Summer Nights

hi love! i saw ur taking reqs for flufftober!! this actually my first time asking something so pls correct me if i use my terms wrong hihi :> kind of my first time using tumblr!! so could i request kissing prompts no. 1 and 2 ? but before the prompts could you make it start like where a reader and arvin are dates to prom, but when reader arrives, some girl is trying to take him or like dance with him when he clearly doesnt want to? then reader runs out of the venue and she stays under the stars where arvin finds her then the kissing prompts ? hehe i love arvin so much its making me crazy 😩

❀ what moonlight can do ❀

omg this is my first time writing for arvin. wack & very overdue. i listened to what a little moonlight can do by crystal gayle, felt like it fits the vibe & era of a prom way back when lmao feel free to give it a listen while reading :’)

prompts: (1) kissing your lover’s knuckle before a dance + (2) during the dance’s climax, you and your lover lock eyes, and your lips meet.

↳ established couple, arvin can emote we love to see it, very shy & socially anxious y/n for all my fellow anxious bitches

content tags: smoking, fluffy angst, light themes of body image issues & insecurities.

word count: 2k damn i obviously have feelings for this man

flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)

ooh, what a little moonlight can do ooh, what a little moonlight can do to you you're in love your heart's fluttering all day long

the air is stuck in your chest. with your hand pressed to your stomach, you can feel it moving up and down—you know you’re technically breathing, but your throat can’t stop constricting.

you weren’t planning on going to prom. when the topic first came up between you and your boyfriend, you were sitting in his car, parked on the side of a rarely used autoroute. the radio was off, only because you insisted on arvin not letting the car run and waste gas just to listen to music. he relented in the end, only to begin humming your favourite song with a cheesy smile, eyes focused on the view out of embarrassment instead of meeting yours.

“did lenora tell you about prom?” you asked, slowly running you your finger over his knuckles. 

arvin hummed, rolling the window down a little more so you can enjoy the early summer breeze. “she mentioned it, yeah. you thinkin’ of going?”

a snort tumbled out of you without your knowledge, and you shook your head, tracing over his wrist. “nah, it’s not really my type of scene.” you trailed off, nerves suddenly washing over you. “why? you interested?”

he was leaning against the headrest, hair tousled and eyes closed in the most restful you’d ever seen him. at your coy question, though, one of his eyes cracked open. arvin glanced at you, cheeks tinged while he tried to gauge your expression before he finally said, “if you want to, i’d go. go anywhere for you, y/n/n.”

it was pretty hard to say no after that.

and now, here you are, feeling like your heart is about to jump right out of your mouth with how violently it’s beating. if it were just you and arvin enjoying a night of music and dressing up for each other, you wouldn’t be nearly as nervous. it’s not the thought of him that’s making anxiety curdle in your stomach like rotten milk—far from it. if anything, knowing he’s waiting for you only a few steps away is the only thing that’s holding you together.

it’s them. not unlike arvin’s little sister, you’re very much a quiet, nearly invisible figure among your classmates. it wasn’t much different when arvin was roaming the school hallways at the same time as you before he dropped out. back then, you weren’t very close, but it’s not like he’s oblivious of your unease in public spaces.

regardless, you know that tonight means a great deal to him, even if he hasn’t said it out loud. lenora recounted to you her brother’s excitement while he was figuring out what to wear for your prom, and the mere idea of your tough, impenetrable man trying on outfits for his family to judge was enough to make you melt. i have to get through this, you think to yourself. for arvin, who’s never asked for anything. for arvin, who simply wants to enjoy one night of normalcy and lightheartedness with you.

taking a deep breath, you cross the street to reach the school, heartbeat thumping in your ears. the streets are crowded, students hanging outside, smoking and talking together, before entering the party. if you can even call it a party. it’s held in the school’s lousy excuse of a gym, which is nothing but a large room with slippery floors and only one window. at least the doors are somewhat decorated, a very enthusiastic bright purple banner hanging across it.

your hands are completely shaking when you push them open and walk in, wincing as you get used to the music. to your utter surprise, people seem to be enjoying themselves; a rare sight in your small town. girls in puffy dresses and extravagant hairdos, boys in ill-fit suits and gelled-back hair. in the middle of it all, your eyes finally land on arvin, standing with his back against the wall near the refreshments table.

he looks so much better than you could have imagined. black trousers cinch in his waist, the legs a little too long for him, rolled up so they don’t drag on the floor. tucked into his pants is a crisp white shirt, one of the many he has, but cleaned to perfection. he’s topped the look off with a navy blazer that he keeps fiddling with, and you can already clock his cigarette pack and lighter in the breast pocket.

you feel a little underdressed, although you’re in the fanciest dress you’ve ever worn. despite the short notice and you thinking you weren’t going to step foot in the gymnasium, you were able to scrounge up all your savings to spend on a white dress. it stops a smidge above your knees, with lace around the sleeves and the hem. you felt a little embarrassed about the somewhat excessive neckline, making you cross and uncross your arms over your chest with nerves.

arvin hasn’t noticed you yet, probably because your feet feel glued to the ground near the door, like your body simply refuses to venture further into the sea of people. right as you clench your fists and decide to take the first step forward, your breath hitches in your throat as you watch someone walk towards your boyfriend.

she’s gorgeous is your first thought. the second one is not as kind. you recognise her after blinking a few times; her name is belinda “belle” fletcher, she shares a few ap courses with you and is rumoured to be the valedictorian for your graduating class. knots form in your stomach as you see her stand beside arvin, one hand running through her silky, strawberry blonde hair and the other pointing back towards her group of friends.

arvin is expressionless as she talks to him, only for a scowl to break his face when she grabs his hands with her own, laughing loudly as she moves their interlocked palms. you can only imagine she’s asking him to dance with the way she’s swinging, hair flying around her.

you can’t find it in you to watch anymore. tears clouding your vision, you exhale shakily before turning around on your heels, pushing through a few people near the door so you can exit. the walk out of school and towards the grounds is a blur of tears, regret and annoyance. you shouldn’t have run away. no, if you were more confident, if you were more confident and free like arvin—like what arvin deserves in a girlfriend, you would have walked right over to him and pushed that girl away. if you were better, prettier, more courageous and interesting, you would have kissed him in front of everyone and danced the night away.

instead, your makeup—well, just mascara—is smeared from your crying and your feet hurt. it’s colder outside than you remember it being, now that you’ve exchanged your anticipation and anxiety for self-inflicted heartbreak. you feel like you’re hearing your own name whispered by the wind until you realise it’s arvin, his figure running towards you, getting bigger and bigger as he speeds from the school building.

“y/n,” he pants when he reaches you, “what was that?”

bottom lip trembling, you can only look away from him, rubbing your arms around yourself to fend from the chilly breeze. in the darkness of the night, only the moonlight illuminates both your faces.

“y/n.” arvin repeats, stepping forward so there’s practically no space between you. one of his hands cups your cheek, thumb wiling a tear off from under your eye, while the other reaches for your hip. “darlin’, why are you crying? what’s? did somebody say something to you in there, because i swear i’ll—”

“no.” you finally manage to utter, shaking your head and breaking out of his hold. “no, i’m what’s wrong.” his eyebrows furrow with confusion, sparking more anger in your chest. “i’m not pretty like none of those girls. i don’t have the money to buy a fashionable dress—i bought this from an old neighbour and tried to fix it for myself, but it’s still nothing compared to them. i can’t pull off any hairdos and i don’t have any makeup and i’m not that smart or—or funny or interesting. you don’t deserve to spend your new shot at prom with someone like me. you deserve so much more, arvin.”

he’s stayed quiet throughout your entire rant, lips pressed into a thin line and hard eyes watching tears cascade from yours as you hiccup and spit the words out like poison. when you’re done, he still doesn’t speak, until the weight of your speech hangs heavy in the air around you.

“you done?” arvin asks, waiting for your shy nod. “i want you to listen to me very carefully now.” he closes the distance between you again, both hands coming up to cradle your face. “i love you. i love you so damn much, y/n, that it’s terrifying sometimes. and i don’t give a damn about dresses and hairstyles, doll. you would still knock the breath right out of me if you were wearing a bag of flour.”

at his exasperated confession, you can’t help but let out a teary giggle, making him smile. arvin taps your nose with the tip of his own, the tension dissipating little by little.

“you’re so beautiful, darlin’. you shine. your warmth and care, your intelligence that you always undermine, your kindness and your laugh. everything about you is beautiful.” he whispers, even though there’s no one around. your foreheads are pressed together now, and you let your eyes flutter closed. “you’re right, i don’t deserve to be with you tonight. you are so far out of my league, it shocks everyone in this fucking town that you choose to be with me, to love me. but i’m grateful you do. i’m lucky you do. and i wouldn’t wanna be with nobody else, doll.”

looking up at him, you slowly place your palms over his hands, feeling a buzz in your chest when arvin smiles at the gesture and presses a kiss to the space between your eyebrows.

“i do,” you say, a few of your fingers running through his slicked back hair. “i love you so much, arvin.”

his grin widens, a sight that only you are awarded, and his hands drop to your waist. “well then, would ya keep making me lucky and dance with me, darlin’?”

“there’s no music, dumny.” you giggle, but you still place one hand on his shoulder and let him interlock your other with his own, his lips puckering into a kiss on your knuckles before your fingers interlock.

“we’ll make our own music, baby.” arvin pulls you closer and begins swaying to a silent rhythm, before his lips brush the corner of your lips, your cheek, and your ear. he starts humming a familiar tune, drawing another laugh out of you, and you rest your head against his sturdy chest. a stop startles you, and you look up at him, only for his lips to descend on yours.

you have to force yourself not to smile too wide so you don’t ruin the kiss, so you don’t disrupt the gentle, passionate movement of his thin lips with your own. arvin kisses you like your love can stretch this night out to last forever, like the song he continues to hum in your ear when you break apart will never end.

you can't resist him

and all you'll say

when you have kissed him is

“ooh, what a little moonlight can do”

hey s 🤎 sending in prompts #13, #17 & #20 with tom for flufftober! hope you’re well and are enjoying the lovely autumnal season 🎃🍂🕯🥧

❀ late night love ❀

hi liv !! i hope you like it <3 excuse the shitty title lmao i didn’t know what to call this 😭 also tagging liz @screamholland get ur ovaries ready

prompts: (13) whispering “kiss me” to your lover + (17) intertwining your fingers + (20) running your fingers through your lover’s hair

genre: dad!tom, domestic au, so much fluff oh i’m aching inside just aching

word count: 1.2k

flufftober drabbles (requests are closed!)

sleep never used to come very easily to you. only after giving up your electronics for two hours before going to bed, meditating, inhaling what must have been a toxic amount of calming oils, and doing yoga would you be able to sleep through the night. however, ever since your little boy entered the world, all you seem to want to do is slide into bed and never get out.

tonight, your bladder’s decided to be a pain and ruin your plans.

sighing into your pillow at being woken up, you whine against the soft material before throwing the duvet off of yourself. despite the heat being turned on, chills bubble along your limbs as you pad to the bathroom linked to your bedroom. you’re so sleep-deprived, mind already halfway back to its previous state of unconsciousness and body moving on autopilot, that you don’t hear the creaking of the floors as you wash your hands.

when you come out of the bathroom, your heart nearly stops as you run into a firm surface, and you yelp loudly, sock-clad feet tumbling backwards in shock. thankfully, your husband seems to have better reflexes than you; his arm curls around your hip before you trip, and he brings you into his embrace rapidly.

“tom,” you sigh, forehead falling against his chest, “you scared the fuck out of me.”

chuckling against your hairline, tom drops a kiss on your forehead and pulls back, humming as your limbs circle his waist in return. “sorry, baby, i thought you’d be awake.” he yawns, looking so much like his son when he does the same thing, it makes you smile uncontrollably. “what time is it?”

“ten thirty, grandpa.” teasingly, you peck him on the jaw before exiting his hug, heading back to your warm bed.

tom glares at you as he drops his work blazer on the dresser, a lone clump of hair comically dropping onto his forehead while the rest remains perfectly styled for whatever celebrity event he attended today. you love your man so very dearly, but after this long together, his galas and parties all melt into one and you stop listening. his long fingers begin working on his tie as he shoots you a scowl, “you were already deep asleep, weren’t you, granny?”

bringing the covers up to your chin, you glance at him for a nanosecond before looking away, your own grimace forms. “maybe,” you mutter, gaze interested in the pattern of your duvet.

“god, when did we get so old?” tom whines, untucking his silk, white and beige button-up from his dress trousers and not bothering to take it off properly, choosing instead to wiggle out of it like it’s a t-shirt.

“hm, about three years ago when you knocked me up.” you respond, turning over onto your side to face him, the coziness of your position already lulling you back to sleep.

tom’s head snaps in your direction as his belt clangs to the floor, his honeyed eyes wide with offense. “we were already married, i did not knock you up.” he huffs, taking his pants off.

“potato, potahto.” you mock him in a british accent, loving when he’s riled up with no place to go. “either way, your son aged me ten years. i’m beginning to see all the senior hype about dinners at five and falling asleep to jeopardy by eight.”

the mattress droops under his weight, and tom snuggles up behind you, craving your body heat because he refuses to sleep in anything more than boxers or a pair of sweats. “he’s only ever my son when he does something. ‘s not fair.” he mumbles into your shoulder, the tip of his cold nose tickling your neck and you squeal, turning to face him.

“that’s right, because i’m an angel so all his good traits are inherited from me.” you coo and cup his face to warm up his freezing skin, snorting at the unimpressed look gracing it. “you, however, are a godless gemini. noah’s chaotic antics are all you, tommy.”

grumbling, tom cuddles deeper into your chest, pressing a long kiss to your neck, just over your pulse. “fine, mrs holland, you win this round. only because i’m fucking knackered from work.”

a sad aw, baby falls from your lips, and your fingers comb through his hair soothingly, working out the bits of gel coating some of the strands. tom sighs at the comforting rhythm of your digits massaging his scalp, his shoulders and neck relaxing even more as all the tension of the day evaporates under your loving touch.

groaning, he raises his head, his thinner lips brushing yours along with the tip of his nose. “kiss me, sweetheart,” he whispers, eyes hooded and tone ever so gentle. who are you to object?

your mouths mould together softly at first, both of you too tired and drowsy to participate in anything more than shallow, closed-mouthed kisses. when tom’s hand grips your hip tighter and his tongue slithers along your plush bottom lip, you moan a little, fingers pulling on his hair. before anything can happen, though, like more of tom’s hips grinding into your own, a shy knock resounds on the door.

tom pulls away and rests your foreheads together, his eyes fluttering reluctantly before he kisses you one last time and moves for his closet. grinning at the frustration on your whiny husband’s face, you sit up on your elbows and watch the doorknob begin the jiggle a bit.

“come in, honey.”

as soon as the words leave your mouth, the door opens, a tiny hand reaching up to hang onto the knob. the two and a half-year-old boy is staring at you with large, shiny brown eyes, curls wild on top of his head, and his other hand clutching his favourite plushie, flounder from the little mermaid.

“mama,” noah whimpers, tiny feet trudging a little further into your room, “bad dream.”

“oh, sweetie,” you pout, looking over at tom.

noah does the same, not realising his father was already home, and his eyes light up, bringing about a toothy grin. “daddy!” he squeals, running towards tom, dressed in sweatpants and an old tee now that your child is in the room, who picks him up with just as much excitement.

“hey, buddy,” tom beams, bringing the boy to his face so he can pepper loud kisses across his chubby cheeks. “you couldn’t sleep in your bed?”

“no,” the toddler whines, burying his face in his father’s neck. “there’s monsters, daddy.”

tom and you share a knowing look, matching smiles on your face as noah plays with the material of his footie pyjamas in one hand and clutches tom’s shirt in the other.

“it’s okay, baby, you can sleep next to mama and i tonight, alright?” tom coos, bouncing the little nugget in his arms to melt his pout.

your husband and son fall back onto the mattress, noah immediately snuggling under the blankets like it’s his own bed he’s gotten into, and you snort at his actions. once tom’s settled in, too, he throws an arm across noah’s small body and your side, and you take the liberty of intertwining your fingers.

“night, mama. night, daddy.” your baby mumbles into your chest, humming happily as you play with his hair. he really is a mini replica of his father.

“sweet dreams, baby.” tom replies, squeezing your hand in his.

sick days

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

synopsis: peter helps to make sick days bearable.

a/n: just a little something bc i miss u guys <3

tagging some mutuals: @kelieah @dhtomholland

did i just get my first request???

peter parker blurbs.

⤏ main masterlist

⤏ scroll through these :p

⤏ organized by date: oldest to newest.

⤏ ** indicates nsfw content, minors dni !! u will be blocked !!

BLURBS

home to you

⤏ after an unfavorable night on patrol, peter proposes an idea.

last night

⤏ peter makes the morning after unforgettable.

three months

⤏ peter reminds you just how much he’s missed you.**

attention

⤏ peter does whatever he can to get your attention.

SMAUS

sick days

⤏ peter helps to make sick days bearable.

100 followers !!

i’ll keep this short & simple so i don’t bore u guys :p

but 100 followers is huge to me!! this account has seen tremendous growth this past month & i’m so grateful for it all <3

after 4 years of not writing, i was a little nervous my writing would be shit & no one would read it i still kinda is but u guys have proved me wrong & i’m so over the moon abt that !!

i’m so excited to write & grow even more !!! i’m already seeing progress in my writing which is so crazy to me & i’m so excited to grow with you guys!

i appreciate the support more than u know & i hope u guys stick around :’) thank u for being the absolute kindest people <33

I GRADUATEDDDDDD !!!!!!!!

#37 and 44 prompt with tom :))

❀ girls like you ❀

it’s my first time writing bartender!tom & it was a lot of fun, i hope y’all enjoy :’) i think this au is gonna be reoccurring on this blog lmao 😳 also! gif by the wonderful @cindymooons <3

prompts: (37) kitchen counter make-outs + (44) wrapping your legs around your lover’s body as they lift you

↳ bartender!tom, rich kid!y/n, secret dating au, a pretty frivolous make-out

word count: 1.4k

flufftober drabbles (requests are open!)

when the clock finally ticks 12:30 am, tom slides out from behind the bar and walks towards the large double doors leading to the hotel main lobby. it’s been a long shift; ten hours with only a half hour break in between to get off his feet and smoke a cigarette outside in the sweet, sweet silence.

customers of the four seasons bar are especially rowdy on a friday night. tom’s got a theory at least half the somewhat wealthy, married men of london go there instead of their homes, tan lines apparent on their finger where their wedding ring used to be, now shoved into the pocket of their work slacks. they drink like retired sailors and lay on the shameless flirting heavily. the former doesn’t really bother tom—after almost three years of bartending here, he’s at a point where he doesn’t really need a partner to split the workload with on busy nights.

as he slides the final lock shut, a loud throat clearing takes him by surprise, and he jumps up with his hands in a fight position. the sight of you leaning against the now open staff door behind the bar has him relaxing, but it’s too late; your arms are crossed over your chest and a very amused grin plays on your red lips at his ridiculous boxing stance.

“you scared the fuck out of me,” tom breathes, taking out the rag he slides into the belt loops of his trousers. wiping the closest table, he watches as you move to lean forward against the bar, giving him a better view of your cleavage.

“oops,” you say, tone utterly remorseless. “i’m not keeping you from work, am i?”

as if that’s ever stopped you before. tom shakes his head, pointing to the empty room. “just closing up for the day. what are you doing here, accepting an oscar?”

you snort, teasingly striking a pose. the gown you’re wearing probably costs more than his car; long, black, and shimmery. it’s sleeveless, a sweetheart neckline highlighting your chest and collarbones. “no, just a little gathering for one of daddy’s new sponsors.” you answer, shrugging casually as though it’s something everyone does once in a while. in your world, that’s the case, tom reminds himself with a bite to his inner cheek.

“had the time of your life, i gather?” he grins when you roll your eyes and mime a gun to your forehead. “nobody talks about the struggles of girls like you. poor princess.”

even several feet away from you, he notices the way your eyes darken at the pet name, and it fills his chest with pride. good, you’re not the only one who can tease.

“yeah, well, just wanted to see if you’re up to anything before i go home.” liar.

leaving the rag behind, tom walks decisively towards the bar, delighting in the way you take a step back when he’s right in front of you. “you’re sure no one saw you coming in here?” he asks, gaze flickering across your expression.

you nod, breath hitching in your throat at the intensity of his honeyed eyes. “i left out of the front door, walked to the end of the block, and entered the staff door through the alley.” you recount, like a kid reciting a memorised poem with pride.

“good girl,” voice raspy as it utters two of your favourite words, tom closes the cap between you, hands sliding around your waist. your chests press together a second before your lips do, and you skip the chaste kisses phase to get straight to open-mouthed, heavy-tongued ones.

your fingers disappear into his hair, the gel he coats it with tired after a long shift, and you work it off his curls pleasantly. moaning into your mouth, tom’s hands crawl up your bare back, drawing shivers along your smooth skin. one of your palms leaves his head, trailing up his uncovered forearms and into his blazer when tom wraps you tighter in his embrace. your heeled legs wrap around his hips as he lifts you up, holding you in place for a brief moment as you break the kiss and dive into his thick neck, before placing you on the counter.

the heat of your tongue sears his sensitive skin as you lick across tom’s adam apple, sucking on the junction of his throat and neck. breathless, his hands cup your face, mashing your unfurled mouths together in another passionate kiss. teeth clashing, tongues fighting, shaky groans floating across the charged air between you.

as thought it physically pains him to do it, tom sighs and moves a hair’s width away, putting an end to your intertwined state. he looks down to your lap, jaw clenching when he notices the slits in your gown that show your thighs and legs in your seat position, with his hips holding them apart. a slow smile curls on your lips when he places his palms on your skin, one of your hands falling on his wrist to draw figures on his strong forearm with the tips of your fingers. the other cups his cheek, raising his head up to lock your eyes.

“i missed you this week,” you whisper, honesty dripping from your words like tequila into a shot glass.

tom’s features soften at your confession, and he squeezes your thigh, bumping the tip of your nose with his. “missed you too, princess.” he mumbles back, although there’s no one around to overhear. “you’ve been busy, huh?”

“my mum’s on my ass about a charity gala we’re supposed to cohost, yet somehow all the work’s fallen into my lap.” despite the annoyance of your statement, your voice is gentle and sweet, in tune with the back and forth movement of your thumb on the apple of his cheek. “i wished i were with you every single day, though. i can’t wait until my parents fuck off to bali next week and you can have me all to yourself again.”

the grin that spreads on his face is completely shameless, like he’s swallowed a hanger, and he locks an arm around your waist, dragging you closer to the edge of the bar. “all to myself… i really like the sound of that, sweetheart.” tom mutters, taking your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second. “as much as i love quickies in the elevator, i just wanna watch a bloody film with you and go to sleep like a regular couple.”

your heart thuds a bit faster when he refers to the both of you as a couple, and you try not to show just how flustered the label’s gotten you. it’s not like you and tom haven’t been exclusive for a few months now, but your situation is so precarious—all the secrecy and running around and scheduling brief moments to meet in between the chaos of your individual lives… it’s just hard to define your arrangement. you can’t even express in words how much it means to you that tom is the one who breaks that barrier for you, and he does so casually, like you’re the only one who’s been obsessing over the seriousness of your relationship this whole time. knowing how head empty he can be, you probably are the only one who’s taken notice of this dilemma.

“i really want that too,” you giggle timidly, laying a kiss on his chin, “especially now that i know, thanks to harrison, you’ve cried while watching notting hill.”

tom throws his head back with a groan, though the corner of his lips fight to curve at the sound of your dulcet laughter. “why would he even tell you that? you’re both obsessed with me.” he jokes, rolling his eyes like a dramatic teenager.

“i’m not obsessed with you, tommy,” grinning, you take his hand into yours and bring it to your chest. “i’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”

cheeks flushing a furious pink, tom’s mouth dries at the sweet nickname you address him with, before he bites on his lip and looks at you with the most vivid adoration you’ve ever seen. “don’t worry, the boy’s well on his way to loving you.”

gonna go watch nwh for the second time😼

finding my work on fic rec lists >>>