Tomsparkyr - TOMSPARKYR

𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

summary: jj knew, of course he knew. so the only way to make harry admit it is to submit an assumption of his own. only it was to be uploaded on youtube.

masterlist.

harry lewis x minter!reader

wroetoshaw x minter!reader (simon’s sister)

warnings: fluff, confession stuff, protective simon, just the sidemen being themselves djdndjs

don’t steal any of my work, thanks!

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𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃. Practically shitting his pants. Palms were sweating and he swore he felt and single drop of sweat fall down his forehead. JJ’s glare did little to help, his wide and evil eyes protruding and large grin stretched across his face.

“Welcome to your assumptions about the sidemen!” JJ spoke in an accent, seeing Harry crumple under his smirk, knowing it would score for views. The remaining five sidemen sat around the two, figures all led across the cushions and feet kicked up. JJ had the laptop coming to him, mind floating in the assumption he had added onto the lot.

Ethan had the laptop rested on his thighs, the device buzzing on how long it had been on. The men continued an assumption on whether a couple of the sidemen have seen each other’s penises at one point, JJ had his stare on Harry and he reciprocated this; fans most definitely thinking something different to what JJ had in mind.

The debate came to an end and Ethan cleared his throat, “Simon wouldn’t let any of the sidemen date his sister.” His eyebrows perked up and snapped his head to the blonde sat beside him. Simon shook his head with lip tucked between his teeth.

JJ’s mouth dropped open as he had not expected as question similar to his to pop up, a cackle erupting from his mouth as his head fell back onto the sofa. Ethan leaned into JJ as his body curled in laughter.

“I swear if any of you get with my sister, I will kill you!” Simon laughed along, thinking little of it as his friends bodies jolted subtly with laughter. Not noticing the way Harry’s smile seemed to be that little bit forced, cheek burning red in embarrassment; quickly hiding this in the teddy bear his was leaned into and cuddling it, the one you ironically got him.

Simon brushed off the question, the idea of his sister becoming a close lover to one of the sidemen being a reoccurring theme throughout their videos, running for a total of six years. The laptop was slid into JJ’s lap, Josh leaning over to watch him skip past several assumptions, seeing his pause on one that read the username: KSI.

Josh began laughing which caused the remaining five to turn their heads. Tobi leaped up as JJ pulled the laptop off his chest, tilting it in his direction showing him the assumption. Tobi slid down the sofa with a squeal of laughter and giggles falling from his lips, instantly leaning to whisper the words in Vik’s ear when he held a confused look.

Simon attempted to reach for the laptop, all four yelling and yanking it far from his reach. The blonde protesting, Harry repeating what Simon had previously done and the sidemen to react in the exact same way. “Okay. Okay!” JJ calmed himself, sending Harry a very suggestive look before settling his gaze on the laptop.

“Harry definitely has the hots for Y/N but is scared shitless of Simon kicking his ass”

Harry gasped and plunged his head into the teddy bear as Simon held a deadpan face in the Lewis boys direction. Simon’s posture straightened as it became abundantly clear that this assumption was correct and currently relevant. The sidemen screamed under the two’s reaction, flailing limbs thrown across the room as many jumped up and down on the sofa is excitement.

“You what now, Harry?” Simon blinked, feeling a strong figure fall into his neck as chuckles tingled his neck, immediately knowing it was his best friend JJ who had come up with the assumption.

“No! No! I don’t like her! I mean, I do like her- I mean not like that but like that?” Harry tripped over his words as his hands ran through his hair aggressively, feeling an immense amount of pressure to not mess up under Simon’s stare.

A silence fell over the group, practically a stare off between the two opposite sides. The four sat in between the lot flickered their eyes back and fourth from Harry to Simon then back to Harry to Simon and on.

Simon squinted his eyes, “Fine.” Harry gasped and leaped up and ran out of the shot, sprinting to the door and slamming it shut behind him; hearing the loud screams and yells from his best friends (and soon to be brother-in-law) behind him.

As quick as possible, Harry found himself at your front door, panting heavily as his hands and forehead rested on your door. His mind raced on what to say to you, clueless before your door opened, causing him to fall chest to chest with you.

“Hi-“ “I know, Simon told me.” You whispered, interrupting him by slamming your lips onto his, feeling his actions quickly reciprocate yours. His hands slipping around your waist and tugging your petite waist against his warm and hot body, hands smoothing the fall of your back.

You tugged away before his tongue slipped into your mouth, grabbing the collar of his jumper and tugging his into your flat, his foot shutting the door behind you two.

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“You know, it was me who put that assumption in. You’re welcome lads.” JJ laughed as he watched Harry slam the door shut behind him, camera still rolling; knowing this would be a sick video now that would surely go viral.

“You mean you just caused my sister and my best friend to get together.” Simon tilted his head in JJ’s direction.

He nodded confidently with a smug look written upon his face, “Absolutely I did-“

“And caused them to most definitely sleep together now?”

JJ’s mouth dropped open, a look of pure fear snapping onto his face within a millisecond. Simon’s eyes widened looking at him, teeth grind together and muscles tensed. JJ screamed before jumping into Ethan’s arms:

“Please don’t kill me!”

love this! hope you liked :)) on a big harry inspo

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home | t.holland

{dad!tom x ex!reader}

summary: it’s a tale as old as time; you got knocked up by accident, tried to tough it out for the kid, and it ended in disaster. it’s been five years, though, and things are different now—maybe you and tom could give it another go.

word count: 16.3k

warnings: angst! past toxic relationships! exes to lovers. mostly fluff. smut x2! alcohol, language, dad!tom. explicit warnings below divide.

18+ only!!! minors stay away!

warnings: SCENE ONE: dom!tom, hair pulling, toxicity? protected sex. SCENE TWO: soft!tom. oral + fingering (f receiving). protected sex (wrap it up folks x2)

Five Years Ago

The sound of the lock turning practically echoed through the small apartment, and your shoulders were tense as you dropped your forehead against the wooden surface of the door with a deep sigh. Silence, it was overwhelming. Living with a one-year old offered very few moments of respite, infrequent moments in which the quiet permeated your small apartment and broke through the seemingly constant noise of baby babble and bare feet on wooden floors.

Living with Tom offered even fewer moments of reprieve. Well, these days it did—if the baby wasn’t making noise, then usually the two of you were filling the empty airspace with your own voices. You wished you could say they were the sounds of a happy little family; soft voices and laughter and joy, but that was far from the truth.

You were barely even adults yourselves, struggling to raise a child that was the product of one stupid mistake. Sometimes it felt as if you were the only one rising to the occasion, though, with how childish and petulant Tom continued to act. It almost felt as if he were doing it on purpose, like he was rebelling against your expectations of him.

Today had been Thalia’s first birthday. First birthdays were meant to be momentous, joyous occasions. You should have been overcome with love and happiness, thrilled at your child reaching her first milestone birthday… but you weren’t. Well, you were thrilled, and happy, and there was joy in the occasion, but you were weighted down by heavier, more cumbersome thoughts and feelings.

Worries of what was to come permeated your mind. Tom had lost another job just two days before the big day, after only two months of employment. He’d been doing good, working hard and diligently after nearly an entire month with no job whatsoever. But, as he’d done with his last two jobs in the past year, he’d up and quit out of the blue with no warning.

This time he claimed it was due to mistreatment from the boss. He was a micromanaging twat, Tom had said, always finding some stupid reason to nitpick him like he didn’t know how to use a screwdriver. You just didn’t get it! Couldn’t he just suck it up, couldn’t he just accept that being an adult sometimes meant working with people who were less than pleasant?

Now you were back to square one, panicking as you did your best to mentally keep track of your financial situation. Would that one extra present be what put you in the red for the month? Would that one sick day last week mean one less meal for Thalia? Could you afford rent this month, or would you have to ask your family for assistance… again?

His eyes were on you. You could feel it in the way the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your hackles raising irritably whilst you continued to cool your face against the door with shaky breaths. Thalia was staying with his parents for the night, and any normal, happy parents would have been thrilled to have a night alone. A night for some adult time, with no worries or need to tiptoe around in fear of waking the sleeping baby.

But you? You were swallowing down bile that was creeping up your throat, knowing well enough that a night alone with Tom was the last thing you wanted. There was no reason to keep your voices quiet without Thalia around, no reason to curb the argument that was bound to ensue for fear of waking her or scaring her.

The resentment had been building for months. Many nights the bickering escalated to full blown fighting, your voices harsh whispered retorts that bit worse than any screams you could ever have imagined. Most of the time it was you who ended it, hushing Tom’s attempts to continue and often ending up on the floor of your daughter’s room just to avoid the possibility of it picking back up.

Now there was no one, no reason to keep quiet or put a pin in things. It terrified you, because you knew what it could mean—and yet you didn’t want to admit it to yourself. It felt like the end, like a finality that was doomed to come, and as much as you were ready to quit the fighting you weren’t so sure you could say you were ready to quit Tom.

He’d been your first everything. Your first crush, your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first time. He was the father of your child, despite how much you liked to claim he didn’t act like it. Tom Holland was such a staple in your life—hell, he was your life, before Thalia was born. It felt weird, wrong, to imagine him no longer being a part of it in the way he had been, the way you imagined he would always be.

He was all you’d ever known, and before this year you’d expected that he was all you’d ever know. You knew deep down, though, that was no longer the case. Your relationship was in shambles, practically only true in title. You couldn’t even remember the last time the two of you had slept together, despite many nights spent alone with Thalia sleeping at one of her grandparents’ houses.

“(Y/N)…”

The sound of his voice, soft and tender, hesitant, made your spine stiffen. A strange wave of emotions overcame you at the sorrowful tone. Nostalgia, longing, sadness, anger… emptiness. Taking a deep breath, you turned and leaned your back against the door instead, Tom’s brown eyes meeting your own.

For a long while, the two of you stared at each other in silence. His face was impassive, his lips in a straight line and his brows twitching slightly as he found to keep his expression neutral. You knew he was fighting a frown, though, and his adam’s apple was bobbing as he swallowed thickly. Your own throat felt clogged, a thick lump choking you and stopping you from saying a single word.

This was the end of you, you knew it.

Since he’d come home and informed you that he’d quit yet another job, the two of you hadn’t stopped bickering. You hadn’t even been able to put on happy faces and pretend things were okay for your daughter’s birthday party, both of you whispering snide jabs at each other whenever you were in close proximity. But, now? Now you were all fought out, and as you looked at Tom the sadness and longing overtook the anger entirely.

Why had things gone so wrong? Everything had been perfect between the two of you. You’d had plans, dreams of your futures together—always together—and now those futures seemed like nothing but a pipe dream. Had it really just been childish puppy love? You thought what you had was real.

His lips parted, and he cleared his throat as he went to finally speak up, but you cut him off with a simple raise of your hand. “Don’t,” you whispered, “please. I don’t want to fight anymore.”

Tom froze, his mouth closing once more as he fiddled with the bottom of his shirt nervously. Those words should have brought relief, should have made a healthy couple take pause and appreciate a good thing more. But for the two of you, in a relationship that was more of an obligation anymore, it was a loaded request.

If you weren’t fighting, then what were you anymore? Nothing, nothing at all, and Tom seemed to realize what was to come as he watched your eyes glaze over with restrained tears. His lips trembled slightly, and his lashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly to control his own welling eyes.

“Just…“ you choked, sucking in a deep and shuddering breath, “can you just kiss me? I—“

It was a stupid request, a horrible idea, but you wanted nothing more than to pretend that you weren’t about to end the one thing you’d always imagined would be permanent. You wanted him. You wanted Tom, always, but if this was the last night you could have him then you wanted to remember something good.

He hesitated for only a moment. Those brown eyes churned with emotions, his posture rigid as he fought with whatever battle was waging in his mind, before they hardened. He turned stony, and his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth and strode across the small living space to pin you to the door.

The familiar sparks were still there as his lips descended onto your own. That rush of warmth, that heat that spread across your body like a wildfire that blazed and ate at your skin until it reached your core—you were pretty sure that was the only thing that would be permanent, the way Tom made your body react. It didn’t excite you the way it used to, though. Gone was the thrill of butterflies in your stomach and love on the brain. All that was left was a carnal sort of hunger.

It was messy, and aggressive, and your head knocked against the door under the force of his. He ravaged your mouth with his own leaving no room for you to try and gain control. Tom’s hands were firm and steady on your jaw, holding you in place as he had his way with you. You liked it, though, because you weren’t sure you could bear to try and kiss him yourself without totally losing it.

Months had gone by since the two of you had touched each other, and even more time had passed since you’d even had the desire to do it yourself. When was the last time you’d gotten any sort of release? Far too long ago, you decided.

Tom bit your lip, tugging the puffy pink flesh into his mouth and sucking hard. Your whimper only spurred him on, his lips prying your own apart forcefully to let his tongue sweep across your own and dominate you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t anything; all you could do was taste him on you, and cling to the rush of adrenaline that surged through you.

It gave you purpose. It made you feel something—something good, born of nothing but bad, but it was the first good thing he’d made you feel in quite a while. Your own hands pawed at his shirt, squeezing his shoulders and raking your nails down his chest until that familiar groan escaped his lips and filled your own lungs.

You pulled his hair, harder than necessary, and one of his hands slipped back from your jaw to bury in the tresses at the base of your skull. His fingers curled, fisting the hair there, and he pulled hard until your neck was craned back and exposed to him. It hurt—a lot—but the sudden pressure of his lips on the column of your throat only made you want more of it.

He was heavy and unyielding, moving you as he pleased. One hand buried in your hair until your scalp stung and begged for mercy, the other clutching your jaw so tightly his fingers trembled with strain. Open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your neck made stars burst behind your eyes, your breathing ragged and labored with exertion. Then his teeth followed, biting at your flesh like an animal, and you broke.

The noise you made was somewhere between a sob and a scream, your knees buckling beneath you as a wave of pleasure so strong swept you off your feet. It was nearly orgasmic; not a climax, but a surge of animalistic desire so powerful you very well could have finished right in that moment. Your whole body trembled and you wheezed as your neck bent at such an angle you choked yourself, only the weight of Tom’s chest pressing into your own keeping you from crumbling to the floor.

Before, back when the two of you were happy, such a reaction from you would have made Tom pause and look at you with a sort of lusty adoration that made your heart race. He’d have laughed his cocky little chortle, brown eyes alight with an arrogant joy at the way you reacted to him. This time he didn’t, though. He only pressed you harder into the door, a low growl reverberating through his chest as he continued his assault and bore his teeth into the skin where your neck met your shoulder.

“Tom, please.” you begged, your voice cracking as he sucked another deep and painful bruise into your skin. “Please, I just want you.”

I just want you, always.

It was a truth and a lie, a paradox in itself. The truth was, you did only want him—but not like this. You wanted him, but you wanted him to try harder… to grow up like you’d done, to pick himself up and be the man you knew he could be for you and for Thalia. He couldn’t, though, or wouldn’t, and you couldn’t force him. You couldn’t wait anymore, either. All you could do was seize this last moment of pleasure with him, before accepting the cards fate had dealt the two of you.

He groaned under his breath, and released your aching head from his grip. “Turn around, then.” he demanded.

His eyes were dark. Not with lust, or that carnal desire that was undoubtedly swirling within your own, but dark as if the lights had gone out. Hollow. Empty, like he’d turned on autopilot and abandoned ship. It hurt worse than anything, and you couldn’t bear to see it, so you did as he commanded.

Your hands met the solid wooden door, and Tom’s hands landed on your back in a forceful shove to push you against it until you were bent to his liking. They fumbled with your jean skirt, tugging the scratchy material up and bunching it around your waist until your bum was chilled by the cool air. He paused then, fingers gently trailing over the swell of your behind in a caress that so reminded you of happier times that you nearly wept.

Slow, soft circles across your skin—you clenched your eyes shut to keep from crying and tried your best to steady yourself. His thumbs looped through the cotton material of your thong and yanked it down, leaving the fabric strapped to your thighs as his hands left you entirely. You felt cold as you listened to the sound of his belt unbuckling, pants unzipping, and the familiar tear of a foil packet.

Only once had you forgotten, and it had been the nail in the coffin that now confined your relationship. Tom’s breathing stuttered as his hands found your hips, one foot sweeping between your legs to knock your ankles apart until you were spread to your thong’s limit, and his voice cracked as he questioned, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Yes, but not like this.

Yes, but I want more.

Yes, but I wish things were different.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you repeated.

His fingers dragged through your folds, dragging over your aching core as he collected your arousal with a low hum. Months of pent up frustration were leaking out of you, soaking you as you anticipated the release you’d been aching for. The fraction of a second attention to your sensitive, yearning bundle of nerves sent a shiver down your spine, before his touch left you.

Then a touch of a different kind. A smooth glide of latex over your center, and he was pushing into you so agonizingly slowly you cried out desperately. You needed more. You needed him, now, and you pushed your hips back against him only to protest as his hands gripped your hips and forced you to remain still. “Fuck,” he hissed, bottoming out and stilling, “I—“

I love you.

I hate you.

I wish things were different.

He never finished his statement, choking back his words with a guttural moan as he pulled back and pushed back into you just as slowly. Your hands were slipping down the door due to how sweaty they were, and your head rammed into it as you nearly lost balance. He kept you upright, though, his hands never moving from your hips as he kept you right where he wanted you.

You’d never finished from penetration alone, your body not one of the rare unicorns capable of such sorcery, but fuck if you didn’t feel like you could explode just from the aching stretch of his length buried within your walls. It had been far too long, and you were strung so high you imagined you could feel every last cell of him gliding against your own. Every vein, every ridge, every inch of him—condom be damned, the friction felt better than even the lone time you’d made the mistake of going raw.

The slow pace was killing you, though. “Tom, please,” you begged, your voice ragged, “I need more!”

Slow retreat, slow advance. Slow, slow, slow. He squeezed your hips harshly as you clenched around him and struggled with all of your might to push back against him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” he gritted out, “Stop moving!”

“Then fuck me, Tommy, please!”

He ripped out of you so quickly, so abruptly that you yelped. His hips snapped back into your own, your face slamming off the door, and you screamed as he picked up a brutal pace. One hand on your hip, the other found your hair to yank your head off the door and you were crying now. You weren’t sure if it was the name that did it, or if it was simply the culmination of all the negative emotions that had been building for so long, but you didn’t really care.

All you cared about was how good it felt to have him pounding into your begging center, your walls opening for him like you were made for him and him alone. Each thrust sent shocks of pain through your body, followed by toe curling rushes of pleasure and arousal, and you could already feel his body trembling the way it always did when he was close. He wasn’t going to last.

You gave up on trying to hold yourself up in favor of chasing that release you were so desperate for. Tom was only moments away from bursting, you were certain of it, and you subjected yourself of the pain in your scalp as you removed one hand from the door to find your clit. All the was keeping you upright was the grip he had on your hair and your hip, your lone hand on the door so slick with sweat it was more of a struggle to keep it there than it was to remain standing.

There was sure to be a noise complaint in the morning from the way the door rattled with each of his ruthless thrusts, and your moans were more like breathless screams—the neighbors were probably concerned, but you didn’t care. Your fingers swirled around your throbbing nub in rapid, frantic circles. Your knees trembled, your blood roared behind your ears, and your breath hitched as that knot in your stomach tightened immeasurably.

So close, you were so close your jaw went slack and your hand cramped with the desperate curl of your fingers. “Tommy, I’m gonna—“ you gasped, and a supernova exploded behind your eyes.

Your hand froze against your clit as you clenched around him, your entire body seizing in the throes of the most mind blowing orgasm you’d probably ever had. He shouted a string of curses and rolled his hips through the vice grip of your walls, his length twitching with his own release. “Holy—“ he choked, “(Y/N)!” You were trembling as he rutted into you, throbbing within you as you felt the warmth spill into the condom before he stilled entirely.

Your head dropped against the door as he released the fistful of your hair, and you sank to the floor when he let go of you entirely and pulled out slowly. You felt empty, and not just in a physical sense. That was a mistake, and you knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. You’d needed it, in a twisted sort of way—one last hoorah, or something like that.

Tom disappeared to dispose of the condom, and didn’t return for a long while. You wondered if maybe he’d tucked himself away in the bedroom, or the bathroom, to avoid the impending dissolution of your relationship. But, after a few long minutes, he returned with a wet rag to wipe the mess between your legs away and the tender kiss he pressed to your forehead brought a choked sob from the depths of your chest.

He didn’t say anything, but one bleary glance at his face showed silent tears streaming down his own cheeks. It was a conflicting sight, one that broke your heart into smaller pieces than it had already crumbled into. On one hand you were glad to see the end of an era pained him just as much as it did you, but the bigger part of you ached to see him hurting. You hated to see him sad, and you hated even more that there was nothing you could do to help.

He helped you from the floor with gentle, shaky hands, and once you righted your skirt and underwear the two of you silently made your way through the apartment. He disappeared again, wordlessly, and you slipped into the kitchen with a heavy heart. There was a half empty bottle of whiskey in the cabinet that you were pretty sure he thought you weren’t aware of, and you pulled it down and uncapped it like your life depended on it.

Taking a gulp and wincing at the taste, you padded through the silent home until you finally found him. He was curled up on one of the balcony chairs, gazing out into the distance with a cigarette between his lips and a crease in his brow. “Drink?” you offered, settling beside him, and he took it without looking in your direction.

He held the cigarette out silently, and you took it with your eyes trained solely on him. The fact that he couldn’t even look at you convinced you that it was right to end things. It felt like a manifestation of the issues in your relationship—while you were able to look him in the eye, to face the challenge of unplanned and unexpected parenthood head on, he was not. He wasn’t ready for it, and you couldn’t keep waiting for him to finally catch up.

“This is the end, isn’t it?” he finally asked.

His voice was raw, hoarse, and he finally turned to look at you. That hollow dullness in his eyes remained, tear tracks on his cheeks, and your heart shattered. A quiet sound of dismay tore from your throat, and you sniffled as you whispered, “Yes, it is.”

For a long time neither of you said anything. You cried, and smoked, and drank together, trading the cigarette and bottle back and forth until the butt burnt out and your heads were swimming. It had to be the end. The two of you were barely even adults, you shouldn’t have been feeling such things so early in life. You should have been happy, and free, and living with reckless abandon in your youth.

But, being an adult meant accepting when a good thing was no longer good. It meant looking toxicity in the eye and expelling it from your life, knowing it was better that way even when it didn’t feel like it. And your relationship was no longer good, it had long turned toxic, and you’d put off doing the adult thing long enough.

For once, Tom seemed to pull up his big boy pants as he stated, “I’ll… I’ll move back in with my parents. You and Thalia should stay here—“

“Tom, you don’t have to. I can look for another apartment—“

He cut you off, his voice firm as he continued, “No, it makes more sense for me to move out. Why uproot Thalia and do all of that work, when I couldn’t even pay for this place anyways?”

Why was it that only now could he make a decision like an adult? You stuffed the bitter thoughts down, choosing to be compassionate for once. Perhaps you were doing the same as him, though, in doing so. You hadn’t offered him the courtesy much over the past few months. It felt wrong, though, to fight to the very end.

So, you just accepted his offer with a quiet, “Okay. I… I do love you, Tom.”

“I know.” he rasped, “I love you too, but sometimes that’s just not enough.”

✾ ✾ ✾

Present Day

A gentle breeze blew through the open seating area, and you scrambled to keep hold of the last Frozen themed tarp you were attempting to staple down to the wooden picnic table. You could hear the bags of plastic cups tumble off of another table, and the distinct clatter of wind ripping through plastic as mother nature attempted to shear the previously stapled tarps away from their holdings. Okay, maybe a gentle breeze was an understatement.

Slapping the staple gun down against the table, you pulled the trigger and sighed in relief when you finally finished securing the last sheer plastic hindrance. These tarps would be the death of you one day, but they made for easy decorating and disposal—every parents’ dream when it came to children’s birthdays.

In the distance children were running and playing, screaming and shrieking laughter that echoed through the park. It was a beautiful day, aside from the wind, and you were beyond grateful that your daughter’s birthday fell at the perfect time of year. Early fall, when the weather wasn’t too hot or too cold, and you could have parties outside without being exposed to the elements.

If there was one thing you’d learned since Thalia’s first birthday, it was that children’s birthday parties were much, much better suited to being an outdoor occasion. Plenty of space for the hoards of screeching kids to run (preferably far away from you), and no worries about them smearing frosting and other food items on your furniture. Clothes were an easy fix, to the wash or to the trash, but you’d learned your lesson about letting grubby fingered kids get anywhere near your sofa after eating cake and ice cream.

Another thing you’d learned, was that it was much easier setting up for a birthday party when the birthday girl was not present. This year Thalia’s birthday fell on the tail end of Tom’s custody weekend, which meant that you were in charge of the decorations and set up. Last year he’d been in charge, which meant no tarps and three different kids crying over splinters in their fingers from the old wooden picnic tables. He’d been a blushing mess when your point over them being necessary had been proven.

Tom was due to arrive any minute, and already a few parents and friends of Thalia had arrived with gift bags and cheerful greetings. Your parents were off by the playground, chatting away with Thalia’s best friend Sophie’s parents, and Nikki and Dom were organizing the food and drinks on another table. Harry, Sam, and Paddy had pretended not to hear them when they’d asked for help, and were off terrorizing the children on the jungle gym.

“Mummy!”

Thalia’s shriek tore through the open air, and you barely had time to crouch before she came hurtling into your body. “Thalia!” you mocked with a grin, squeezing the little girl tightly until she squirmed and giggled, “How’s my birthday girl?”

Her brown curls were down to her lower back now, windswept and tangled as always—it was impossible to keep them neat when she was such an active and rambunctious little girl. A tiara swept them away from her face, Elsa’s cartoon face emblazoned on a large pendant in the center. This year for her birthday the little girl had demanded a princess party, in accordance with her (and her father’s) infatuation with Frozen.

Never mind the fact that Elsa was technically a queen—it was fitting for the birthday girl to be the queen at her birthday party. She wore a sparkly blue costume, and the random magic wand she’d probably refused to leave at Tom’s house nearly took my eye out as she threw her arms up with a happy squeal. “Mummy, daddy let me have ice cream for breakfast—oops… he said I wasn’t supposed to tell you.” she cheered, before catching herself and whispering with wide brown eyes.

Thalia was the spitting image of Tom. For a while, as a baby, it had been up in the air as to who she would take after appearance wise. But, the older she got, the more Tom’s features took precedent. You didn’t even have it in you to be disappointed your little girl looked nearly nothing like you; she was far too beautiful to care, and you weren’t exactly disappointed she looked like her dad.

You made a noise of surprise, raising your eyebrows as you looked from your daughter to Tom who was flushed and avoiding your eye, “Is that so?” Thalia nodded, though she looked a bit more perturbed as she’d tattled accidentally, “Well, I guess that’s okay for today. It is your birthday after all.”

The wand made another near pass for your eye as she squealed again, and you released the child for your own safety. Tom was still avoiding your eye, and you bit back a laugh as he teasingly glared at the girl and muttered, “Snitch.” Thalia just stuck her tongue out before racing off toward the playground, want ripping through the air and curls flowing freely.

Things between you and Tom had changed for the better since you’d ended your relationship. It had been five years since you’d called it quits, finally, and plenty had changed in that time. He’d seemingly finally accepted his fate. Gone were the days of job hopping, and he’d actually started his own carpentry business. After months of struggle, the decision had paid off; he was constantly taking on work, employed a few people under him, and his business was positively booming.

The first year had been hard, to say the least. The two of you were still harboring a plethora of resentment and bitter emotions, only compounded by the rather tumultuous night of your demise, and it had been a struggle to come to terms with things. You’d fought like cats and dogs for weeks, even more than you had when you’d been together, and custody had very nearly been a war. But, eventually, it had all worked out.

A custody agreement was put into place once Tom finally got a good footing financially and found an apartment nearby your own. Thalia switched weekly, and the last weekend of each month she spent either with your parents or Tom’s—a request made by the grandparents, but a blessing for the two single parents who desperately needed the break. She was happy, and healthy, and so were the two of you.

It had taken a little longer for you both to settle into co-parenting. At first, once the fighting had passed, it had been tense and awkward. Handoffs were stiff and uncomfortable, no doubt further more for Thalia, and family events such as holidays and birthdays were spent walking on eggshells. Eventually, though, you’d begun to talk civilly again.

Nowadays, Tom was on your mind a lot. You’d become friends again, settled back into that best-friend sort of bliss that you’d had before you started dating all those years ago, and things were good. Better than good, even—amazing.

But he plagued your mind and your heart. Looking into Thalia’s big brown eyes was like staring at a past version of Tom, the innocent little boy you’d met when you were kids. You missed him, far more than you cared to admit.

Sometimes your mind wandered, and you wondered if it would be worth it to revisit the possibility of loving him. Of having him, all of him, always, like you’d imagined for your future. But then you looked at your little girl, and remembered all the pain of trying to make it work when she was still too young to take notice. The memories kept you from ever considering it a possibility.

She was older now, and despite her young age she was perceptive and understood more, and that was a risk too big to take. This time the fighting would have lasting damage, and the possibility of things ending in disaster like they had before would certainly devastate her. It would devastate you, too, but your daughter was the most important thing anymore.

“Uncle Haz!”

The squeal of your daughter brought you out of your reverie, and you smiled fondly at the sight of her racing into Harrison’s open arms. The blond man was decked out in a Kristoff costume, and it warmed your heart to see. Unexpectedly, Thalia was far closer to Tom’s best friend than she was to any of her blood uncles—bitterly, if you were to ask Harry or Sam. The two of them were constantly fighting to win her affection, but it was no use. The little girl was smitten with her Uncle Haz.

Harry scowled at the sight of him in a Kristoff costume, and you bit back a giggle as you realized they were matching from head to toe. “Well, one of us is going to have to change!” he sassed, and Thalia thumped him on the head with her wand as Harrison carried her over. Sophie, Thalia’s tiny best friend with watery blue eyes and brown ringlets, followed behind dutifully.

Tom leaned against the table beside you, his arm brushing against your own and sending an electric jolt through your body. If he felt you shiver, he made no comment on it, and you were grateful. The noise and livelihood of your surroundings seemed to fade away with him so near, like it always did, and you allowed yourself just a moment to settle into the warmth that radiated from him. To settle into the comfort that he brought you.

He was your rock, to say the least. At one point he’d been a buoy in a stormy sea, dragging you out into the churning and spitting waves as your relationship dissolved into chaos. But, now? Now he was like a warm rock under the sun, the perfect resting place to warm you to your very core and ground you. You clung to him, you knew, but you just couldn’t help it.

You’d tried to move on, to get back out there as people called it, but it was no use. There was always something wrong with them. Too vulgar, too vain, too self-absorbed, too childish, too closed off. No one ever made it past the second date, and no one was ever worthy of meeting Thalia. For as many reasons as you could come up with to explain why it never worked, you knew the truth—they weren’t Tom. You’d never admit it to anyone, and at this point you were pretty sure you’d die alone because you just couldn’t imagine anyone else taking his place.

Sometimes, late at night, you allowed your mind to go to those places. You let your mind read too much into the tender pecks Tom offered your cheeks, the warm and loving smiles he sent your way, and you wondered if maybe you’d made the wrong decision. Could you have made it work? Could he have grown up the way he had if you hadn’t pulled the plug?

It was easy to say no, to say that your leaving was one of the driving forces in Tom getting his shit together, but the hard truth was that you’d never know. You’d never know if things could have worked out, and you’d never know if things would be different now should you go back to that intimacy. God, did you want to, though.

Tom’s arm looped around your shoulders, dragging you into his side for a soft hug as he murmured, “How are you, mama?” You shivered again, and this time he noticed you realized as his hand rubbed your arm to provide friction, “Cold?”

You weren’t, but you muttered a quiet affirmative. It was a bit of a chilly day, but you were comfortable. It was Tom that made you tremble; his low voice speaking only for you to hear, his touch on your skin, and that damn name sending chills down your spine. It made you ache to hear it.

“I’m good.” you shrugged, and leaned into his side. He was warm, but not in a physical sense—though he was warm in that regard too. He was warm like sunshine on your face after weeks of rain, like a cup of tea on an early morning. The kind of heat that warms you from the inside out, that makes you feel good and yearn for more. “What did you and Thalia get up to this week?”

If these were the only moments you got where things felt like they could be more, could be better, you’d cherish them. You preened at the feel of his arm squeezing you tighter to him, and even dared to place a hand on his arm in reciprocity. He grinned down at you with sparkling eyes, and you could have gotten lost in that smile forever.

His tone was adoring as he spoke, “Nothing too crazy. We watched Frozen about fifty times, sang Frozen songs even more—oh! She did tell me that my Kristoff voice is better than Harrison’s, but she told me not to tell him… So I told him, and rubbed it in his face for ages.”

You had to laugh at that, and your eyes instinctively trailed the park until you found Thalia. Harrison was spinning her around in circles, her dress and curls fanning out wildly as she giggled and squealed with glee. If you had to guess, you’d say that Harrison was probably Thalia’s first crush—innocent in the way of a six-year-old, but she looked at him as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. Seriously, she didn’t even look at you or Tom with as much adoration.

“Do you dream in musical numbers now? I do.” you joked, and Tom chuckled before feigning a groan. “I really hope she burns out on Frozen soon. There’s only so many times you can sing Let It Go before you smash your TV.”

He nodded in agreement, but hummed, “It’ll just be onto the next one. Remember the Baby Shark—“

“We don’t speak that name, Tom.”

You grimaced at the nightmare that had been Thalia’s Baby Shark phase. That song would haunt you until the day you died, you were certain of it. She’d grown out of it after a few months, and you’d warned everyone that anyone who dared remind her of that wretched song would pay for it.

Tom’s laugh made your heart flutter, and your skin tingle. It was a sound you could get lost in, drown in, forever. Thalia had his laugh, too, and sometimes it brought tears to your eyes. “She’s getting so big, so fast.” he stated, wistfully, “I just want to press pause and keep her this little for a while. Soon she’s gonna think cuddles from daddy are gross, and I’m not ready for it.”

She really was growing too fast. The past six years had flown by in the blink of an eye, and sometimes you woke up to a child who looked like she’d aged overnight. Where had your baby gone? What happened to the diapers, and onesies, and footie pajamas? Hell, you even missed the thumb-sucking if only for cuteness sake.

“Neither am I,” you agreed, and you couldn’t resist the temptation to lay your head on his shoulder, “I don’t want her to grow up.” His chin rested on your head, and your lips trembled.

You wanted to tell him that you still loved him, that you wanted to give it another try. You wanted to hear him say he felt the same, and he missed you too, and he wanted you back. But you couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, and life wasn’t a fairytale. It was all so unfair.

Before you could lose yourself just a little too much in the embrace, Thalia came sprinting toward you as she shouted, “Mummy! Daddy! Can we open presents now?”

A meltdown was narrowly avoided after telling Thalia she had to wait until after eating to open her presents, but then she was reminded that cake and ice cream came after lunch, and all was good as new. Your little girl had clambered up onto a picnic bench between Sophie and Harrison, and you’d tried not to cringe as you saw her and plenty of other kids smear their ketchup-y fingers on their clothes. Her dress was now blue and brown, courtesy of the gloopy condiment.

You and Tom had carried her cake and sang happy birthday with sappy tears in your eyes, much to the amusement of all the other adults, and he’d patted your back when you cried just a little because she blew out all six of her candles without your help. Thalia had smeared her frosting coated fingers across your face to cheer you up. You pretended it didn’t burn when it got in your eye.

Finally, after plenty of child clean up courtesy of the adults, the wrapping paper massacre was underway. Box after box was shredded open with squeals of glee, followed by ooh’s and aah’s and jealous grumblings from the other kids who were still a little too young to understand why they didn’t get presents too. You were internally groaning at the plethora of Frozen toys.

A Frozen karaoke machine? Really? Oh, and it came preloaded with all the soundtrack’s best hits? Great, thank you, Uncle Sam! He had paled a little at the stony glare you shot his way, but you decided not to dwell on it as the box was ruthlessly tossed aside to make room for the next gift.

As the boxes dwindled, and gift bags waned, Tom disappeared for a few minutes before returning with an ostentatiously large box in his arms. It was big enough that he couldn’t see over it, and you grimaced at the sight. What sort of horrors awaited the opening of that box? If it was some massive Frozen dollhouse, or anything that played some variation of Let It Go, you were going to kill him.

Thalia practically vibrated with excitement at the sight of it, tearing through her remaining presents and throwing them aside so quickly you had to scold her for being rude. She didn’t care, though, because she was running over to that box with a speed you’d never seen before. Tom helped her start to tear away the wrapping paper, and you froze.

It was a dollhouse, alright, but not from a store. Tears filled your eyes at the sight of it, and you were fairly certain there was no hiding the total devotion and love on your face as you looked at Tom in that moment. He flushed, shuffling on his feet with a sheepish grin as Thalia actually screamed with glee.

“Is that—“ your voice cracked, your lips wobbling as you approached him and the dollhouse, “is that what I think it is?”

When you were little, your parents had gifted you a hand-crafted wooden dollhouse. It was a massive and heavy old thing, everything hand-carved and painted, and it had looked like a complete house from one side while the back was completely open for playing. There’d even been working lights, and each little part had been so detailed it amazed you even to this day. Hell, the toilets had lids and seats that opened and shut, and the cabinets all opened to reveal tiny little jars, boxes, and cans.

The house had come with a few wooden dolls, one for each member of your family, and you’d cherished that thing more than anything else. Even as a teenager you’d found comfort in it, lighting it up in your room at night and just admiring it when you were feeling down. It didn’t look as good anymore from years of wear and tear, and the lights didn’t work anymore, but you still loved it. Each time you took Thalia to your parents’ home you couldn’t resist checking up on it.

This one, this one was new. It was just as detailed, if not more so, and you had to bite your lips to stop them from trembling as you noticed the four little dolls sitting within it. One for Thalia, one for you, one for Tom, and one for Tessa. The little dog doll made you laugh, even if it was a little choked as you held back tears.

“I remembered how much you loved yours when you were a kid,” Tom confessed, his cheeks tinging pink, “and I wanted Thalia to have something like that. I tried refurbishing your old one, but it’s so old... I didn’t want to break it.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, and your hands shook a little. “You made this?” you whispered, and he nodded, “It’s amazing.”

The rest of the other party-goers turned a blind eye as you threw your arms around Tom and squeezed him like your life depended on it. He was laughing, just a little, but his arms circled your body and held you so softly you feared you might break apart right then. “Thank you,” you mumbled into his chest, “it’s perfect. She’s gonna love that forever.”

“I hope so.” he murmured, and you melted as his lips met the top of your head in a sweet kiss. You could have stayed in that moment for the rest of your life.

✾ ✾ ✾

You should have listened when they said not to negotiate with terrorists. But, Thalia was quite persuasive when she wanted to be. All week she’d been begging, whining, nagging you to have Tom over for dinner and a sleepover, and all week you’d been dragging your feet and kicking up excuses for why that couldn’t happen. But, after the fourth day, you’d finally cracked.

She’d woken you up by poking your eye and immediately had started in asking for her daddy to sleepover. By lunchtime you’d reached your wits end and caved, and now you were sorely regretting it. Who knew you’d have preferred the sound of her screeching along to Idina Menzel over repeatedly asking for her father?

You wanted to believe it was entirely innocent, that she was just young and didn’t understand why separated parents didn’t have sleepovers at each other’s houses, but you weren’t entirely sure. She was clever, and conniving, and you were fairly certain that she was up to some sort of dastardly deed in asking for such a thing. Had Tom put her up to it?

No, you knew he wouldn’t do such a thing. He’d outgrown his own childish tendencies before she’d ever started speaking in full sentences. But, still, you wondered why she suddenly had a desire to spend a night with both of her parents.

The rational part of you knew it was all part of growing up. She was living in a single parent household, while her friends and peers were not, and it was normal for a girl her age to want to feel normal like all of her friends did. Were they bullying her? No, that couldn’t be. She hadn’t seemed down, or off, in the slightest.

Either way, you were dreading it. Tom was due to arrive any minute, and you were scrambling to finish dinner before he arrived so that the three of you could watch Frozen (again) before it was Thalia’s bed time. Spaghetti had seemed simple enough—boxed pasta and jarred sauce with some meat and a few chopped vegetables—but Thalia was seemingly hell-bent on causing strife.

You had ground beef sautéing in a skillet along with some onion when you felt the first tug on your pants, and you looked down to see your daughter with her face and fingers far too close to an open flame for your liking. You’d panicked, and startled her with your sudden command to get away, and then the tears started. Cursing yourself, you’d had to shut the pan off to soothe her and apologize for yelling.

You hadn’t even been yelling, just speaking slightly loudly, but still. Once she seemed content to know you weren’t a monster, you’d returned to sautéing the meat and cutting up some tomatoes and mushrooms. That was one of your daughter’s stranger preferences—mushrooms. In everything.

Only a few moments later she’d tugged your pants again, and this time she’d blinked her big brown eyes up at you with the world’s most lethal puppy-dog face. “Can I help, mummy?” she asked, lower lip jutted out to adorable perfection, and you’d fallen right into her trap.

“Of course, baby.” you melted, heaving her off the floor and onto the counter, “Want to add the noodles to the water for me?”

The first task went alright. There was a little splash back, and your heart had stuttered in your chest at the narrow avoidance of splashing boiling water onto herself, but she’d made it without issue. But, then things went downhill the moment you let her help you dump the jars of sauce into the pan of meat.

Getting a little too eager, she’d snatched up the second jar before you could assist, and promptly dumped it all over herself, the counter, and you. And then she’d launched herself at you in a fit of tears because she messed up. “Please don’t be mad, mummy! It was an accident, I promise!” she wailed, and you clenched your eyes shut as you held the sobbing, sticky girl in your arms.

Then, you’d slipped in the sauce on the floor. Your back met the floor, followed by your skull, followed by her skull slamming into your forehead. For a moment you saw stars, but the sound of her even more fervent crying brought you back to the surface. “My head! Oh, no, mummy, are you dead?” she wailed even louder.

“Shh, shh,” you hushed, sitting up with a bit of struggle and a lot of wincing, “it’s okay, Thalia. I’m okay, you’re okay, everything’s okay.”

She continued to cry, her tomato covered hands winding around your neck and latching onto your hair. But, she wasn’t panicking anymore, which was good. There was sauce everywhere, and you could taste it on your lips. Knowing you wouldn’t have enough to finish dinner, you flicked the gas on the stove off and resorted to rubbing your daughter’s back soothingly.

But then she’d giggled, and she pulled away with a mischievous smile. “You have sauce in your hair.” she laughed, and you reached out and swiped your fingers across her face earning a gasp, “Mummy! Now it’s on my face!”

What ensued was a food fight for the record books. You were just about to corner the slippery little rascal when the doorbell rang, and Thalia cheered, “I win!” Saved by the bell, you thought to yourself, but then you gasped in horror.

Tom was here. Tom was at your door, and you both were covered in tomato sauce, as well as ninety-percent of your kitchen. Before you could even think to leave him waiting while you rushed to clean, Thalia was racing for the door and trailing sauce-y footprints through the house. “Thalia!” you scolded, but it was no use.

She flung the door open and Tom blanched, looking from the tomato gremlin that was his daughter to the even bigger tomato monster that was you. You scooped up Thalia and shuffled on your feet, too stricken by the fact that Tom was seeing you both in such a state to even attempt to admonish her for breaking the rule to never open the door. It was deafeningly silent for a long moment.

You were staring in shame and horror, Tom was looking on in amazement and befuddlement, and Thalia was wriggling about in your arms as she strained to reach him. The sauce aided in her plunder, and before you knew it she was flopping from your arms like a fish and right onto Tom. “Daddy!” she cheered, and you cringed.

A streak of tomato sauce was smeared across his cheek, and his clothes were now stained red. “Are you helping your mother make dinner?” he finally spoke, and he laughed when Thalia nodded enthusiastically, “I think the sauce is supposed to go in the pan, not on you, silly.”

“We had a food fight, daddy.” she retorted, her duh tone just a little too perfect for a six-year-old. “I won!”

You watched on as Tom continued to tease your daughter, and your heart warmed at the sight. The smile on his face as he looked at her was one you could only describe as love and utter devotion in its purest form—she was his world, and rightfully so. But, then his eyes drifted to you, and that smile didn’t change one bit, and you were overcome with a plethora of emotions.

That sparkle in his eye was still there. The one that had lit up the moment you’d first confessed to him that you liked him at fifteen years old, and it made your gut churn with butterflies so intense you felt nauseous. To see him look at you that way, after all this time, after you’d thought that glimmer was extinguished forever on that last night, it made you ache in the rawest sense of the word.

You longed for him. You yearned for him. You needed him.

Here he was after all this time, standing in your doorway with that look in his eye that told you that you were everything to him, and you just knew you looked at him that same way Thalia looked at Harrison. The wide-eyed, stricken look that screamed, you are the sun! You wished you weren’t covered in tomato sauce. You wished you weren’t so conflicted about telling him how you felt. You wished you didn’t have to worry about what such a change in pace could do to Thalia.

But, Thalia was more important, and you knew that. He was the sun, but she was your world. It was up to you to make sure you raised her the best that you could, and you couldn’t put her at risk.

“I think,” you started, finally breaking your silence and severing the connection that was growing within your lingering gazes, “I think, if we ration the sauce, there’s enough to at least eat one bowl each.”

Tom grinned, “Spaghetti?”

“Spaghetti!” Thalia cheered, and the two of them raced off to the battlegrounds that were your kitchen. You closed the door and pressed your forehead against it with a sigh, trying your best to expel the highly strung tension within you. This night was going to be the end of you, you just knew it. There was a crescent of tomato sauce left behind on the surface as you peeled yourself away.

After wiping the majority of the tomato sauce off of your bodies, and stuffing your faces with the food that remained intact, and blasting the Frozen soundtrack at nearly unbearable volumes whilst scrubbing the kitchen spotless, it was finally bath time. Thalia was a little disappointed about not getting to watch the movie together, but it was nearing eight o’clock which was her bed time—hard limit.

With promises to watch it tomorrow before Tom went home and she went to his parents’ home for the weekend, she finally calmed down before a full-blown tantrum was reached. Tom led her into the bathroom whilst you went to her room to retrieve her second-favorite Olaf nightgown, only rivaled by her Queen Elsa gown which was currently dirty, and a fluffy towel from the linen closet.

When you returned, the bathtub was overflowing with bubbles and Tom was avoiding your eye. “Daddy let me put the bubbles in!” the little girl cheered, clearly proud of herself as her head barely cleared the blanket of bubbles that billowed over the surface of the water.

“Hey, I thought we had a deal, kid!” Tom joked, and Thalia squealed as he splashed water at her. She splashed back, and he returned fire, and then before things could get too out of hand he called for a ceasefire, “I think mummy might kill us if we get water all over the floor after your food fight.”

Indeed.

You bit your tongue, though, and crouched beside Tom on the floor beside the tub as you pumped some of the No Tears shampoo into your hand. “Scoot up, Thalia, it’s time to wash your hair.” There was a faint squeak as the child scooted her butt cheeks across the bathtub slowly, eventually bobbing through the water to sit before you patiently.

If there was one thing you were beyond grateful for, it was for having a kid who was complicit with bath time. Fellow parents, including the mother of Sophie, often complained to you about their children screaming and refusing to be bathed, but your little girl was always well behaved when it came to getting clean. For other matters… not so much. But, at least you had that going for you.

You scrubbed her scalp gently and lathered all of her hair, before Tom was reaching over and sweeping all of her long curls up into a bundle which he diligently formed into a massive Mohawk. How it stood, you weren’t sure, but Thalia squealed with glee and giggled to her hearts content. She blew bubbles from her hands into your faces, and before you knew it you both were drenched in water and so was the floor, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

The sheer joy on Tom and Thalia’s faces was enough to make you ignore it. You scrubbed her down with a washcloth, and feigned that you didn’t see it when Tom reached out and tickled her ribs, and then they both were tickling you and you dissolved into a puddle of laughter and bittersweet peace. This was nice, and you wished it could be like this every night.

By the time you rinsed the last of the bubbles down the drain, and wrapped your little girl up in a big fluffy towel, she was yawning and her eyelids were drooping. “I’ll get her dressed, if you want to shower.” Tom offered, and you nodded with a yawn of your own. That was nice—help was nice. “Let’s go get dressed, baby, while mummy showers. Then we’ll tuck you in.”

When you turned up at the door of Thalia’s princess bedroom after your shower, she was curled up in Tom’s side and fighting to keep her eyes open. “Finally,” she whined, “now can we read the story?”

With a laugh, and quiet apology, you sat on her other side and watched as Tom opened the book. The Rainbow Fish was her choice for the night, though it didn’t really matter. He’d barely gotten through the first two pages before she was out like a light, her eyes closed and lips parted in the quietest of snores. He continued on a little longer until the two of you could be certain she was really asleep, before closing the book and setting it on the nightstand.

He scooted her up the bed while you peeled the covers down, and then the two of you tucked her in tight. Your hands were trembling, your nose stuffed up with unshed tears, and you were on cloud nine. This was what your future was meant to look like. Like food fights, and kitchen cleaning dance parties, and tucking her into bed together.

You kissed her forehead with a whispered goodnight, and Tom repeated the actions, before you both tiptoed out of her room. The door shut with a faint click, and you froze. One second, two seconds, three… nothing. She was asleep.

Still, neither of you moves. For a long moment you stare at each other in silence, Tom’s brown eyes studying you closely as you blinked back tears. “The—“ you cleared your throat as your voice came out all wobbly, “I left a towel in the guest room for you. There’s an en suite if you want to shower.”

Tom nodded, and lingered for a second, before hesitantly stepping toward the room you gestured to. He took slow steps, before halting. “(Y/N),” he sighed, and you froze, “I’m sorry if this makes things weird, or if it ruins what we have, but I… I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts, and I need you to know that. I miss us. This has been the best night of my life, and I want every night for the rest of it to be just like this—“

“Tom—“

He didn’t seem to notice your attempt to cut him off as he continued, “I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but, shit—please, tell me you feel the same way. Tell me you miss me, us, and you want what I do.”

“Of course I do, Tommy.” you whispered, and his shoulders sagged as he breathed a sigh of relief, “But Thalia… look, we have to be considerate. I won’t put her through the heartbreak of us separating again.”

Tom nodded, his lips parting and trembling slightly, “Of course, you’re right. That would be ignorant.”

You could see the disappointment in his eyes, the way that spark started to fade, and it felt like a sucker punch to the gut. You couldn’t lose that—you couldn’t lose the way he looked at you, and you were rushed to reignite it as you continued, “Let’s take it slow, okay? A date, or something.”

“A date?”

You nodded, and the smile that split his cheeks made your belly flip excitedly. “Yes, a date. How about dinner, tomorrow?” you asked, and he positively beamed at you.

It was the perfect time, really. Thalia would be at her grandparents’ house for the weekend, meaning you both would be free. And, there was the added benefit of not having to wait. That was the real bonus, if you were being honest with yourself.

He was stammering now, his cheeks flushed and eyes alight with joy, “Dinner, tomorrow, right. I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Or you could just not leave after we take Thalia to your parents’ house…” So, maybe you were a little selfish and wanted some extra time. It was more than just dinner, but you were greedy, and you really fucking missed him.

“Sounds perfect.” he confirmed, and you hoped he didn’t notice the way you shivered as his lips caressed your cheek a little more firmly than they had over the past five years. Tomorrow seemed so far away.

✾ ✾ ✾

The silence of the car settled over you as Tom and your daughter left you behind, her little body swooped up on his hip and her head bobbing slightly with the motion of his steps as he trudged up the walkway to his parents’ front door. She was laughing at something, her little head thrown back and curls spilling down her back and over his shoulder, and you felt like you were looking at artwork. Twin flames, father and daughter, they looked so alike it was like looking at a carbon copy of the man.

She had your attitude, and your energy, but she was his daughter through and through. Their curls both ruffled in the breeze, and Thalia tugged at his playfully with another laugh. Tom only shook his head, but before he could retaliate the door was opened from the inside.

The little girl squealed and dove into her grandmother’s open arms, but Nikki’s eyes were locked on the car, laser focused on you. You waved, and she grinned. Her head turned to shout into the house, and before you knew it Dom sidled up behind her. She pointed, and he grinned too.

Your heart was racing in your chest as you knew they were discussing your presence, undoubtedly excited for what it could mean. They chatted with Tom for a long while and you watched attentively, fidgeting in your seat because you just knew they were talking about you. You only hoped they didn’t give too much away, for Thalia’s sake.

Once Thalia had raced off into the house, Nikki pulled Tom in for a long hug. Her hands rubbed his back and squeezed his shoulders, and when she pulled away you could see a tearful smile on her face. Dom just clapped him on the back before trudging back into the house, and she was quick to follow with one final wave to you.

Tom kept his head down as he walked back to the car, but you weren’t blind to the way he wiped his eyes and nose. Had he been crying? Your heart swelled, and you wondered if he was truly that happy to have a chance to try a relationship again. All along you’d convinced yourself it was just you who was struggling, who was suffering, but you’d been wrong.

Clearly, he had been feeling that way too.

He offered you a smile as he sat back in the driver’s seat, his eyes red-rimmed but dry. It was a shaky sort of smile, the one that alluded to tears being shed and a hesitance to truly express it. You didn’t say a word, though, instead reaching across the center console to intertwine your fingers with his own. His smile grew steady, and your heart soared.

The weight of his hand in yours felt comfortable. It felt natural, as if it were made to be there. It felt like coming home, like a deep breath after being deprived of oxygen. In some ways, you felt as if you had been struggling to breathe—you’d been weighted down since the moment your relationship had begun to crumble, and this felt like peace. It felt right, as if the universe was in balance again.

You had to chew at your lips to ground yourself. The feelings you had for Tom were so complex and ran so deep it was hard to not let yourself drown in them. The familiar feeling of standing on the precipice of something great, of waiting to dive in head first was overwhelming you. But, you couldn’t let that happen this time.

This time, there was no leap of faith or dive into the unknown. Things had to be slow, and controlled, and planned. You weren’t going to let another careless mistake tear the two of you apart again, and you certainly weren’t going to let one affect your daughter either.

But, for now, the gentle motion of his thumb soothing over your own was more than enough. It sent tingles down your spine, the feeling of his skin on your own, and you let yourself get lost in that for just a while. It was nice to not have to hide it, too.

The drive home, back to your little house, was short. You weren’t ready to lose the feeling of his hand in your own, so the moment you were by his side again you were locking your fingers with his once more. It felt childish, like back when you were fifteen and not quite bold enough to kiss him yet, but he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, his smile only grew each time you touched him.

The two of you spent the day just… enjoying each other. You spent the hours lazing around your house, curled up on the couch with only your feet touching, or your knees, or your hands. You talked about anything and everything, from work to the crazy things Thalia got up to when she was away from one of you. He told you about his newest contract, and you told him about the time Thalia accidentally went to school with a pair of your underwear stuck in her pants from the laundry.

Your favorite part, though, was just admiring him. He’d changed a lot over the past five years. The stress in his demeanor had faded, and he just looked serene. His eyes were calm, and passive, and happy, and It gave you joy to see it. He’d been so sad and bogged down those last few months you were together, but so had you.

His curls had grown out some, and you reminisced on all the nights you’d spent just running your fingers through them. Letting the silken strands melt through your grasp, tickling your skin like the softest thread. He really was a beautiful man, and you knew in your bones that your daughter would be just as breathtaking.

Somehow, you came to the decision that it would be better to stay in and cook together than to go out. Maybe it was your reluctance to separate long enough to make yourselves presentable for an actual date setting, or perhaps it was just the selfish desire to keep him all to yourself. Either way, you were thrilled at the prospect of cooking dinner with Tom like a family would do.

“No throwing food,” he warned, and just for that you made sure to toss a pea at his face.

Much like the night before with you and Thalia, it only devolved from there. He threw a carrot at you, and you scaled up to a small handful of the peas. A handful of carrots followed, and soon enough there were cracked eggs all over the kitchen and you were both coated in sticky, gloopy, eggy-flour and various vegetables.

By the time you both showered, and finished cleaning up, and ordered a pizza because there was no way you were making the mistake of trying to cook again, it was night time. You both sat at your little dining table with wet hair and pajamas on, grinning from ear to ear as Tom peeled open the box to reveal a steaming pepperoni pizza. Your stomach grumbled, and he laughed.

It felt wrong to shatter such a lighthearted atmosphere, but as his feet creeped across the floor to tangle with your own, you knew it had to happen sometime. The two of you needed to have a mature conversation about what to do moving forward, and you knew that there needed to be some semblance of closure to the previous chapter of your relationship. You had plenty to say, and you hoped he did too.

“We really need to talk about things,” you mumbled, and his feet stopped their playful dance with your own to loop behind your ankles instead, “about the past, and the future.”

He cleared his throat and nodded, but his eyes fell to the table as his smile dimmed. “You’re right, I know you’re right,” he acknowledged, “I just really don’t want to… to revisit all the bad stuff.”

You placed your hand over his with what you hoped was a reassuring smile, though internally you were dreading the conversation just as much. You spoke softly, quietly, “It’s not a fight, okay? We’re just clearing the air, so we can into things with no unresolved issues.”

“Can you start?”

You hated to be put on the spot, but you nodded and bit the bullet. One of you would have to be the first to speak, and at least he was brave enough to admit he wasn’t ready to do it himself. “I think we both know what my biggest issue was, at the end of the day.” you mumbled, and his cheeks flushed, “You refused to keep a job, and the more it happened the more it almost felt like you were quitting in spite of me, like you were doing it to punish me for expecting more from you.”

It felt good to say it out loud, to finally get it off of your chest. It was like a weight falling off of your back, and you almost sighed in relief. Tom’s cheeks were still painted red as he released a quiet sigh, and you could see the rigid stature of his shoulders. You hated reminding him of his shortcomings, but in order for things to be different it had to be done.

He seemed to think hard about his words before he spoke, his voice almost a whisper, “I think part of me did. You were so harsh the first time I quit, and then the second time you were mean, and then it was like I just did it because I figured you already thought I was a failure, so why not?”

“I know I did a lot of things wrong back then, and I’ve paid for them every day we spent apart. You… You never really did anything wrong, which almost made me more pissed off at the time, but it’s true. The only thing I could say is you were just… mean. You never let the anger go long enough for us to work through things. You just held onto it, and then suddenly everything was a reason to be angry. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t even breathe without pissing you off.”

His words stung, but you knew he was right. A lot of nights following the breakup you’d laid awake, thinking back on all the things the two of you had said to each other and wincing at your sharp tongue. Hell, you’d fought with him over decorations for Thalia’s birthday party just for the sake of fighting with him—he’d went right out and picked the ones you’d been looking at, without you saying, but because he’d chosen them first you decided they were wrong.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, clinging to the comfort his touch gave. “You’re right.” you admitted, “You really couldn’t breathe without pissing me off.”

Tom laughed, and you were relieved that your joke hadn’t fallen flat. He mirrored your smile and squeezed your hand back, listening attentively as you continued, “I’m sorry for how I treated you. I was so stressed, and scared, and it felt like instead of being my teammate you were my opponent. I should have just talked to you about it, instead of punishing you for not reading my mind.”

“I was scared too, but I never said anything either.” he confessed, “I had a lot of growing up to do, and I think I was jealous that you seemed to do it so easily. It didn’t feel easy to me, it was terrifying. I’m sorry I couldn’t do it for you back then.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but he kept talking, “You know, I never stopped loving you—I don’t think I ever could. You’re it for me… my person. You’re the only one I’ve ever imagined spending my life with, and I don’t think I ever could picture my future with somebody else. I’ve always felt that way, even when I did a shit job of showing it. I think I just got too comfortable in the idea that we were forever, and forgot that I had to keep working to get there.”

Your heart could have been considered shattered. Emotions plugged up your throat, and you had to take a long moment to just breathe to keep yourself from blubbering like a fool. He’d felt it too. The longing, the yearning, the desiring… he’d felt all of it too, and it was the greatest relief to hear it.

“I’ve always felt the same way, Tommy, but things just ended so badly last time… it terrifies me. I don’t want to go back there again. I can’t put Thalia through that, not now. She’s older, and she’s too damn intuitive for her own good. It would destroy her if that happened again.” you spoke from your heart, and you hoped he could understand where you were coming from, “I want to try again. I want to be with you, always, but we have to promise each other we’ll do things better this time.”

His nod was a little more eager this time, and you grinned as he immediately responded, “I promise. I won’t fuck things up with you again—ever.”

You echoed his words, and he beamed. His thumb swirled across the back of your hand again, and again, and again, and your resolve was crumbling. Would one night of diving in head first be an issue if it you were responsible from then on out? Fuck it, you needed this.

The look on his face when you suddenly crossed the table to sit on his lap was priceless, his eyes widening in shock and wonder, but he was quick to rest his hands on your waist and hold you to your decision. “I think… I think one night of being reckless won’t kill us, right?”

“Right, totally, you’re absolutely right.”

Raising a brow, you hummed, “Then tomorrow we do the sensible thing, and go about this responsibly.”

You were pretty certain Tom wasn’t even listening, already nodding his head before you’d even finished speaking. But, you didn’t care. One night lost in the reckless throes of passion wouldn’t kill you—as long as you didn’t forget that damn foil wrapper again.

He waited anxiously for you to move, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward to place your lips onto his. It was a soft kiss, hesitant and timid, just a simple press of your lips to his as you reconnected with the shivers it always sent down your spine. It was growing familiar with the pressure of his soft, gentle kiss on your own, remembering the way he tasted.

You pulled away slowly, just a fraction of an inch to look into his eyes, and those brown irises were suffocating, overwhelming, all encompassing. You were consumed by his gaze for only a second before he was darting forward once more, his hands growing more demanding on your hips and his lips far more fervent than before. Your own hands clung to his shirt, fisting the thin cotton of his black t-shirt like a lifeline.

This kiss, this was something memorable. It was fast, and his lips were harsh against your own as he pried your mouth open to let him in—to let him taste you, directly. His tongue swept between your lips slowly, and then he was pulling your lower lip between his teeth… You moaned, a low and needy sound that elicited the exact response you’d longed to hear the last time.

He pulled back with his eyes trained on you, lips quirked in that little smirk that warned of just how little you’d truly seen so far. His soft chuckle reverberated through your ears, and you felt hot all over. It was a sound that had haunted your dreams for years, and to finally hear it once more rocked you to your core. You’d missed him more than you could ever say.

So, you showed him. Your hands left his shoulders to paw at the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers curling through those chocolate curls that were just begging to be pulled on, and you kissed him with everything you had. The dining chair you were sitting on was creaking beneath you, rocking slightly under too much weight, but you didn’t care.

There was no hunger this time. It was passion, and the long awaited crescendo after years and years of pining, of fantasizing, of waiting. Five years of time spent apart built up a sort of need that was explosive. That sort of longing was hard to restrain, once you’d had a taste.

His fingers were gripping your hips with a sort of pressure that wasn’t meant to control, to hurt, but just to keep you in his grasp. Tom clung to you, consumed you, wrapped you up in him as if he were scared that if he dared to lose even an inch you’d disappear for good. You felt the same way, and you were clumsy as you moved to straddle him in the chair.

The wood of the seat dug into your legs, though, and you were quick to pull away and tug him down to the floor. “Here?” he gaped, panting as he separated from your lips for only a moment, “On the floor, really?”

You were desperate, and maybe that was why you were being a little ridiculous so as to be unwilling to even move to the sofa just a room away. What could you say, though, except that you needed him? You needed him now.

“Yes,” you confirmed, your tone conveying all the desperation that was built up within you, “I need you.”

Tom didn’t have to be told twice. He bypassed your lips to trail his hot kisses down your neck, sucking at your sensitive skin until you were babbling incoherently. Each bruise he tugged out of your flesh was soothed with his silken tongue, gentle pecks following in the wake of deep, open mouthed kisses.

He trailed lower, and lower, until he was tugging you up by the collar of your shirt just to rip it off of you. Then he was kissing the long abandoned skin of your shoulders, and your chest, and you were practically a puddle by the time he reached your breasts. The lack of bra had been a comfort thing, but you were glad to be without it for an entirely new reason as his lips sealed around on of your stiff buds.

A cry tore from your mouth, and he hummed in appreciation. While he worked one peak with his lips, and his tongue, the other was treated to the calloused skin of his hand. Deft fingers tugged and pulled at your hardened peaks until he grew tiresome of the position, and switched.

How had you gone so long without him? Without his touch? Tom was all you’d ever known when it came to the pleasure of sexual intimacy, but you were fairly certain he was on some god-like level. Or, maybe he just knew your body better than you did. The cool air of the room chilled and hardened your nipples to near excruciating levels as he abandoned them, leaving them glistening the false lighting to suck yet another bruise just under your breast.

The hard tile of the floor was beyond cold on your back, but you were so hot you didn’t even notice. The heat only grew to astronomical heights as his fingers dared to trail lower, dragging over the ticklish skin of your stomach until they caught on the loose waistband of your sweatpants. Not exactly fashion forward, but he was wearing them too.

You were just glad you made the executive decision to wear cute underwear—well, the cutest comfy pair you owned. “Please,” you whined as his fingers toyed with the material, “I want you…”

Tom groaned as his fingers dipped beneath the material, passing clear under your panties to find home in your folds. “Fuck,” he breathed, “you’re soaked, darling.”

Two fingers dragged through your folds, swiping from your entrance to your clit, and your back arched off of the floor. You were panting, gasping soft sounds as your hips writhed after his touch. He didn’t tease you—those fingers made quick work of your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling the nub slowly and sensually as you cried out.

Around, and around, and around, and then he was dipping into your entrance with the heel of his palm pressed firmly over your bud so that you were assaulted with a barrage of stimuli. Tom’s lips were still coaxing bruises from the skin under the crease of your breasts, his hot breath fanning over your body and sending chills down your spine. He pushed his fingers into you agonizingly slowly before retrieving them from your depths just as languidly.

Again, and you were trembling. Again, and you were begging. For what? You weren’t entirely sure; all you knew was that you needed more. You needed him. All of him, and you needed it badly.

Suddenly he removed his hands from your pants and his lips from your body, scrambling up to his knees with a wild look in his eyes. You nearly panicked, but then his arm stretched behind his head to rip his shirt off and you were swooning. Your hands were on his skin in the blink of an eye, tracing the lines of his muscles and feeling the smooth glide of his skin beneath your fingertips. He was to die for.

Then his fingers were curling back around the waistband of your pants and underwear, and you barely had any warning to lift your hips before he was dragging them off of you frantically. “Tom—“ you gasped, arching off of the floor and flinging your hands out around you to find something—anything—to hang onto, “Oh, fuck!”

His scorching mouth closed around your mound, licking at your folds slowly before swirling around your clit. You were as good as gone at the feel, that coil in your stomach white hot and just waiting to explode at the slightest touch. He worked through your entrance with the muscle first, probing and pushing until he slipped into your walls, and then he was humming. The vibrations racked through your body, every part of you tensing in the most ecstatic anticipation of release ever.

Tom’s eyes were closed, his hands squeezing your thighs and holding you in place as he devoured you. The moment his tongue returned to your aching button, you were done for. He sucked the swollen bud between his lips and teased it with his tongue until you saw stars, your entire body twitching in his hold as the coil finally snapped.

“I—I—“

Words didn’t even make sense in your brain anymore, your body overcome with pleasure as he continued his assault without any signs of stopping. You were clawing at the floor, your hips jerking as you fought with the internal battle of whether you wanted moreor if it was too much. It wasn’t until you sobbed, really cried out in sheer bliss, that he finally released you.

You were trembling on the floor, your thighs immediately snapping shut when he pulled his mouth from you, and that smirk was clear as day on his glistening lips. Your arousal coated his mouth, his chin, his cheeks—he didn’t move to wipe it away. Instead, he leaned down and kissed you, dragging his tongue across your lips until you submitted to tasting yourself on his mouth.

You reached for his own pants, your fingers trembling with adrenaline as you pushed at them. “I need you, Tommy, now,” you panted, and he pulled back to begin taking them off, “do you have a condom?”

Tom froze, and you froze, and you could have cried as the momentary fear that he didn’t and you’d be forced to stop crossed your mind. But, then he scrambled to grab his wallet off of the counter where he retrieved one lone condom. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, kneeling between your legs with his hands poised around the waist of his pants.

“Yes, I’m sure.” you repeated, and then he was pushing his pants down to his thighs.

Your eyes were glued to his hands, watching with rapt attention as he tore open the foil wrapper and slowly, carefully rolled the condom over his length. The tip was red, and angry, and the only reason you hadn’t reached out to swipe away the heavy bead of pre-cum from his tip was because he was faster than you. You wanted to taste him, too, but that could wait for another time.

The moment he lined up with your entrance, your blood roared behind your ears. He was positioned above you, his arms resting on his elbows beside your head to hold him up, and his brown eyes bore into your own. Tom kissed you then, a slow and loving peck, and then he pushed forward with a throaty moan.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

You couldn’t formulate the words to respond, instead winding your arms around his neck and tugging at his hair once again with one hand. The other gripped his shoulder, fingernails biting into his skin as he bottomed out and you hissed at the stretch. It had been years—literally—and it almost felt like unfamiliar territory. The way he stretched you out was almost overwhelming, but you would have been content to feel it for the rest of your life.

His eyes lingered on yours, waiting for the go ahead, and after a few moments you nodded with a soft exhale. The first draw back was slow, and cautious, and then he rolled his hips forward so smoothly you whimpered. You were still sensitive from the earth shattering orgasm he’d given you with his mouth, and you could feel your walls fluttering around him with the lingering aftershocks.

You just wanted to get lost in him. Tugging his head down to your own, you sealed your lips over his as your legs wrapped around his waist to keep him deep within you. He rocked against you slowly, moving his sheathed length against your walls at a slow and torturous pace that had you begging for more.

It was hard to breathe with the onslaught of stimulation. His pelvis ground into your still sensitive clit, his mouth sucked the air from your very lungs, and you were so fullof him. You wanted it to last forever, but you knew it wouldn’t last very long at all. Your body was already locked and loaded to deliver another explosive release, and it wouldn’t take much at all to drive you over the edge.

He wasn’t faring much better. His hips were stuttering, his kisses growing more frantic and needy, and the noises that escaped him grew higher the more his desperation for climax built up. You forced your hand between your bodies to find your clit, and he growled as he picked up his pace.

You arched your back until you felt him pressing into you just where you desired him most, his tip pushing into the spongy point of your walls that made you see stars. “Right there, Tommy,” you pleaded, swirling your fingertips faster around your clit, “I’m gonna cum—right there!”

Tom’s thrusts grew more forceful at your begging, and before you knew it you were losing your breath entirely. Your legs tightened around his waist and your walls clamped down around his length like a vice, and he cursed as you clawed at his back with your nails. Your fingers worked your clit until you saw stars, your mouth dropping open despite no sound escaping you, and he nearly collapsed as you came around him.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he gasped, “Oh, fuck!”

With one last hard thrust, Tom stilled above you with his length buried deep within you. He was throbbing, pulsing inside of you as he came, and his face screwed up into the most adorable climax face you’d ever seen. If he ever asked, you’d say it was sexy—but it was truly the cutest.

Then his arms gave out, and he collapsed onto you with a shuddering breath. Your lips trailed soothingly over his neck, nipping at his skin teasingly until he growled at you to behave, and you giggled, “Tomorrow we go back to celibacy… maybe.”

“Maybe, but probably not.”

✾ ✾ ✾

Two Years Later

“Can you believe our little girl is eight years old?”

Your eyes watered at the question, and you frowned at the thought of Thalia getting too old too fast. Where had the time gone? Another year, another birthday, and just like every year you were ill prepared to accept the fact that your daughter was racing through her childhood at a breakneck speed.

“No,” you grumbled, “she needs to stop growing up, or I might die.”

Tom’s arms circled around your waist, and you leaned back against his chest with a heavy sigh. At least you had him to lean on, openly and without hidden motive. Thalia was racing around the park with Sophie, her ride or die BFF since day one, and Tanner—a little boy who lived next door to the townhome you and Tom had purchased a few months prior.

He was a sweet and adorable ten-year-old, but Tom always grumbled at the sight of him. Too young for boys, he said, let alone older boys. You always laughed at him being such a dad, but you had to admit it warmed your heart. Some part of you felt the same, but you’d never admit it—you’d leave the grumblings about boys and cooties to him.

Harrison, or Uncle Haz, was still Thalia’s number one man anyways. The man himself zipped across the grass until he caught her in his arms, and the squealed. Then Sophie and Tanner dogpiled him, and both you and Tom had to bite back laughter at the sight of him flailing on the ground beneath three children.

This year Sophie had requested a superhero birthday, courtesy of her newfound obsession with Spiderman. The little girl was dressed to the nines in a ridiculously expensive and authentic looking costume Tom had bought her behind your back. You had wanted to be angry when he presented it to you, but the look of sheer joy on her face and the deafening screech she’d given when she saw it made it well worth it.

“You wanna go get the birthday girl?” you asked, craning your neck back to peer up at Tom who grinned, “I think it’s a good time to do the cake.”

Tom pecked your lips with a quiet noise of appreciation, before releasing you. You watched on with a doting smile as he jogged across the grass toward Thalia who was sitting on Harrison’s stomach proudly, swooping her off of him and flinging her through the air with a shout, “Come on, Spiderman, swing us to your cake!”

She was far too big for you to pick up anymore, so it truly amazed you how Tom was able to toss her through the air as if she were weightless. Her arms swung out from left to right as the two of them made thwipping sound effects all the way across the field until he plopped her onto the bench before her cake. The candles were all lit, and she grinned gleefully into the open flames as everyone gathered around to sing to her.

She definitely thrived off of the attention—your little drama queen, as you liked to call her. As much as Tom liked to claim she got it from you, you were firm in your belief that it all came from him. She was his twin, inside and out, and that became more and more apparent as the years passed by.

After the last child was handed a plate of cake, you served yourself a slice of the artificially dyed Spiderman themed confection, and settled down into Tom’s lap. His arms wrapped around your middle, and he cheekily poked his head over your shoulder with his mouth held open expectantly for a bite of your dessert. Smirking, you scooped up a chunk on your spoon and moved to put it in his mouth before smashing it against his nose. The red and blue frosted chunk fell from his stunned face onto your lap, and he blinked at you in astonishment before his eyes narrowed.

“You did not just do that.” he stated incredulously, and you laughed.

Grinning from ear to ear, you teased, “Oh, but I did—Tom!” You shrieked as he picked up the rest of the cake and smashed it into your face, rubbing it around for good measure. He wore a triumphant smirk as you gaped at him, the children all around you howling with laughter at your demise.

The laughter quickly turned to groans and grunts of disgust, though, when you leaned forward to press a sloppy (yet child friendly) kiss to his unsuspecting mouth. Thalia retched along with her friends, pretending to vomit all over the table as she let half chewed cake spill back onto her plate—you’d let her get away with it today, but any other day you’d have told her to mind her manners.

Tom’s mouth was thoroughly coated in frosting as he glared at you playfully. “Sweet,” he acknowledged, licking his lips, “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Please,” you teased, “If you thought that was bad, just wait for the wedding cake, Mr. Holland.”

His fingers toyed with the dainty ring on your finger, twisting the solitaire diamond around your finger slowly with a proud smile on his face as he hummed, “I’m looking forward to it.”

lesson learned masterlist [tom holland smut series]

Pairing: Tom Holland x female!reader

Description: Ever since you met the mentor for your study subject, Tom Holland, you set yourself the goal of being spread across his desk and being fucked senseless by him someday. You try everything in your power to achieve that goal.

Tags: smut, ta!tom, tom with authority over reader, college!tom

Total series word count: 22.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ DNI if you're a minor, mention of slut-shaming, swearing, consumption of alcohol (no intoxicated sex though!) [see under the cut and individual chapters for specific warnings]

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five

Extras: Pics of Tom that make me think of this fic (re: lesson learned tag on my blog)

Extended warnings: (female) masturbation, fingering (f receiving), spanking, oral (m receiving), kinky sex, nipple sucking, PIV, protected sex, dirty talk, dom!tom if you squint

Fɪᴄ Lɪsᴛs

read my recent update regarding this blog

lists of my favourite tom holland fanfics arranged according to topic

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Famous!Reader

Dad!Tom

CEO!Tom

Enemies To Lovers

Friends To Lovers

Angst

Mob!Tom

Friends With Benefits

Singer!Reader

Peter Parker Favourites

Bodyguard!Tom

Teacher!Tom

Social Media Fics

Fake Dating

Sub!Tom

Frat!Tom

Boxer!Tom

TikTok Trends

Christmas Fics

Dom!Tom

Period Fics

Stark!Reader

Vacation Fics

Instagram Live

Dom!Peter

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Mini Fic Lists (Requested)

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message me if you need help finding a lost fic ✌︎︎

BUCKY BARNES FIC RECS

ONE SHOTS ( PART 06 )

what more can i give - @honeyhargreeves

Best Friend Bucky - @cumonbucky

“Vilsen” - @lostinthoughtsandfeelings

Watch Party - @jobean12-blog

MADE OF ASHES - @chloelucia13

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 - @houseravenclaws

Unnamed drabble - @metalbuckaroo

Unnamed drabble 2 - @angrythingstarlight

Run Away - @iwillbeinmynest

Unnamed drabble 3 - @angrythingstarlight

coffee and cigarettes - @classylo

A Close Shave - @call-me-doll-face

Scream - @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo

Unnamed drabble 4 - @angrythingstarlight

『𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 』 - @bentobarnes

To Be Her - @starskyandbarnes

Enemies at First Sight - @softspideys

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 - @belouva

POUT - @holylulusworld

Naked - @buckitybarnes

Done - @soulful-ofevans

Home - @multi-stann

『𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬』 - @bentobarnes

Forgive Me - @mushyjellybeans

On His Shoulder - @whateveriwant

Stark Expo - @slutfornat

Mornings Like These - @majestyeverlasting

your eyes already told me, what you never said - @ambrosiase

We Don’t Talk Anymore - @writefromtheh3art

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐥𝐲𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐬 - @coffeecatsandcandles

IN THE PAST - @deangirl93

I’ll even be a clown.. cause I just wanna amuse ya… - @clementinesjourney

Seemingly Unrequited - @gayouijaboard

No Peace - @marvelous-heroimagines

Jealousy - @misssugarlips

IN WHICH SHE’S JEALOUS OF HERSELF - @pinkettepoet

Jealous - @ijustreallylovezebras

Let Off Some Steam - @noobsquasher

Old feelings, new beginnings.. - @clementinesjourney

BLUEBERRY LASAGNA - @constancelaufeydottir

『𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞?』 - @bentobarnes

Steve’s Sister, the love of Bucky’s Life - @sweetbuckybarnes

Boundaries - @sweetbuckybarnes

secret relationship with Bucky - @yeahbutimagine

A Throne of Lies - @asseret-sarim

Mr and Mrs Barnes? - @ijustwant2write

Betrayal - @lovely-geek

She’s perfect - @this-ginger-has-no-soul

Spider-Man 3 (2007) dir. Sam Raimi