment their lips met the second time. He was sliding his tongue along the seam of her lips, asking for permission, before he forcefully pushed his way through anyway. She’d closed her eyes and was breathing deeply, losing herself in the feel of his kiss and that scent of beer and cologne that was uniquely Tom Holland.

“I want you so bad right now.” Zendaya was taken by surprise when Tom flipped their bodies over quickly. He took a moment to savour the sight of his girlfriend lying beneath him, staring up at him lustfully. He didn’t break eye contact with her as he slid his hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. Soon enough, the bra joined her shirt somewhere the floor. Tom moved his body down the length of hers until he was eye level with her breasts. His lips were now placing open-mouthed kisses all over her them. He’d treasure each one, one with his mouth, the other with his hand.

“Oh, god.” Zendaya moaned, her hands gripping tightly at his slowly growing out curls. She found herself torn between wanting to kiss him again or let him continue his assault on her chest with his lips. As the minutes dragged on, Zendaya wanted more; she was begging for more. “Tom.” She whined, slapping her heel against his calf in protest. “Please!”

“Patience, babe.” Tom smirked in that smug tone that he always took when he was teasing her and Zendaya smacked his arm. “Patience.”

“Get this show on the road or I’m going to get Zac to take care of me-“ Zendaya grated out, knowing her words would trigger Tom. She didn’t mean them but she knew it would get her exactly what she wanted. And it seemed like she was right because within seconds, Tom was scowling profoundly. He didn’t like that Zac was being brought up, now especially, and he reached down to remove all excess pieces of clothes, urgency swarming him. He slid a hand between her lengthy legs, trailing his index finger through her wetness. Just like that, all thoughts of Zac were forgotten and Zendaya’s mind was back to tunnel vision; Tom’s bare body was all she saw.

As he continued his splendid torture behind her legs, his thumb pressed firmly against her clit. The sensitive nub had her body bucking and that was it, she couldn’t wait any longer. She didn’t want the foreplay and the teasing; she wanted him in his entirety. “Inside me. Now.” Her reply was frantic and the pure crudity of it had Tom obliging. He didn’t need to be told twice and he slid his fingers out from between her. He raised the two fingers to her mouth, letting her lick them clean. She let her tongue circle the pads of his fingers slowly, indulging in the taste of herself. She shot him a naughty wink and Tom chuckled softly before positioning his erection at her entrance. He grabbed her hips and slid inside of her in one quick motion, groaning loudly as he did. Her warmth enveloped him, and he was finally home. He was so lost in the pleasure of just being inside her that he was completely surprised when she wrapped her legs around his waist, raising her hips so that there was some form of movement.

“You look prettiest like this,” Tom winked, his cockiness at the surface. Why wouldn’t it, he had one of Hollywood’ hottest actresses in his bed. “Under me, begging, screaming my name.” His dirty talk was doing all kinds of things to Zendaya and Tom lustfully began to set a rhythm in motion, feeling like the luckiest man on Earth. It still surprised him that this majestic beauty was his girlfriend. He gyrated and swivelled his hips, his movements becoming more and more rushed as her breathing sped up. He could tell she was close from the gentle whispers in his ear, “Oh my god, Tom, yes, right there.”

“Come on, baby.” Tom rasped in response, his voice gruff and oh so manly. “Cum with me.” Zendaya panted audibly as her walls began to contract around him. Literally seconds later, Tom was releasing with her. He fell off the edge with a loud moan, her name slipping from his lips in a prayer of sorts, “Oh god, Zendaya.” He let them both ride out their orgasms, their chests heaving violently as they fell from their mountain of pleasure. Once her core stopped throbbing, slowly, Zendaya slid Tom’s dick out of her and then rolled over to lie beside him, her head resting against his lightly perspired chest. His fingers threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp comfortably.

Her finger gently traced the indents of his chest and she glanced up to look at his face, “You should be jealous more often.”

If you enjoyed this piece and would like to help further me and my work please support me here. It is one hundred per cent a voluntary pursuit, your lovely comments and votes are always welcomed too : https://ko-fi.com/D1D072V0

#tomdaya #tomdaya fanfiction #tomdaya fan fic #tomdaya fanfic #tomdaya fan fiction #smut warning #tomdaya one-shot #one shot #one-shot #ritebeforeyoureyes

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soldierstark · 7 years

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She's Not You | TOM HOLLAND X READER

Description: In which the reader, in an effort to get over her crush on Tom, decides to set him up but for some reason none of the girls ever get a second date. Tom's problem is that the one girl he wants to go out with seems to be hell bent on setting him up with someone else.

Author's Note: I'm back hoes what's good? I'm pretty proud of how this turned out and I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Inspiration for this fic came from something I read a while ago and last night it popped into my mind for some reason so yea now there's this. Anyway, let me know what you think!

Word Count: 2219

FANFICTION MASTERLIST

“So?” I prodded Tom, dragging out the o’s as long as possible. We were in his dressing closet after a long day of filming as he took out his regular clothes at a snail’s pace. You’d think since he’s somewhat of an athlete he’s be a quick changer but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

Tom took out a pair of jeans and threw them on a nearby chair. “So what?” he asked not looking at me.

I threw my head back with a groan, he knew exactly what I was going to ask him. It was the same question I always asked him every time I set him up with a new girl. Each week I’d find a girl who would go on a date with Tom, which wasn’t that much of a challenge, and each week he’d take the girl to dinner.

The only problem was that none of these girls ever got a second date. Not a single one and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. I like to think I know Tom pretty well so I’m always surprised when the girls I think he’ll really like never get a second date.

“How was your date with Quinn?” I asked, eager to hear what he thought of her. This is the same question I’d ask every week with another girl’s name. I was hoping that Tom would say he liked her and that he would be taking her out again but-

“It was fine,” Tom answered pulling out a t shirt and shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

I another groan of frustration escaped from my lips as I slammed my head against the wall repeatedly. Every week I got the same answer. The date was always fine, not good or bad, just fine. I ran my fingers through my (Y/H/C) hair exasperated. I didn’t think getting over Tom would be so difficult.

For the first few weeks I was in deep denial, I keep telling myself that these feeling were purely in the moment and would pass eventually. When that didn’t work, I told myself that it was just a crush that would go away once he got a girlfriend because then I’d be forced to get over him.

That’s why I started trying to set Tom up on dates. I was hoping since I knew him so well that I’d be able to find a good girl for him, that they’d hit it off, start dating, and that my idiotic crush that I had on my devilishly handsome co-star would just go away.

But bad luck always seemed to follow me around so of course nothing would go as planned.

“Just fine?” I asked Tom with a raised eyebrow, to tired and frustrated to hide the annoyance laced in my voice.

He turned away from the closet and walked over to his dresser, taking off the sweater he had on over the flannel he was wearing. The classic Peter Parker look. “It was fine (Y/N),” he repeated in the same monotonous tone he’d been using the entire conversation.

I threw my hand up in the air trying to release the irritation that was building up inside of me. “It can’t be just fine Tom I swear Quinn is like the perfect girl for you!” I argued with my voice steadily rising.

Tom scoffed and reached his hands up to start unbuttoning the flannel he had on. “Clearly you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he retorted starting to sound irritated as well.

At this point I had reached my maximum level of frustration. For weeks I had been trying to set him up and my tolerance has dissipated. I grabbed both of Tom’s shoulders with as much force as I could and turned him around to face me.

As soon as his deep brown eyes met mine, I could feel my expression immediately soften and I suddenly forgot how to put coherent sentences together. Tom’s eyes were wide because I’d never been forceful with him before. It must’ve been a spur of the moment thing because once I got a look at his face I calmed down significantly.

That’s when I realized how close we were. I could see every speckle of different colored browns in his eyes and the eyelashes that framed them. His curly brown hair was extremely disheveled and a lone piece fell into his face. Tom’s pink lips parted slightly as he stared straight at me in surprise.

Once I gathered my thoughts I released him and took a large step backwards, clearing my throat to try and regain the composure I had before his face was so close to mine. Tom still stood facing me but his eyes went back to their normal size along with the stone-cold expression he wore earlier.

I crossed my arms and returned his glare before speaking. “You and I both know that’s not true. We’ve seen each other basically every day of the week for over a year now Tom. I do know you well, people can’t spend as much time together as we do without becoming close.”

Tom’s expression softened temporarily because he knew I was right. The process of filming and promoting a movie is very extensive and takes a long time which is the reason co-stars tend to become really good friends or even date in some instances.

I’ve seen every side of him. The goofy side that likes to play pranks on set and often laughs while filming a serious scene. The side that struggles to keep a straight face during emotional scenes and the side that’s serious and stays up till 3 am memorizing his lines for the next day. There’s the side that has mini-freak-outs over his newfound stardom and the side that handles the fame with ease.

I’ve always understood Tom, the way his mind works and the way he processes thoughts and makes decisions. I could predict his next move and read his mind with a single look, which is why I find it so strange that I can’t figure out why Tom kept turning down these really great girls.

This was the side of Tom that he never showed me, or anyone for that matter because he’s a genuinely sweet and happy guy. This side was cold, distant, and expressionless. It was the one side I couldn’t stand.

“Quinn is perfect for you! She’s hilarious and beautiful. She wants to be a professional ballet dancer and she’s slightly awkward like you are but not afraid to try new things. Quinn is really nice, Jacob and Zendaya both really like her. Hell Tom, I do too, that’s why I set her up with you in the first place because I want you to be happy and I think she’ll do that for you!” I cried while stuffing my jealousy back down my throat.

Quinn was all of these things and any guy would be lucky to have her. I have many reasons to hate her but I just can’t because she’s such a kind person. It made me sick to my stomach thinking about it.

“Alright fine!” Tom shouted back. “Quinn is amazing and wonderful and she might literally be the nicest person I’ve ever met. She’s pretty, down to earth, and not afraid of mice or roller coasters. She’s literally the perfect girl!”

I blinked away tears that had begun to form during his little rant. I could feel my anger quickly dissolve into jealousy and heartbreak as I listened to him talk about Quinn like she was goddess. If you took one look at me, you could practically see envy leaking through every crack and flaw I had.

Because unlike Quinn, I wasn’t the perfect girl. Even though I knew the chances of Tom talking about me the way he talked about Quinn were very slim, I still pretended that I was as important to him as he is to me.

“Then why won’t you go out with her?” I sighed, not having the energy or the heart to yell anymore.

Tom ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair and turned back around towards his closet with a heavy sigh. “God (Y/N)… what are you doing to me?” he mumbled to the air in front of him. I pretended like I hadn’t heard him, but I did, every word and it only gave me more questions that I wanted answers too.

After a few silent beats passed, he broke the silence. “(Y/N) I- I just… it’s...just…you… why do you have to make this so dam difficult?” Tom moaned, his accent becoming very prominent.

I stepped forward, gaining some newfound courage. “I’m not the one making this difficult Tom, you are. So please just make this easier for the both of us and give me a straight answer this time,” I demanded, surprised at the steadiness of my voice.

I was done feeling do hopeless and vulnerable around him. He made me feel strong and self-assured but he was also the one person who could tear me down with a single word. It was kind of ironic how the person in my life that made me stronger could also be my biggest weakness.

“Because!” he paused to run a hand through his hair yet again, an unfortunate habit he possessed that came out when he was nervous.

“Because…” I urged slowly, wanting an answer.

Tom let out a defeated huff and gripped his closet door tightly. His knuckles began to turn ghostly white from the amount of pressure he had on his grip. “Because she’s not you,” he whispered, looking up at me for a split second before he slammed the door shut and walked out the room.

I stood there frozen for moment, trying to register what he said. A part of me wanted to run up to Tom and kiss him senseless, but the bigger part of me wanted to go up to him and yell because he walked off. I chose to do the latter.

“Thomas Holland!” I yelled stalking towards him. He stopped with one foot in front of the other as I grabbed his shoulder and turned him around for the second time that day. His face was really close to mine but this time I was unfazed. “Y-You can’t… You can’t just do that!”

“Do what?” he asked causally shrugging his shoulders

“Y-You can’t just say something like that and walk away. This isn’t some movie where everything just magically falls into place,” I ranted with the excessive use of hand gestures. “You’re supposed to like Quinn! She’s perfect you even said so yourself. I ju-“

“What made you think that I want perfect,” Tom interrupted me. “Did you ever think that I don’t want perfect? That I want something real? (Y/N), did you ever wonder why I turned down every single girl you set me up with?”

“Why,” I whispered trying to keep a steady voice.

“Because of you… (Y/N). On every single date the only person on my mind was you. Trust me when I say that I’ve tried to get over you but I just can’t seem to do it. I’ve found myself comparing every girl I was with to you, and everything they I do I think about how you could do it ten times better. And to be honest, none of them hold a candle to you. Not even Quinn,” he whispered, although I didn’t have to listen closely to hear him because we were so close.

I felt his hot, jagged breath on my skin as he spoke. I shivered involuntarily from where his breathe tickled my neck. “I don’t want perfect (Y/N),” Tom continued. “I want someone who’s afraid to try new things because she over thinks everything and is the complete opposite of a ballet dancer. I want someone who’s a little bossy sometimes and is insecure so I can remind her everyday how breath-taking she is. I want you.”

“I-“I stopped myself knowing that anything I’d say from this point would be babbling nonsense. Normally this would be the point of the movie were I would grab Tom and kiss him as if my life depended on it but like I said before, this isn’t a movie. “Are you sure?” I asked quirking an eyebrow.

His chest rumbled from laughter and a smile broke out on his face. Tom pulled me closer by the waist and in one quick motion he was kissing me. It only took a moment for me to melt into the kiss and return it with just as much intensity.

One of my arms slid around his neck while the other weaved itself into his hair, pulling his face closer to mine. What I was feeling at that moment was indescribable. It felt like the big drop of a roller coaster or the adrenaline rush you get when you do something you’re not supposed to.

Tom pulled away all too soon and grinned at me cheekily. “If I wasn’t sure before I sure am now,” he said playfully, wiggling his eyebrows.

All I did was laugh and pull him down for another kiss. And for the first time, ever in my life, I was fine with not being perfect.

Tagged

@tomquaksonsholland

@jvghead-jones-iii

@devilsdaughter1225

@avengersgirllorianna

@thelifeofanengineeringstudent

@jesterrose1213 @lamia-maizat @lostqueen1613

@eliza-hamilton-helpless

@darlingimafangirl

@riverdalemami

@philipshaaayyyy

@xbobaaa

@marvelavengers8

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #peter parker imagine #tom Holland x reader #tom holland #tom Holland fanfiction #tom Holland fic #spiderman: homecoming #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman fanfiction #off #fanfiction

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this-ginger-has-no-soul · 7 years

Text

Hair dye

(A/N): Heeeeyyyy, I really like Bucky so I decided to use him for this request

Request: Hey! I started following you pretty recently, I really like your writing! (not gonna lie I've accidentally passed HOURS just scrolling back in your blog reading your stories hahaha) So I'm currently re-dyeing my hair and i got a kick out the idea of Cap or Bucky helping someone dye their hair. Could you possibly write something along those lines? I feel like they'd be apprehensive to the idea at first, like "I like your hair as it is!" but eventually they'd be really into it. Thanks hun!!

Warnings: none

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor

You eyes the bottle of gray hair due excitedly, the bottle gleaming under your bathroom light. You'd been wanting to change your hair up a bit for quite sometime but you never knew what to do, but after seeing countless videos of people dying their hair gray you decided that that's what you wanted to do. Cut to a few days later and you were prepped an ready to go, except for one little problem- you'd never dyed your hair before and you didn't really know if you trusted yourself enough to try and do this alone which meant you had to recruit the help of someone in the tower, aka Bucky.

You walk out of your bathroom, your hair already up and in sections, a towel wrapped around your throat, and the bottle of dye in your hand. As far as you knew Bucky was here today- he had been there that morning and he'd gone down to train but you hadn't seen him since then.

You meander out into the living room of your floor and just as you do you smack right into Bucky himself. He's panting slightly, a thin sheen of sweat covering his chest and face, and those sweat pants are slung around his hips so deliciously low you can almost see-

"(Y/N)?" Bucky questions, his brows furrowed as he looks at you. "What's uh- what's up with the hair?" You give him a smile, suddenly remembering why you had left the bathroom in the first place.

"So, I've been thinking about changing my hair for a bit but I didn't know what I wanted to do-" you smile sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders a but as you do. "But I found videos of people dying their hair gray and I decided that's what I wanted to do," Bucky looks at you for a bit, his eyes traveling Over your hair as he bites his lip.

"Are you sure you want to change your hair?" He finally asks, breaking the silence that had consumed the two of you.

"Yeah, I do...do you not like the idea?" You pout a bit, starting to feel just a bit self conscience.

"It's just- your natural hair is so pretty," Bucky states softly, giving you a sheepish smile as he does.

"Oh..." You whisper, switching the hair dye bottle between hands. "Well...maybe I'll get Wanda to help me-"

"Do you need help?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest. You nod your head, shifting your weight from foot to foot.

"Yeah, I've never tried to dye my hair before and I want this to look good so I was kinda hoping that you'd help me but uh- I'm kinda guessing that's out the window now so I'm gonna go ask Wanda or Nat for help," You smile at Bucky as you take a step towards the elevator but Bucky catches your arm before you can.

"I can help you," he smiles at you gently, even if the smile didn't look all too genuine. "I'm pretty sure I know how to dye hair,"

"You sure? I really can just go get one of the girls to help-" Bucky responds by grabbing the bottle and your hand, guiding you back into the bathroom before you could Ben protest.

"Sit on the counter," Bucky whispers as he flips the bottle over, reading over the instructions."So I start with the back first?" Bucky asks, popping the cap open as he grabs the brush you had picked up from the beauty supply store. You nod your head head as you hop up on the counter, your back towards Bucky as you look into the mirror.

"Yes?" Bucky hums as he dips the brush in the dye, his other hand gingerly holding a strand of your hair as he does.

"You're sure about this?" Bucky asks, seriously beginning to make you doubt your decision. He didn’t seem to like the idea all that much but you had loved the thought of gray hair so why should Bucky's opinion deter you?

"Yes," you sigh, nodding your head. "I'm sure," Bucky gives his own little sigh as he raises the brush to your hair, the ends of it just barely brushing your neck.

"Okay doll," Bucky whispers as he drags the brush down your strand of hair. Welup- even if you had wanted to back out you couldn't now, not with Bucky already placing the dye in your hair. You only hoped that you’d actually end up liking it in the end and perhaps Bucky could like it too.

Nearly an hour later and you were ready to wash the remaining dye out and blow dry your hair. Bucky had been excellent the entire time he dyed your hair, always making sure his touches were gentle, and he'd even cast you an apprehensive smile every now and then.

"Okay, head under the faucet," Bucky whispers, sticking his hand under the water to make sure it was warm enough. Satisfied with the temperature he whipped around to give you a smile, gesturing to the sink. With your own smile you slid up beside him, maneuvering your head under the sink.

Bucky's hands gingerly massaged your hair as he worked out the excess dye, his nails gently scraped along your scalp and you nearly moaned at the attention; damn his hands felt good.

"Okay, head up," You maneuver your head from under the faucet and immediately Bucky wraps a towel around your hair, drying it out a bit before you blow dried it. You hum as Bucky gently dries your hair, his hands gently massaging your head once again. "Okay," Bucky steps back, bringing the towel with him. "I think you're done," You smile at him, quickly pecking his lips before turning and grabbing your hair dryer.

"Almost done." You correct him, smirking as you plug the machine In. You hop back up on the counter, closing your eyes as you go to flip on the machine; you didn’t want to see your hair just yet, you wanted to be surprised.

"Um-" Bucky pauses, gesturing to the hair dryer. "Can I help?" You smile as you hand him the hair dryer and a brush, closing your eyes as you felt the brush of his fingertips against your hair. “Back up on the counter sweetheart,” He whispers, patting the granite counter top a bit. You clamber back on the counter, situating yourself on the cold stone as Bucky began to work on your hair. Gently, as he always was, he brushed your hair out, untangling any knots he worked up when he was drying your hair. After smoothing your tangles out he turned the hair dryer on, slowly beginning to dry your hair.

It took longer than when you'd do it but Bucky was being so soft and gentle that you honestly couldn't complain. You hum once again, arching up against his hand as he runs it through your hair, the other hand holding the hair dryer.

"Does that feel good?" He asks, a smug tone to his voice. You nod your head, nearly purring at his touch.

"Yeah," you whisper.

"That's a shame considering your hair is dry now-" Bucky shuts off the hair dryer, setting it down on the counter as he once again grabbed the brush to brush at any tangles.

"Is it done? Does it look good?" You ask as Bucky inspects your hair, lifting some strands and pushing some others out of the way.

"Why don't you look?" Bucky asks, gesturing to the mirror. You sigh shakily as you glance at the mirror, a smile suddenly rising to your lips as you caught a glimpse of your hair.

"Oh wow," you whisper, giving the mirror your full attention now. "Bucky this looks great!" You smile at him, quickly hopping off the counter to hug him tightly. Bucky chuckles, hugging you back as you squeeze him. "Wow this is- I love it!"

"Yeah?" Bucky questions as he runs his fingers through the now silver hair, each strand glimmering under the bathroom lights. "I think I love it too,"

"I thought you liked my natural hair?"

"Well I do, but this is really cool too," Bucky smiles, shifting some of your hair around.

"So you don't hate it?"

"No," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to your hairline. "I don't hate it. You're like a really attractive silver fox,"

"Oh god," you laugh, shaking your head. "I'm going to be hearing these old jokes until this fades,"

"You know it," Bucky chuckles, rubbing his nose against yours. "Hey! We could be that foxy old couple!"

"That's it- I'm dyeing it again,"

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel imagine #Sebastian Stan imagine #Sebastian Stan #captain america #captain america imagine #avengers #avengers imagine

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ritebeforeyoureyes · 6 years

Text

Childhood Sweethearts

This was an alternate universe idea I was thinking of and miraculously, something that the lovely, Bell, suggested so here, it is! Sorry it kinda sucks but I literally have the biggest headache.

Masterlist - Plot: Zendaya and Tom are childhood sweethearts who reunite after some time apart.

Childhood Sweethearts (One-Shot)

There are always things that coincide, things you associate with one another: Romeo and Juliet, peanut butter and jelly, gin and tonic. At one point in time, Zendaya Coleman and Tom Holland were one of those things.

Inseparable since birth, the pair were the picturesque friendship. They were the type of kids that bystanders knew were going to get married someday, start their own perfect family. They were all sunshine and daisies; a predictable yet loveable little love story. And, as the two transcended from childhood to adulthood, it seemed like they were subconsciously abiding by the path of predictability that had been set out for them.

It started with an era of awkwardness. They were about twelve, thirteen years old and in that strange phase of still being immature and wanting to be grown; the phase that came with a newfound appreciation for the opposite sex.

Tom had been the first to notice. Realisation hit him like a tonne of bricks whilst they were watching movies together. Zendaya was being her usual self, her legs outstretched across the sofa as her back rested against Tom’s forearm. They were watching a horror and she was clinging to his shirt tightly, her face nuzzling its way into the crook of his neck. It was from the corner of his eye that Tom suddenly noticed how strikingly beautiful his best friend was. Her hazel eyes flickered closed occasionally with fear and she was using her curls as a shield from the paranormal world unfolding before them. Her hair was a chocolate brown colour and it evidently seemed to brighten her tanned complexion. The most striking feature about her though was those lips. Tom hadn’t noticed them before but now he felt compelled to touch them; touch her lips with his own. It was a strange sensation, one that made Tom’s eyes widen with realisation and before he could comprehend it, he had kissed her – they were both each other’s first kiss.

In fact, their friendship was a frenzy of firsts.

They were fifteen now. Zendaya was meant to be going on her first ever real date. This new kid had moved into town, Spencer. He was the stereotypical pretty boy and from the offset Tom had had issues with the guy. He didn’t like the fact that all the girls were pinning over him, he didn’t like that he was the new soccer captain and he most definitely didn’t like that he’d asked Zendaya on a date. Tom had never had to fight for Zendaya’s attention prior to this moment and it had taken him a while to admit that he was threatened, so threatened that he’d jumped at the chance to have a ‘mock date’ with Zendaya before her real one. It was safe to say that Zendaya had enjoyed her first date much more than her second and Spencer was history.

However, the big first had happened when they were seventeen. They were at Jacob Batalon’s annual birthday bash. The shindig was always the biggest party of the year and this was the first time that the whole class was in attendance of a party with alcohol. Tom, being close pals with Jacob, had helped him set up early so, he and Zendaya didn’t get to do their typical pre-party routine. They’d usually chill, have dinner, he’d sit with her whilst she got ready before driving the two of them to their desired location.

So, when Tom did finally spot Zendaya, they were both good levels of tipsy. She was in a little red number, a freakum dress at its finest and Tom couldn’t help but keep his eyes (or his hands) off her. In her heels, she was a satisfactory level taller than him and weirdly enough, he was turned on by that prospect. Her lengthy legs stretched for days and Tom found himself drooling at the sight. He’d sought her out in a crowd and immediately been mesmerised by her. Zendaya had come over to say hello and Tom had made the rash decision to say hello with his lips. Zendaya, with the alcohol following through her system, responded all most immediately. Honestly, it didn’t even surprise anyone that it had happened; spectators just rolled their eyes and let them get on with it.

It was a messy gesture of attached lips, frantic hands and excess clothing. Tom forced her up against the kitchen wall first; his body caging hers in against the flat surface. She bent down a little, their faces level with one another as she gripped at his hair tightly. His curls were growing out and she liked it, liked the silky feel of it in her hands. She’d go between caressing it and tugging at it; the tugs stimulating guttural moans from the back of Tom’s throat. They’d then continued to progress upstairs. They stumbled, and they fell until they were on a bed, naked, and withering with a pent-up lust that they’d spent years supressing. It had been a little awkward and desperate, a night full of getting to know one another in a way that was so intimate they were glad they were doing it together. Tom had worshipped every inch of her body, taking his time to savour the taste and feel of her. Never in his dreams had he thought he’d be losing his virginity to his best friend but in all honesty, he was glad that he was. He couldn’t envision any other man respecting her as much as he was right now. It wasn’t the rose petal and candlelit room that she deserved but he knew, his actions and his constant reference to her beauty and her sexiness was enough. It had been the perfect night.

Seventeen was also a year that held another big first – heartbreak. It was at seventeen that they were told that Zendaya’s father had gotten a transfer to New York. It was earth-shattering news for the both of them. They were in this weird grey area of limbo with their relationship and all of their questions were left unanswered as Zendaya was thrust into the bleak reality of moving across the country. There was no room for discussion with her parents either; within weeks of losing their virginity to one another, Tom and Zendaya were separated.

At first the distance was manageable, they would FaceTime and call; he’d even be corny enough to write her a letter here and there but in all honesty, their relationship was never the same. When she was upset, calling Tom wasn’t the same as a hug from him. When he was sore, a little tender love and care wasn’t the same as a text message. And as two years panned out, contact between the two dwindled to a rarity; a privilege saved for birthdays and holiday wishes. It wasn’t like Tom and Zendaya had stopped being friends, it was just that they’d stopped being close. Zendaya had once told Tom every unnecessary of her life and now, she had decided against messaging Tom about her admittance into UCLA. Going to UCLA for college meant that she was back in California; back home. But in reality, it didn’t feel like home.

Zendaya, stupidly, presumed Tom would be waiting at the airport for her. She knew he didn’t even know she was coming but an idealistic part of her hoped these two years hadn’t happened; that he was still her best friend and that she’d be able to jump into his arms at the earliest of conveniences. L.A. was where everything between Tom and her happened and it was hard not to associate him with this lifestyle. But of course, Zendaya had set herself up for failure because none of what she’d hoped for had happened. With her parents still in New York, Zendaya was left to fend for herself. She’d lifelessly moved into dorms and settled into early college life, the reality of Tom’s absence hitting her harder than ever.

But being at college was different to being at school. Zendaya lived and breathed in close proximity to other people and within days of being on campus, her closed off nature was being detected. It had taken her new roommate, Laura, a few persistent tries before Zendaya was confessing the deepest and darkest fears she had been harbouring for years now. She was still irrevocably in love with her best friend, despite their lack of communication and Laura found herself humbled by the story. It was one of the most sardonically romantic stories she had heard, and she felt sorry for Zendaya. It was going to be hard to forget her first love, but it was something she would have to do, sooner or later. Laura didn’t want Zendaya, a girl who had been nothing but nice to her, to ruin her college experience because of a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her.

“I know it’ll take you a while to forget,” Laura, herself, had never been as in love with someone as Zendaya was with Tom so on a personal level, she couldn’t relate to her friend. But, one thing she could relate with was heartbreak. She’d dealt with her fair share of assholes and she knew the perfect remedy for an aching heart. “But how about a girl’s night out to distract you for a little?”

They say the first few weeks of college are the most integral, socially. It’s where you join sororities and clubs, try out for teams and go to frat parties. After being here for a week, Zendaya had done none of it and she knew she was being idiotic. She had moved back to L.A. to start a new chapter of her life and with or without Tom, she was going to have to go on. So, she got dressed up and she plastered her face with a façade of smile and she fearlessly strut into a frat party, her dear friend by her side.

Music was loud and thumping and after three or so cups of spiked cider, Zendaya found herself nervous with a sense of déjà vu. Her mind was trying to grasp why everything felt so familiar until a bulky arm encircled her waist. It was much larger than she remembered but the familiarity was there, the mere touch was enough for Zendaya to figure out who her captor was. She traced the protruding vein on his arm before spinning in his hold. His curls had disappeared, that was the first thing she’d picked up on, her face settling into a frown at the much shorter hair do. Everything else, on the other hand, was pretty much the same. He had beefed up a little and Zendaya’s gaze leisurely made its way up his chest to his squared shoulders.

“You’re here.” His voice came out like a whisper above the sound of rap music. His tone was rough and raspy and like their first night together, there was no other utterance between them. Their hellos was a kiss that made time stop. Zendaya cupped his light stubble covered face and smashed her lips into his. He hadn’t even been shocked by her abruptness, his lips meeting hers with an urgency that was unexpected for those who had been apart for years. They were clinging to one another so tight, both scared that if they didn’t, the other would disappear. It was a frenzy of committing everything to memory in fear that this would be their last time together.

But it was safe to say, after that night, Tom and Zendaya’s relationship stopped being one of firsts. She was no longer the girl he’d slept with once, she was the girl he’d made love to over and over. Tom was also able to take her out on that well deserved second date, four years later.

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