Tom Holland Blurbs.

summer nights

pairing: arvin russell x fem!reader

synopsis: summer nights spent with arvin are your favorite.

word count: 1.0k

warnings: none, just lightly edited

a/n: my first arvin fic!! this rlly has no plot just vibes :p hope u like it! <33

you had been awoken by the heat of the mid-august night. a light sheen of sweat covers your skin as you register where you had fallen asleep. the makeshift walls of the fort were illuminated by the moonlight pouring through the entrance. following the arm lightly draped over your waist, you find a snoozing arvin. a slight pout had formed on his pink lips, leaving you to wonder what he was dreaming about.

whatever it was, he was handsome in every sense of the word.

gently brushing a piece of once slicked back hair behind his ear, your mouth curves into a smile as you remember how your dearest boy ended up in your arms tonight.

“hey there, lover boy!" you call to your boyfriend from the doorway of your childhood home. the corners of his mouth quirk up as he shuts the door to his rusty pickup. stuffing his hands in his tattered denim jacket, he jogged his way over to you. and after stomping his way up the porch steps, arvin sweeps you up into a bone-crushing hug.

“i missed my pretty girl.” his voice was full of sincerity- one of the many things you appreciated about this man.

“i missed you too, arvin.” he loved it when you said his name in what he calls that “pretty little voice of yours”.

the faint smell of cigarettes fills your nose, a smell you’ve grown quite fond of since going steady with arvin. excited to show arvin his surprise, you wrap your arms around his waist, leading him into the house.

the floorboards creak under your feet as you escort your boyfriend into the living room. every blanket you could muster could be found in the middle of the living room floor. the sheets are draped over chairs, creating a canopy of different colors and textures. accompanying the blankets were pillows, haphazardly placed inside.

arvins eyebrows drew together, asking a simple “what’s this?” his eyes darted between you and the fort.

“i wanted to build you a fort. y'know, like the ones you made when you were younger.” you searched his face for any discontent. “i hope it’s okay.” you murmur after a couple moments of silence, feeling only slightly stupid.

“nah,” he turns to you, a slight blush dancing across his cheeks, “it’s quite alright, baby.”

he always knows just what to say.

stepping out of your grasp, he quickly offers his hand out to you. and being more than happy to take it, you let arvin walk you over to your childish creation.

taking a seat on the blanketed floor, arvin follows suit. a small smile playing upon his lips as he surveys the care you put into the fort, “you did good, baby.”

flustered over his attentiveness, you mutter a small thanks.

and after hours of talking, the warmth of the sun seeping through the sheets seemed to have lulled you both to sleep.

and that's where you find yourself now- tangled up with your lover on the hottest summer night. the low hum of your refrigerator accompanied by the chirping of crickets being the soundtrack for tonight.

growing tired of the stillness, you decide to wake arvin. eager to see your boyfriend’s eyes glimmer in the moonlight, you scatter gentle kisses all over arvin's face. and only after a couple pecks, his lashes flutter against your cheek.

his groans are light as he pulls you closer to his person. you snuggle your head into the crook of his neck, basking in his warmth.

"mmm, you're warm." you say as you place soft kisses over his skin. and without missing a beat, he responds with "you're pretty."

a smirk grows on your lips as you pull back to look at his face. "arvin russell, are you flirting with me?" you tease.

"me? always."

your hand finds its way back to his hair, eyes lingering on his lips. he seems to have done the same, as he leans in closer. a half smile plays on his lips until they connect with yours.

kissing arvin was something you could never grow tired of.

"oh shit, baby." he mumbled against your lips, "what time is it?"

reluctantly pulling away, you bring your hand up, checking the time on your hand-me-down wristwatch. "twelve past nine, why?"

arvin sits up as soon as the words fall from your mouth. pressing a small kiss to your temple, he starts to search the fort for his things. "my folks are expecting me."

sitting up with a slight pout on your face, you ask him "won't you stay?"

he stops his search to look at you, "oh, i'd love to darling, but-"

"please?" you press, needing him to stay just this once. you give him a certain look, a look you learned to use on arvin months ago.

he lets out a small breathy laugh, hand coming up to brush your cheek, "you're makin' it real hard to say no, darling."

"then don't."

he pulls in for another kiss. his lips are warm and soft, gently pecking yours. these kisses let you know arvin needs you just as much as you need him tonight.

"you can phone your folks, tell ‘em i said hi." you mumble against him, trying your best to assure him.

arvin smiles to himself, hand coming down to your now puffy lips. his eyes follow as he grazes his fingers across your bottom lips.

choosing your words carefully, you start "and you can stay tonight,” you gently brush his hair. “and every night.” his hand stops.

his eyes now coming in contact with yours. something you can only describe as relief wash over his features.

“and we could build all the forts you'd like, arvin."

he tackles you, arms wrapping tightly around your figure. he takes some time before whispering a gentle "i'd thought you'd never ask, baby."

and as the night went on, the fort had become home to many small giggles and needy kisses (and many more fingers near mouths).

request guidlines.

things to keep in mind:

⤏ i write for mcu! and tasm! peter parker, tom holland, arvin russell, & sometimes joshua bassett.

⤏ i will only write blurbs, no full length fics.

⤏ i am allowed to dismiss requests if i don't feel comfortable writing them.

i do write:

fluff

angst

suggestive

smut

almost any au (but keep in mind, it might turn out bad)

i do not write:

mental illness

abuse of any kind

ships

darkfics (yandere, stalker, etc.)

about me.

⤏ i (she/her)

⤏ 19

⤏ currently listening to the driver era, doja cat, & kid cudi

⤏ i like writing (duh), singing, & interacting w y'all

⤏ peter parker is my comfort character (& the loml)

⤏ i write for tom holland, mcu! & tasm! peter parker, arvin russell, & sometimes joshua bassett

⤏ i also write for timothée chalamet <3

⤏ this is my first blog! so take it easy on me if i ever look stupid lol

i hope u all have a lovely day :p <33333

last night

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter makes the morning after unforgettable.

word count: 0.5k

warnings: mentions of sex, kinda suggestive?

a/n: this is the cutest thing i've written i want to vomit :p pretend morning breath does not exist here p.s. cocky peter is the loml <33

waking up to the sound of a car horn blaring couldn't phase you this morning. and as you flutter your eyes open, you find yourself tangled up in your sheets with peter, who was currently sound asleep. a glimmer of sunlight streams through the curtains, illuminating peter's chestnut curls. light purple bruises strewn across his neck serve as an instant reminder of what happened the night before.

your suited boyfriend had stumbled through your window in the late hours of the night. the only words that could fall from his mouth were those reminding you of how he could not stop thinking of you while on patrol. and after many insistent and heated kisses, you and peter decided to give in to your desires for the first time since you started dating.

and now, the morning after, you lay clad in one of the many sweaters he's left, staring at your snoozing lover.

"take a picture, yeah?" peter's lightly chukles as he pulls you to his chest. slightly startled at his sudden consciousness, you look up to find his eyes sleepily gazing at you. a sheepish grin plays upon your lips as memories of his tenderness flood through your mind.

you begin to pepper feathery kisses over his chest, wanting to subtly thank him for last night. peter’s hands, once planted on your waist, now slide down to softly squeeze your bum.

"what do you want to do today, pretty girl?" you now burrow your face further into his chest, flustered under his words.

"mmm," your voice muffled, "stay here?"

pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, he responds with, "sounds good."

wanting to stare at your boyfriend a little longer, you decide to pull away to prop your head up with your arm. and for the first time since last night, you make proper eye contact with your darling boy. a shit-eating grin slowly forms on peter's face. you couldn't help but follow his stupid action.

this man.

he slowly takes in his view, a familiar keenness filling peter's eyes. "what're you thinking about, pete?

"i only dreamed of calling you mine just a couple months ago," he starts, "and now you're laying here in my clothes, totally fucked."

"peter!" you groan, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

"c'mere." his hands come up to pull you toward him once again. his fingertips slide up to the middle of you back, drawing patterns into your warm skin. this alone makes you arch into him.

"yanno, you're kinda sweet when you're half asleep."

scattering delicate kisses across your neck, he mumbles, "mhm, i'm always sweet." his breath fanning over your skin drives you crazy.

quickly growing tired of the teasing, you push peter back down, into the mattress. swinging your leg over the boy, you straddle his lap. you bend down, stopping just before reaching his lips, "i love you." but before he could get a word out, your lips are already on his. a pleasant warmth washing over you as the kiss grows hungry. teeth almost clashing as he grabs for your ass.

"fuck, baby." peter whines.

after a couple more moans from both you and pete, you slow down, now softly pecking at his lips.

"god, you're beautiful." he murmurs against your lips. flustered once again, you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

"so," he sighs, "how was last night?", asking as nonchalantly as he could.

you swear you could hear the smugness on his face.

"i don't remember. remind me again, parker?"

Drunk [p.p]

pairing: Peter Parker x reader

summary: Drunk you isn’t as good at hiding your crush as sober you.

warning: alcohol, cringe that comes from drinking (although this is very much a glorified version of being drunk) which is why you shouldn‘t do it, not smut but alluding to it (no smut while drunk, but sexual references and touching), bit of angst I guess, the words "penis parker" make an appearance...

This is a fictional reader drinking for you so you don’t have to do it in rl :)))

word count: 3k

-this is a repost of an old fic-

It’s the sixth time that Peter’s interrupted his swinging tonight, only to see you’ve texted him another song that they’re playing at the party.

The party that he couldn’t go to.

He was supposed to be your plus-one to some celebration in the neighbourhood. Peter’d said yes originally, but in the past few days it’s like the crime rates have been going up exponentially. Going to a party when he should be saving the people of New York? Nope.

You’d been all pouty when Peter gave a rather lame excuse once again, but you weren’t mad at him.

Together with Ned and Betty, you’d still gone to the party and right now it feels like you’re deliberately trying to make Peter jealous.

You keep texting him, they’re playing this song, they’re playing that song, until Peter gets notifications so often that he thinks you must be texting him every single song they’re playing.

He would rather be singing all those songs with you together than anything else, but he couldn’t just leave the streets to the criminals with a clear conscience.

So when another message pops up, (they’re playing his favourite song. great.) he quickly types an answer.

I get that I’m missing out, you didn’t have to text me every single song

He quickly adds a laughing emoji, but the previous message still sounds as passive-aggressive as Peter felt when he typed it out.

You don’t reply immediately and Peter mutes his phone.

The silence is deafening. He pictures how you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, happy that Peter finally replied, only to see a message like that.

He concentrates on being Spider-Man fully, but as soon as he’s sure that he’s done for the night, he texts you to notify him when you’re home safe.

You don’t get the message and he assumes your battery must have run out.

He also sees the reply you sent him after his message earlier;

Sorry

When he’s the one who should apologise to you. For that, and also to make sure you’re home, Peter goes to your place, knocking on the window after he’s changed into his normal clothes.

You’re all glammed up, looking like you just came home. Absolutely gorgeous.

Your face lights up when you spot Peter, you open the window for him, letting out a loud, “Peter!” You shout, are you drunk?

He tries to calm you down, “Shh, your parents will kill me if they find out I’m here now.”

“They’re gone for the night, you can chill.”

“So you’re just here, drunk on your own?” he asks.

“I’m not drunk,” you declare, giggling, then giggling even more at your own laugh. Cute. You don’t seem too far gone, luckily. He’ll still gladly take care of you.

As you stretch down to your shoes, not reaching them from your sitting position on your bed, Peter sits down on the floor to help you get them off; not taking into consideration that you’re wearing a short skirt…

He tries to concentrate on opening your shoes and sliding them off, and he gets the first one without looking up.

But before he gets to the second one, you lie down on your back, your legs moving forward slightly and Peter can’t resist a quick glance.

He swallows when he sees the lace panties smiling back at him from between your thighs.

Wait is that the print of your p-

Someone up there is trying to torture Peter for sure, what did he do to them?

You sit up abruptly and Peter fears he’s been caught, but you talk about the exchange of texts earlier.

“Oh Peter! I‘m sorry that I annoyed you earlier, I didn‘t mean to,” you pout, regret in your eyes.

“What?” Maybe with the state you’re in, Peter can brush his earlier mood off.

“I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have been texting you every two minutes and disturbing you while you were helping May out,” your eyes start watering, unreasonably, and you might be drunker than Peter originally realised, “It’s just that they were playing all your and our favourite songs and it reminded me of you. I missed you so terribly and I wanted you to know that.”

Oh damn, that’s cute. Peter thought you’d been mad at him for not coming. But it’s the opposite.

These Instagram pages always say stuff like, get you someone who texts you even when they’re surrounded by other people, not just when they’re alone and bored. You did exactly that, and Peter still snapped at you.

You give him teary puppy eyes, your arms going around his shoulders, “Do you forgive me, Pete?”

“Of course I do,” he rubs your back, “Do you forgive me?”

You pull back, a soft smile on your face,  “Always.”

He hugs you again, feeling your tears drop down on his shoulder.

“I was just missing you and not realising that you were just doing the same.”

“Yeah, I missed you,” you say once again, in your drunken stupor.

You wipe your tears away and squeeze Peter’s cheeks, placing a sloppy kiss right on his lips with an exaggerated mwah sound.

Peter freezes. That might’ve been the best moment of his life, but you’re drunk and don’t know what you’re doing.

Before he can comprehend what you’re doing now, you pull off your top clumsily, now only in your bra.

“Mh- oh god.” Peter doesn’t know what to do so he sits down on the floor, turning his back to you.

“Peterr, I need your help!”

“You can change on your own,” he says as calmly as possible.

He hears a huff from you and a clicking sound a few seconds later and you fling your bra through the room. Peter tries not to look at where it lands.

“Can you give me clothes?”

“Yeah, where from?”

“The dresser, dummy,” you giggle.

“Uh what do you need?”

“A t-shirt and more comfortable underwear.”

He hears you undo the zip of your skirt and he can guess what’s next. He ignores that the thin piece of lace lands right next to him.

Without paying much attention to your collection of lingerie, he just takes out the first cotton panties he sees. “Do you want shorts?”

“No, they’re uncomfortable. I’d usually sleep without a shirt too but since you’re too scared to see me naked, I’ll put on a shirt.”

“Oh, how thoughtful of you,” Peter says, trying not to go crazy with you being naked in the same room as him and all.

“I know, hey can I have my clothes now? My nipples are cold.”

Along with an oversized shirt, he scoots back on the floor, his back still to you, until he bumps against your legs.

He reaches out to pass you the clothes behind his back when he feels something soft, “Oh my god, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to touch your boob!”

“That was my leg,” you take his hand. Peter doesn’t realise what you’re doing until he clearly feels a nipple, “This is my boob.”

He stays lost in the new feeling for a split second, before pulling his hand back.

“See, you’re scared.”

“I’m not.” He’s not scared of seeing you naked or touching your boob. Okay, he’d be nervous. But you’re not sober and he’s scared that you wouldn’t want to do any of this if you were. He'd obviously want it.

Your knees knock against his back and he guesses you’re pulling your panties back up, Peter’s mind more focussed now that your most vulnerable part is covered again.

He feels your foot nudge the back of his jeans, “The last song they played before I went was Apple Bottom Jeans and that for sure made me think of your ass. If Captain America didn’t have that title already, I’m sure people would be calling your cake America’s Ass,” you giggle quietly and Peter blushes.

“My head is too big for this shirt,” you say after a few moments.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help you if you’re still half-naked.”

“I’ll cover up my boobs,” your voice is muffled by the shirt over your head.

Peter turns around reluctantly, your hands covering your nipples, and the sleeve-hole of the shirt laying atop of your head.

He helps you manoeuvre your shirt onto your body and he’s glad it’s long enough to at least cover your ass.

You lie down on your back, legs dangling off the bed while Peter goes to your bathroom, rummaging to find products to take your make up off with.

When he comes to your room, he thinks you’re asleep as he carefully sinks down on the bed next to you, make-up wipe ready in his hand.

You suddenly jump, “Launching attack!”, flipping Peter onto his back and straddling him, a playful smile gracing your features that’s wiped off your face when Peter says, “Could you get off me, please?” He’s just an innocent guy, why do you have to be a horny drunk?

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, are you mad at me again?”

“That’s not it, I’m just not sure if you’d be doing the same things if you were sober, so you can’t be sitting on my lap and stuff.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to do anything sexual with you, the opposite, actually. But he can’t like this.

He wonders if you only drank something because you were third-wheeling with Betty and Ned, and wanted a distraction. He really should’ve gone with you.

“Do you want me to remove your makeup?”

You nod and angle your face towards him, closing your eyes, looking calm again.

After about twenty minutes of you complaining that he’s either too rough or too gentle with the wipe and moisturiser, your face is glowing and clear again.

“Do you want to get something to eat? I once read this trick online to get rid of a hangover, I don‘t know if it works because I‘ve never been drunk but we could try.”

At the mention of food you jump up, running to the kitchen already.

Peter feeds you hydrating food, different fruits and makes you drink half a litre of water.

“You‘re such a good caretaker, can you always take care of me?” you ask, an extremely charming smile on your lips.

“Of course, I‘ll always take care of you.”

“Pinky promise me!”

“Pinky promise.”

You kiss his cheek lovingly, “Love you, Petey.”

And no matter how drunk you are, that was genuine.

“Love you more.”

When Peter’s tucked you in and said goodnight, he disappears into the living room, lying down on the sofa.

You follow him and lie down right on top of him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not sleeping alone,” you pout, “Please?”

“Okay, but I’ll sleep on your floor.”

“But I want to cuddle.”

Of course you get what you want and soon you’re spooning on your bed.

Even though you seem thoroughly tired now, you’re still not ready to go to bed.

Your ass keeps pushing back against Peter’s crotch and he’s scooted so far back that he’s pressed into the small gap between the wall and the mattress.

“Come here, Pete. I’m trying to thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

“You don’t have to do that. Cuddling is enough.”

You turn around to face him, making room for him. “Okay, I’ll leave Penis Parker alone, then.” Peter turns red but you don’t notice, throwing your arm over his chest and pulling him close.

Within seconds, you’re out like a light and Peter’s thankful that you’ll be back to normal again soon.

-

You wake up, limbs tangled with Peter’s. You know better than to worry that you slept with him. But it takes a few more moments of fully awakening to remember what happened last night.

Oh God.

Peter stirs when you try to get up and you pretend to sleep again.

Whatever he says, deny deny deny.

You wait a few more minutes, but all he’s done is hog the blanket and gently started snoring, looking like an angel.

He was also an angel to you yesterday, so you don’t want him to see your presumably messy hair and hungover state.

Climbing out of bed and into the shower, you freshen up quickly. You make breakfast, lucky that you have the ingredients for Peter’s favourite recipe.

You want to thank him for putting up with you yesterday and taking care of you so well.

You remember going to that fun party with Ned and Betty. How the only thing it was missing was Peter. They had plenty of good music and good drinks that were so good that you didn’t even notice how much alcohol was in them. Your head is only now starting to hurt as you remember how much you actually had.

You remember how you texted Peter and he was annoyed, but he came to your place through the window - wait, your memory must be weird here - anyway, Peter came to apologise and look after you. You’d for sure been a handful, so a nice breakfast is the least you can do to thank him.

Not too stable on your feet with that hangover, you decide not to risk it all by bringing the food in on a tray. As you walk back to your room, you see Peter rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, looking tired, but he still asks you first.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m good actually, nothing major, thanks to you feeding me,” you smile, sitting down with him.

“Oh you remember?” he smiles back at you sleepily.

“I told you I wasn’t that drunk! I remember how you came here, helped me change, remove my make-up and fed me,” you summarise, hoping he won’t go in on the details.

“Yeah, that’s it really.”

“So to thank you for all that, there’s a really delicious breakfast waiting-” he jumps up, already in the kitchen before you can even stand up to follow him.

*

It’s been a few days since that all happened and Peter’s back at your place.

He’s been thinking about all the things you said, and did, when you were drunk. And everyone knows drunken words are sober thoughts.

But since it happened, nothing has happened between you two. You’re friends, like before. Even though Peter was aware that you were being influenced by alcohol, there had been a little hope blooming in him all night, that you’d continue to openly show your affection towards him, but that was not the case.

Now he needs clarity.

“Hey, so, I know you said you remembered everything that happened the other night, but.. there are some things that you did that you didn’t mention, and I wanted to ask you about that. So first you-”

“I remember everything. I know I gave a very sparse summary, but that was just so neither of us would be embarrassed. But you’re right, we should talk about it. So sorry for… corrupting you?”

He chuckles, “That was not the problem, it’s just I didn’t know much effect the alcohol had on you and if those were your real thoughts or not..”

“The feelings I showed towards you were real, but if I’d had the guts to confess that I like you earlier, I would’ve approached it differently. Guess drunk me didn’t really give a fuck.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Peter says and leans forward to press an unexpected kiss to your lips.

You’re too surprised to kiss him back and he stops, readjusting himself, coughing awkwardly, “Sorry did you not- I uh,”

“No, no I’m sorry. I know that you were really nice to me when I was drunk, but I thought you were just saying that stuff to not hurt my feelings. So.. you like me too?” You haven’t comprehended the situation fully yet, but a smile blooms across your face anyway.

“Yes. How could I not?”

You take it in fully now, feeling drunk again because... is this real?

Finally both understanding that yes, you fucking like each other, you inch closer to each other again, both grinning like crazy.

Straddling him, with both of your valid consent this time, you start kissing him like you’ve wanted to all your life.

He kisses you back eagerly, his hands wandering under your hoodie, but politely staying at your waist. That’s before he pulls away, hair messy from you grabbing at it and even after your ten-minute make-out session he seems nervous.

“Tell me if I’m like making you uncomfortable or something but I have a question. That night you were very,” he scratches the back of his head, “Sexual. Was that just cause you were drunk or...?”

“I don’t remember every single thing I said or did so if I did something embarrassing then it was just cause I was drunk. But otherwise... I’ve had a crush on you for ages so…”

“So?” he asks.

“I’ve thought about having sex... or generally doing anything sexual with you a lot.”

“R-really?”

“It’s not just guys who think about it.” You shrug, going to kiss at his neck while he lets that information sink in. “What about you?” you wonder.

“Every day for about 4 years- I mean not every day. Not four years. But yeah definitely, I have.” He’s red as hell and can’t quite look you in the eyes.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about that... it’s hot, you’re hot.”

”You’re hotter,” he says, starting to kiss you again.

“What do you wanna do about it? Like, no pressure, never, but if you wanna do something sexual, I’m down.” Peter says, trying to sound more confident.

“Honestly, I really want to have sex with you right now but I think we should wait just a bit. I don’t wanna make that decision when I’m horny.”

“You’re horny right now?”

(He can be oblivious at times.)

“Yes, Peter.” You don’t have to ask him if he is, as you can feel his hard-on pressing into your thigh. You don’t mind it, as you know he’d never make you do anything you don’t want.

“Maybe for today we can just enjoy finally being with each other and go with the flow?” you suggest and he nods eagerly.

For that day you do nothing but kiss for hours, exploring each other with hands and mouths, comfortable the whole time because there’s no pressure. There never is with Peter.

You go to sleep that night, excited about your future together.

🧸🧸🧸🧸

hope everyone is doing okay!! miss u so much <333

gonna go watch nwh for the second time😼

drunken nights

pairing: tom holland x reader

synopsis: drunk tom keeps you on your toes.

word count: 0.6k

warnings: mentions of alcohol

a/n: the love i recieved on my first post was incredible and more than i ever expected so thank u! hope u like this one <33

"see you later!" you call out as you watch your friend walk toward their car. you decided to invite them over since tom was out at the pub tonight. having company over was a common occurrence for you whenever he went out.

after locking the door, you make your way over to the lounge to eagerly await your boyfriend and his antics.

a phone call awakens you from your slumber. you realize that you had drifted off to sleep as you check your phone. it's harry.

you pick up with a groggy "hello?"

"hey, y/n. we're parked outside, come get your lover boy." harry teases. "alright, i'm on my way out," you chuckle after hearing harry scold his older brother.

stepping out into the crisp london air, you make your way over to the car, opening the passenger door to a very drunk tom. "y/n!" tom exclaims as he struggles to take off his seat belt.

"you guys have fun?" you ask harry in the driver's seat. "oh, loads." he playfully rolls his eyes as he looks over at his brother.

seeing tom struggle, you question, "how much did you have to drink?”

"i might have had a few beers." tom sighs while looking up as if he has any recollection of the past couple hours.

"yeah right," the younger brother scoffs.

giggling, you turn to look at harry, "thanks for bringing him home."

"anytime." he says with a smile.

"good luck with that one," harry says smugly as tom stumbles out of the car.

"hey, tom. you ready to go?" you ask as he wraps his arms around your waist. "yeah, i think so." he murmurs.

you chuckle as you bring the stumbling man to your front door, both you and tom stopping to wave back at harry.

"i missed you so much while i was out." tom coos as you open the front door. tom was an affectionate drunk, always reminding you of how pretty you are. not that he doesn’t tell you every time he sees you.

"i missed you too, tommy."

it was a struggle to get him up the stairs, tripping over himself every couple steps. and as soon as the door to your shared bedroom was opened, tom threw himself onto the bed with a groan.

picking out a change of clothes for him, you ask "need help changing?"

he sits up, a playful look now adorns his face. "yes, pleaseee." he drags out.

"shirt off." you say nonchalantly.

"ask me out on a date first, yeah?" he teases as he swiftly takes off the white shirt.

as you help him change, you can't help but notice him staring at you. "what are you thinking about, tommy?"

"we would make an amazing couple." he slurs slightly.

letting out a soft laugh, you straddle his lap, "we're already a couple, you dork." you run your hands through his now unruly curls.

tom's eyes light up at the thought. it amuses you seeing the gears in this drunken man's head turn. "oh, thank god." he sighs.

as soon as your gaze falls on his, the room becomes quiet and his eyes now lustful, "darling, you're a dream." your breath hitches as soon as the words leave his mouth. his hand comes up to softly graze your cheek.

with a smirk, he whispers a gentle, "what's wrong, baby? do i take your breath away?"

realizing what he's doing, you roll your eyes and say, "you're such a tease when you're drunk."

huffing, you climb off his lap and crawl under the covers.

"c'mon darling, you know you like it." he says and quickly follows your actions.

instinctively, tom wraps his arms tightly around your waist.

sleepily locking eyes with yours, he mumbles "it's a privilege being yours, y/n."

you swear this man gives you whiplash.