#saws300followerwc

[cali-holland]

Hubby- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anonymous: Hello my love! can I get a cute request? just super cute domestic Tom and y/n. Because we all know love isn't just about the grand gestures, but the simple moments or giggling together and making faces in the mirror as you brush your teeth, him stealing a slice of veggie off the chopping board as you get dinner ready, him complaining that you like too many cushions on the bed, the little mumbled 'love you' as you both go to sleep. I'm down for reading anything like that . love your writing :)

Prompt: Tom makes even the simplest of days amazing.

Word Count: 4800

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes/innuendos, some pain (Tom gets hit in the balls at one point), LOTS of fluff

A/N: this is for the lovely @cunaeparker​ ‘s writing challenge, the prompt is in bold! I combined it with the request because it just went so well with all the fluff!!

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

The familiar sound of a cell phone buzzing drew you out of your deep sleep. With your eyes still closed, you cuddled closer to Tom’s chest, hoping that the phone would quit ringing soon. He shifted underneath you as he tried to reach his phone on the nightstand, but seeing as you two were tangled up on your side of the bed and there was basically a mountain of pillows on his side, he couldn’t quite grab it without moving away from you.

“Just leave it.” You mumbled, not wanting him (a.k.a. your pillow) to move.

“Love, it’s my mum.” He laughed lightly, the vibrations running through his bare chest to your cheek. He pressed a kiss to your head, before you shifted off him so he could get his phone. He picked up the call and resumed his position as your morning cuddle buddy. You wrapped an arm around his waist and laid your head back on his chest. His free hand mindlessly found its way to play with your hair.

“No, you didn’t wake us.” Tom told his mother, but the raspiness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by her. He laughed, “Okay, yes, you did.” He paused and you could hear her voice coming through the phone. Tom looked down at you for a moment, “Are we still on for the barbecue this afternoon?”

“We can be?” You answered. You both knew he obviously forgot to mention how his mother invited the two of you to a barbecue.

“Yes, mum, we’ll be there. What do you want us to bring?” He spoke back into the phone. “Vegetables? That’s not broad at all.” You lightly smacked his chest at his sarcasm, and his free hand came down to hold the hand that just hit him, “Okay, yeah we can do a salad.” There was another pause as she spoke to him before he replied, “Y/N would love to make some dessert.” Hearing him sign you up for food, you playfully glared at him. He said goodbye to his mother and tossed his phone to the side. You sat up and straddled his waist on your knees, your hands falling by his head to keep your face above his.

“Looks like we’re going grocery shopping.” Tom smiled up at you innocently, his hands resting on your hips.

“When were you going to tell me your mum invited us over?” You asked.

“Now, I guess,” He shrugged slightly. With his thumbs drawing light circles on your hips, he teasingly added, “When were you going to give me my morning kiss?”

You shrugged in return, but leaned down to kiss him nonetheless. He smiled into the kiss, moving a hand to cradle the back of your head, keeping you in place to continue kissing you.

“Your morning breath’s shit.” He laughed, pulling away from the innocent-turned-a-bit-heated kiss as you sat up straight.

“Yeah, well you have the ugliest bed head I have ever seen.” You teased, ruffling his hair. He caught your wrist, pulling your hand down to in front of his face.

“I believe this hand’s the culprit of that.” He joked, pecking your open palm.

“You weren’t complaining last night.” You shuffled off of him and got out of the bed. Walking over to your shared closet, you started to plan out a nice outfit for the day. “Come on, we gotta go grocery shopping.”

“Wanna shower together? Save time and save water?” Tom suggested, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“You get so horny in the morning.” You laughed.

“I’m needy, not horny.” He insisted before pressing a kiss to your neck. “We’ll be conserving water. C’mon, wifey, think of the planet.”

“Alright, go start the shower.” Both of you knew you would cave like almost every morning, but it didn’t stop him from letting out an excited cheer. He pecked your cheek and left to go warm up the water.

Once you two were showered and dressed, you went to make some bacon and eggs for breakfast while Tom made you both a morning cup of tea.

“Bacon,” You stated, holding out a piece of bacon from your spot by the stove as he fixed you some tea at the island. He leaned over and ate the bacon from your fingers.

“Tasty.” He hummed, turning back to his task.

“It’s bacon, duh.” You laughed, eating a piece of bacon yourself.

“Shit. We don’t have any more milk.” Tom sighed, looking at the blank spot in the fridge where the milk would normally sit. He looked at the two mugs of tea and the bowl of sugar on the counter; without milk, it just wouldn’t be right.

“Did you finish it off?” You asked, knowing he made himself a cup of tea late last night before you two went to bed.

“Damn it, I did.” He let out a groan.

“So we need milk.” You noted, taking out your phone to create a legitimate list for the store; it’d be too long for you to remember everything. “What do we want for dinner tomorrow?”

“Wanna try that lamb recipe you found last week?” He suggested.

“Yeah, can you check what we need for that?”

“You got it.” He nodded and pulled out his phone. You’d sent him the recipe just last week, saying that it looked good and that you two should try to make it sometime. He’d never made lambchops before so he was a bit skeptical, but agreed with you nonetheless. He walked through your kitchen and pantry, searching to make sure you had all of the ingredients, while you continued to finish cooking the eggs and bacon.

“Breakfast done yet?” He asked, finishing his search.

“Yep,” You replied as you dished up the food.

“You’re the best, darling.” Tom beamed, giving you a quick kiss. You grabbed both plates while he gathered the silverware and you both sat down at the small table in your kitchen nook.

“If only we had milk.” He pouted, eating a bite of the eggs.

“Hey, you drank the rest of it.” You reminded him.

“If I remember correctly, you said it was the best cuppa I’d ever made and you drank a good half of that.” He corrected you, but you just shook your head. “Wanna make that chocolate cake for dessert? I know Harry and Sam are going to be expecting it.”

Homemade chocolate cake- your ‘signature’ dessert that all of the Holland boys loved. In fact, it was that very cake that made Tom fall in love with you. The way to his heart was truly through his stomach.

“Why isn’t Sam making anything? He’s the chef.” You laughed, thinking about how Sam was insistent on being the head chef of the family.

“I think he’s actually making bread with some sort of dip.”

“Sam’s making us bread?” Your mouth was already watering at the thought of fresh homemade bread.

“We should try making bread sometime.” Tom offered. You nodded in agreement, you’d never made bread before but it’d be interesting to attempt it with Tom.

With breakfast over, Tom started to load up the dishwasher with your plates and the frying pans while you made your way into the bathroom to start on your makeup. By the time he’d finished and come into the room, you were just about to start your mascara.

“Can I do it?” He asked, an eager smile on his face.

“Don’t poke me in the eye, Holland.” You said, trying to sound threatening. You sat on the bathroom counter with your legs spread so he could stand between them. You handed him the mascara tube. He had done your mascara a couple times before (because he just really really wanted to try to do your makeup) so you trusted him to do it, for the most part. As long as he didn’t stab you somehow, then you were fine. You sat still while he applied the makeup to your lashes.

“There. Does that look good, wifey?” He stepped back enough for you to turn and look in the mirror. It was even, you had to give him props for that, but it was almost nonexistent. He was still trying to find the happy medium between applying too little and applying too much.

“You did great.” You gave him a quick kiss and hopped off the counter to full face the mirror again. You applied some more mascara on your lashes quickly and he shook his head.

“I’ll get it one day.” He stated, getting out the toothbrush as you laughed lightly at him. Tom grabbed your toothbrush and his, running them under the sink before applying toothpaste to them.

“Thank you,” You smiled as he handed you your toothbrush. 

“Can we get bananas and macadamia nuts too?” Tom asked, half muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth as he stopped brushing. You spit out the toothpaste into the sink, looking at him through the mirror.

“You want me to make banana nut bread again?” You questioned, before continuing to brush your teeth.

“It’s the best.” He nodded.

“Okay, we’ll get the stuff for it.” You reassured him. He pulled out his phone, looking at a text he’d received as you eyed him through the mirror. Even when doing something as simple as brushing his teeth, your boyfriend was just breathtaking and you felt so lucky to have him. He noticed your gaze and pulled a funny face- well, as best he could while brushing his teeth. You laughed and leaned over the sink, spitting out the mixture of toothpaste and saliva in your mouth as you coughed. If it was anyone else beside you, you would’ve been embarrassed by the unattractiveness of the scene, but it was Tom, your loving boyfriend of four years.

“God, you’re making me choke on spit.” You laughed, cleaning off your toothbrush under the faucet.

“Spitters are quitters, babe.” Tom teased you and you playfully elbowed him in the torso, causing him to yelp in surprise. You stepped aside so he could use the sink. After spitting into the sink and rinsing out his mouth, he turned to you with a cheeky grin, “I know, I know. I of all people should know you’re not a spitter.”

“Fuck off.” You rolled your eyes at him, spraying some of your perfume onto your neck. Your collection of perfume sat in the corner of the bathroom counter, right next to Tom’s own collection of cologne- ironically (but it was totally expected actually) he had more.

“By the way, my mum asked if we could host the barbecue here? Apparently my dad forgot their barbecue was broken.” He asked you as he put on cologne.

“Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“No, no, I swear she just now texted me about it.” He insisted, slipping on a watch while you put on some jewelry. The two of you maneuvering through the bathroom easily in your morning routine.

“That’s fine if we host, but that just means you’re helping me clean.” You stated.

“When do I not help you clean?” He smiled at you innocently and you narrowed your eyes at him. You both knew exactly how much he helped you clean. In all honesty, he would genuinely help you clean for a solid hour, but it was around hour 2 of cleaning that turned into a dance party for him, which turned into him distracting you from cleaning. “I can always ask if Harry could host it, but then Harrison would be there.”

“Oh no, definitely can’t handle Harrison showing up.” You sarcastically rolled your eyes. It was a running joke between the three of you that you and Harrison were competing for Tom’s attention. Harrison was like a brother to you, and there really wasn’t any competition going on, but it was still funny to joke about. “Your mum probably invited him already.”

“She probably did.” He laughed. He shoved off the numerous pillows on his side of the bed, except for the one he actually sleeps on at the head of the bed, “Do we really need that many pillows?”

“They’re comfy!” You insisted, pulling up the bottom sheet on your side as he mirrored your actions across the bed.

“I’m your pillow, you don’t even use them.”

“You’re not wrong, but we’re keeping them.” You smiled while the two of you finished making the bed.

After you two went to the grocery store (and Tom just about dropped most of the groceries while unloading them because he was carrying like ten bags between his two hands since “multiple trips are for the weak, love”), he put away the groceries while you started the laundry. While it wasn’t something his family would actually see when they came later, it’d been piling up for days and you just really needed it to get done.

“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as you came back into the kitchen. He sat perched on the kitchen counter with his phone in hand, small bluetooth stereo sitting beside him. Just as you opened your mouth to suggest an artist, he cut you off with a grin, “No One Direction.”

“Shawn Mendes then?” You teased, stepping between his legs.

“Nope.” He shook his head.

“Why’d you ask me then, hubby?” You laughed, taking his phone from his hands and stepping away from him.

“Hey, that’s mine!” He jumped off the counter, trying to grab his phone back.

“Too late.” You smiled as the familiar opening to “Steal My Girl” played over the speakers. You queued a few more random songs on his Spotify and handed his phone back over to him, “Now, you’re on vacuum duty.”

“You said ‘duty’.” He giggled like a schoolboy.

“Thomas,” You sighed. 

“You lined that one up for me!” He gave you a quick kiss. You shook your head at your crazy boyfriend as he wandered off to the closet where you kept the vacuum.

“Everybody wanna steal my girl, everybody wanna take her heart away,” Tom shouted along to the chorus from the other room. “Couple billion in the whole wide world, find another one ‘cause she belongs to me!”

You sang along to the song while you worked on the cake. Once it was in the oven, you started on cutting the array of vegetables for the salad. You weren’t far into the process of washing and cutting the different vegetables before Tom came into the kitchen vacuum in hand.

“Do I get some?” He asked, spying the cucumber you were currently cutting up. He walked over to you, mouth open wide wanting a slice. You gave him a piece of the cucumber and he hummed in content. He cracked open the oven slightly to smell the cake baking in there, “Damn, I should wife you up, you’re great in the kitchen.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed at his comment. While you two called each other wifey/hubby and make “wife me up” jokes, neither of you really were ready for marriage and neither of you felt any pressure to get married. “I left the beaters out for you.”

Tom smiled as he grabbed one of the chocolate covered beaters, licking it like a little kid with a lollipop. The song changed to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” and your boyfriend wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Don’t go breaking my heart,” He started singing into the beater (that had been mostly licked clean by that nice tongue of his), nodding at you encouragingly to keep singing.

“I couldn’t if I tried,” You sang back, unable to hide your smile at his antics.

“Oh honey, if I get restless,”

“Baby, you’re not that kind”

He set the beater aside to take your hands in his, pulling you in to dance with him. Your little impromptu dancing and singing party ended when the song changed and you pulled him back to the reality that was cleaning. While Tom finished vacuuming the house and cleaning the tables outside, you completed the salad and cake and cleaned the kitchen.

“Wanna watch something until my parents show up?” Tom asked you from his spot on the couch in the living room as you began to move the laundry.

“Sure, just fold these.” You said, walking into the living room. He frowned, hoping he was done with household chores. Seeing his reaction, you emptied the laundry basket of clean clothes on him.

“Hey, I’m layin’ here!” He did in his best overdramatic New Yorker impression.

“Fold the laundry, Dustin Hoffman.” You shook your head at him before leaving to finish moving the laundry around. You called back to him from the other room, “When is your family coming?”

“About twenty minutes?” Tom replied, checking his phone quickly to look at the time.

“Did you see if Haz was coming?” You asked, coming back into the room to help him fold the clothes.

“Why? You wanna see Haz that desperately?” He joked.

“Oh obviously. What’s the point of moving in with you if I can’t show off to Haz that I’m winning?” You teased. Tom threw a sock at you, shaking his head with a laugh. 

“Yeah, Harry said he’s coming. We’ve got an even number for football now.” He smiled, ready to play against his brothers.

“I’m so going to kick your ass after what happened last time.” You stated.

“Darling, you know that was an accident.” Tom insisted, still feeling a bit guilty about the incident. Last time you were playing football with him, his brothers, and Harrison, he accidentally kicked the ball in your face while you were even on the same team. Luckily, there was no mark, but Tom was even clingier than usual as he felt incredibly guilty about it. It occurred a month ago and you were ready for payback.

“I’m just teasing.” You smiled, leaning over the pile of laundry to give him a kiss. The two of you worked silently on finishing up folding the clothes until Tom’s eyes landed on your lacy black underwear, cheekily smiling at you while he held it up.

“Your boyfriend must be so lucky to see you in this.”

“Oh those? Didn’t buy ‘em for him.” You teased, taking the underwear from his hands and putting it aside. Tom’s hands grabbed your waist and he pulled you into his lap.

“I’m so lucky to have you. You’re my favorite person.” He said as you rested your forehead against his.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” Your hands rested at the back of his neck as you leaned in to kiss him. With your fingers scratching the nape of his neck lightly as they played with his hair there and his hands bringing you even more tightly against him, you two started to get caught up in the moment; nothing lustful, just passionate and romantic. You broke the kiss, your nose resting against his as you looked into his eyes, both of you a bit breathless.

You jumped hearing the doorbell ring. His family was here, and that meant the laundry needed to be off the couch and hidden in your room. As Tom went to answer the door, you hurried to move the laundry to your room, quickly folding the last few articles of clothing.

“Smells clean in here, must be Y/N.” Sam teased his older brother as he walked into the house with Tessa at his feet. He held a container of the freshly baked bread while his parents and Paddy came in behind him, bringing in the uncooked main course. Tom rolled his eyes at Sam’s comment, leaning down to give Tessa some well deserved love. You had lived with Tom for almost two years now, and his brothers still loved to poke fun at how organized and well-decorated his house is. Harry and Harrison trailed shortly after them, holding a ball for later and a case of beer as their contribution for the evening. You came out of the bedroom, having put the laundry away enough for now, and greeted your second family.

“Were we interrupting something?” Harrison snickered, spotting the underwear you had accidentally left on the couch.

“It’s laundry day. Get your head out of the gutter.” Tom quickly grabbed the offending undergarment and haphazardly threw it in your room before closing the door.

“Gross.” Harry gagged.

“So no sitting on the couch.” Sam laughed.

“Don’t sit anywhere then if you’re so concerned.” You smacked your boyfriend for his teasing comment that wasn’t completely untrue. Though you loved the Hollands and they loved you, you still weren’t comfortable with the sex jokes in front of his parents, that’s just never a good topic.

“Sam, that bread smells heavenly.” You told him, effectively changing the topic.

“Thank you. I tried a new recipe to make the artichoke dip to go with it.” He explained as you all moved out of the house to the outside table. He set the container of the table and opened it up so you could see (and smell even more) the bread.

You got wrapped up in a conversation with Sam and Nikki as you pet Tessa, who sat happily at your feet. Tom and his dad got the barbecue together while the other three boys started to kick around the ball on the grass.

“Wanna be on my team, wifey?” Tom asked you, walking up behind your chair and resting his head on your shoulder, letting his hands fall to your lap.

“Hell no, I told you I was getting payback.” You replied, making Sam laugh while his older brother pouted.

“Pwease?” He grabbed your hands in his, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Too late, she’s on my team.” Sam piped up, despite the fact that teams hadn’t even been discussed yet.

“We’re stealing your girl.” Harry said, kicking the ball over to Tom. You unwrapped yourself from Tom’s arms to stand up as his pout grew bigger.

“Aw, you’re breaking his heart. Does this mean I’m the favorite now?” Harrison asked with a hopeful smile. 

“Only if we win.” Tom stated, picking up the ball and walking over to the far side of the yard with Harrison and Paddy.

“So that’s a no.” You smiled at Harrison. Tom set the ball between the two teams, in the middle of the two ‘goalposts’ (a.k.a. the cones Tom set up on either side of the yard months ago).

The game began and Harrison was doing his best to block you from getting the ball (and keeping Tom from getting distracted by you). The Hollands were, of course, getting a bit more physical than regular football, kicking each other and shoving a bit, as brothers do. The game was 2-0 with you and the twins winning. When Paddy passed the ball to Harrison, you managed to swipe it from him. You sent it over to Sam and Tom basically slide tackled his brother to get it.

“That’s a foul!” You shouted as Sam landed on the grass with a soft ‘thud’.

“Nope!” Tom exclaimed, kicking the ball through Harry’s legs and into the goal. He cheered with Harrison and Paddy while you helped up Sam, who was fine and used to the physicalness of it all. This time, you started off with the ball and Harrison tried to steal it back, but you were too fast in swiftly kicking it to Harry, who Paddy was trying to block.

“Elbow him!” Tom called out, running about in front of Sam to block him.

“Tom,” Nikki said in a warning tone when he started to push Sam back a bit.

“I need to win!” He replied. Harry passed the ball back to you and you dribbled it down the makeshift field.

“Go away!” Sam shoved his older brother, trying to get him out of the way.

“Fine!” Tom huffed, running over to you. Harrison took it as a sign to go block the open twin.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” You asked your boyfriend as he attempted to kick the ball out from your feet, but your movements were too quick for him. You nutmegged him, sending the ball straight through his legs to Harry. Your perfect pass was defeated by Paddy stealing the ball from him. Before you could move to block him, Tom picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.

“Go Pads!” He cheered, holding your waist as you kicked your feet in the air.

“Tom, put me down! This is cheating!” You shouted. You felt Tom’s hand shift subtly more to your butt than your hip, making you slap his back. With you caught up with Tom, Paddy scored the goal easily.

“Hey, now, no inappropriate touching in front of the Padster.” Harry teased, seeing his brother’s hand placement.

“Shove off!” Paddy threw the ball over to his curly haired brother.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tom chuckled, setting you down.

“You’re going to regret that.” You told him, before Harry kicked the ball to signal the game was back on. Knowing his distraction would most likely not work again, Tom switched places with Harrison, going back to beating up Sam.

“Food will be done in two minutes.” Dom announced and you all knew that meant this was the speed round. The stakes were high with both teams tied. After a few minutes of Tom basically playing keep away when he finally got the ball, he kicked it over to Paddy. Harry elbowed his brother and sent the ball to you. Not even stopping it to gain control, you kicked it straight at their open goal.

It would’ve gone in and you would’ve won if Tom hadn’t jumped in the way to save it.

“Ah, fuck!” He shouted, grabbing himself while the rest of the boys grimaced and laughed. Even you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing a little at his mistake. Seeing an opportunity to make a goal with everyone paused, Sam kicked the ball in and he and Harry cheered- you won.

“Baby, you alright?” You asked, going over to Tom who was still bent over in pain.

“God, you really were going for payback.” He groaned, but nodded that he was okay.

“We won!” Sam and Harry cheered as everyone sat down around the table with Dom serving up the food.

“I’m sorry you got in the way of my glorious kick.” You told Tom, holding his hand in yours.

“Yeah, it was a really good kick.” He winced a little.

Dinner and dessert with the Hollands + Harrison (the honorary Holland) went on without any more injuries (unless you count Harry shoving a piece of cake in Paddy’s face as a joke). Goodbyes went all around as they left later, and Tom did the rest of the dishes while you cleaned outside.

“You feeling better?” You wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, once you finished outside. He stopped his work at the sink.

“Better. I thought you broke it for a few minutes there.” Tom laughed, washing his hands and drying them before turning around in your arms.

“Oh no, we wouldn’t want that.” You teased, “I’d have to go find another dick until it healed.”

“Is that all I am to you? A dick appointment?” He asked with a small laugh, pulling you in closer to him by your waist.

“No, you’re my favorite person in the world.” You smiled at him tenderly as he ran a hand through your hair and rested it on your cheek.

“You’re my favorite person, too.” He leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

The romantic, sweet moment was cut short by his next teasing comment, “You know, that kick was really great. I’m still impressed. You really know your way around balls.”

“Shut up and kiss me, hubby.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fic #tom holland fluff #saws300followerwc

[chaoticpete]

Miscommunication

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Fluff central my dudes

Summary: You have slight feelings for a certain brown eyed, brunette boy. But you’re pretty sure he dosnt like being around you

A.N: This is for @cunaeparker May writing challenge. I’m sorry it’s a bit late babes! 🥺🥺 Hopefully you’ll still accept it 😭

You were sitting with Harley in his lab at the compound watching as he fixes the iron lad suit.

“Harrleeeyyy! I’m bored.” You complained to the blue-eyed boy causing him to lose focus a bit resulting in him shocking himself with the two wires he was holding.

“Why don’t you go bother Peter or something? I know how much you love being around him anyway.” He glances up at you giving you a knowing smirk and wiggling his eyebrows.

You and Harley have been best friends since forever. You were there the night Tony had crashed into Harley’s garage and helped him out. You still miss that hello kitty watch a bit. It was true you had a bit of a crush on the brunette haired boy. I mean how couldn’t you? The first time you two met he stuttered more times than how many words were in the actual sentence.

You let out a sigh and place your head in the palm of your hand. “I think I intimidate him. Whenever I come around, he gets all jittery and never makes eye contact and just makes an excuse to leave.”

Just as you finish, a certain boy walks through the entrance of the lab keeping his focus on Harley. “Hey, me and a few friends are going to hang out for lunch and just wanted to see if you would like to join us? You can come to Y/N...if you want.” Peter says shooting a quick glance and a quick smile.

“Oh, thanks, Peter. We’ll love to join. Just give me like ten minutes.” Harley says, taking off his goggles. Peter gives him a slight nod and glance at you again and quickly leaves.

You open your mouth and gesture to where he was standing just a few seconds before. “See?! He hates me!” Harley rolls his eyes and walks out of the lab with you following. “He doesn’t hate you.” He says walking into his room to change his shirt. “Harls, I’m pretty sure he only invited me cause I was there.” You tell him watching as he changes into a cleaner shirt. “I just don’t get why?”

“Why don't you just admit that you like him? His response might surprise you.” “Or hurt me.” You mumble under your breath and Harley warped his arm around your shoulder as he walked past pulling you close.

“Yeah, yeah.” Both of you walk towards the common room where Peter is sitting on the couch waiting for you.

“I CALL SHOTGUN!” You yell running towards the garage. “Good! Cause Parker is driving.” Harley said placing his hand on Peter’s shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze and tossing him the keys.

All three of you get into the car. Harley proudly wears a smirk in the backseat glancing between you two.

The ride is silent, both you and Peter looking a bit tense. Pulling up to the place, you all get out and head inside finding Ned and MJ already there at a table in the back.

“Sup losers.” MJ says, giving all of you a slight nod. Ned gives all of you a huge smile and wave. You all take seats at the round table in the order of, you, MJ, Harley, Peter and Ned.

Lunch is going smoothly till the topics of relationships suddenly come up. “Well Y/n has a crush on someone but they think and they are not very fond of them.” You think you see Peter sulk in his chair a bit but decide to wave it off. “Actually, the person is actually he-“ before he can finish the sentence, you quickly grab your spoon and fling it towards him. Only it didn’t hit him.

“Did you...did you just throw a spoon at me?” You gasp and cover your mouth with your hands. Peter picks up the spoon from his lap and places it on the table. “Peter I am so sorry! I was trying to hit that asshat!” The others around the table start laughing, you and Peter joining in after a few seconds.

The rest of the lunch went smoothly. When everyone was leaving Peter pulled you to the side. “Hey Y/n...can I ask you something? Well, more like tell you something.” “Totally.” You see him playing with his hands and he refuses to make eye contact.

“I know I may not be the most approachable...and I haven’t exactly been giving you the best attitude. But I like you...like a lot and I just never knew how to really approach you and then I heard that you might be into some-“ he starts to ramble and stops him quickly pulling him into a hug.

“It’s you.” He slowly wraps his arms around your waist. “Huh?” “It’s you silly. I was just scared that you didn’t like me cause you never wanna seem to be around me.” “Oh no. I was just worried about making a fool of myself but that still seemed to happen.” “And I found it very cute.”

He gives you a smile. “We should probably head out before Harley comes and gets us himself.” “Yeah he’s always so cranky after he eats a lot.”

But Harley was anything but cranky when he saw the two of his closest friends walking out of the restaurant hand in hand.

Tags:: @underoosjae @sovereignparker @allegra-writes @andromedaaaaaaaaa @spider-parker04 @cunaeparker @lost-space-ranger @hey-its-grey @gwenvrse @marvel4geeks @spidey-boy-89 @kitkatd7 @buckys-other-punk @peterismymans @dreamofaprilsblog @parkerpeter24 @marvelousmrstark @peeterparkr @spideygirl2003 @starlight-starks @localpeter @chloe-geoghegan1 @spideysparklee

#saws300followerwc #marvel #peter parker #tom holland #peter parker x reader #spiderman #x reader #peter x reader #tom holland spiderman #avengers #mcu peter parker #peter parker mcu #tom holland peter parker #gender netural reader #harley keener

[ediths]

Prove It

This is my entry for @cunaeparker ‘s writing challenge. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope that anyone who reads it enjoys it!!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Prompt: “You broke me and now you expect me to come with you? Hard chance.” 

Word Count: 2.4k+

Summary: It’s been a year since Tom. You think you’re completely over him, until you run into him at the store.

Warning(s): Curse words, mentions of cheating

A/N: I am not saying that Tom would cheat on anyone, this is a work of fiction.

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It had been exactly a year since the last time that you had seen him. No, you weren’t keeping track. The fight just happened to have taken place on your best friend’s birthday. So, as you were running to the store to pick up some more paper plates and plastic utensils, the last time you saw him managed to slip its way through the cracks of the walls that you had built around all of the memories of him.

Things had been different lately. Anyone with eyes could tell you that. And they did. All of your friends and family told you. Plus, you even got pity looks from strangers when they would see how distant you two were. 

People that you had never met could tell that your relationship with Tom was absolutely falling apart, but you couldn’t.

No matter what anyone said, you couldn’t believe it.

Until Harrison came to you. And when he told you, you had no choice but to believe him. He was Tom’s best friend. He wouldn’t lie about Tom being distant and being on his phone all the time, talking to a girl that wasn’t you. He wouldn’t sabotage Tom’s relationship like that. He cared about Tom way too much for that. But he cared about you too. And he wasn’t going to sit around and let Tom hurt both of you. 

“Look, y/n. You know that I care about Tom. But I care about you too. If Tom wants to screw up his life, so be it, but I don’t want him to ruin yours more than he probably already has. But look, ask him about it alright? I didn’t go through his phone or anything. Don’t know who the woman is. Could be someone that he’s just friends with, completely platonic. I couldn’t just keep it from you if there was a chance though.” Harrison wouldn’t even look at you. It’s like he was ashamed, even though it wasn’t his fault. He had been staring at his hands the entire time that he was talking, as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the entire world.

“Thank you, Harrison. I’ll talk to him. But not right now, we’re at a party. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.” You gave him a small smile, that definitely did not meet your eyes,  when he finally looked up at you. He looked so sad, and at first, you couldn’t figure out why.

After the party, though, you sure found out. Harrison knew you and Tom were screwed the second that he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Tommy, can I talk to you?” You asked him, walking into your shared bathroom.

“Sure, love. What is it?” He didn’t even look over at you, just kept doing whatever it was he was doing in the mirror. 

“Who is she?” That sure got his attention, his eyes snapped to yours and your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You sound insane.” He snaps.

“That’s what you’ve been telling me for a long time, Tom. Every single time I have a doubt or anything. Are we drifting apart? Do I not make you happy anymore? Am I not enough for you? ‘You sound insane.’ ‘That’s insane, love.’ No, Tom, I am not insane. And I know that there’s someone else. Which means that everything that you have said I was being insane about has been true.

“I didn’t listen to my family or friends when they said we were drifting. Because that’s insane. But they were right. And if there really is another girl, Tom. Then that means that I don’t make you happy anymore and that I’m not enough. So, please, don’t lie to me Tom. Is there someone else?” He didn’t answer you. He just stood there and kept his eyes on the floor. You waited a few moments before continuing.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. How long? How long have you known that I wasn’t enough anymore? When did you start talking to her? Start cheating?”

“A few months ago.” He admits, so quietly that if you hadn’t been giving him your undivided attention to him, you would’ve missed it. But you didn’t miss it. And every part of you wished that you had.

“A few months? A few fucking months? What the fuck Tom? What kind of person does that? I loved you so fucking much. I put my everything into this relationship and you apparently don’t give a damn. I gave you everything. What more did you want? I am so tired of not being enough. I have felt that way for my entire life and you fucking know that. And you promised me that you would never make me question my worth. But now you’ve not only done that, you’ve made me question if I have any worth. If you even care about me at all. If you cared, you would have broken up with me when you started talking to her.”

“Loved?” He sounds broken, but you don’t care at this exact moment.

“I can’t love someone who doesn’t love me. I stopped doing that years ago and you know that too.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He tries to explain, but you’re quick to shut him down.

“Didn’t want to hurt me? You didn’t want to fucking hurt me? You didn’t just hurt me, Tom. You fucking broke me. What do you have to say for yourself, dude?”

“I don’t know why I did it. I really don't. You’re enough for me. Always have been. I’m so sorry. She means nothing to me. I swear, you’re the one that I love. I know, I fucked up so bad. Please, please, we can work this out. We can start over. I can prove it to you. I can make you realize that I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I can make you realize that I deserve a second chance.”

“You’re right, Tom.” He begins to look relieved, but then you keep talking. “You did fuck up. You don’t even know how bad. Tell me this, is she going to do everything for you that I do?” Is she going to go on all of your press tours? Is she going to help you get dressed so that you don’t look homeless before going out? Is she going to help you get cleaned up after a long day of shooting when you’re so tired that you can’t do it yourself? Is she going to put up with your bullshit when you’re pissed off at the world and take it out on the person closest to you? Because if she is, just know that she won’t last that long. It’s hard, Tom. And unless she completely understands your lifestyle and is completely head over heels in love with you, she won’t do it.”

“No, please, don’t go.” He begged as you began to back away.

“I hope that you find someone that loves you even half as much as I did. And I hope that you treat her a thousand times better.” You finish, not bothering to look at him again as you turn on your heel and walk out of the house. You’ll send someone to get your stuff later.

When you’re almost to your favorite coffee shop, you let the tears fall. You cried and cried and cried. 

And not just then, but for the next three months. Everything reminded you of him. And thinking of him hurt.

It was a year later, you were over him, yet him cheating still hurt like hell to think about. You hadn’t seen him since that day, and honestly, you were better off without him. You were happier without him. The thought of him as a person didn’t even make you cry anymore. Didn’t even really make you sad. 

That’s what you thought until you turned around in that god forsaken grocery store and almost ran head first into him.

All of a sudden, there are tears welling up in your eyes and you can’t think straight.

GET OUT OF THERE!!!!! Your brain is screaming at you, but your legs don’t seem to be working.

He looks as good as ever, his mop of brown curls falling just right on his forehead and his eyes burning holes into your very soul.

“Oh, um, sorry.” You say to him, trying to move out of his way, but he stops you. 

“Hey, can we talk?” His eyes have a hint of desperation in them, as if he had been waiting for this moment for the past year.

“Um, I guess. Make it quick, Holland.” You say, walking down the aisle, knowing that he would follow as you searched for the supplies that you need.

“N-no not here, y/n. This is kind of private.” He says, rushing to keep up with you.

“You can do it here, Tom. Hurry up, you’re running out of time. I’m on the clock. Have to get supplies.”

“Please, y/n. Just come with me. I’ll be quick, I just need you to talk to me. Please.”

“You broke me and now you expect me to come with you? Hard chance.” 

“Please. I’m begging you.”

“You have about 30 seconds to start talking. After that 30 seconds, I’ll decide if I go with you or not.”

“Alright, alright, yeah. Um, so. It’s been a year, right? And um, I thought that I had figured out how to let you go. How to not want to text you every single day. Do you know how many times that I have typed the same message over and over and then deleted it? Too many times. And yeah, maybe that’s sad, but I can’t help it. I also know that this is my fault, I messed up, but I can’t stop thinking about you and-”

You cut him off, looking up at him. “Come with me to the checkout line. We can talk in my car.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t even say anything else. Just nods his head and follows you.

He carries the bags after they’ve been paid for and sits them in your trunk before climbing in the passenger seat to talk to you.

“Talk to me, Holland.” You say, motioning for him to continue.

“Okay, um, so I guess I’ll start where I left off. I can’t stop thinking about you y/n. I thought that it would go away. For the first six months, I hoped every single day that you would come back. That you would give me another chance, even if I didn’t deserve it. But then you didn’t, which I obviously can’t be mad about. I made my bed, and I had to lay in it. But after the six months, I started just hoping that the pain would end. You can ask Harrison. I was hurting so bad. I felt like I couldn't breathe right without you. I wasn’t eating. Harrison would bring me food and it would just sit there. I wasn’t drinking anything except for beer at first, hoping it would get you off of my mind. But I eventually stopped drinking. Couldn’t handle the way it made me think about you. Harrison tried to get me to go to the gym, hoping that the muscle weight would hide the fact that I hadn’t been eating. Still had a career, you know? I don’t know if you’ve seen any of the movies of mine that came out in the past year, but, if you haven’t, not a single kiss scene. Barely even a love interest. I haven’t been able to look at anyone the same since you. Much less get physical with someone.”

At this point, tears were running down your face.

“And I know, I don’t deserve it, you told me a year ago, but I’m begging you for another chance. Nothing has gotten any easier. Everything reminds me of you. I see a baby on my way to work and I think about the children we wanted. I see the ads for the fucking wedding dresses that happen to be everywhere and I think about the wedding that we talked about wanting. I still wake up in the morning and reach for you. I still get disappointed when you aren’t there. I know I fucked up, but please, please, please just let me have one more chance. We can start over, be friends first if you want. We’ll go slow. Just let me prove it to you.”

“Um, alright, can I say something now?”

“Yes, yes of course you can.”

Your mind was screaming at you, telling you not to trust him. Telling you to leave him here. He hurt you once, he’ll hurt you again.

But you could see it, Tom changed. This broke him down to the boy that you met before he was famous. To the boy that you originally fell for.

“I thought that I had figured out how to think about you without it ripping my heart out. I really did. It’s been a year, but I haven’t. I saw you and my whole heart ached. Tommy, I told you that I didn’t love you anymore that day,” he grimaces at the thought of that, “but I lied. God, I love you so much that it fucking hurts. I don’t want to be friends Tom. We can’t be friends. Friends don’t know the way you taste. And yeah, you’re right, you don’t deserve it. But, I’m willing to give you a second chance. But you have to prove to me that I can trust you, that you’re not going to cheat on me again.”

His eyes light up at this, before blurting out, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll prove it to you. Um, what does this mean for us?”

“You wanna go to a birthday party, Tommy?” You purposefully avoid his question.

“Yeah, um, sure.” He says, still slightly confused.

“Oh, and by the way, I’ve noticed how many times you’ve hesitated before saying my name. You can start calling me the nicknames again, love.” 

“You told me before that I could only call you those if you were my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, Tommy, that still stands.”

“Oh, you really know how to play with my heart, darling. But, just for good measure, will you be my girlfriend again, love?”

“Of course I will Tommy, but you better prove it to me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m gonna show you just how much you mean to me. How you’re too good for me. I am one lucky man.”

“Yes, you are. If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t be getting this chance, you better not waste it Holland.”

“I won’t love, I promise you that.”

Now the only thing running through your mind was, Is he going to keep that promise?

#saws300followerwc #Tom Holland #th #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #fluff #angst #I hope that y'all like this #I was so inspired by the prompt when I read it on the list that i just had to #Tom holland smut #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield smut #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield imagine #actor #2020

[peterspideyy]

talk to me

for @cunaeparker ‘s writing challenge!

————

prompt - ‘do you want to talk about it?’

summary - tom’s comes home upset, and you don’t know why. do you try and help him?

warnings - swearing, angst, but some fluff

————

as soon as tom walked in from work, going into your shared room, before slamming the door behind him, you knew something was wrong. he didn’t even say his normal greeting. he just stomped in, ignoring your presence before locking himself in your room.

tessa whined at the sound the slamming made, causing her to snuggle deeper into your side.

“it’s okay tess.” you whispered, stroking her softly. was it okay?

waiting for 10 minutes, you got up off the couch to go upstairs. walking to your bedroom, you hesitatingly knocked lightly on the door. standing back, you waited for tom to speak. but, he never spoke except for the sound of the door unlocking. you opened it, to see tom walking away from the door, to sit on the bed, going back to work on his laptop.

“hey darling,” you spoke, sitting on the end of the bed, “what’s up?”

tom carried on typing, “nothing.”

“there must be something up. you made the whole house shake.” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood. but, he frowned slightly deeper, not looking up from his macbook.

“tom,” you pleaded, stroking his knee gently, “what’s happened?”

he sighed, finally bringing his eyes to meet yours, “nothing. i’m fine.”

“your not fine. you’ve came in, without saying a word to lock yourself in our room. so, don’t say your fine when you clearly aren’t. come on hun, talk to me.”

tom bit the inside of his cheek, before moving his eyes back to the laptop to continue typing.

“go away, y/n. i’m trying to work.”

“tommy, i’m not going to be able to help you, if you don’t talk to me.” you spoke softly, crawling up to bed to sit by him.

“i’m fine, y/n. please just leave me alone, so i can concentrate.” he growled, glancing at you quickly. you know there was something eating him away.

“tommy-“

“no y/n,” he interrupted, standing up off the bed abruptly, “i’m fine, okay? i-i’m fucking fine, i’m-“

tom was interrupted, by a sob racketing through his body. tears streamed down his face, as his shoulders shook with the force of his sob. you opened your arms, pouting at him, before he crawled into them. he grasped your waist, sobbing into your chest. you stroked his curls softly, rubbing your hand up and down his back, to calm him.

minutes past, and tom stopped sobbing. but, tears still fell slowly making your heart ache. neither of you spoke. just enjoying each other, in your arms.

“i’m sorry babe.” tom croaked, looking at your intertwined hands.

“hey, hey, hey, never ever apologise for letting your emotions out, especially in front of me, okay?”

tom smiled, looking up at you, “okay.”

“do you want to talk about it?” you asked, stroking your thumb across his knuckles, calming him down. he looked away, nodding slightly, before cuddling into you more.

“lately i’ve just been...so stressed. about everything. i feel like there’s too many people i need to make happy. i need to make my fans happy constantly. i need to make my agency happy. i need to make you happy. i need to make my family happy. there’s so much pressure on me to make everyone happy, a-and i can’t. i just physically can’t. i know you hate it when i keep on leaving you, and i hate it too, but i’m only doing it to please my fans. i’m so grateful for them, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes i just want to step back. but i can’t, a-and i think today it got a bit too much.”

“tom, you don’t need to make me happy. you don’t need to make anyone happy. you just need to focus on making yourself happy. honestly, you work yourself to hard. do you think you should just have a break for a while? i know you can’t drop everything, but maybe be less than you do? your mental health is priority over everything, okay?”

tom breathed out, finally stopping tears from rolling down his soft cheek. meeting your eyes once again he nodded, before leaning up to kiss you.

“thank you darling.” he whispered, against your lips, before hugging you tightly.

“no worries, if you ever feel like you need to let all your emotions out, do it. letting what your feeling out, is way better than keeping it in. right, let’s order food and watch movies all night!” you laughed, pulling him off the bed with you.

“and cuddles?” tom pleaded.

“yes, and cuddles.” you laughed, running upstairs with tom following behind you.

————

a/n- thanks for reading! chapter 5 will be up soon!

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman #tom holland imagines #tom holland oneshot #saws300followerwc #tom holland prompts #prompts #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #mcu #marvel #tony stark #iron man #holland

[parkersbliss]

Savior | P. Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker X Female Reader aged up, in college

Warnings: (a lot) Depression, insecurity, anxiety attacks, feelings of not being good enough, a hell lot of angst, but it ends with fluff. Swearing. Please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with any these things as this is a very heavy topic.

wc; 4.5K

Synopsis: You can’t deny your feelings of utter failure anymore and Peter’s scared you won’t let him help you.

Playlist/Song inspiration: MIRRORS by Niall Horan, Little Things by 1D, Perfect Now by Louis Tomlinson and 18 by 1D

A/N: for @cunaeparker’s writing challenge! Also this is solidly based of Mirrors by Niall Horan. Go give it a listen.

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

It's a haunting feeling. A constant thought nagging in the back of your head. It never left, just subsided for the day only to come back raging in the night. It was a feeling of sadness, desperation. You want to fight it, but your mask will only hold so long. Peter had watched you walk away, dress bunched in your hands as you weave your way through the mass of bodies. He wants to follow you and make sure you're okay, but he doesn't. He can't. It's not his place. So instead, he turns away, losing you to the crowd and busies himself in talking to someone else. Although his lips are moving, his mind remains on you. You had said it was nothing and you just needed to use the restroom and Peter almost believed you. He wants to believe you're okay, but there's a tugging at his heart that maybe you aren't.

The door softly shuts behind you and you swiftly locks it, ensuring you could be at peace in the room. It's noticeably cooler from the lack of sweaty bodies. You sigh softly, gripping the granite countertop in front of you, watching as your knuckles turn white from your grip. You refuse to look in the mirror, knowing you'll be met with sad eyes and a pathetic excuse of a smile. There's no more fighting it anymore, you let the first sob leave your lips, your body shaking a bit as you tighten your grip on the countertop.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" You cry out, slamming your palms down on the smooth granite, a burning sensation blooming in your palms. You quickly wipe at oncoming tears, roughly dragging your hands down your face. Why couldn't you just feel good for once? One night that's all you wanted, one night where your demons didn't come out, but that wasn't the case.

"Just one night," You whispers to yourself, "one fucking night."

It wasn't much to ask for, just one night where you didn't have to make some pathetic excuse to Peter as to why you had to leave. You knew he was starting to get suspicious, but you couldn't bring herself to tell him. What if he left you? What if he told you that your problems were too much and he didn't need to carry them with him when he was saving the world. You're trying so hard to fight your innermost thoughts, but you're tired and no one's on your side. Your eyes meet the reflection in the mirror and you finally give in, feeling your skin touch the floor as you let it all out. It's a sad sound, a hollow cry in the dark as you bury your face in your hands wondering why you weren't good enough. Your cry bounces off the tile walls, echoing in your eyes and it only makes you sob harder at the broken sounds. You had to be strong. But being strong was so hard when you've fallen this far. You wish someone would hear your cry, as to you the sound was deafening, but the party raged on with no concern for the girl alone in the bathroom.

...

Peter's eyes wander the room, he's looking for you, but there's no trace of the (E/C) eyed girl. It's like you've disappeared from the party entirely, which wouldn't be the first time. But you promised him that you wouldn't do that to him today. You told him you would stay, but then why weren't you here now? Peter wanted you with him tonight because you bring a sort of comfort to him. It's a feeling of being at peace despite being in a room full of heroes. It's about twenty minutes before he finally excuses himself to go find you. He wasn't mad at you, he just wants to spend the night with you. He wants to leave the party and take you home so you two can just sleep. He wants to hold you close in the night and tell you that he loves you, but he can't. He's scared of losing you for his own selfish reasons. Peter signs, running a hand through his chestnut locks, pushing past all the bodies to try and find you. Did you leave him? Were you still in the bathroom? Where even was the bathroom? No, you wouldn't have left. You never ditch him without some reason, even if it was a pathetic one. He should check the bathroom... but what if you think it's creepy? Peter groans before spinning on his heels, he could go for another drink. You would come back, he was sure of it.

...

You're not sure how long you've been in the bathroom, all you know is that your body has stopped shaking, but your heart was breaking. You just want to feel alive again, but these days your life was painted with a dull gray as you struggled to pull yourself out of bed in the mornings. You want to feel your body come alive, filled with excitement at something. You want to be loved, to have someone just hold her in these moments, and tell you it's okay, but your cries go unanswered. Your head falls back against the polished wood of the cabinets, tears slowing to a stop. You're spent as you try to pull yourself together again. Why was this so hard for you? Couldn't you just be happy with once? You want to tell Peter exactly how you feel, have him hold you when your bones are breaking, heart shaking, and whisper nothing but sweet things in her ear.

...

Your coffee's cold. You sit in the small cafe, laptop resting on the table, taunting you with the essay you know you have to write, but your mind is elsewhere. You're more focused on the boy in front of you, golden eyes, and messy chestnut curls. Peter Parker, your best friend since middle school.

"Earth to (Y/N)!" Peter said, hand waving in front of your face. "Hello?"

You shake her head, a few pieces of hair slipping from behind your ear. Peter has to resist the urge to lean across the table and push them back in place.

"Sorry Petey, just thinking. What's up?"

"I was asking if you've been doing okay."

Your heart clenches at the thought of him caring about you, but you know it's not in the way you want him too.

Peter knows a bit about you, not as much as he wants too, but he respects your privacy. He knows enough to be able to figure you out. Like why you sometimes spaced out, or left a party a bit too early, or just wanted to sit alone in your room all day. He gets it, but he can't help but ask if you're really okay. Peter wants to hear you say that you're great with a real smile on your face. Not your normal forced, "'m fine" and crooked grin, but it's not his job to protect you, he wants it to be though. Peter wants nothing more than to hold you close at night and let you cry on his shoulder. He wants to be the one pressing kisses to your forehead and wrapping you both in soft blankets, stuffing your faces with junk food when the world becomes too much to bear.

"'m fine," You said, smile plastered on your face. And Peter sees right through your facade, but he has to remind himself that he's just a friend too you. A friend who so deeply cares about you and is itching to know the truth, but he settles for your coffee dates instead.

"If you say so," Peter replies, looking out the window and onto the busy streets of New York. The skies are blue, something neither of you has seen in a while and it's a fresh reminder that the school year is almost over. However, the streets don't grab his attention for long before he's focusing back on you. This time, you're focusing on the laptop in front of you. Your bottom lip is trapped between your teeth as you try to form a few sentences. Peter watches as your eyebrows pinch together each time you get an idea and how your fingers move flawlessly on the keyboard, a pleasant clicking following. You don't even know you're doing these little things that are driving Peter crazy. He's just studying you, taking in your raw beauty that he hopes you see too. He could stare at you all day and get lost in your (E/C) eyes that reflect the soft lighting of the coffee shop. Or your rosy cheeks, flushed from the heat of the summer. The longer he looks at you the more he sees the small details that make you, you. He's not sure how long he's been staring, but it's not like it matters, he had finished his essay long before it was due, he just wanted to spend time with you.

"Peter," You said, softly.

He snaps out of his daze, moving his hand from the spot under his chin to rest on the table, "Sorry, were you saying something?"

You let out a quiet laugh and Peter swears the butterflies in his stomach are running wild.

"I said, it's almost 7. We have to go."

"Oh," Peter said, glancing at his laptop screen and seeing that it was indeed almost 7. "Right, sorry, I guess I just lost track of time."

"'s okay," You smiled, packing your laptop back into your bag and zipping it up. You pick up your backpack, effortlessly swinging it over your shoulder as you wait for Peter to do the same. You walk out together, talking about your next exam. Peter pushes open the glass door, stepping out of the way to let you pass through, and you thank him. There's a slight breeze that pushes your hair in your face, which you desperately try to push back, only for it to slip out again. There's a heavy silence as you stare at each other, trying to figure out what to say before you part ways. You open your mouth but Peter beats you too it.

"I hope you know, you're beautiful, have you ever been told?"

You're a little shy and you freeze, trying to process what he just told you. You're taken aback and stand there, lips parted. Peter offers you a delicate smile, thinking he probably messed up. "sorry, I just thought you should know. I'll see you around, (Y/N)."

As he walks away, you slowly break a smile. You debate calling out to him, but you don't know what to say. So instead, you whisper a quiet thank you that you hope the wind carries to his ears.

...

You finally pull herself off the floor, but one looks in the mirror and you can feel another wave of pain and remorse wash over you. You cry out, eyes screwed shut as you wills the tears to stop. Peter is out there and you should get back to him, but if Peter cared why hadn't he found you yet? "There's a logical reason for that," You tells yourself. Or maybe he doesn't want to find you. Maybe he's completely forgotten about you and left you alone to cry in the bathroom. Pull yourself together! But you can't, you're trying so hard to just breathe, but you're only falling deeper into the grave you dug yourself. It takes all your strength to look in the mirror and face yourself. There was no way out except up, but when you're this far down how do you get back up? How do you break the surface when you're being weighed down? It's a battle that you know you have to fight and you have to win. You stare yourself down in the mirror, trying hard not to focus on your imperfection and instead, find something good, but there was nothing good. You can't stand the sight of yourself, even when your face wasn't caked with smudged makeup and tear stains. Your eyes are red, nose runny and you sniff, running your hands through your now tangled locks. You think back to the time at the coffee shop. When Peter told you you were beautiful, but as you look in the mirror, you can't find it in yourself to believe that. How could he see you as pretty when there were so many imperfections? Like the way your lips are chapped because you couldn't be bothered to drink enough water. Or how your hair was always tangled and frizzy no matter how many products you used. How could he think you were pretty when the dark bags under your eyes made you look like you'd been punched in the face? There was nothing beautiful about you.

"I have to win," You whispers, "I don't have to be good enough."

But you don't believe yourself. You can't believe something coming from someone so broken, someone who was unlovable. Someone who couldn't feel her own heartbeat in her chest. You didn't even know if you were alive. It didn't feel like you were. Your thoughts are so loud, pounding against your head and you feel like the entire room can hear them. But you remind yourself that no one cared. No one else was here, it's only you.

...

It had only been an hour. One hour of staring at your textbooks, re-reading the same information over and over again. It seemed no matter how many times you read it your brain simply wouldn't retain the information. You were getting more frustrated by the minute. Each second passing by reading the same passage was another second where you should be studying something else. Exams were in a week and you couldn't remember one single thing. You didn't know why it was so hard this time. Maybe it was because of a certain brunette boy sitting across from you. A certain brunette that your mind couldn't seem to forget about. You sigh softly, closing the textbook, deciding maybe you need a little break. But then you look at the clock and it mocks your failure and reminds you that you didn't have time to take a break.

Peter can see you out of the corner of his eyes, he watches as you glance at the clock, then back at your closed textbook before slowly prying it open again. He notes the look of trepidation on your face as your eyes begin to scan the same page again. He had watched you study the same page for an hour, but he didn't say anything. Who was Peter to criticize your study habits? So he lets it go and returns to his book, but only half an hour later he can you sniffling.

You were at your breaking point, but you refused to do so in front of him. you didn't want to be the annoying girl that just starts balling because you couldn't study. No, that wasn't you. You close your eyes, taking in a few shaky breaths, holding back the tears. You need to leave, right now. But if you leave Peter will not something is up and you don't want him to worry about you. He doesn't need to think about that now. You're fine after all. You stand up from the bed, pushing your textbooks to the ground.

"(Y/N)?" Peter questions from the sudden outburst. "Are you okay?"

You nod, lips pursed, "'m fine Petey, just gonna use the bathroom."

Peter's heart sinks as you leave him, he almosts stop you, mouth open, the words on the tip of his tongue, but then you're gone and Peter returns to his studying, not knowing of your true intentions in the bathroom.

You closed the door, locking it and dropping to the floor. You feel the cold from the tile seep into your skin, but you're already cold from the lack of warmth in your life. You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the tears prickle at your lashes and you let them slip. You were trying her to best to suppress the sobs, hoping the wooden door would muffle them enough so Peter didn't hear you. You felt hopeless, wondering why you couldn't control your own emotions or flat out tell Peter, "No I'm not okay and I need you to hold me." You're hiding behind a face nobody knows a face that wouldn't last much longer. Time was running out and you only had so long before someone found out or you break down and lets it all go. One way or another, you couldn't keep this act up for long. You were drowning in a pool of her tears. A pool that had started empty, but now was close to overflowing. For years you had been able to keep it steady, but now it was at the brink of flooding and you couldn't stop it.

Peter had heard you loud and clear. He could hear your soft sobs and he knew you were trying to keep them quiet for his sake. It broke him that you didn't feel like you could confess your problems to him and as much as he wanted to knock on the door and tell you the words that have been on his lips for almost three years, he can't. If you didn't trust him now he was sure that him professing his love to you through the door wasn't going to help. God, he just wants you to be happy again. He missed the good ole' days in high school when the world wasn't crashing down on you both. When you smiled and didn't hide your problems from him, but that didn't mean Peter loved you any less. If anything, he thought you were beyond strong for being able to still carry all of this with you and be here with him. He wishes you could see what he sees, to Peter you were perfect. He wants you to understand that even if you don't think you're perfect because of all these little things well these little things are what separate you from everyone else. These little things are what define you and he loved them unconditionally. He thinks back to the time in the park, you'd been there for hours, the night only growing colder and darker. Two now adults having fun amid the night. Only half a year left before you were done with high school. It was reckless, spontaneous, and maybe even illegal, but for the two of you, it was what you needed to escape. You shivered and Peter pulled you closer to him, pressing your face into his chest, letting you bask in his warmth. You had held onto him like you never wanted to let go and you didn't. But there came a time when you did. And Peter had watched you disappear into the night, his heart beating incredibly fast in his chest and he knew then, he didn't want you to leave him ever again.

...

Another twenty minutes had passed and Peter still couldn't find you. At this point, he knew he had to. There were no more excuses, no more self-doubt he needed to tell you and he needed to do it now. Peter placed his drink back down on the bar, pushing off his seat and diving into the crowd and searching for the bathroom. He becomes increasingly frustrated when the party-goers don't seem to even acknowledge him and keep pushing against him like a tide pulling him into the sea, but he refuses to let them. His girl was out there and he needs to reach her and finally tell her the words that have been on his mind since the night in the park. He just hopes he isn't too late. After five minutes of shoving through drunk bodies, he stumbles into an open area with a door. There's an obvious sign that signals the bathroom and Peter practically collapses out of relief. He stands outside the door, fist raised to knock when he hears it. The soft sniffles and ruffling of your dress. He presses his ear to the door listening to your muffled cries and frantic breathing. Peter slowly sits on the ground outside the door, knowing you were also pressed against it and it makes him feel slightly closer to you. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his speeding heart and reminding himself this was for you.

"(Y/N)?" He said, voice barely above a whisper and he can hear you stop crying.

"P-peter?" You stuttered. Peter feels his heartbreak in his chest, cursing himself for dragging you out here in the first place.

"Yeah, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You told me you were okay! You promised!”

"I'm sorry," You spoke through the door. "I'm sorry, I should be out there with you and instead you had to come to find me in the bathroom cause I'm just a fucking screwup."

"No," Peter said, shaking his head, leaning back against the door. "You're not a screwup, (Y/N). I'm the one who should be sorry, I should've come to check on you earlier. I'm sorry for even taking you here in the first place. I don't know what I was thinking. I just, I guess," He stumbles over his words, trying to work it out properly. "I guess I was scared."

"Of what?" You ask softly, rubbing at your eyes.

"Of losing you," Peter breathes. "I know you've been hurting for a while and I told myself I'd let you come to me first. I didn't want to scare you off because I can't- I can't lose you, but god, it hurt so much to know you were in pain and you couldn't talk to me. I was trying to be patient, really, I was, but I can't do it anymore. Please, please, talk to me."

There's silence and Peter doesn't even realize he's been holding his breath. He waits patiently, praying he didn't just screw it up when there's a small click. He rushes to his feet, brushing down the dust off his suit. He places his hand on the handle, ready to turn it, waiting for you to tell him it's okay.

"You can come in."

Peter doesn't waste another minute, he slowly pries the door open and shuts it behind him, locking it to ensure your privacy. He then turns around to look at you and his heart shatters, he reaches a hand out, tentatively, not sure if he can touch you. There's a moment where you debate the action, but you reach your hand out and lock your fingers together and Peter pulls you to his chest. He shushes you as you begin crying again, he carefully lowers both of your bodies to the ground, holding you close to his chest, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead. His own tears slipping down his cheeks. He's gentle, just holding you and rocking you both back and forth until he can tell you've stopped.

"Peter?" You whisper into his chest.

"Yeah?”

"Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"That day at the coffee shop, when you called me beautiful."

Peter gently cups your face, pulling you to face him.

"Yes, I still do."

"But why?" You prod. "I'm not- I can't-" You hiccup.

Peter shushes you, brushing your hair out of your face, "I know you can't see it. And it puzzles me to this day how, but I'm not here to judge you on that. What you call imperfection, I call mistakes. Beautiful mistakes. These things that you hate, I love. And I will treasure them until the day I die. They're what make you, you. It's how I can tell you apart from everyone else. They remind me that you're real. I know you don't see it and that's okay, but please at least let me." He stands up, offering a hand to you as he pulls you off the ground. He rests his hands on your shoulders, turning you toward the mirror, not missing the slight flinch you give off.

"See these bags under your eyes?" He asks and you nod.

"They remind that you're up late studying because you can't wait to graduate and go out into the world and do amazing things. And your chapped lips remind me of summers spent in the sun, getting sunburnt and not bothering to drink anything but the fruit cocktails they make at the beach bar we love. Or your fizzy hair from too much time spent outside and testing out dumb hair hacks."

You slightly giggle at that and Peter feels his heart jump.

"You love them?" You ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror and he knows he has to say it now, he can't hold it in much longer.

"(Y/N), I have loved you since we were eighteen. That night when you left me in the park, I knew I couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me again. Even if it was to go home."

"That long?"

"Yeah," He replies, sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I want to be the one to hold you at night and make sure you get a goodnight's sleep. I want to be the one telling you it's okay to cry and holding you each time. I want to be the one who gets to kiss your lips every night and day because I can't get enough of you. I want to be the one who reminds you that you're beautiful in your own unique way."

You turn in his arms, lacing your hands together, marveling in the way they fit so perfectly. "Well, Peter, I want you to be the one to do all those things. Staring now."

"You're beautiful, you know."

"I do, thanks to you."

Peter leans down, resting his forehead to yours, pressing his hands to your cheeks. He brushes his lips against yours and your eyes flutter at the feeling and he takes the chance to finally do what he's wanted to do since he was eighteen. And he can't believe he's waited this long, you fit perfectly in his arms like you were made for them and he never wants to let you go. He wonders if you can read his mind when you press your hand's on top of his, a silent reminder to him that you aren't going anywhere.

"Thank you," You breathe out, still feeling like you were on cloud nine.

"For?"

"For saving me."

"I love you," Peter blurts out and you laugh, pulling him closer to you.

"I've loved you since we were eighteen, Peter."

Peter smiles like an idiot when you say that, he feels like his life is full now. A beautiful girl in his arms, a month away from graduating from college, and a girl who's loved him since the time he loved her.

And you, you, felt alive, happy, and loved. Your heart beats wildly in your chest and a grin bursts across your face as you realize the feeling of being empty was gone and instead replaced with the feeling of being in Peter's arms.

"My savior," You whisper against his lips.

"My beautiful girl," He replies before pressing his lips to yours once more.

—

a/n: please please please remember that you are beautiful in your own way. no one is perfect and people shouldn’t expect you to be. you should never go through this alone amd please talk to someone if it gets worse. You’re beautiful and you don’t need a mirror to tell you that. Someone one loves you. I love you. My inbox is always open!

🏷 Peter Taglist: @peterspideyy @runway-to-my-aid @yoinkyourheart @theolwebshooter @thegirlwiththeimpala @multi-universe21 @bibbidibobbidibarnes @abitofeverythinggg @harryismysunflower @cams-lynn @keenmarvellover @ducks

Fic tag: @averyfosterthoughts

strike through- can’t tag you

#saws300followerwc #tom holland #tom holland x reader #peter parker #tom holland x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x you #peter parker drabble #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker headcanon #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland headcanon #tom holland drabble #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #spiderman x you #spiderman far from home #spiderman: hoco #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x reader

[mannien]

“You’re Shaking”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Millie Beaver (my own fictional character)

Summary: When Millie is supposed to be strong and emotionally ready to celebrate her sister’s wedding, the best friend arrives to the rescue. 

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, friends to lovers tropes, weddings 

Author’s Note: HEY! HI! I’m new at this! This is my attempt at the writing challenge made by the lovely @cunaeparker! I would post it on the deadline on the 30th, but it’s my birthday as well, so I’ll be probably busy eating chocolate then. Also, it’s a part of the fic that I’m currently writing, hence the specific characters here. If you have any questions about the plot, just ask! 

        When I first heard that my oldest sister was getting married, I knew I wanted to be a part of this. She may have not known that, but it’s been a very emotional ride for me, personally. Seeing her life roll out a red carpet in front of her, leading straight to the world of eternal love and happiness, it made me realize a lot of things about myself, too.

           First and foremost, it showed me what love should look like. Liz and David were the definition of true love for me, and I could not thank them enough for unknowingly telling me this. But months of preparation, more frequent family dinners, and a bunch of personal issues later, the reality hurt like a motherfucker. Since their eye-opening engagement, I’d been struggling with my own relationship and my own happiness.

           It’s not that I didn’t like my boyfriend Frank. If I didn’t, we wouldn’t have spent over 2 years together. He was kind, a little less thoughtful than I would like but still a decent amount, very handsome, and a tiny bit more intelligent than me in our common areas of expertise. In addition to it all, he was able to handle me, a very messy head, so there was really no reason for me not to be with him any longer.

Except, there actually was.

I never mean to point fingers either, because I don’t blame people for my feelings. But a number of conversations with my best friend also showed me that there are people caring more about me than Frank; people who are willing to sacrifice more and who pay a lot more attention to the details that make me, well, me. Although, perhaps I shouldn’t compare those two relationships; the guy who got to make out with me has known me since we took the same advanced journalism class at the university. But the one who actually knows the size of my shoe and what allergies I used to have, he’s known me forever. Of course, we had our better or worse times; months when I would be too busy writing essays to talk to him, and he would be lost in filming another blockbuster movie. But at the end of the day, he was like a brother to me. He took care of me. However, most importantly, he knew I was unhappy with Frank and he pointed it out to me a couple of times.

My sister’s happiness and my best friend’s care worked, though. They made me face the reality. They hit me in the face with it so hard that I’ve been feeling like shit for the past month. It’s been exactly a month since me and Frank broke up. To top it off, precisely two hours before the ceremony, at this gorgeous castle in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, my memory played me and told me: “Hey, Millie! It would’ve been your and Frank’s 3-year anniversary!”

This unbearable stream of thoughts hit me when I was watching Liz smile to the mirror at her glorious hairdo. It wasn’t too complicated, her hair was only curled and pinned up in a few right places, but her beaming expression was something to die for. She was ecstatic to marry the love of her life and I couldn’t blame her; it was her day, she was beautiful, and her fiancée was the nicest and most trustworthy man in the world. My torn apart heart envied her, but my face squeezed out the tiniest smile. She was happy, and nothing else was important.

“Come on Millie, let’s give her a breather.” Our middle sister pulled me out of trance. She already had her face full of a glittery, smoky makeup. Leaving Liz’s room meant we will see each other again during the ceremony, and that I needed to get my shit together.

We walked down the dark hall to where our rooms were, just a few doors apart. Our whole way from Liz’s she was on her phone and I stayed silent, patiently listening to her fingernails tapping against the screen, while I did all I could to hold back the disgustingly growing need to throw up from stress.

“Sam, could you stop for a minute?” She looked up at me, right when she was about to open the door to her room.

“What’s up?” She asked, her eyebrows narrowed in concern. I opened my mouth to say something, but I wasn’t even sure what would I allow myself to say. Should I say I’m nervous? Should I start rambling about how my heart is still aching, especially so because of the wedding? How I was supposed to have a peaceful relationship and an obvious choice of date for my sister’s big day but instead, I had to realize that I simply wasted 3 years of my life and emotional devotion?

“Do you…” I started, but nothing came out. I had to swallow down the terrible taste in my mouth. “…how do you turn off your emotions for an event like this?”

“Oh, sweetie…” She no longer had her pretty London accent. A few years in California made her tongue roll differently on each word, and I could barely feel the warmth of her voice. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, especially now.” He hugged me, but not with all she had in her, because we both respected the effort put into her face. It saddened me, but that was the reality.

“I’m sorry, too.” I whispered.

“Hold on tight, okay? It’s gonna be alright. You’re a fierce one, Mills.”

“I wish I was.” I pity-laughed at myself, but soon regretted that. Sam’s hand slapped my arm quite harshly.

“Hey! Stop that right now. Go on, put that fancy dress you’ve got, make your eyes and lips pop, we’re the Beaver girls, right? Now chop-chop, move your arse.” She pushed me in the direction of my room with a grin. I tried to mirror her expression just for the sake of her attempt to be British again. To be homey, again.

When I was trying my hardest not to lose it emotionally, I focused on practical tasks. I mastered my makeup and sprayed myself with that setting spray the world was screaming about. My hair was a little unruly and I needed an extra bobby pin, if I wanted it to stay up and show off my dress. The self-conscious me didn’t want to, but Liz would want me to. And today was about Liz, so I fought with that high, slightly messy bun until my arms went numb.

My dress was the trickiest part. It required me to tie three bows and zip my whole back up to the neck. Maneuvering all that without messing up anything else in my appearance didn’t sound promising, and being harsh with the material wouldn’t work either. The dress was a work of art to me, so when me and Liz both looked at it one evening, she told me straight away she will ditch the sister dress code. She didn’t make us wear all similar colors, but rather encouraged me to pull the most ‘Millie Beaver’ look I was capable of. So, I ended up with a black tulle uneven material ending somewhere above my knees, going up to the waist in the tiniest folds in an A-line skirt. The see-through, sheer fabric was covered with draped embellishments made out of the tiniest sequins. They made a sort of brush-paint effect that covered my body from my bottom just above the round of my breasts. The neck and loose sleeves made of the thinnest black mesh which barely changed the color of my skin, ended with intense black stripes ready to be turned into the prettiest of bows. I don’t know if it complimented my body, but it definitely made me feel like the prettiest version of myself.

           As I was getting into the long sleeves and pulling the body above my boobs, I loud knocking noise interrupted my focus. Intuitively, I looked at the time and exhaled a calming breath, knowing I still have some time and I’m not running late. I held the top of my dress with my right hand, not wanting it to slid down when I open the door.

           Tom looked ready to knock again. His fist hovered in the air for a second, until he raised his eyes and noticed me. He smiled down at me with the warmest facial expression I was given today by anyone, or so did I think. I couldn’t help but give him a one good look over. He was dressed up in a very deep navy-blue suit; the kind of navy blue that makes each man look a hundred times more attractive. The way it clung nicely to his broad shoulders told me it was tailor made from a thick and rich material. His crispy white shirt had a few buttons unmade, so it didn’t hug his neck but rather made his throat more exposed in a way that I always tried to avoid. The smile reached his eyes and woke up the wrinkles around them, making his face look even prettier than before. His short brown locks were tucked away nicely with the tiniest amount of hair gel, and I knew right away he had done it on purpose; I’d used to make fun of the shiny look he so often went for at public events.

           I could swear that all these details about his appearance my mind grasped within seconds. He didn’t make a funny comment about it, he just greeted me sweetly and nodded at me.

           “Hey, Mills.”

           “Hey!” I tried to return his smile in a way that would tell him how happy I was to see him. Or maybe how relieved? “Come in, just… avoid the preparation mess.” I laughed and let him in. I closed the door and unintentionally glanced at the way the suit nicely covered his muscular back and bottom. “Look at you, movie star!” I tried to whistle, but I failed and just blew into the air with a little swish to it. He turned to me with a raised brow and laughed at my poor attempt to be sassy.

           “I called you, I didn’t know if you were busy right now and I didn’t want to interrupt if you were with Liz.”

           “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled quickly, getting close to the phone that was peacefully left alone on the nightstand and charging. “I’m not feeling good, so I just wanted to get ready and face the world after.”

           “What’s wrong?” His face scrunched up in concern.

           “Just, you know…” My lips formed a tight smile. I shrugged and as it made the shoulders of my dress slide down my arms a little, I remembered that I still had to fix it and put on properly. I hugged the material tight to my chest and fought the terrible urge to bite my lips. “… a bit stressed out.” I mumbled, not willing to go into detail and break down. My mind worked really hard to change the subject as quick as possible, just because he knew I was overreacting and he would want me to be honest. It was a self-destructive behavior, really, but I couldn’t help it when the vomit was trying to make its way up my throat once again. I glanced at him fidgeting with his hands and only then noticed that he was holding two ties in his left hand. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him. “So, spill the deal Thomas. You’ve never told me who’s your plus one?”

           He watched me carefully, as if he already knew what I was up to. I hated this about him, but he played well. A knowing smile spread across his lips as he held up the ties.

           “That’s actually one of the things I wanted to discuss with you. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable tonight, so I wanted your help with these.” He held both accessories in separate hands and put them close to his chest, comparing the way they looked with his suit.

           “You can’t choose your tie?” I asked with a chuckle, while pulling the dress completely over my shoulders and hoping it would stay in place, although unzipped and untied. “What happened to your fashion sense?”

           “Well, the fashion sense is still here, I mean…” He started cheekily, giving me a slow pirouette to show off of his outfit. “…it looks pretty good if I’m honest.” He laughed. “But no, I wanted to ask you because first of all, you know better,” the pure confidence in his voice made us both chuckle happily again. “and second of all, this option is for me going solo,” his hand holding a striped tie in different shades of blue moved to the middle. “and this one matches your dress, so that I could be your plus one.” He held up closer the burgundy one, with tiny golden embroidered elements. It was almost the exact shade that my dress had bursting out the most from the waist. We would match in a very delicate way, not overwhelming others with the similarity, but rather stating that we probably knew what we were doing.

           My heart was rapidly beating, making my insides warm up from this single gesture that he offered. I felt tears well up in my eyes. He knew I was hurting during my relationship, he saw me hurt when I fought for what I had with Frank, as well as he saw me in pain when we called it quits a month ago. My lower lip quivered, not sure if it wanted to let out a tiny sob, or spread wide in a smile. I felt confused emotionally, but the simplicity of Tom’s thought spread a fuzzy feeling across my body.

           I moved closer to him, forgetting about the lipstick and biting my lower lip. I took the dark red tie from him and straightened it up, before pulling it over his neck with a small smile. I started the first two moves that I had known from TV, but then absentmindedly started to play with the fabric, trying to look professional.

           “Do you even know how to do it?” He tried not to laugh too much at me, so his stifled joy ended up in a sucked in smile.

           “YouTube knows.” I smiled up at him. His eyes glistened in a joyful expression as he breathed out a giggle. He took out his phone from the jacket pocket and quickly searched for an easy tutorial for me.

           “Go on.” He encouraged me and held his phone up, so that I could see the instructions. I focused on the task and felt the nerves creeping away. My hands slowly relaxed and in swift motions I finished up a loose knot. He noticed my progress and threw his phone on my bed. His gaze was fixated on me; I could feel his brown eyes watching me carefully.

           “Can I finish this off?” I asked very quietly, not sparing a look at his face. My fingers hovered over the undone top buttons of his shirt and only when he didn’t reply, I looked up. He was already watching me with an expression I rarely saw on him. He was eyeing my face so closely and delicately, almost as if he tried to memorize that moment. He gently nodded his head and did so while locking our eyes. I swallowed heavily, trying to push away the nauseous feeling that crept back in as a nervous reaction. Very carefully I started working on the little buttons. Then I put his collar up to fit in the tie and gently pushed up the knot, focusing on not wrinkling anything. Then I smoothed out his shirt and smiled proudly to myself.

           “Well done!” He chuckled at my childish pride and touched up the knot himself.

           “Thank you for doing this.” I whispered, tapping lightly at his chest. I smiled up at him, feeling the tears threatening to escape again. I moved away from him; I didn’t want to become a mess shortly before such big and happy family event.

I started walking towards the bathroom and attempted to zip up my dress at the same time. Soon enough it turned into desperate fumbling with the material at the beginning of the zipper, because it sucked in a tiny piece of fabric. I couldn’t imagine taking it all off and then putting on again after a fight with the zip, my perfectly imperfect bun wouldn’t handle it well.

“Hey, could you give me a hand here?” I turned to him, as he was putting his phone back in the pocket. We used to see each other in many innocent, yet body revealing situations. Hence, we were usually comfortable with one another so that sleeping in the same bed only in our underwear was okay. We made fun of each other’s bodies and somehow, we knew them probably also for the sake of memories from our shared early childhood.

But it felt different this time. The fact that I was so emotionally exposed to him today was possibly one of the reasons why I felt nervous. I knew we were best friends, he was a brother I never had, but suddenly it felt intimate. I was conscious about the fact that I had no bra on, and although I made sure I wasn’t flashing him anything, he had to reach to my lower back to fix the zipper and then slide it across my bare skin.

“Please be gentle with it.” I added. His knuckles softly pushed against me, when he tried to slowly pull the zipper up.

“Exactly how gentle are we speaking?” He chuckled. Then he put one hand on my hip and led me slightly backwards, so that he could sit on my bed.

“Gentle as in I spent all my savings on the only dress I have for my sister’s wedding.” I turned a little to him, trying to steal a glance at what he’s doing. “It’s okay if you can’t do it, I’ll have to try…”

“Shut up, I’ve got it.” He shushed me and pushed me slightly forward again. I felt him stand up and take a light grip at the zipper, before gently pulling it up my spine. “Straighten up.” I stretched out my back as he asked, or maybe even a little too much. My hips moved backwards and made my butt hit his front. It made me feel nauseous again; I was definitely not ready for a wave of seemingly irrational feelings. It was just Tom, and yet I was scared of accidentally touching his crotch with my ass. “Alright, all pretty here.” He smoothed out the material on both my shoulders and I could feel him hesitate for a moment, before he let go of me completely.

“Thanks.” I smiled shyly at him and made my way to the mirror, before he could say I was nervous. I started working on the bow on my neckline.

“Oh, so you’re tying them all up?”

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to look. So you better watch carefully, cause I can’t do the other two as pretty as this one.”

“Man, I thought I only came here to decide on a tie.” He moaned mockingly. I could see him in the mirror, he came up to stand next to me and watch my fingers in action.

“You’re free to go, I can always ask my mom to do it for me.” I shrugged, straightening up the loose ends of the bow.

“And leave my date for the night? No, thank you.” He winked at me cheekily, and I laughed at him. I pulled out my tongue at him and scrunched up my nose. “Don’t do it, your face will stay like this forever.”

“Wouldn’t you like that? At least you could laugh at me, if my jokes aren’t funny to you.” I challenged him, raising an eyebrow.

“Nah, at least one of us has to stay pretty.”

“I thought you said you were pretty?”

“The word is CUTE.” He emphasized. “And there are people who agree on this.” He added. I reached out with my hand to him, so he could try and make an even bow.

“Your granny?” And there it was. Making fun of him as a coping mechanism, whenever I was noticing the upside of his appearance and thinking about it longer than necessary.

“She’s my number one fan, so she counts.” I pointed at the longer end of the knot, so he started fixing it to make it even with the other.

“I thought she was Paddy’s number one fan. Or Sam’s for his abnormal cooking skills.” He smiled soundly at this. “But hey, don’t worry. Your best friend is your fan.”

“You mean Harrison? Yeah, he’s okay. But he’s got history of being more of an assistant, you know?” Tom snorted out a loud laugh at his word and I couldn’t stay silent at that.

“I thought you had another best friend?” He pretended to be deep in thought. I briefly checked on the ready bows and straightened up my sleeves.

“Can’t think of anyone else. Care to share?” He playfully scratched his chin like an old aristocrat. I moved around him to start gathering my things, keeping in mind that I should touch up my lipstick.

“For all I know, you’ve had one super fan ever since you met her as a wee nicked kid.”

“Wow, I must’ve had a very peculiar taste in choosing my best friends.” He laughed, and I only sent him a sideway smile. Although I was the one to encourage our fun exchange, I wasn’t sure if it made me feel comfortable. I wasn’t doubting his friendship, but sometimes I would get this nagging thought starting with ‘what if….’ I didn’t know how I felt anymore, and the sole fact that I was packing my small handbag to my sister’s wedding was near to give me a serious panic attack.

I sat down on a little chair next to the window and started doing up my deep red, velvet lace up pumps with four cross-straps that ended in tiny golden buttons. These were also way out of my every-day comfort zone, but figured as the prettiest pair of shoes I owned. Plus, they went well probably only with this dress. I actually had to spend a couple of days walking around the house in them, just so I could remember if I could walk in high heels.

I stood up, slowly moving around my feet to adjust the fit, and that’s when my mind became a complete mayhem.

“You look so foxy. You should wear heels to work, I bet they would take your ideas seriously in these.” Frank’s words kept on replaying in my head and I was ready to rip those shoes apart. I felt a terrible scrunch in my tummy and I couldn’t hold it anymore. As quickly as I could without tripping over, I made my way to the bathroom and knelt next to the open toilet, ready to empty my stomach any second. A loud sob escaped my lips when nothing would come out and I had to live through the worst wave of nausea. I started ugly-crying, letting go of every inch of calm that tried to keep my nerves under control. I leaned with my elbows on the toilet seat and just held myself there.

“Minnie, are you okay?” I felt Tom squat beside me, his hand gently laid on my back and started rubbing it in soothing circles. I just shook my head and kept on crying, unable to even talk to him. I tried taking deep breaths to calm my body down, but another loose thought about my ex-boyfriend clouded my head and I leaned over the toilet again, hoping this could end already in one way or another. Tom’s free hand went to the bow that started hanging in a risky zone and tucked it close to my chest. His other one went up, massaging slightly my neck to help me relax. “I will breathe with you, okay? It might get better if you follow.” He said in a hushed, yet stern voice. “Come on, one large in,” he inhaled loudly and I tried to mimic him. “now hold it for a second for me, let your body relax,” except that I couldn’t, and my face scrunched in misery. “It’s okay, try again Mills. It’s just a panic attack, you can get through this. Come on, breathe.”

He guided me through a few more deep cycles until my crying stopped. Somewhere during the second inhale I was breaking again, so he rested his forehead on the side of my head, right above my ear, where I could feel his breath on my skin and focus solely on it.

“That’s my girl. You’re safe with me, okay? I promise.” I only nodded rapidly. He slowly moved away to kiss my head in a protective gesture, as he used to whenever he was being affectionate with me.

“Fuck, I’m such a mess!” I groaned in frustration, still feeling the heavy beating of my heart. I sat down on the floor, trying to untangle my feet from under me and rest them somewhat comfortably, even if it meant resting my legs in the most revealing pose. I rested my back on the side of the bath and hid my face in my hands. I squeezed out a few more tears, until I felt a gentle tug on both my wrists.

“Look at me,” Tom asked sternly. He massaged my wrists and patiently waited for me to lift up my eyes to his concentrated gaze. “You’re a mess only if you let yourself feel like one. And I’m not here to see you miserable.”

“Easy for you to say! My sister’s about to get hitched and I keep on thinking about how… how I used to hope, that this would be me and Frank one day because my mind is so fucked up and… and I allowed him to treat my feelings like shit! Just because I wanted someone to fucking love me and want to have a life with me and be my fucking lover!” I let out loudly with a broken sob mid-sentence.

“For fuck’s sake, stop hurting yourself!” He raised his voice and I could feel my heart drop. “I understand it fucking hurts. And I’m so, so sorry, I know you were deeply invested in your relationship with Frank, I get it. But please, for just one moment, try to imagine how would it be if you stopped dwelling on this shit!” He took a frustrated breath and tried to remain composed. He stood up and leaned back on the sink with crossed arms. He closed his eyes, but then started watching me carefully, as if to see if I was going to snap again.

I just sat there motionlessly, too shocked to react in any way. My brain was tired from the panic attack, my body ached from the nerves, and my tongue got cut off by shame. I closed my eyes and tried to rethink my current situation, sort out my feelings. There was a part of me that wanted to reach out to hope, to reason, and to the right place in my heart. Right when I was imagining the right place for my heart, my eyes snapped open to check if Tom was still standing there. He was, eyes glued to me, posture flexed and ready to react. But his face so soft I wanted to burst out in tears again. He was this soft for me.

I reached out to him with my hands and he pulled me up from the floor.

“Exactly how many times should I fucking remind you that you’re better than this, that you actually are lovable, and that there are people who care about you more than that asshole, the one who actually called himself your boyfriend for three years but didn’t deserve it at all?” He asked gently, stepping closer to me. He swiped his thumb underneath my eye, where probably a mascara disaster was happening. Tom gave me a broken smile and it was that smile – the one that made my heart grow and get warm. And suddenly I got goosebumps across my whole body because he was the one to make my mind shut up. All that was left was pure admiration for his care, for his tender smile and for his sparkling brown eyes. This revelation made me feel incredibly exposed to him and almost made me feel shy.

“Could you tell me that one more time?” I replied quietly, still feeling the touch of his hand on my cheek. Curiosity led my voice and made me swallow hard. He smirked at me in a way that I knew made girls swoon over him. However, this time was different and I was the one over the moon.

“Millie, you are incredibly lovable and I fucking care about you. You can get through this and you will, just get your shit together.” He chuckled at the end and I mirrored his reaction, but still heard the first two most important phrases ring through my head. “You are too gorgeous to be still thinking about someone who didn’t make you happy, alright?”

“You promise?”

“Do I promise?” He asked dumbfoundedly and turned us both around, so that we were standing in front of a tall mirror. “Look at yourself, you’re a doll,” He wrapped his arm around my waist when he said that. It felt really warm and right. “you’re perfect in every inch, you look exquisite, hell I’m gonna say it…” he started before cracking a soft, almost nervous laugh. It was obvious he tried to stay composed and professional, but he broke. “you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, that’s it. End of this discussion. Now fix your pretty face, get your fancy bag, and we’ll go see your sister at her happiest.”

I did as he asked but with the amount of warm words that kept replaying in my head, the fifteen minutes that it took me to freshen up felt like a mere second. I felt as if my body was just existing and my soul was floating beside me, intently watching my and Tom’s every move. My floating side kept pushing me into his side, knowing that it will be the best way to stay safe and content. Tom always was a gentleman, his parents raised him well. However, this time when we walked down the corridor to the stairs, and then to the foyer where some guests gathered before entering the main hall where the wedding was supposed to take place, I couldn’t stop thinking about these little gestures. Carefully keeping his hand on my lower back whenever we were turning or passing someone. Smiling down at me whenever I stole a glance at him. Letting me go everywhere first, but not before smoothly checking if there was anything I would possibly trip over. Staying by my side all the time and making sure I was okay. Of course, he was now my date to the wedding. But if any of his brothers were at his place, it wouldn’t be the same.

We were approaching more crowded groups of people and I slowed down. I started feeling incredibly self-conscious and uneasy, especially with the looks that people I knew gave me. Most probably, they looked because I was the bride’s sister, I was finally wearing heels, I had the most makeup since last Christmas, and Tom was side by side with me. Although I doubted it stunned our families that we could be seen together, there were a lot of Liz and Dave’s friends whom we didn’t know, or just old aunties who loved a good gossip. I became fully aware of all of the eyes pointed at us and I felt my insides tremble dangerously. I stopped abruptly and tried to mask my nervousness by fake-fixing my dress. Tom looked back at and raised his funky eyebrow at me, silently asking what’s up. He stepped closer to me and blocked the view of the most intense stares. I stared down at the bows at my sleeves and started anxiously rearranging the strings. I exhaled with an audible shake to my breath and closed my eyes. We stood face to face and I could feel him watching my movements.

“You’re shaking” He whispered, bringing his mouth to the side of my head. Then I felt his fingertips gently touch my hand, before he slowly slid his fingers through mine. Our hands molded together and it calmed me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

“I’m nervous.” I mumbled, so that only he could hear. He left a sweet kiss on my cheek and winked at me.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I let out a nervous laugh and he seemed pleased with my reaction. “Come on, head up, you’re gonna walk in hand in hand with Peter Parker.” He slowly maneuvered the hand he was holding so that I could easily take his arm in an elegant way

“I would rather walk in with Tom Holland.”

“You’re lucky he’s friends with Parker. You can have both.”

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Tagging some of the people who I wish would read this bc I love their blogs even though not all of you probably love Tom but I LOVE YOU

@lauras-collection @peeterparkr @thirsttrapholland @fondlynarry @niallandtommo @heyhihellowhatsup0 @constellationsv @angel-spidey @starkissedholland

#saws300followerwc #writing challenge #tom holland #Tom Holland fluff #Tom Holland blurb #Tom Holland fanfiction #prompt challenge #my writing #millie and tommy #millie and tom #my fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff

[cunaeparker]

saw’s writing challenge masterlist

this is the masterlist for all submissions !

when you’ve completed your work and want to submit it, please message me and tag me, making sure to tag it #saws300followerwc 

i’m excited to compile all of your outstanding works !

writing challenge // masterlist 

prove it by @yoinkyourheart​ -  it’s been a year since tom. you think you’re completely over him, until you run into him at the store. 

someone like you by @stardustom - after a fire almost ended her life, y/n couldn’t help but owe one to the firefighter that saved her, who brings her into his life as his fake girlfriend.

a damned word by @cosmicholland - “almost” is probably the worst word in the dictionary, but it’s the right word to describe your relationship with tom holland.

talk to me by @peterspideyy - tom’s comes home upset, and you don’t know why. do you try and help him?

saviour by @parkersbliss - you can’t deny your feelings of utter failure anymore and peter’s scared you won’t let him help you.

you’re shaking by @mannien - when millie is supposed to be strong and emotionally ready to celebrate her sister’s wedding, the best friend arrives to the rescue.

out of the woods pt. two by @the-crazy-fanfictionist

hubby by @t-holland2080

birthday bashes & coffee proposals by @spideygirl2003

#tom holland #peter parker #writing challenge #cunaeparker #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #saws300followerwc