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crowdedimagines · 3 years

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Safe Haven - Harry Styles

this has been HEAVILY inspired by the book/movie Safe Haven with some twists! i have been working on this for way too long and i am beyond happy to have my baby out there!

✨OVER 10K WORDS✨

The little girl dragging chalk along the sidewalk grabbed Y/n’s attention when she pulled up in her truck that was a little too loud. The girl was hunched over, focused on creating the perfect arch and using all of the colors in the box by her feet. Her hair falling over her face with the breeze and haphazardly tries to push it back.

Y/n couldn’t help but smile at the sight. She was coming from the busier London to this small coastal town, pulling up felt like walking into a Hallmark movie. It was exactly what she was looking for. Y/n shuts the heavy door to the rental truck and takes in the house that she risked buying. Risked without even stepping into it, putting all of her faith into the pictures posted online.

It needed work. That was obvious from the driveway, but that was part of the fun. At least this was a change of pace. She got started right away, carrying the boxes inside and attempting to get as much of it brought in before it gets dark.

“So you’re the person who bought the old Wilson house.” A voice calls from somewhere outside of the truck. Y/n glances up to the man who’s started talking to her.

“That would be me.” She smiles, “Y/n”

“Harry.” He calls back, giving his name as a response.

“Can I help you with that?” He asks. She had been struggling for nearly ten minutes at this point to try and maneuver her sofa. She had managed to inch close to the opening but had no plan on how to actually get it out.

“Yeah, actually that would be lovely.” She pushes the hair escaping her ponytail off of her sweaty forehead before he comes over. He climbs into the back of the truck and picks up the other end of the loveseat.

“3, 2, 1.” He counts down before they both pick up an end. It takes some communication, but they manage to get it to her living room with ease. Y/n doesn’t even want to think about how she would’ve done it without him.

“You’re all set with it here?” He asks.

“Yeah, I can push it around if I need to. Thank you!” Y/n finally pays attention to who had been giving her assistance and she studies his face for a couple of seconds, finding it familiar.

“Well, if you need any more help moving in, I’m only next door.” He smiles, dimples showing up on the edges of his smile. That’s when she realises who this man is and why he was so familiar. It’s a face that she hasn’t seen in a long time, one she doesn’t think many people have seen in a long time. It’s Harry Styles. He’s older, obviously. Scruff taken up on his face, his hair different than she would picture.

Harry Styles the ex-rockstar just helped her move her couch.

❃

Y/n doesn’t see Harry for a few days, she gets over the fact that the previous pop star is living in the same small town as her, let alone right next door. Y/n does however continue to see the little girl, as she makes her way down the sidewalk, filling the whole thing with color. It rained yesterday, which explains why she’s back along the stretch in front of her house.

“What’re you doing?” A voice calls over Y/n’s shoulder and she picks it up to see who it is. For the first time, she hears the little girl speak.

“Well, I am planting a garden.” Y/n sits back on her feet, taking a second to admire what she’s done.

“Why?”

“Well, I think that the yard looks a little plain, don’t ya think?” Y/n takes a look around the barron front yard. The grass is green, but that’s all there is to it. Hardly any trees, definitely no color. This simply won’t do. It needs life, it needs to look like someone actually lives here.

“Yeah.” The little girl agrees, walking into her yard now.

“So, I am planting flowers.”

“What kind?” The little girl is now fully in the yard, standing at the edge where Y/n is weeding the flower bed.

“Hydrangeas.” She answers, holding one of the plants up for her to see, “They’re easy enough that this summer they will stay pretty. Hopefully I don’t kill them.”

“Well why would you do that?” The little girl asks.

Y/n can’t help but laugh.

“I won’t try to, but sometimes plants get away from me. I don’t have a very green thumb.”

“Why would your thumb be green?” She asks with shock.

Y/n bites back a laugh at how literally the young girl took the phrase, “I just mean I’m not very good with plants.”

“One time my dad killed a cactus. He had it too close to the window last winter.” The little girl lets out a laugh.

“That sounds like something I would do.” Y/n laughs.

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Y/n. What’s yours?”

“Emelia.” She stated with a proud grin, one that shows off her missing front tooth.

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Emelia.”

“Are you getting yourself into trouble?” A voice calls from the sidewalk, they both turn to see Harry.

“Daddy!” She cheers and takes off running towards him, he picks her up on impact. Y/n walks over, brushing the dirt off of her knees. She meets them where they are standing, only she stays on her side of the white picket fence.

“You can hardly call her trouble.” I smile.

“Trust me, she can be a handful.” He laughs, tickling under her chin before setting her back down, “If she’s ever bugging you, send her in the direction of home.”

Y/n nods as he points to the house just beside hers and watches the two of them walk away. She takes in the house next door, it’s bigger than any other house on the street, but it still looks like a home.

❃

Slowly, Y/n settles into her new home. She’s officially lived in Bay Port for a week now, and she knows everything that she needs now. The house needs work, and she needs to get it done now while it’s warm. If she plans to stay in this house through the winter, she needs to crack on.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Maise asks, Y/n’s neighbor on the other side of her home. Maise is in her seventies, and seems to rarely leave her front porch. The only time being to take her dog on a walk. With the view of the ocean right there, no one could blame her for staying put. She was sweet enough to invite Y/n over to get to know her better, and ask the girl a little of what brought her to Bay Port. Y/n is thrilled to know both of her neighbors now. In London, she lived in the same apartment for three years and only knew one person on her floor.

“Just headed into town to get some of the house repair stuff I need.”

“Wow, getting started on the renovations?” Maise smiles, tugs on the leash she had been holding, commanding her dog to sit at her feet. The wild puppy is a little more than the old woman can handle some days.

“Yeah, at least attempting.” Y/n throws a smile over her shoulder before starting her walk into town.

Y/n makes it to the hardware store and becomes acquainted with Hank, the store owner. She explains her plans for the summer and he agrees that they will get to know each other well. Thankfully most of the changes she needs for the home are cosmetic, she has a lot to do. Hank claims she’s going to be the sole thing keeping him in business.

“-now that’s the primer that will work best for what you need.” Hank explains.

Y/n grabs a gallon of it and throws it in the cart, along with everything else that Hank has recommended. She trusts the old man's words. He explains everything that he’s recommending in detail making her feel confident.

“Hey, Hank!” The bell chimes signaling another customer has come in.

“Harry, I’ve got your order in the back. Let me just go grab it.” Hank leaves to go grab whatever it is that Harry has ordered.

“Looks like you’re getting started on fixing up the house.” Harry comments, walking over to his neighbor and looking at her cart.

“Yeah.” Y/n smiles, “I think it’s going to be a lot more work than I thought, but I’m excited, I’ve never done anything like this.”

“You’ve never done any home renovations?” He asks, him obviously finding humor in it. He knows that the Wilson home needs more than a can of paint.“And you’re renovating that whole house?”

“Yes, I am.” She smirks, “Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can.”

Hank comes back with Harry’s order, which seems to be a large pack of sideway chalk. Emelia.

“Thank you for ordering this, she was burning through what I bought two weeks ago.” Harry smiles.

“It was no problem.” Hank claps him on the shoulder, “Just let me know again when you need me to order more.”

Harry checks out before she does and wishes them both a goodbye before he heads out. Hank checks out Y/n after that, and she grabs all of her items, walking out of the door.

She notices Harry is still in the parking lot, the only car in the small lot.

“You don’t have a car?” Harry asks, brows furrowed. He looks around as the desolate square of concrete.

“Didn’t need one in London. I’ll get one before winter, for now I can get away with walking.” Y/n smiles, continuing her walk.

“Let me just give you a ride. You’re on the way.”

“No, it’s not a big deal.” She explains, “I can handle it.”

“You do realize how heavy that paint can is going to get? I bet it’s already getting heavy.” He smirks as she adjusts the cans in her hands. The thin metal handle is already digging into her palms and she’s onlyI made it to the sidewalk.

“Fine, you’ve made your point.”

Harry loads the paint can and her overflowing bag of supplies into his trunk. The windows are all down and they enjoy the breeze the short drive back to Y/n’s house. He pulls in the driveway and insists on carrying the paint can all the way up to her porch.

“Well, thank you, I’m sure that I would have an aching hand at this point if it weren’t for you.” Y/n smiles.

“Anytime, and if you ever need a ride in the future, don’t hesitate.” He backs off the steps, “Plus, I’m sure Emelia would love that.”

“Hmm, would she?” Y/n asks with a smile.

“She won’t stop talking about you.” Harry grins, “Think she’s a bit of a stalker, checking to see when you work outside. She always wants to hang out with you.”

Y/n throws her head back in a laugh. “Well, feel free to send her over. I’ll never say no to free labor.”

“Want something to drink?” Y/n asks, unlocking her front door and walking in, Harry following close behind. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and offered to help carry her things in.

“Yeah, actually that would be great.” He doesn’t follow her the rest of the way into the house.

“We can sit on the porch if you’d like.” Y/n offers, coming back out from the kitchen with two bottles of beer. He opens the door again and the two of them walk over to the porch swing. One of the few things still in great condition in this house.

“So, what brings you to Bay Port?” Harry asks, then talks a long sip of the beer.

“Well, I quit my job. I was feeling a bit stuck if I’m being honest.” Y/n sighs. “So, I was a bit wine drunk and feeling impulsive. I sold my apartment, and moved here.”

“What did you do?” He asks, glancing over to the girl sitting next to him. He watches as her bare foot slowly slides on the floor. She pulls the other one up to rest close to her chest.

“I was a writer.” She clears her throat. “Still am, just different than before.”

“How so?”

“I moved here so I could actually write about the things I care about. I was kind of stuck at a job where I was writing about what I was paid to do. I had no freedom or choice in what I wrote about and I completely lost the passion that I used to have for it.”

“Wow, that takes guts to leave and decide to follow your passion.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit scary, but it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. I can tell it was the right one, I already feel better about it.”

They continue to talk, until the beer runs out and Harry decides he should get back home.

❃

A few days later Y/n walks out to get the mail and notices the sidewalk has taken on a new design since the last one she saw. Last time it had stars, a game of hopscotch, and what one can only assume to be a cat. Now, she’s still got all of those things, but on Y/n’s stretch of the sidewalk there are hydrangeas. They are a rainbow, each flower taking on a new color.

“Do you like them?” Emelia asks, peeking from her yard.

Y/n walks over with a smile on her face and walks to her side of the fence.

“Love them. They look beautiful.” Emelia’s cheeks take on a pink tint over Y/n’s words, “Do you like drawing?”

“Yeah, that’s my favorite.” She looks back over her shoulder, “Will you look at my driveway? That’s where I drew the ocean!”

“Sure.”

Y/n walks over and listens as the little girl explains her drawing and all of the things she included in it. She talks about the blue whale, and how she wishes she could draw it to scale, the shark with a smiley face (because that makes them less scary obviously). Both of their attention is pulled away from Emelia's starfish when they hear yelling. It’s followed by a boy, a few years older than Emelia, storming out of the house.

“Hey! No slamming doors!” Harry calls, following the boy down his front steps.

“Bye Grayson.” Emelia waves, but he doesn’t say anything back. He just carries on his march down towards the beach.

“That’s my brother.” Emelia whispers.

Grayson doesn’t look back and Harry stops following once he reaches us in the driveway.

“I didn’t even know you had a son.” Y/n admits.

“Yeah, I hardly see him.” Harry laughs, “As soon as Bay Port gets some sun, you only see him at the beach.”

“Well, it is summer.” Y/n smiles.

“Yeah, I think he’s also in an angry not-yet a teen phase.” Harry crosses his arms over his chest.

“Well, I’m sure that’s fine.” Y/n smiles wider, “Were you a bad teen? Is this some karmic debt you’re paying?”

“Excuse you, I was a saint.” Harry defends, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk.

“I’m sure you were.” She shakes her head.

“I was showing Y/n my ocean.” Emelia explains, smiling up at her father, in turn making Y/n smile as well.

“I see that, I’m sure that Y/n has loved it.”

“I have.” She squats down next to the girl, “I especially love the fish with the sandwich, That’s from Lilo and Stitch, right?”

“Yeah!” She squeals.

“Mhm, that’s a good one.”

“Dad, that’s what we should watch for movie night!”

“That’s a pretty good pick.” Harry nods.

“We should invite Y/n since she likes that movie.” Emelia whispers quietly to Harry, or at least what she thinks is quiet. Y/n still cracks a smile at her words.

“I like that idea.” Harry nods, smiling at Y/n.

“Y/n, would you like to join our movie night, tonight?” Emelia asks, looking up at Y/n with her bright green doe eyes. The young girl grabs Y/n's hands to really try and guilt trip her.

“How could I ever say no to that?” She smiles, “What time does movie night start?”

“Eight o’clock.” Harry answers.

“I will be there! In that case, I need to get my work done, but I will see you guys tonight!”

Y/n goes back home, knowing she has a lot of time before tonight. She gets started on replacing the door knob that sticks every time she uses it. It takes some learning, and a youtube video for her to get it right, but she does it. The more she gets done in the house, the more confident she gets. It helps having a pep talk from Hank too.

“Alright, one door down, eight to go.” She lays back on her floor.

Y/n takes a shower before she goes over, she managed to work up a sweat working on the house. All of the doorknobs in the house have been replaced, and she managed to fix the squeaky floorboard in the living room. Small projects kept her entertained all day.

Y/n walks over, empty handed. She had debated bringing popcorn and a blanket, but decided against it. The popcorn because she didn’t want to bring food, or what if they were providing it. The blanket she passed on once she remembered it’s June and surely won’t be needed seeing as the air is still warm. She simply braided her hair to keep it out of her face, she threw on a casual sundress. It goes well with the tan she’s been working on while outside so far this summer.

“Y/n!” Emelia cheers, opening the door once Y/n knocked. Emelia had hoped that Y/n didn’t notice she’s been peeking out the window for the past twenty minutes waiting for the girl next door to come walking up.

“Emelia!” She cheers back, the little girl pulls her in for a hug, which Y/n has to bend down for.

“C’mon, I saved you a spot next to me.”

“Well, doesn’t that sound lovely!” Y/n follows the girl. She has no choice because Emelia has a locked grip on her hand.

Y/n kicks off her shoes by the door, and takes in the house. The house is stunning, smaller than you would picture someone of Harry’s fam settling into, but a large house nonetheless. The house is far bigger than hers, and it’s on a bigger lot, but Harry’s managed to make it feel warm. Between the pictures on the walls, the awards on the shelves, and the color everywhere, it’s clear that this is his home.

Emelia leads her over to one of two couches that face the large television.

“Y/n, you’re here.” Harry smiles, “I’ve got the popcorn.”

He passes a bowl for Emeilia and Y/n to share and takes one himself.

“C’mon Gray, we're starting it.” Harry shouts.

“I’m not watching it.” He yells from somewhere upstairs. Y/n lets out a chuckle at noticing that Harry’s Disney Plus avatar is Olaf.

“Yes, yes you are.” Harry gets up from the couch and stands on the bottom stair so he doesn’t have to yell as much.

“Dad, I’m too big for kiddy movies!” Grayson argues.

“Yeah, and you’re still eight.” Harry shuts down, “It’s movie night.”

With a huff, Grayson comes down the stairs and sits down on the couch next to Harry. He sits with his arms crossed. It isn’t until the lights are off and the movie is five minutes in when he settles and actually reaches for popcorn. It’s about halfway through the movie and completely dark out when both kids finally slump down.

“Eight going on eighteen.” Harry teases, looking over his son who has managed to fall asleep in his seated position. Y/n glances down to the girl, who is resting her head against her side. She runs her hand over her head, taming her wild curls.

“Looks like I got the snuggler.” She smiles, Harry looks over to see what she is talking about. His heart swells at the sight.

“Yeah, she has her moments. She can’t sleep sometimes.” Harry admits, he reaches for the remote to turn down the TV. “She has nightmares, they really freak her out. She wakes up a lot during the night.”

“It’s not fair for someone so sweet to be plagued by nightmares.”

Harry gently wakes up his son and sends him off to bed, he gets up and walks over to where the girls are. He manages to pry Emelia away and carries her up to her room. In the meantime, Y/n grabs the bowls of popcorn and carries them off to the kitchen, simply leaving them in the sink.

“You don’t need to clean up!” Harry says, making his presence known, “You’re the guest.”

“Eh, it’s the least I can do. You were the host tonight.” She smiles.

“Thank you for tonight, I know it meant a lot to Emelia.” Harry watches her in the reflection in the window above the sink before she turns around to face him.

“It was fun, I think I would do most anything to make that girl happy.” Y/n laughs.

“You and me both.” He leans against the counter.

“Thank you for being so welcoming to me. It means a lot to be invited here, I was a little nervous to move here.”

“Why’s that? Bay Port is just about as friendly as it gets. We’ve only got a population of, what, 1100?” Harry chuckles.

“I was nervous about being able to meet people, and make connections. London was a mile a minute. You’ve got eight million people to go out and meet.”

“And yet, you still ended up here.” He chimes in.

“And yet, I still ended up here.” Y/n agrees.

“Well I’m glad you did.”

He leans in a little closer and Y/n picks up her head at the movement. She’s surprised to see just how close they are.

“Would you go on a date with me?” He asks, his eyes never falling from hers.

“I hardly know anything about you.” Y/n admits, although she doesn’t take a step back.

“I know your daughter better than I know you.” She continues to tease.

“Well, I made her, so you know me, and that would be the point of the date.” He smirks.

“Are you actually asking?” She retorts.

“I am.”

❃

It takes a couple of days for their date to actually come. Harry needed to have someone watch the kids, and Y/n had been trying to tackle every possible task she could in the meantime.

“Hey.” Y/n grins, swinging open her door to let Harry in.

“Is tonight too short of notice for our date?” He asks.

“Mm, should I act hard to get and say no?” She teases.

“Well, seeing as we’re neighbors, I think I’ll know if you stay in tonight anyway.”

“In that case, I’m free as a bird.” She says, making him laugh.

“Alright, I’ll be back around 6:00. Wear comfortable shoes.”

“That’s all the information I get?”

“Yep.” He smirks before walking out.

Y/n spends the rest of her afternoon painting, only to start getting ready an hour before Harry is coming back. She settles on a casual outfit seeing as he requested comfortable shoes.

Harry knocks on Y/n’s front door at exactly 6:00. They walk out to his car, he gets the door for her.

“I hope you like pepperoni.” Harry nods to the backseat where a pizza box sits.

“I love pepperoni.”

He turns left leaving her driveway, the opposite direction of town. Y/n hasn’t spent much time on this side of town. He starts to head down small backroads, eventually turning onto a narrow dirt road.

“Alright, the rest of the way is by foot.” Harry puts the car in park.

“Hence the comfortable shoes.” Y/n smiles.

“I promise, the view will be worth it.”

“It better be, or I’m pushing you off the edge.”

Harry simply chuckles as they keep on walking, thankfully they didn’t have much to go. Y/n wouldn’t want to admit it, but he can see it in her face that he was right. It was worth it. Harry pulls a beach blanket from his backpack for them to share. They sit down and take in the view.

“So, what prompts Harry Styles, the rockstar, to settle down in Bay Port?” Y/n finally addresses his status. In all of their conversations, this has never come up. Y/n would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought of asking him.

“Former rock star.” He corrects.

Y/n gives him a look as she waits.

“My mum only lives a half an hour away, it’s only about two hours to London from here. It’s a pretty perfect little town to settle down in.” He grins, his eyes squinting to focus with the sun blinding him.

“We found out late in Jenny’s pregnancy that she had cancer. Emelia had a few months to go, and Jenny wasn’t willing to risk an early delivery, so she waited. By the time Em was here, the cancer had spread too far for any treatment.”

He looks up at Y/n now.

“She sacrificed her life for hers. Without a second thought, she left me with them, and I’m still trying to pick up the pieces and it’s been four years. It’s getting easier though.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Harry.” Y/n chokes out a response.

“I’m sorry for their loss.” He picks up his head now, his eyes tinting red, “I wish you could’ve met her. The two of you would have been as thick as thieves.”

He shakes his head with a smile.

“I’m sure that would have been lovely.”

They sit there quietly now. Watching the sun dip lower and lower on the horizon. Harry’s hand finds her’s on the blanket. The sky fades to a dark blue, and Y/n and Harry shift to lay on their backs taking in the stars. The leftover pizza has gone cold.

They continue to talk and get to know each other more. They tell stories of their childhood, travel, Harry talks about the kids. He talks about fame, and Y/n talks about wanting to write something that could move people. Something actually meant something to someone.

“This was lovely, Harry.” Y/n smiles, taking a step back towards her front door. Harry being a true gentleman walked her to the front door.

“So did I.” He grins, he takes a step closer and Y/n leans her head up to really look at him. She reaches out to brush a loose curl away from his forehead. Harry leans into the touch and closes his eyes. Their foreheads meet and warm breaths are exchanged.

After what feels like way too long, Harry’s lips meet Y/n’s slowly. They savor each other excruciatingly slowly. Y/n’s hands dig further into Harry’s curls making him groan. He takes another step forward pushing Y/n’s back into her front door. Harry finally composes himself enough to pull away, both of them breathing heavy.

“I should probably go, let my babysitter go home.” He sighs, still out of breath.

“Yeah, you should.” Y/n says, but her grip still tight on him shows she disagrees.

“If either one of my children saw me out here, I would never live it down.” He laughs. Y/n joins in with a chuckle and lets go finally.

“Alright, go home.” She smiles.

She turns to put her key in the front door and Harry takes a few backwards steps off the porch.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” He asks.

“When do I ever say no to you?” She grins.

❃

Y/n and Harry go on a few more dates, each getting better than the last. Each date, the kiss on Y/n’s porch lasting a little longer. It’s getting harder and harder to let go of each other.

Emelia and Harry have started showing up at the house to help her with small tasks. Harry getting stuck doing the heavy lifting while Y/n helps Emelia paint her living room.

“You sure about the yellow?” Harry asks, taking in the soft yellow that half of the room is now painted in.

“You don’t like it?” Y/n looks over her shoulder.

“It’s just bold. Most people do a neutral color. This is the first thing people see when they walk in.” Harry gestures to the front door.

“I think it’s fun!” Emelia chimes in.

“Me too.” Y/n winks at the girl.

“Alright, I get it!” He holds up his hands in defense. “I’m outnumbered.”

“Yes, you are.” Y/n and Emelia high five.

“I’m not sure I like this duo.” He teases gesturing to the two girls.

“Next time make Grayson come over with us!” Emelia decides. Y/n and Harry share a look. Grayson has not wanted to hang out with them. He would much rather go to the beach with his friends and stay as far away from Y/n as he can.

“Next time.” Harry smiles, ruffling the curls on the little girl's head.

❃

“I come bearing tacos!” Y/n cheers, letting herself into the Styles home. She has become familiar enough with the house and it’s occupants to be able to let herself in.

“Y/n!” Emelia comes running.

“Hello, love.” Harry presses a quick peck to her lips.

“Gray, dinner is here!” Harry shouts up the stairs while the girls go set the table.

“So Grayson, catch any fish while you were down at the pier today?” Y/n asks. No matter how much he ignores her, Y/n hasn’t given up on bonding with this kid.

“Yeah.” He mutters, still not looking at her.

“Well that's pretty cool.” Y/n smiles.

“Gray is a really good fisherman.” Emelia grins, taking a big bite of her cheese quesadilla.

“Surely he doesn’t get that from you?” Y/n teases, cutting Harry a look making him laugh.

“No-”

“No, my mom liked to fish. She’s the one who taught me.” Grayson says, interrupting his father and getting up from the table.

“Gray, you need to finish your meal. Sit back down.”

He doesn’t listen and keeps walking away.

“I’m sorry.” She smiles solemnly looking at Harry. He shakes his head dismissing it, knowing it’s not her fault. Harry’s phone starts ringing on the counter and he tries to ignore it. He doesn’t like technology being a part of a meal. Even if it's just take out at the counter. It rings and finally stops until it starts back up again.

“Go get it, it could be important.” I smile.

He reaches forwards and I see Gemma’s name flash across the screen.

“Hey, Gem-” He answers, “She what?”

His tone changes quickly making my head snap up to look at him.

“When?” He sighs, “Well is she okay?”

“Em, why don’t you go wash up since you’re done and then we’ll pick out a movie to watch together!”

The little girl cheers, oblivious to the heavy tone in her father’s voice. Y/n grabs all of the plates and starts cleaning up, while still paying attention to the questions Harry is asking.

“What’s going on?” She asks, once he’s hung up.

“Uhh, my mom is in the hospital. She got in a bit of a car wreck.”

“What?” Y/n drops what she’s been washing in the sink and walks over to him.

“Yeah, she’s being airlifted to a hospital in London.” He clears his throat.

“Oh my god, Harry.” She reaches out a hand to his shoulder.

“I’m meeting Gemma at the hospital. I need to find a sitter-” He stands up abruptly, the shock seemingly wearing off. He tears off around the house grabbing everything he can, while trying to call anyone.

“H, just wait.” She places a hand on his chest. “Just breathe for a second.”

He pauses and closes his eyes. He leans into her touch.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, I don’t even think Hannah is in town now. Can I call her this late?” Hannah is his usual babysitter for the kids. “How am I supposed to-”

“I can watch them.” Y/n offers.

“You would really do that for me?” He asks, looking down into her eyes searching for honesty. “Unless you don’t want me to, because I totally understand-”

“No, it’s not that.” Harry interrupts and pulls her in close to his embrace, “It’s just a big thing you’re offering here and I want to know you’re sure.”

“Of course!” She has a small smile, “Go, pack a bag, I’ll take care of things here.”

Harry leaves to go pack a bag of everything he might need. Y/n walks out to find Emelia with a movie pulled up.

“We haven’t watched this one yet!”

“No, we haven’t” Y/n smiles. She takes a seat next to the girl. In all of their movie nights, she knows that she likes to sit right next to her through the whole thing. Five or ten minutes into the movie, Harry comes down stairs with a small duffle. I get up from the couch and meet him at the bottom of the stairs.

“Alright, I already talked to Grayson and explained.”

“So he knows I’m watching him?” Y/n asks.

“Yeah, and he should behave.” Harry runs a hand through his hair, obviously stressed.

“We’ll be alright, don’t worry about us.”

“Okay, thank you.” He presses a kiss to her lips and a quick hug. He walks back into the living room and pulls Emelia up into his arms.

“Daddy, where are you going?” She asks.

“I need to go see Grandma. It’s important, but Y/n is going to stay here with you and Gray.” He presses a kiss to her forehead.

“We don’t get to come see grandma?” She questions.

“Not this time.”

Emelia sighs and then suddenly remembers the other half of her Dad’s statement.

“Y/n, you’re having a sleepover?” She squeals.

“I am.” Y/n grins.

Harry sets Em down and she tears off for a hug from Y/n.

“Alright, I need to go.” Harry says, looking at the time.

Y/n walks over to the front door, with Emelia on her hip. They wave from the front door as Harry leaves. After his tail lights disappear, they both walk into the house again. Grayson is now sitting on the bottom step.

“Is she going to be okay?” Grayson asks, staring at the floor, solely in one spot.

“That’s what your dad is trying to find out. We hope she will be.” Y/n answers.

“Why do you have to stay with us?” He follows up.

“It was a last minute thing, and I offered.” She finally lets the younger girl down from her arms and she tears off to the couch and starts her movie.

“Well, you shouldn’t have offered.” He gets up from the stairs, “Stop trying to be our mom.”

❃

Grayson’s words hurt Y/n more than she thought was possible. Was she overstepping? She finally calms down when she remembers that he has lost his mother and now his grandmother is in the hospital. He has every right to be snappy. It’s wrongful blame, but he’s only eight.

Y/n opts out of running home to get her own pajamas and settles on one of Harry’s shirts. Emelia stayed up and they ended up watching a movie. Harry ends up texting that he’s made it safe to London before the movie is over. After that Y/n puts Em to bed, and cleans everything from the night before climbing upstairs to Harry’s bedroom.

Her phone vibrates on the nightstand and she rolls over to see that Harry is calling.

“Hey.” Y/n answers.

“Hello, love.” He sighs.

“How’re things?” Y/n sits up in bed so she can focus on the conversation.

“M’just waiting. I hate waiting.” He sighs, “They’ve finally put me and Gem in a room to wait though.”

“Well, at least that's good news.”

“How did the rest of the night go?” He asks.

“It’s been alright in the Styles household, Em and I still had a movie night. Gray shut himself in his room pretty early.” Y/n opts out of telling Harry about what Grayson said. The last thing he needs right now is one more thing to worry about.

“Yeah, I would just give him space until the morning. He didn’t take to it well having another family member in the hospital.”

They stay on the phone until they get news on Anne and Harry has to hang up. Y/n’s heavy eyes don’t stay open for a second longer once her head hit the pillows. She doesn’t wake up again until she feels someone pushing on her shoulder.

“Y/n” a very soft and small voice says.

“Emelia?” Y/n questions, rolling over to see the young girl. She has tears in her eyes and she seems to be shaking a little. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“I had a bad dream.” She takes a step closer to the bed, “My daddy lets me sleep with him when the monsters are back.”

Wordlessly Y/n lifts up the covers and pulls the girl into bed with her.

“Well, there’s no monsters with me.” Y/n smiles, causing Em to smile too.

They both fall back asleep quickly and Y/n doesn’t wake up again until it’s light out. She looks over to see that the younger girl is still fast asleep, her head of curls a mess all over the pillow. Grayson’s door is still shut so she assumes he’s still asleep as well.

Y/n makes her way to the kitchen and it takes some hunting, but she finds all of the ingredients and necessary tools to make pancakes. Half way through the first batch, Grayson makes an appearance.

“Goodmorning.” Y/n looks over at the boy.

“Morning.” He mumbles, he takes a seat at the counter across from where Y/n is working.

“How’d you sleep last night?” Y/n asks, making conversation.

“Good.”

They sit in silence, him waiting for pancakes to be done. Y/n places a stack in front of him and gets started on more for Em when she eventually comes downstairs. Grayson digs right in after putting all of the toppings on that he wanted.

“My mom used to make pancakes every Saturday morning.” Grayson states.

Y/n’s actions halt, unsure of what to say or do with that information.

“My dad can’t make pancakes. He tried for a while after she died, but they always turn out lumpy or he burns them, but these are pretty good.��

Y/n can’t help but smile at the comment. Progress.

“Well, I’m glad you like them.”

It doesn’t take long for the scent of pancakes to reach Emelia and send her running downstairs. She joins Grayson at the counter and they spend the rest of their morning together. They call Harry for an update, and it turns out Anne is going to be fine, with very minor injuries. They had worried about internal injuries, but she’s going to be alright. Y/n lets out the biggest sigh of relief at the news, these kids aren’t going to lose another family member.

Harry informs them that he and Gemma are going to get Anne settled in her house tonight and stay, tomorrow morning he will be driving home.

“Alright, we need to run over to my house because I can’t keep wearing yesterday’s clothes.”

The three of them make their way over to Y/n’s house and hang out there long enough for Y/n to take a shower and change. After that they walk downtown on the way to the beach. The weather is perfect, and Y/n is in need of a distraction for them.

They swim, they watch Grayson fish, and they play in the sand. They’re all exhausted by the time it’s supper. When they get home Grayson goes straight to his room, but he did manage to stick with the two girls most of the day. Y/n makes a quick supper and they scarf it down.

“Can we have another movie night since you’re having another sleepover?” Emelia asks.

“How can I say no to those eyes?” Y/n teases, Emelia picks Moana, surely inspired by their beach day. Grayson stays for part of it before saying goodnight and going to his room. Y/n wakes up on the couch with the credits for the movie rolling. It looks like both her and Emelia passed out during it.

“Em, let’s go to bed.” She carefully wakes up the girl. She doesn’t open up her eyes but holds out her arms for Y/n to scoop her up. Y/n takes her straight to Harry’s room knowing that she will likely wake up if she puts her in her room alone. They both fall back asleep quickly in Harry’s cozy bed.

“Love.” A deep voice pulls Y/n out of her sleep. She turns to see Harry crouched by the bed.

“Hey.” Y/n says with a sleepy voice, “I didn’t realize you’d be back this early.”

Based on the lighting in the room, it looks like the sun is just starting to rise.

“Wanted to get back to the kids.” He smiles, “And you.”

“Hmm.” Y/n hums with a smile.

“I see she roped you into letting her sleep with you.” Harry smiles, looking over to his daughter taking up half the bed.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can say no to her. Those damn green eyes.” She teases.

“Hey.” Harry laughs before sliding in behind Y/n. He wraps an arm around her waist and settle against the same pillow. They fall fast asleep and sleep heavily until the youngest Style wakes them up.

“Daddy!” She cheers. She takes a flying leap, landing on the pair.

“Em!” Harry groans, he lets go of Y/n, letting Emelia squeeze between the two.

“You’re home!”

“I am.” Harry grins.

Y/n sits up and looks at the time, it’s later than they would usually wake up. After tackling the pair on the bed she runs off to her room to get dressed for the day.

“I think I’m going to head back to my house.” Y/n states, looking over to Harry.

“Really?” He asks with raised brows.

“Yeah, I’ll give you space to just have a day with the kids.” She smiles.

“You’re sure?” His thumb lightly traces over her shoulder.

“Yes, I think they need it.” She leans in for a kiss, which leads to a second, and third before she finally pulls herself out of bed. “Plus, I am falling behind on renovations.”

❃

Y/n makes her way back to her house and it seems so empty and quiet after having spent the past few days at the Styles household. She jumps right back in with renovations to try and get back on track.

Harry spends his day with the kids. They go out to the park and spend the day together. Harry misses Y/n but she was right that they needed a day together just the family. They also give Anne a call to check in on her. Emelia is all too excited to talk to her grandma on the phone. On their drive back to the house he notices that all of the lights in Y/n’s house are off. He had planned on inviting her over for supper.

“Harry, I thought you would be at the hospital.” Maise comments as she walks by the house with her dog.

“Yeah, I just got back this morning.” Harry states.

“This morning?” Maise stops, “No no, I’m talking about Y/n.”

“Y/n?” Harry’s heart stops and drops to his stomach for a second.

“Yeah, she just left for the hospital an hour ago. I thought she said she would call you.”

Harry is getting back in his car as Maise is talking. The kids get back in too, having heard the whole conversation. Harry speeds to the small Bay Port hospital. He rushes in with the two kids hot on his trail.

“Is Y/n Y/Ln here?” He asks the receptionist.

“She is with the doctor right now.”

“What happened? What’s going on?” Harry asks.

“That information is confidential. I can buzz her nurse and see if she is willing to see you.”

Harry thanks the receptionist and turns back to see his kids. They both look anxious to be here. Grayson is looking around at everything, flinching everytime there is a noise. In reality Harry should’ve called Hannah to watch them, or called Y/n to see what was going on, but as soon as he heard from Maise that she was here he couldn’t stop himself. He needed to be here.

“I can take you back to her room.” The nurse leads them to an exam room and holds open the door for them.

“Y/n?” Grayson asks, making himself the first in the room, he walks right up to her. I don’t think anyone would’ve expected that.

“Hey!” Y/n smiles, looking at her visitors. She was surprised when the nurse told her they were here, she hadn't even had the time to text or call. She was using a nail gun to put trim on her windows when it backfired, giving her a gnarly gash on her arm. She was fine, but it wasn’t as easy as throwing a bandaid on.

“You’re okay.” Grayson sighs into Y/n’s chest. He collapses against her in a heavy hug. The arm that wasn’t currently being stitched wraps around him holding him there.

“Yeah, of course I am. Just a little scratch.”

“Just a little scratch.” He repeats back to himself.

“News travels fast in a small town.” Y/n laughs.

“Maise told us you were in the hospital.” Grayson states, still in shock.

“Hey, I’m okay? Right?” Y/n pulls back to look at him and he nods. Harry watches the scene in front of him and melts. He knew Grayson needed time to warm up to Y/n, but he didn’t think about Gray trying to distance himself so he wouldn’t get attached to her.

Grayson eventually lets go and Em hops right up for a hug. The doctor finishes the stitches on her arm, and gives her some aftercare instructions. They have to stay for a little while for Y/n to be discharged.

“No more big projects without me being there, please.” Harry sighs.

“Promise.” Y/n winks.

“Too much time in the hospital. There are too many people I love in the hospital.” Harry sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/n’s head.

“Love?” Y/n asks, looking up at him.

“Love.” Harry confirms.

They both take on a pink hue on their cheeks. They haven’t said that to each other before. He wishes it wasn’t in a hospital, in front of his kids, but it doesn't matter.

“I love you too.” Y/n leans forward and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s short and sweet, but it’s enough. ❃

Harry makes Y/n come back to his for the night so he can keep an eye on her. They decide to carry on with a movie night as they always do. This time though, all four of them cram onto one couch. Grayson plopped down next to Y/n shocking the whole house at his change in attitude. Emelia claims she has to sit by Y/n because she always does and Harry gets dragged over too so he doesn’t have to sit by himself. They are squished in pretty good, but it’s cozy this way.

After the kiddos go off to bed, Y/n and Harry finally make it to his room. Harry helps Y/n get dressed in one of his shirts. She tells him she can do it herself, but he insists with a devilish smirk.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you, too.” She turns around to meet his lips.

❃

The entire Styles household take part in the renovations now. Harry and Grayson do a lot of the heavier projects, Grayson is just happy to be a part of things now. Y/n and Emelia work on small tasks together and it doesn’t take long for Y/n to fully heal and for the house to be finished.

“The house looks amazing, love.” Harry presses a proud kiss to his temple.

“Thanks.” She smiles, “I just have one thing left in the office to hang up.”

“I can grab it.” He insists.

Harry makes his way to her office, he smiles and the drawing that is very obviously done by Emelia is tacked to the wall. He finds the framed artwork she had been talking about and walks over to behind her desk. He sets it down for a second to make sure the nails are level. When he turns back to her desk, his name catches his eye.

He pulls the paper out from the stack to see an article about him. It’s old, he knows that. It’s been a long time since his name has been in the news. He’s about to throw it back in the stack when the author's name catches him off guard.

Y/n Y/Ln.

“There’s no way.” Harry mutters to himself, not able to believe what he’s seeing.

He grabs the rest of the stack to see other articles, dating back years ago, years before he had kids and stepped back from the spotlight. Every single one written by her. Drama alerts, gossip, trash that he always ignored. Some are about him, others about other UK celebrities.

He’s seeing red at this point. He goes back downstairs to see Y/n with Gray and Em. They’re all laughing as she’s telling them some story while they put together furniture.

“Grayson, Emelia, why don’t you guys head home. I’ll be right there.” Harry states.

“What?” Emelia asks, whipping around to look at her dad.

“Grayson take Emelia back home, please.”

Y/n looks confused as the kids get up from the floor and walk out of her front door.

“Harry, what’s-”

“I wanna know how you can explain these.” Harry holds the stack of articles in his hand, turning them for her to see.

“Harry-”

“No, I don’t want an excuse. I want to know why. Why are you here? Why did you choose this small town? Right next door. I need a reason.”

“I told you I didn’t like my job. I hated it. I left, I needed change, I had no way of knowing you were here.”

“What? So I’m just supposed to buy it was by chance that you’re here?”

“I was thinking fate.” Y/n says, feeling small. She’s never seen Harry like this before.

“That isn’t enough. I let you in!” Harry shouts, “Dammit, I let you into my life! I let you into my children’s lives!”

“I know, Harry, I know.” Y/n cries, trying to walk closer, but Harry takes matching steps away.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” Harry asks, he has an angry tear fall down his cheek.

“I couldn’t. It was so long ago, and it’s not who I am. I hated writing those trashy articles. I told you that is not what I was passionate about, that was just to make ends meet. I’m so sorry.”

“Stay away from me.” He says with venom in his words, “Stay away from my children.”

“Harry, please don’t.” She tries to plead with him to stay, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he simply shrugs it off. He pulls her front door shut with a slam, and Y/n falls in her spot, crying too hard at this point to stand.

She knew at some point he would have to know what she used to write, but she never wanted it to be this way. Being completely honest, she never wanted him to know at all. The rest of the day she cries. She doesn’t know what to do. He wants her to stay away, so that’s just what she’ll do.

❃

It’s a week later when he is taking his kids to the beach when he sees it. It makes his heart stop in his chest. The moving truck is back. His children have been begging with him the last week to see Y/n. Emelia is especially aching to see her. She managed to bond with the whole family, and it’s slowly tearing them apart now that she’s gone.

“Daddy? Where is Y/n going?” Emelia asks, seeing the same moving truck is back.

“I don’t know. Let’s go.”

“Why are you sending Y/n away?” Grayson asks with anger.

“I didn’t send her away.” Harry explains, looking at his two children in his rearview mirror. They are both obviously upset with him over this.

“You won’t let us see her, and now she’s moving.” Gray huffs.

“Daddy, you yelled at her. Gray and I could hear it.”

Harry’s heart breaks at that. He loves her, but he’s hurting right now. It doesn’t make it any easier that his children love her too. They spend the afternoon at the beach, and everything feels a bit off. They cut things short so they can head back to the house. Anne and Gemma are making the trip up for a visit.

❃

It killed Y/n to leave without saying goodbye, but Harry made it very clear that he wanted her to stay away from him and the kids. She didn’t want to push more than she already had. She rented another truck so she can pack everything back up. She only lived here for the summer, but she’s made it come. It’s much harder to pack this place up than the apartment she had for years.

The house sold quickly, the renovations helping make it a hot commodity. She knows she needs to leave, as much as she loves Bay Port with her whole heart, she loves Harry more and would leave if that's what he wants.

She takes in one more glance at the view from her porch, something she’s never gotten over before climbing in the truck. Y/n can’t even debate saying goodbye to the Styles’ family, they aren’t home.

❃

“So where’s this famous Y/n I hear so much about?” Anne asks, looking over the table to her son.

“Daddy sent her away, so she left.” Emelia says, pushing the food around on her plate without eating any.

“Emelia.” Harry scolds.

“What? It’s true.” Grayson sighs.

“What happened?” Gemma asks. She’s confused because in all her time as an aunt, she’s never seen the kids this upset with their dad.

“She’s a writer.” Harry blows out the air in his lungs, “She made a living writing trash pieces about everyone, including me.”

“Is that what she was doing here?” Anne asks.

“I don’t know.” Harry shrugs.

“You love this girl, did you even hear her out?” Gemma questions.

“The headlines said enough.” Harry throws back a swig of his drink.

“Darling.” Anne says, grabbing his attention, “You love this girl, and you left her because of the job she used to have? I thought you said she moved here because she hated her job?”

“Yeah, she did. Or at least she claimed to.” Harry growls.

“Enough. Well, has an article come out? Are the paps crowding your lawn? Because the way I see it, the first woman to care for your family the way it should be cared for was chased off by you, over her previous job that she hated.” Anne rolls her eyes, “What were you thinking?”

Harry thinks hard on his mothers words. She’s right, nothing has come out since then. She hasn’t exposed him in the slightest. Surely, if that was her intention it’s been weeks, she would’ve done something by now.

“Harry, you can’t fake a love like that.” Gemma smiles.

“Fuck.” Harry is hit with the full gravity of what’s happened.

“Language!” Emelia scolds.

“What am I supposed to do? She’s moved! I don’t even know where.” Harry suddenly gets up and grabs his phone. He rings her twice with no answer.

“Maise!” He says with realization, he runs out of his own house and runs to the lady that he knows Y/n would confide in. He knocks loudly, several times, waiting for someone to answer the door. Maise swings it open with a slight frown on her face.

“I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.”

“Do you know where she is?” He asks, still out of breath from running over, “Please.”

“She’s headed back to London.” Maise says sadly, crushing Harry a bit, “But, I know she couldn’t get a lease until tomorrow.”

“But, she’s not home.” Harry looks over to the house next door with all the lights still out.

“She’s got to be somewhere here in Bay Port.”

❃

Harry is stumped driving around trying to decide where she would be. He ran back to the house and filled them in. Gem and Anne were obviously happy to see him chasing down the girl. The kids were even more excited. They wanted to come with, but he told them that this was a conversation that just the two of them needed to have. He knew it would be wrong to guilt her to stay with his children right there.

Harry drives to the beach and walks around when it hits him, the place they went on their first date. The lookout. He hops back into his car and tears off again. He turns down the familiar dirt road, and his heart leaps out of his chest when he sees the moving truck parked by the trail. He barely throws the car into park before he’s running out.

He follows the trail until it comes to the clearing. He sees Y/n sitting there, looking out at the sunset. She’s taking in the beauty of Bay Port one last time. One last sunset.

“Don’t leave.” Harry had been so focused on finding Y/n, he didn’t think of what to say once he actually did.

Y/n turns around in her spot to see Harry standing there a few feet behind her.

“You know that I need to. Harry, I came here for a fresh start-”

“You had one. You built a life here, or at least you started to before I chased you out of it.” He takes a few steps closer and Y/n gets up from her blanket.

“Harry, you had every right to be mad, I should have told you.”

“I don’t care, I don’t care about any of that anymore. Just don’t leave.” He sighs, closing his eyes in relief of finally having her in front of him again.

“Why shouldn’t I?” She squeaks out.

“Because I love you.” Harry responds instantly, “I’m going to keep loving you, my children love you. I want my future with you, Y/n. I want everything with you.”

“Harry.” Y/n says simply, tears in her eyes.

“Please, don’t leave. Don’t ever leave.” He pulls her in for a hug, tears falling down his own cheeks now. He rests his head on top of hers, they are both holding each other so tightly.

“I want to stay, I really do.” She sighs, “I already sold my house.”

“Move in.” Harry answers immediately.

“What?” Her eyes go wide.

“I love you, I can’t let you leave. I want you with me forever. You are my everything. You complete my family. Move in.”

“You’re crazy.” She laughs.

“I don’t care. I don’t care about how crazy I am, I want to wake up with you everyday. I want you to make pancakes for Grayson and draw with Emelia. I want it all.”

“I want that too, Harry.”

AHHHH HOLY SHIT MY BABY IS FINALLY OUT THERE! PLZ LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF WE NEED MORE LITTLE STORIES OF THIS CREW BECAUSE I LOVE THEM!

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #safe haven #Harry Styles

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malfoysstilinski · 3 years

Text

flower crowns | draco malfoy

draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: it’s the first sunny day of the year and you want to spend it outside with draco. he wants to make you a flower crown.

a/n: shout out to everybody else in the uk rn that’s had to deal with this shitty weather since september and is now in a third lockdown :))) these are the vibes we all need rn i think

It felt as though it hadn’t been sunny in years. You were used to the bleak weather that Britain provided nearly all year round, but it didn’t stop you from jumping out of your bed as soon as you saw nothing but sunshine peeking through the high windows of your dorm room.

“It’s sunny!” You gasped, “Oh, Merlin— Hannah, please tell me it’s as warm as it looks outside!”

Hannah Abbott glanced up from her book where she’d risen early. “I think so. It’s been getting warmer all week.”

You squealed, your roommates exchanging glances with each other as you rushed into the bathroom to get ready for your Saturday off from classes. You did have homework that needed to be done, but it could wait. You were not wasting the first nice day cooped up in the castle.

After showering and changing into one of your favourite summer dresses, you bounded back into the dormitory room and found your friends all slowly starting to get ready for the day.

“Anyone fancy going down to the Black Lake?” Susan Bones asked, “I heard a bunch of the Gryffindors are going down if the weather turned out nice today and Ernie mentioned joining them.”

A chorus of excited replies came from everybody else, but you smiled politely.

“I’ll have to ask Draco what he wants to do. He doesn’t really get along much with some of the Gryffindors,” you said, applying some makeup and then slipping on your shoes.

Hannah huffed. “Fine. I don’t know what you see in him, Y/N. You’re way too soft for someone like Draco Malfoy.”

Raising your eyebrows, you smiled. “There are many sides to Draco you’ve never met. I can assure you that there are billions of reasons why I’m with him.”

None of the girls said anything as you bid them a farewell before pulling open the door to your dorm. Wandering through the bright common room, which seemed to thrive with the sunshine pouring through it, you waved and greeted some of your peers, the smell of sunscreen filling your nose and making you excited.

You bounded through the corridors of the castle, saying ‘hi’ to Ron, Harry, and Hermione as you passed them. They seemed slightly taken aback by the bounce in your step, Hermione hitting Ron before he could make some sort of sarcastic comment.

You made it down into the dungeons, finding the bare wall you’d come used to staring at. Whilst a huge majority of the school would never be able to catch a glimpse of the Slytherin common room, as the girlfriend of Draco Malfoy, you’d been given the password and was updated of the change fortnightly.

Whispering the new one, you were thrilled when it opened to reveal the green and silver room. It was much darker and drearier than the Hufflepuff common room, perfect for when you were in a cozy mood, but today wasn’t one of those days.

“Hey, Y/N,” Blaise greeted you as he looked up from the leather couch. “Draco’s in the dorm room.”

“Thanks, Blaise!” You replied, waving to Pansy and Theo as you walked by them, making your way to the fifth year boys’ dorm.

You knocked once before you entered, finding it empty. You frowned as the door closed softly behind you, but your ears pricked upon hearing the steady rushing of water coming from the attached bathroom.

You settled down onto Draco’s bed, eager for him to hurry up in the shower so you didn’t have to waste anymore time inside. Who knew how long the good weather was going to last for? British spring was unpredictable— tomorrow it could go back to jumper weather and stay like that for weeks, with nothing to do but watch the rain drip drip drip.

Water dripped from Draco’s broad shoulders as he finally left the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his torso. He looked gorgeous— in platinum hair soaked and pale skin slightly flushed from the temperature of the water. His face lit up when he saw you on his bed.

“Let me guess,” Draco hummed, “You want to spend the day outside?”

“Please?” You sent him the same very pout that always allowed you to get your way with him.

Outsiders often believed that Draco was as cold as ice and as hard as steel, that, even for you, he would never be soft. However, it seemed like only you, him, and his friends knew the truth-- all you had to do was breathe and Draco was putty in your hands. You could probably ask him to jump off of the Astronomy Tower and he’d just ask if you wanted him to do a run-up or not.

He tried to keep up his tough exterior around you at first, but with every laugh that escaped your lips, every excited gasp you gave when you learned something new, Draco felt his walls crumbling and he had to admit that he was hopelessly in love with you. Soft Draco was your favourite Draco, and it was the one he had reserved for you and you only.

When people teased you, whether it be for your naive nature or because they were taking your kindness for granted, Draco was always the first to defend you. He’d ended up in countless detentions for hexing multiple other students who even looked at you wrong. You were his sunshine and he swore to preserve you and keep you safe from any harm. Even if he was your opposite.

“Fine,” he sighed as if it was a chore, but the corner of his lips twitched up at the idea of spending the entire day whilst you were out in your favourite weather.

“Hurry up and get dressed then,” you said, bending down to reach into his trunk and chucking him some clothes.

Draco caught them, sending you a look. “You sure? We could just stay here all day, I could just wear this...”

He watched you blush and shake your head. “Another time. Right now, it’s sunny-- so we have to go outside.”

Draco didn’t bother delaying you anymore. He knew you’d been hoping for good weather for a long time now. It felt like you hadn’t seen sunshine since the very start of September, and now it was early April. The cold, dark evenings always got you down a little unless you were wrapped up warm in the arms of Draco.

Within a few minutes, he’d dried off and chucked on the clothes that you’d thrown at him, slipping his shoes whilst you practically bounced up and down on your heels by the door. As soon as he was done, you grasped his hand and tugged him away.

“Can we pick somewhere with a bit of shade?” Draco asked once you’d made it out onto the fields, finding multiple other students who had the same idea as you two. “I don’t want to burn.”

A group of first year Gryffindors ran by, nearly knocking Draco over. He let go of your hand and went tug out his wand, his nose scrunched up in disgust, when you grabbed his wrist.

“Draco!” You scolded him, “You don’t need to hex the eleven-year-olds for nearly knocking you over.”

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “They should watch where they’re going. I would have only done a tripping hex, anyway.”

Shaking your head at your boyfriend, you felt his slender fingers intertwine with yours once again and he led the way this time. It felt surreal to be outside without having to stuff your hands in your pockets or complaining about rain water seeping through the small hole in the sole of your school shoes.

“Here.” Draco stopped beneath a tree and settled down, his back against the trunk.

“I’m going to sit in the sun,” you said, moving a few feet away so you were no longer under the shade.

Draco knew you wanted to make the most of it on your skin. He saw it glow on your shoulders, light up your hair and relax your mind as you lay down on the grass, nose pointing towards the sky. He smiled, simply watching you from the shade.

He grabbed the book he’d managed to pick up before you’d forced him out of his dorm room, burying his face in it for a few moments as you sighed happily, sunbathing nearby. He’d glance up every now and then and become distracted by your beauty, his brain having to force his eyes back down to the pages in front of him.

Eventually, he gave up, settling the novel beside his legs and moving over. He found you lying on your stomach, plucking daisies out of the grass and arranging them into a pile next to you.

“What are you doing?” Draco asked, lying beside you, facing the sky.

“You’ll burn,” you protested, “You wanted to be underneath the shade, Draco--”

“I don’t care,” he murmured, “Just let me be next to you for a bit, yeah?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head a little as you blushed. Draco turned his head to continue watching what you were doing. He saw that once you had a pile of maybe twenty or so daisies, you began to pick them up one by one before piercing a hole through the long stems with your thumbnail.

He watched with furrowed brows, studying the way your hands delicately began to thread each daisy through another, tying a knot on the end so they couldn’t slip back through. He realised you were making a daisy chain, and quite a large one at that. Eventually, you closed it off and tied it back around to the first daisy.

“What is it?” He stared at the circle of plants.

“A daisy crown,” you chirped, moving across and straddling him, his hands moving to your hips as you placed it on top of his head. “For my Prince of Slytherin.”

Draco grinned, reaching up to adjust it on his head. “How does it look?”

You beamed as you peered down at him. “You look like a dashingly handsome young prince.”

You leaned down and kissed his nose, watching his own cheeks blush a little. He managed to sit up, your body moving back a little so you were sat in his lap with your legs around his waist, one hand on you to adjust you and the other to keep his daisy chain on his head.

You decided your words were nothing but the truth. He looked adorable with the white and yellow daisies in his platinum hair, which was fluffy from the shower he’d just had. He looked like the epitome of soft, his silver eyes melting as he stared at you in a mixture of complete adoration and love.

His hands circled your waist and he managed to pull you even closer. Your sunscreen filled his nose, as well as the shampoo you wore, the sun beating down on the two of you as he moved to meet your lips in the middle. He hummed against you, enjoying the taste of your lip balm and the way you felt against him.

One hand reached to stroke your cheek, the slightly calloused pad of his thumb brushing at your jaw. His lips worked against yours softly in an attempt to pour every inch of love and appreciation into you, his touch feeling like fire on your warming skin. You wished you could stay like this forever; just you, Draco, and the sun in the sky.

“If I’m the prince, I want to crown you my princess,” Draco murmured against your lips when he pulled away.

“Do you know how to make a crown?” You asked.

“I can try,” Draco offered, “I watched you.”

Smiling, you climbed off of his lap and watched as he turned to look at the grass. He plucked a few more from the ground until he estimated that he had enough. Draco’s face scrunched up for a second. The boy was clearly deep in thought.

“You pierce the stems next,” you whispered in his ear.

“I know, I know,” he played it off, grabbing one.

He inspected it for a few moments before trying to stab a hole through it with his thumbnail like you did. He groaned when it ripped all the way through, leaving him with half a stem. Draco tried again three more times before throwing his latest destroyed daisy to the grass in a fit.

“I can’t make the holes!” Draco complained.

“I’ll pierce them for you,” you suggested gently, “You pass them to me, and I’ll make the holes. Then you can tie them up as you go along.”

Draco didn’t reply but handed you your first daisy, watching intently as you made a hole with your nail and passed it to him. He grabbed another daisy and handed it to you and you did the same thing, and then he looped it through.

“Good, now you need to tie it up,” you reminded him.

Tongue poking out slightly, Draco did as you had said, creating a knot in the stem of the daisy. He grinned when it worked, his pearly whites on display as he practically threw it in your face.

“Look!”

“Good-- you have one chain. Here’s your next daisy,” you beamed, passing him another with a hole in it.

Draco took longer than you had, his eyes focused and his nose scrunched in concentration as he created you your very own daisy crown to match his. When he was done, he sighed in relief but, overall, looked quite pleased with himself.

“Here you are, my love,” he murmured, placing it on top of your head.

His fingers adjusted it and moved some of your hair out of the way so it sat perfectly. Draco moved backwards a little and smiled at the sight.

“How do I look?” You teased.

“Like the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid eyes on,” Draco promised breathlessly, kissing you hard on the lips again.

You kissed him back. Maybe your roommates would never understand because they never saw this side of him, but this was one of the million reasons you loved Draco Malfoy.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfic #draco x y/n #draco x yn

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dem-obscure-imagines · 3 years

Text

Try

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: Warren has been through hell and then some, but will meeting his soulmate turn that around?

Note: That’s right, it’s ya girl, back on my BS. I watched Apocalypse again and BIG SURPRISE, I’m in love with Warren and Kurt all over again. Still hyperfixating on Pietro also, so…expect more fics for him as well. Anyway, I’m a ho for soulmate aus and I haven’t written one for birb boi in literal years, so here ya go.

Reader is: Gender Neutral

Warnings: swears, mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.8k

Warren knew one thing beyond a shadow of a doubt: he didn’t deserve a soulmate. He didn’t. There was no question in his mind. Anyone who was destined to end up with his winged, alcoholic ass had been fucked over by the universe. No one deserved to be stuck with him for the rest of their lives. And yet, these thoughts didn’t seem to erase the words written on his forearm:

Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.

Professor. He scoffed. He was never going to college. If his parents had gotten their way, their son “cured” of his wings, he would have ended up at Harvard or Yale or somewhere similar. But it was far too late for that. Sitting in a cage in the back room of an illegal underground mutant fighting club in Berlin…it was far too late for that. He’d probably die before he met his soulmate anyway, rendering the prophecy on his wrist—and theirs, for that matter—useless. A waste of space.

That was all he was anyway.

He spiraled. His dependence on vodka got worse. The fights got harder. He wasn’t making it out unscathed anymore, winding up with burns and scrapes and cuts, depending on what kind of mutant he was up against. One night, one of his cuts had gotten dangerously close to the writing on his wrist. He stared at it for a long time, tears burning his eyeballs until they escaped and dripped down his cheeks, angry and hot.

He hated it, but even after everything, he still had hope. He still had hope that things would get better; that he could be better, even if it seemed impossible.

And then it got…worse.

Apocalypse had come, turned his wings to metal, tuned into his anger, his rage at the world, turned him into a monster, complete with knives for feathers and winding tattoos framing his face. He wished he could blame it on mind control or something, but Apocalypse hadn’t brainwashed him, only used his anger against him. Turned him into a weapon.

And then everything went black.

When he woke up after the battle, he was in an unfamiliar room, large and white and sterile; it smelled like hand sanitizer. He heard the steady beeping of a heart monitor and when he sat up, he noticed how sore he was. His whole body hurt. His head spun. But he was alive. And when he looked down at his tattoo, the words were still there. Wherever his soulmate was, they were fine. His stupidity in joining Apocalypse hadn’t caused anything to happen to them.

For the first time in what felt like years, he breathed.

“You’re awake.” A voice said as a tall man with brown hair entered his room. “I’ll let the Professor know.”

“Where…” his deep voice rasped and the man pointed to a glass of water sitting on the table adjacent to the cot he was situated in. He picked it up and took a few long, greedy sips, not realizing just how thirsty he was until the cool drink hit his tongue. “Where am I? What is this place?”

“This is the infirmary at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters.” The man told him, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You’re safe here.”

Warren nodded hesitantly, but didn’t say anything else. Safe. The word was almost a myth to him at this point. But at least he felt like he could rest for a little while.

***

It had been a few weeks since Apocalypse and his horsemen had almost ended the world. Erik had decided to stick around, and two of the younger horsemen, Storm and “the Angel of Death,” respectively, had been absorbed into the school’s student body. You didn’t know the Angel’s name. No one really talked to him, not even Ororo, Storm, who had been quickly adopted by your friend group.

Supposedly, Peter had tried to talk to the Angel guy, but he didn’t say anything to him. Ororo theorized he probably felt guilty about the whole thing. She did. But you all knew she didn’t know what Apocalypse was really trying to do. He probably hadn’t either, but that didn’t seem to keep the grim expression off of his face.

It was on a nice, sunny day that Xavier called you into his office, and you went down without complaint, knocking on the door a few times before he called you inside. You sat in the chair across from his desk.

“Hi, Professor. What’s going on?” You asked.

“Ah, yes. Just the empath and healer I wanted to see.” He smiled brightly. “(Y/N), if you don’t mind it too terribly, I have a small job for you.”

“Of course! What do you need?”

“I’m sure you’ve seen our newest pupil, Warren, around.”

You thought for a moment. “The, uh, guy with the wings? The big metal ones?”

“Precisely.” He nodded. “Warren…he’s been having quite a hard time adjusting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He came to me yesterday discussing…well, quite simply, he was wondering if any of our mutants here would be capable of…reverting him to his previous state. His wings, before Apocalypse, were made of feathers. They’ve been serving as quite a reminder to him and it’s been weighing pretty heavily on him, both literally and emotionally.”

“Yeah, I’ve, uh, caught his vibes from across campus.” You nodded. “It’s like there’s always a rain cloud hanging over his head.”

“Yes,” Xavier agreed. “It doesn’t have to be right away, but at your nearest convenience, if you see him around, would you talk to him? Tell him I sent you?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see what I can do.” You promised him.

As an empath and a healer, your first priority was helping others. And even if he was known to be a bit intimidating, you wanted to help him if you could.

So, you walked out of Xavier’s office, attended your final class of the day, and when it was over, you wandered out into the courtyard where, because of the nice weather, students were everywhere. And luckily for you, just as you suspected he might be, Warren was sitting under a tree, still sporting his leather jacket despite the warm weather.

You shielded your eyes from the sun and walked over towards him, your heart racing as you built up the courage to talk to him. So, you took a breath and said, “Hey, um, you’re Warren, right? The Professor wanted me to talk to you.”

He stared up at you for a long moment, his green eyes wide in shock. He took a breath, blinked a few times, glanced down at his wrist, and then back up at you. You could have sworn you saw tears beginning to form along his waterline, and you didn’t realize why until he said, “You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.”

You froze, your knees going weak. You glanced down at your bare forearm and read over the words he’d just said, exactly the way he’d just said them.

You’re my…No…Oh my God…I’m…I’m so sorry.

“Why are you sorry?” You whispered, lowering yourself onto the grass beside him, not trusting your legs to support your weight for much longer. Now you were the one with tears in your eyes. “Don’t be sorry.”

“You deserve so much more than me.” He insisted, his eyes locked on his boots, unwilling and unable to meet your gaze. “I can’t drag you into…this. Me.”

His emotions were heavy, a bleak blue and gray haze and you felt it radiate off of him in waves. His pain, his everything. And you felt it, deep within his chest. He thought you wouldn’t want him anyway.

“Warren…” You shook your head. “Why…Why would you think I don’t want you?”

He was shocked into silence for a few seconds, thinking over his words carefully, his jaw tense and hands shaking. “You’re a telepath?”

“Empath.” You corrected quietly. “And…a healer. Which is why Xavier sent me.”

“Oh. Right.” He swallowed thickly, nodding. “Did he…tell you why?”

“He did.” You smiled softly. “And I’m willing to try if you are.”

Finally, his eyes met yours and he could tell that you meant more than just the healing when you said it. The weak little voice in the back of his head was screaming for him to push you away like he pushed away everyone else, but looking into your eyes, a genuine and warm smile on your face, he just…couldn’t lose you.

He couldn’t lose anyone else.

***

Today was the day. Warren was sitting on a stool in the infirmary. Hank had run his vitals and the two of them were in the room waiting for you to come down after your class was over.

“(Y/N) is the one who saved you, you know.” Hank told Warren while he jotted down some notes.

“What?” Warren asked, snapping out of whatever daydream he had been caught up in. “What do you mean?”

“(Y/N) found you in the rubble. We didn’t think you would make it, but…they healed you. They insisted we bring you back here. Give you a chance.”

Warren was quiet for a long time, thinking about what that meant. Part of him wondered if (Y/N) had known back then that he was their soulmate, but he decided that would have been impossible with just their tattoos alone. Especially without context. They hadn’t known and yet, they’d still wanted the best for him.

“Didn’t know that.” Warren said, his voice soft and deep. He stared at the words on his wrist for a little longer, a hint of warmth swirling around in his stomach. Was this happiness? Was that what happiness felt like? He barely remembered anymore. But he knew there must have been a reason that when you walked through the door, his heart started beating a little bit faster.

“Sorry I’m so late. Professor Leaf kept us a little later than she was supposed to. Are you ready?” You asked taking off your backpack and setting it against the wall. As soon as you looked up at Warren, you felt the way his heart rate was increased and you didn’t miss the warmth swirled with the anxiousness. The anxiousness, you had expected. Even you didn’t know if you could pull off what you were going to attempt to do, but the warmth…it was a pleasant surprise.

“Don’t worry about it.” He told you, shaking his head. Was he…was he smiling? It was a small smile, sure, but you didn’t think you had ever seen him smile before. It looked good on him. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Alright.” You nodded, walking over towards him. Underneath where he was situated on a stool, Hank had laid out some pads from the training room, you assumed, to catch his metal feathers if they fell out rather than transforming back to his normal…feather feathers. None of you really knew how this would unfold. “Again, I’m not sure this will work. I don’t want to get your hopes up in case it doesn’t.”

“I’m not expecting it to.” Warren assured you, but it wasn’t in a rude way. “If it does, I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Cross my heart.” What he didn’t say was: You could never disappoint me. Not even if you tried.

“Okay.” You nodded, taking a few steps closer until you were standing right in front of him. He looked up at you and for the first time, you didn’t feel any negative emotions from him. Only anticipation and that lingering warmth. “Here goes nothing.”

You focused on the warmth in your own chest, the tingling yellow healing power that constantly swirled around your heart, and you forced it into your palms. You reached forward for his hands and he took the hint, his larger hands wrapping around yours.

Immediately, he gasped at the sensation, warm tingles running up his arms, down his spine. It stopped in the center of his back, right where his wings intersected with his body. At first, he didn’t feel anything. And then, he felt everything. The pleasant warmth flooded his metal wings, and one by one, the knife-like feathers fell out, each one landing with a thud against the mat situated underneath him.

Hank’s pencil jotted against his notebook as he took notes. He knew you were powerful, but he’d had no idea you were capable of something like this.

Neither had you.

Once the metal wings were gone, Warren felt a new sensation: another pair of wings, this one soft and familiar, slowly emerging from him. Part of him expected the process to be painful, like the one Apocalypse had forced upon him was, but it wasn’t. Warren chuckled to himself. Of course you would never hurt him. Not even unintentionally.

After a few minutes, the feathery wings had fully emerged, stretched out to his full former wingspan and he stared up at you in awe. You stopped your flow of power to him, but he held onto your hands, squeezing them to keep them in his grasp.

He looked back at his new wings, flexed them and moved them. They felt familiar, like they had always belonged to him.

“Thank you.” He said, giving your hands another squeeze, the warmth in his chest brighter and bolder than it had been before. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” You told him, squeezing his hands right back in a way that caused his heart to lurch. “I’m glad I could help.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but do you mind if I keep some of these for research?” Hank asked.

“Keep all of them, if you want. I don’t want them.” Warren told him, standing up from his stool, his hands still in yours. “So, um…do you want to go grab dinner or something?”

“Sure.” You nodded, smiling up at him. “See you later, Hank.”

“Bye, guys, have a nice night.” Hank said as you and Warren walked out of his lab. He couldn’t help but notice the way one of your hands remained in one of his as the two of you left.

***

Later that night, after dinner and after you and Warren had split for the evening, you were walking back to your room from Jean and Jubilee’s and you found Warren, lingering in his doorway, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. His eyes widened when he spotted you and he held up a finger, indicating you should wait for him, so you did while he went into his bathroom and rinsed out his mouth, returning a few moments later.

“Hey.” He said, the word casual as it fell from his pink lips.

“Hey yourself.” You chuckled, feeling ridiculously underdressed in your pajamas. But then again, he was wearing his pajamas, too, a large black Metallica shirt and a pair of plaid pants.

“How…how are you? Feeling?” He stumbled over his words, chuckling as he rubbed the back of his neck. You felt a wave of nervousness rush through him. “Hank said sometimes you get tired after, uh, bigger healing jobs?”

“I’m fine.” You nodded. “For whatever reason, I never get tired when I’m healing you.” You chuckled, your cheeks heating up the slightest bit. “Well…I think I know why…”

“Heh, yeah.” He nodded, mulling over his next words very carefully. “Did you, um…I don’t know how to ask this. Did you mean what you said about…trying? About us trying…this. Trying us.”

“Of course I did.” You nodded and took a few steps closer to him. “You’re my soulmate.” You reached for his hand and he gave it to you, letting you play with his fingers. You felt the way his heart fluttered when you did. “Of course I want to try.”

“I’m broken.” He told you. “I’ve never done this before. I’m…I’m a lot, and I know that.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m a healer, huh?” You tilted your head. “And if we’re being honest, I’ve never done this before either. So how about we teach each other? Learn together?”

He smiled softly, nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that.”

You let go of his hand and instead took the last few steps between the two of you, wrapping your arms around his torso. He froze for a few seconds, unsure of what to do. It had been…a long time since anyone had hugged him. But after a few moments, his arms got the hint and wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. He rested his head atop yours and exhaled a long, long breath. And for the first time since you’d met him, you felt a wave of peace wash over him, encasing him entirely as his wings gently cocooned you in their warmth.

You felt his lips brush against your temple, pressing a soft kiss there. You looked up at him and his eyes met yours before fluttering shut as he leaned in to press his lips to yours.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #angel #xmen angel #angel x reader #angel imagine #archangel x reader #archangel imagine #xmen imagine #marvel imagine

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willowbleedsonpaper · 2 years

Text

Winter In The Shade XVIII

Part XVIII

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 3379

Requested by @pogueslandia : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: A little angsty, mentions of blood purity.

Want to know when I post the next part? Add yourself to my taglist!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Clouds moved like the flowy fabric of the skirts of a thousand dancers in the sky, you could almost picture the routine they followed. One step to the right, placing one foot behind the other in two steps to raise their leg as high as their body allowed them to then twirl in their spot to end the scene. The trees were the instruments that played the music for the sky dancers, moving in sync with them until the sky turned grey completely.

Your elbow moved to the rest over your knee, placing your head on top of your fist with the slight tilt of your head. It was doomed to be a cloudy day, the rain threatening to start falling down over you sooner than you would like. It had been a rather beautiful day until you had come out of the castle, not giving it a second thought as to the reason why it had turned so gloomy. Since you were a child you had believed you had power over the weather, no doubt your own mood had reflected itself on the sky as soon as you left the walls of the castle behind.

With a low breath out, your hand reached for the book you carried inside your bag, getting it open on the place you had placed one of your pressed flowers. Parchment and ink followed soon after as you started reading, lazy writing of whatever ideas you thought important for your assignments. Paragraph after paragraph of information turned in one chapter of the book, placing your quill down to go over what you had written one last time before putting it away. You didn’t hear the low ruffle of grass behind you.

“I thought I’d found you here.”

You perked your head up from your notes, turning with a small smile. “A true detective.” you said, moving your things to make space next to you.

Sirius smiled, sitting with his legs stretched out “What can I say? I’m more than just a pretty face.” he said proudly, throwing his head back with a dramatic flip of his hair.

You snorted at that, taking one glance at his over the top confidence. You shook your head and pushed his shoulder with little force.

He chuckled lightly, opening his eyes and straightening his posture. He moved his legs to sit criss crossed, looking carefully over you. “What are you doing?” he asked, reaching his arm over you and taking your book in his hand “History of magic.” he read, a look of disgust on his face when he returned it to you. “Well, I can’t help with that one.”

You took the book back, putting it inside your bag as you stuck your tongue in his direction “I don’t need help.” you told him “Just doing some reading to make sure I have all the correct facts.”

He hummed, grabbing your hand and lifting it in the air. He took it closer to his face, playing with your fingers as you watched him, the ideas running across his eyes. “It’s almost time for dinner.” he said, his eyes finding yours. He suddenly got up to his feet, never letting go of your hand as he held it in his stance “And unless you want a late shower I’ll advise we get going.” he tugged your hand, helping you up as you both looked at the sky. It was getting windier, the feeling of a breeze hitting your face.

He guided you out of your hideout, throwing your bag over his shoulder as his other hand held onto yours.

Your eyes wandered over the familiar grey sky, looking for the sun you had been able to see when you got outside. “How long was I outside?” you asked him, turning slowly to him.

He glanced at you, eyes drifting to the front as he shrugged his shoulders “A couple of hours.” he said, voice carefree.

With a nod, you lowered your head. It felt like an eternity.

“Hey,” he called with a squeeze on your hand “You need help with herbology, right? Maybe we can ask Mary for help, she’s good.” he said, his eyes widening as he turned his face to you “Better yet, let’s ask Alice. She could give the class if they’d let her.”

You laughed under your breath, nothing but a flutter in your heart at Sirius’ attempts to keep your head busy and to cheer you up. The only genuine smiles that had appeared on your face the last couple of days had been drawn by none other than Sirius. He refused to let your head wander for too long, spending every chance he had with you. You were thankful for that, for him, but you still appreciated the silent moments where you could reflect on what had happened. How your life had turned in a matter of minutes, by the force of one single conversation where you suspected Regulus had been honest for the first time since you met him.

You still hoped for the moment you would wake up from this bad dream.

“Y/N.”

Wide eyes turned to the call of your name, Sirius looking down at you with a knowing smile.

“I was telling you that you could sit with us if you don’t want to be at your table.” he offered “It’s only at breakfast you have to be at your table, and only on weekdays. I’m just saying that you could be the cool girl who sits at the Gryffindor table.” he wiggled his eyebrows, letting you go first on the narrowed stairs that led to the castle.

“I’m already the cool girl, thank you.” you said, satisfaction written over your features “I don’t need you for being the cool girl.”

“Ouch.” he said out loud, following you just a couple of steps down from where you walked, “I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” he said, swatting the words as if they were floating on the air, “ Just imagine how much cooler you’ll be.”

You turned to him with a questioning look, but said nothing about it. “Félix sits with me during meals.” you told him as he took his place at your side again “He doesn’t have lots of friends.” you whispered as if he could be near to hear you.

“Hm, just like Moony.” Sirius added, smiling tightly when you turned to him in confusion “Remus.” he corrected himself, “You could bring him too, he already is Remus’ shadow.”

You shook your head “Maybe another day.”

Sirius nodded, leaving the offer out for you to take as he suspected you had other reasons to refuse him. He knew better than to push you.

*******

Your eyes fluttered open with the faintest sound coming from the common room. You stared at the ceiling of your bed, the deep blue color almost hypnotizing as your eyes didn’t move from it for minutes. In the end you decided it was time to get out of bed, moving the covers from your body and sitting on your bed.

The rest of the beds from your roommates were already empty, no trace of them anywhere as your feet touched the cold floor. You dragged yourself to the bathroom and got ready for the day.

Face washed and robes on, you were on your way out. The stairs were empty and when you got to the couches and empty tables you realized it was probably late. You really didn’t care, the more you could avoid being in the same room as him the better. Walking out of the door, the empty space in your heart echoed louder than before when you stood on the empty stairs, waiting for someone you knew will no longer be there to wait for you in the mornings. You took a shaky breath in, looking around for anything that could bring you some kind of comfort. Nothing worked. So you bit the inside of your cheek and started to walk down the stairs, making slow work on getting to the Great Hall.

Félix was waiting for you with a smile on his face. He had saved you a space across from him, moving the pile of papers he carried with him for you to sit. He seemed cheerful, almost excited.

“I hope you didn’t have coffee.” you said with the raise of your eyebrow, voice raspy as it was the first time you spoke. Your voice felt foreign to yourself, making you doubt your next words, Félix taking the lead in the conversation quickly.

“Not much,” he rushed to say, placing his palms down on the table as he leaned in your direction “Guess what?” he asked, nodding his head eagerly.

You looked up in thought, grabbing an apple and throwing it inside your bag “Tell me.”

“You have to guess.” he said back.

You shook your head, letting air out through your mouth “Did you find those bowtruckles you were looking for?” you asked, he shook his head “Your project, you nailed it.”

“Nope.”

“Well tell me, I don’t read minds.” you said.

He easily gave in, not putting up much of a fight anymore “Sirius said we could sit with them during dinner.” he explained, your eyes widening as you glanced briefly over his shoulder and to the gryffindor table.

“Did he?” you asked, meeting his gaze across the room. His innocent smile as he watched Félix practically bouncing on his seat enough to tell he knew exactly what he did. “He told you that?” you asked Félix with a knowing smile.

“Well,” he thought before he answered “Remus told me, but Sirius said I should tell you too. You’re welcome, by the way.” he said smugly.

“For what?” you asked in a gasp.

“Now you get to sit with the boy you fancy during dinner and it’s all thanks to me.”

Your mouth was open in a perfect circle, staring with shock at the boy in front of you. If only he knew it was him who should be thanking you.

Sirius wasn’t the boy you fancied anymore. You weren’t certain what Sirius Black was to you and it brought down a wave of panic you hadn’t realized was hovering over your head. Nothing had changed, not really. But you couldn’t say you were just friends after he asked to kiss you and you didn’t even think twice about it before you pulled him to you. You hadn’t had the chance to even think about it.

“Yeah.” you mumbled “Thanks Félix.”

******

All day you had felt like the halls of Hogwarts were truly hunted. Eyes on your back every way you turned as low whispers followed your every breath and move.

You had been successful in avoiding Regulus for the day, sitting the farthest away from him and always in the company of one of the few people in the class you could call a friend. You got to class at the very last minute not to be late and were always the first one to leave the classroom. you were sure they must think you were paranoid, running from class to class with barely a word out, always keeping to yourself and not once stopping to wait for your best friend.

Rumors apparently fly at Hogwarts.

It was your last class, you had been able to finally relax as the rest of the day you could be anywhere else that he wasn’t. You felt your muscles let go of the tension as you focused on class.

Once the teacher dismissed you, you made your way through the longer path to the courtyard, the emptiest corridors where you could just let go. Or you thought.

A group of students wearing red was making their way opposite to you, their lively chatter going down as the one talking made eye contact with you. Her smile widened as she turned to her friends with a hushed tone, all eyes falling on you as they smiled.

You didn’t stay long to find out what they were talking about, hurrying your steps to get out of there. It didn’t make a difference once you got to the library. Every step you took meant another pair of eyes looking in your direction, a mix of disgust and pride in their glances as you ran your fingers over the spines of the books and fought the urge to snap at them. You did your best to ignore them.

Until you listened closely.

You had taken a seat at the table closest to the sunlight, a couple sitting just a few chairs to your left.

The boy followed the trail of her eyes and frowned. It was the first time he ever saw you. “What is it?” he asked.

“Hey, what about this as an introduction.” the boy said, turning his parchment to the girl. “Liz?” he called when she didn’t answer. You got curious, glancing in her direction, not expecting to meet her eyes as she snapped her gaze away from you. You shifted in your seat but said nothing.

She turned to him, leaning in “Didn’t you hear?” she asked him, cocking her head in your direction “Someone finally chose the better Black brother.”

Your body turned to stone, eyes blank as you stared at her before drifting back inside of your head. You didn’t stay there to hear what else they had to say, hurriedly grabbing your bag and fleeing the library.

You rushed through the halls without a care of where you were going, turning your body to avoid clashing against other people. It became overwhelming, every word, every whisper felt directed at you.

It didn’t take long for the outspoken to find you. “But if it isn’t the little ravenclaw that finally woke up.” he cheered, raising his arms in the air as if it was a reason for celebration.

You stop dead in your tracks, slowly turning to him. You felt the rush of blood through your veins, the panic you felt at first melting away with the boiling of your blood.

“You finally saw that slytherin boy for what he truly is. Sirius surely opened your eyes.” he said with a smirk, elbowing his friends in laughter.

“What did you say?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You moved slowly towards him, the hard feeling of your wand inside the pocket of your robe making the tip of your fingers tingle.

“C’mon.” he said, elongating the word “The snake finally revealed itself, didn’t he?”

Your hands closed into fists as you let go of your wand “That’s it.” you growled, marching towards them as your fist connected with the right side of his jaw.

Time seemed to slow down around you, his friend’s eyes widened in shock as he brought his hand to the side of his face, anger flashing on his eyes as he turned to face you. You were already moving on him again, your right fist in the air as a strong pull from your waist and a hand around your wrist started time again.

“Woah woah woah.” said the voice from your back, putting you down facing opposite to them as he turned again. “Easy little bird.” he said to you, as you spun on your place, angrily glaring up. You frowned in confusion as he held you and the other boy back.

“You’re friend there has moves, Potter.” he grunted, eyes grounded on you as you stared at James from your spot behind him.

“I know.” he admitted with a smile, not even in the middle of breaking up a fight could he take things seriously “What can I say? She’s a Gryffindor at heart.” he said, glancing at you warningly before he turned with ease at the rest of the boys “What- uh, what did you say to her, Gideon?” he asked, and you fought his hold that only eased a little.

Gideon ran his thumb over his lower lip, looking down at it and scoffing with humor behind it “Just congratulating her for finally seeing the younger Black was not it for her.”

James’ face fell for a second, glancing cautiously at you before he smiled tightly “Yeah.” he mumbled, finally letting go of you “She’s clever too. C’mon little bird, we got that thing waiting for us, huh?”

You only stared at him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Potter.” said Gideon once James seemed ready to leave, “Look out for your friend, not everyone would be so willing to back up from a fight.”

James smirk returned to his face, raising his eyebrows “You let them know to leave her alone. She can fend for herself but Sirius and the rest of us won’t be so pleased if she shows up upset, you know? A dungbomb or two might get lost inside someone's bag.”

He raised his hands in defense “You said it.”

James turned in his spot, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he led you through the castle. He took turns and passageways you have never seen, the stairs once up and then down again before you gave up and just followed reluctantly. You didn't know how you ended up outside the castle just behind the greenhouse.

Your feet sunk a little on the tall grass, shoes leaving a trail of footprints as you realized someone had already walked this way before you.

“James?” you heard, lifting your head to find the brightest smile looking at him and down at you, the confusion clear in her eyes as her shine never faded “And Y/N.” she added, making your senses perk up as you had a hard time pin pointing her name.

“Hello Evans.” he greeted smugly, letting go of you as he swiftly placed a kiss on her cheek.

You just stood there, finally dawning on you. Red hair, bright green eyes and the kindest smile. Evans. Lily Evans.

“Are you alright?” she asked, taking a step towards you as she pointed to the grip you had on your hand, your knuckles starting to look a light shade of red.

“Little bird here was about to pick up a fight with Gideon.” James told her, leaning on the wall as he watched Lily take over.

“Gideon?” She laughed in surprise, and you nodded even if you didn’t know what they meant. “Remind me not to make you mad.” she told you, grabbing her bag from the ground as she handed you a small container “It’s pomade, for your hand.”

“Thank you.” you told her, sitting on the small bench there as they talked to each other. You already felt awkward being there, you didn’t need to intrude in what you assumed was their time alone.

You were more shocked when he talked to you again “You shouldn’t go around picking fights like that.”

You smiled humorlessly “You’re one to tell.” you said, making Lily snort on his side as he mockingly smiled back.

“He’s a fifth year, you’re a third year. He’s double your size, not very smart from you.” he pointed out “And why throw fists?” he asked confused, “I saw your wand, you had a better chance that way.”

“She has been around Sirius for too long.” Lily said with a smile.

“The punishment is worse for attacking a student with magic than punching them in the face.” you said, and James turned to Lily as if to check, her green eyes wide.

“Merlin, she is right.” she mumbled to James, and he nodded satisfactorily.

“Noted.” he said, looking back at you “Still, you shouldn’t be starting fights, much less because of him.”

Your eyes immediately turned to him, suddenly feeling exposed. You pressed your lips in a line, keeping in the sigh that in the end escaped you “I know.”

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you but people can get the wrong idea.” he said, the words that Malfoy had said to you that night brought back to the surface of your head. He was right, though. Fighting Gryffindors because they insult Regulus can give the wrong idea now that Hogwarts knew who he was spending his time with. And yet you didn’t care, you had it in you to defend Regulus even if it brought you down.

You rubbed your eyes, a groan leaving your lips as you hugged your legs “He’s my best friend.” you mumbled against your knees, pressing your eyes closed “Used to be.” you corrected, hiding your face in between your knees.

“You did what was right.” Lily said suddenly, a seriousness to his voice that overtook his kindness “You’re defending your own beliefs, yourself. There’s nothing more important.”

You and James looked at her, two different looks conveying the same feeling. Trust.

*******

You left them be with the promise to see them at dinner. Lily’s words brought a little rest to your soul. Even if you would do anything for Regulus and you cared for him like no one you had ever known, distance was a necessity. You couldn’t put the blame on you.

“Look who’s finally here.” James cheered as he saw you approach. You gave him a smile, waving at everyone until you reached an empty space.

“I have been looking for you everywhere.” you told Féli with a smile.

He just shrugged “You said see you at dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, ruffling his hair as he shook his head. Then you turned to Sirius who had a smile on his face.

“Not so bad, is it?” he said, taking a sip of his glass, looking at you through the brim of it.

“I’m just glad you’re here.” you mumbled, his face turning at the sound of your voice. He placed his glass down, looking around before he asked “Bad day?”

“Awful existence.” you groaned, letting your head fall softly on the table.

He finally chuckled, “Look who’s joking.”

You lifted your head, a barely there smile on your face as you started to fill your plate with dinner. Even surrounded by friends, with Sirius there and trying to just relax for the time being, you could feel the back whispers and the lingering eyes that dropped to you the moment someone passed by. It wasn’t helping the known pang of guilt you felt every time you found Sirius eased your pain, the throb of your heart stopped for a moment when he brushed his hand against your or he winked in your direction.

You allowed yourself to look past the students and to the usual spot of the Slytherin table where you knew you could find him, only for your stomach to drop. He wasn’t there.

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#winter in the shade #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x ravenclaw!reader #regulus black #marauders era fanfiction

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

Text

Got no shame [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Challenge

Title: Got no shame Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k Published: 27 May, 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Summary: [x] Being the daughter of the coach of Puddlemere United gives you the opportunity to get close to the players, some even more than others. When Oliver gets injured, you don’t even care about being friends or less or more, you just need to know if he is okay. Challenge: [x] [x] This is part of @iliveiloveiwrite 's writing challenge

Song inspiration: No shame by 5 Seconds of Summer

Bingo: [x] [x] This is part of my Band--Psychos 1.5k Followers Bingo Card by @band--psycho and my Make me feel Bingo Card by @girl-next-door-writes

Square filled: Rain [ @band--psycho ]

Square filled: Temporary amnesia [ @girl-next-door-writes ]

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You have always been a big fan of quidditch, but unfortunately your abilities were never enough to become a professional. Luckily however, your father was the coach of the Puddlemere quidditch team. It was a daily occurrence for you to appear on their practice, overtime even becoming friends with some of the team members.

Benjy, the seeker of the team and Jocelind, one of the chasers quickly grew fond of you. Although your friendship started off on a rocky road. The two of them had a mission to tease you about their keeper, Oliver Wood’s crush on you. They thought his tries to catch your attention would be obvious to everyone, but it seemed you were the only one who couldn’t see it. Benjy and Jo made it their duty to remind you every single day how badly Oliver had fallen for you. Just like on that particular day, before one of their most important matches.

“Can you just stop?” You exhaled, pleading with the pair, the same subject repeating itself daily. Falling back onto one of the benches of the changing room, you heaved a heavy sigh, tired of their constant nagging.

“Sure, will you accept that Wood has a crush on you?” Benjy asked, teasingly wiggling his brows as he took a seat beside you, nudging your shoulder playfully.

“No! I will not! When he joined the team, he was this shy little boy, trying to adjust. He always talked to me, he always came to me for advice. If back then you said he had a crush on me, I might have believed you. But since then, he has become popular, girls and boys falling on their knees in front of him. I just can’t see it and I doubt out of all his choices I would be a contender,” you explained, sighing deeply.

“For Merlin’s sake,” Jo exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, “each time he gives an autograph he is looking for your eyes, hoping for you to notice him. When the papers are taking photos of us, he looks like a meerkat trying to get your attention. How dumb can you be, woman?” She groaned as she folded her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head disapprovingly.

“You have had a crush on him for years, do something already,” Benjy added quickly before you could have replied. “Wood is my friend and I know him, he is mad for you.”

“Guys, please,” you pleaded, wanting to close the subject finally. “I would like nothing more than to believe you, but there’s no way Wood—,” before you could have continued, the entrance door of the changing room opened, a tall figure entering, his head covered under a hoodie, his clothes soaked, raindrops dripping to the floor.

“Oh, hi,” he lifted his head, revealing his identity. Pushing back his hoodie, you caught his dark eyes as he ran his hand across his short-cut, brown hair, his mere presence causing your cheeks to warm up. “You are early,” he added as none of you replied.

“Yeah, wanted to beat some sense into this woman,” Jo replied with a groan, clearly still annoyed by your blindness for Oliver’s feelings.

“Maybe I should beat some into you,” huffing, you crossed your arms in front of your chest, turning away from your friend’s gaze.

“Okay, why don’t we just take a deep breath and calm down?” Benjy interrupted.

“You clearly have something to discuss, should I leave?” Oliver asked as he looked around the three of you with a confused expression painted across his handsome face.

“Yes,” Jo replied, but you couldn’t handle another lecture.

“No,” you added, wanting to just stop them from nagging you any further.

“Well, that was helpful,” Oliver scoffed, trying to stop the little smirk from appearing in the corner of his lips. “So, which is it then?”

“No, because if you stay, it means they will quiet down finally and I need them to stop nagging me,” you replied as you stood up from the bench and headed towards the door. “Instead of getting on my nerves, you should start getting ready for the match,” you huffed in annoyance.

“As far as I’m concerned your father is our coach, not you,” Jo replied with gritted teeth.

“Indeed. But guess what, he would say the same,” you offered her a smug grin as you stepped out of the changing room, loudly shutting the door behind yourself.

As you headed to your father’s office, you heard loud footsteps following you. Turning around, you saw Oliver run after you, his clothes still drenched in water, but it didn’t stop him from coming after you. A soft smile appeared on your face as you patiently waited for him.

“Are you doing ground exercises?” You asked playfully as the boy finally halted beside you, trying to adjust his breathing.

“Very funny,” he scoffed, but you caught a tiny smile appearing in the corner of his lips. “I couldn’t stand the mood in the changing room. I have no idea what you have done, but Jo is quite pissed off,” he added, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“Did they tell you what we argued about?” You asked, panic settling deep inside you as you realised Oliver might just know of your crush on him.

“Nah, they didn’t say anything, other than that you are being stubborn and blind for whatever reason,” he furrowed, the words without context making no sense to him.

“So, I’ve heard,” you grimaced as you started walking towards your father’s office once again.

“Wait, can I ask you what the argument was about?” He reached for your arm, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist. You turned back to look at him over your shoulder, his eyes holding curiosity.

“The person I like,” you replied, hoping for some sort of reaction from him.

“O— oh,” he breathed, somewhat disappointed as he let go of your wrist. The way he acted was certainly not what you expected and for a mere second you could see what Jo and Benjy were talking about. But a reasonable part of your brain quickly adjusted and decided to send you signals that reassured you it was probably just an involuntary reaction with no meaning behind it.

“Anyways, I will go and see my father. Maybe you should get ready,” you offered him a soft smile as you patted his shoulder and wished him good luck for the game.

As the match started, the rain was still pouring heavily, a batch of lightning struck on the ground, the players barely able to avoid them in time. You hid under your soaked hoodie as you cheered for the team, but deep down your stomach was in a knot, hoping for everyone to leave the game unscraped.

“Come on, Wood!” You shouted as the opponent flew towards his hoops, but luckily, he kicked the quaffle out of the way. His eyes looked for you for a good few seconds, before he caught sight of you and offered you a cheerful grin that you couldn’t stop from mirroring.

The match was rather aggressive, and the weather didn’t help the situation. Whilst you watched your friends fly around the pitch, their blue and yellow cloak following them in their route, a nervous feeling settled in you as a heavy rumble shook the area.

You stood up from the spectator stand and started heading down the stairs, wanting to feel closer to your friends. However, as you looked up, the next thing you saw was a blinding lighting that struck straight into the ground, sending none other than Oliver Wood off his position straight into the wall of the spectator stand across the pitch. A loud scream left your lungs, your heart beating in a dangerous pace as you watched his unconscious body fall towards the ground before someone slowed him down mid-air. Looking down at the benches, you saw your father with his wand in his hand pointing towards Oliver’s limp body, slowly placing him down on the fake grass.

As you started running down the stairs, you never felt more determined. You needed to see him, feel his pulse, check his body for injuries. It was driving you crazy how slowly your body moved before you finally caught sight of him surrounded by a couple of healers as they placed him on a stretcher. Almost feeling him in your grasp, you started running towards the injured boy, but before you could have caught up with the healers, two arms wrapped around you, pulling you back against a strong chest.

“He is going to be okay,” you heard your father’s voice, trying to sooth your worries away.

“Let me see him. Please, dad,” you replied, your voice weak and shaky. He turned you around and pulled you into a fatherly hug, just like the ones you received when you were little. As you finally started calming down, he leaned back and cupped your cheeks, removing the tear stains from your face that you didn’t even realise you had under the heavy rain.

“The healers will help him, but they will not let you in just yet, so take a deep breath, sit down with me on the bench and as soon as they signal for me, I will let you go. Sounds like a good plan?” He asked, hoping you would be able to think reasonably. After a heavy sigh you nodded, knowing that you couldn’t possibly do anything for him. You headed back towards the benches with your father and as they blew the whistle again, you listened to the game, but your mind was somewhere else, to be exact on the boy that the healers rushed away from you before you could even check on him.

It felt like eternity before your father placed a hand on your shoulder and nodded towards the exit of the pitch. Without a word or a thankful look, you started running after the healer that stood at the gate. When you arrived you greeted him and followed him diligently to the medical wing. The path felt like you’ve been walking for hours, even though it was only a couple of minutes. You were impatient, you wanted to see Oliver for yourself, making sure he was okay.

As you reached the medical wing and the large wooden doors opened, your eyes frantically searching for Oliver. As you caught his figure at the back of the room, you rushed up to him and sat down on the small stool beside his bed and took his hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. Although it was you who needed to be reassured that he was alright. His eyes started slowly flattering before he finally opened them, looking around the room in confusion, groaning as he turned his head.

“Stay put, Wood,” you instructed him as you pulled your stool closer. “How are you feeling? Are you in a lot of pain?” You bombarded him with questions.

“I’m fine. My head and my back hurts, but I’m okay,” a small smile spread across his face as he squeezed your hand.

“You scared me,” you scolded him as you slapped the back of his hand gently, making him chuckle lightly.

“I didn’t mean to,” he replied with an innocent expression, but a hidden smile in the corner of his lips. “What happened exactly? I’m kind of blurry on the details.”

“A lightning struck beside you and it sent you straight into one of the spectator walls. When you started falling dad slowed you down to stop you from getting any further injuries,” you explained with a deep frown across your brows and concern lacing your eyes. “It was horrible,” you added with a shaky breath as you played with his hand in yours.

“Hey,” he called out to you in a soft tone, lifting his other hand to cup your cheek. “I’m perfectly fine, just a few little bruises,” he tried to reassure you, but your worry was still clear across your face. “Hey, did I ever tell you that I love the way you're screaming my name?” He chuckled softly as you felt your face burn under his intense gaze. He knew he needed to avert your attention, wanting to sooth your worries.

“What?” You asked, stunned.

“The last thing I remember is your loud cheer as you screamed my name,” he smirked proudly, enjoying as you played with his hand in your embarrassed state.

“I cheer for everyone,” you added in a silent tone, trying to avert his suspicions.

“I wish you would cheer only for me,” he sighed as he looked away from you, his gaze now fixed on the ceiling. A confused expression sat across your face as you lifted your gaze and looked at him.

“What do you mean?” You asked, completely baffled by his reply. For a single moment you believed he meant more than he let on, but a reasonable part of your brain quickly shooed those thoughts away.

“I meant what I said,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I can’t just cheer for you. I have to cheer for the whole team so we can all win,” you explained with a confused frown across your brows.

“I know. And I know it’s wrong of me, but it makes me jealous,” he spoke with a soft grimace, earning a surprised gasp from you. “I honestly don’t know what else to do to get your attention. At this point I just got no shame. I shamelessly try to catch your eyes, but every time I feel like you are looking at me, you go and distance yourself,” he scoffed. Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned back to you. “Do you think you could ever look at me like a man and not someone who is part of your father’s quidditch team or a simple friend? Do you think you would be able to like me at one point?” He asked, his eyes desperately searching for confirmation, starting your heart off in a quick pace.

A tiny smile started spreading across your face before it grew into a large grin and a loud laughter erupted from your lungs, throwing your head back in the process. Oliver sat beside you, having mixed feelings about your reaction. “You fool,” you chuckled as your laughter started dying down. “You dumb man” you continued shaking your head as you stood up from your stool and leaned above his bed, cupping his face. “How could I not look at you as a man when I already do?” You giggled happily as you closed the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours. For a moment both of you forgot where you were, you just enjoyed being closer to each other, before a healer appeared and loudly scolded you for your behaviour, forcing you to part as though you were still children.

“Well, that’s certainly not what I expected,” he chuckled playfully. “A couple more of these and I will feel brand new,” he grinned.

“I guess you will have to wait for that otherwise the healers will kick me out,” you giggled in content.

“Not happening,” he shook his head as he grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, attaching his lips to yours halfway, earning a shaky moan from you. Luckily this time the healers didn’t catch you and within a couple of hours you were helping Oliver getting back to his flat.

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rotworld · 3 years

Text

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?”

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils.

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you.

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips.

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?”

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder.

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else.

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing.

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?”

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.”

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.”

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head.

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.”

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you.

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out.

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.”

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this.

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn.

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night.

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

#rotpeach writes #teratotober #i feel like ive ascended to a whole new level of deviancy with this one #this is the prettiest and most Aesthetic thing i'll write all month and it has horsecock in it

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lady-o-ren · 3 years

Text

The Dig

Part Two (Because I was bullied into this . . .)

//Which can be read (HERE) for easier reading// And Part One (HERE)

In a little rented room above auld Geordie’s pub, Claire Beauchamp stood in nothing but her silk undergarments as she flipped open her weathered suitcase (once belonging to her dear uncle Lamb) she had heaved atop her bed. She rummaged through the contents, blowing at her curls clouding around her face, before pulling out a single dress of pale blue.

It wasn't something she usually packed whenever she went off on a dig but the dress had caught her eye in a department store window in London just before coming to Suffolk. She reasoned one never knew when the occasion might call for her to dress in something other than dirt stained trousers.

And never had she been more relieved by an impulse buy.

Or thankful for a rainy day that halted her excavation.

It was a chance to be with the Scot who thought her more precious than the iron rivets they discovered a few days ago, proof that the burial site they were knee deep in was a ship to honor a fallen king. She would've kissed him on the spot if it weren't for Foster and Pound.

The kiss however did come later.

After her and the lads celebrated with too many pints, she and Fraser went back to Sutton Hoo, slightly swaying with every step beneath the twilight, until their arms found their way around one another. Soon they were laying side by side in the grass and dirt, the air cool on their whiskey flushed cheeks, and she wrapped in his coat. Big and warm and enveloping like himself.

"We may very well be unearthing a legend here ," said Beauchamp, leaning back on her elbows, eyes closed facing the moon.

Fraser grinned.

" Beowulf ?"

She laughed and turned her gaze to him. "Arthur, King of the Britons !"

He laughed along with her, a deep and hearty sound, then joking all aside said -

"Anglo Saxon, ye think?"

She nodded and rolled to her side, nearly pressing herself against Fraser's chest, heaving from a sharp intake of breath.

"I told you before that something grand and marvelous was buried here . . ."

"Ye did."

Then shyly Fraser said -

"Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . . Remember that bit from my notebook?"

Her eyes softened and her features took on a pretty shade of pink remembering a great deal more of what that book contained.

How each page held a piece of his heart.

And laid a hand over his chest, against that fervent beat.

"Of course I do," she answered back, but frowned a little when Fraser bashfully kept his gaze to the small gap between them where a dandelion bloomed.

"Weel, I wrote it that night after we first met, from a dream I had. Sounds a great deal better in the gaelic though. . ."

Beauchamp raised her hand to cup his cheek, thumbing the fine cut bones beneath his skin, before pressing her soft warm mouth against his lips.

"Tell me," she insisted, when they managed to part and nudged her nose against his.

And so he did, voice low and more than a little breathless.

I dreamt about the mourning.

The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us.

They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave.

But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

He shrugged sheepishly then.

Just before she kissed him again. Knowing she'd never want anyone more than she did right then and there amongst the swaying trees and spirits of auld.

This man whose soul spoke to her own.

Too bad a crack of lightning had to ruin the night.

But at least the rain blessed them with a day to themselves in apology.

Taking one last glance in the vanity mirror (that was about as big as her compact) and another quick check that her nails were clean of dirt, Beauchamp left her room and walked down the hallway to Fraser's, knocking softly against his door. When no one answered she pressed her ear curiously to the door hearing voices and knocked again, just a bit more louder, tapping the toe of her slingback heels against the beaten wooden floor. With still no response (and patience never being a virtue she ever possessed) she flat out turned the knob finding it unlocked.

She poked her head in and found a room even smaller than her own and the source of the voices coming from a small red radio playing an adaption of a film from the windowsill.

- I might have known you were here. I had a feeling just as I hit the floor.

- That was your hat.

- Oh, Susan! Just look at it! Look!

Fraser himself was fast asleep and spread out atop the bed sheets dressed for a date to the cinema with his long arms crossed above his head and his big feet dangling off the edge of his too small bed.

Beauchamp stood watching him for a moment, filled with a sudden tenderness at his sleeping innocence . . . and a bone deep wickedness that gave her an idea. She closed the door quietly behind herself and flipped the lock, grinning as she did so. She then slipped out of her slingback heels and crossed the room in two short strides (the floorboards creaking with the pitch of a mouse beneath her), to carefully lay down beside him.

Fraser turned to her in sleep, a throaty murmur on his lips, and laid a heavy arm around her slim waist, gathering her heart to heart. She sighed happily and reached to caress a curl hanging low at his brow, admiring the color that reminded her of the scorching sunsets in Giza she basked in with her uncle so many years ago. Her fingers then threaded through his thick mane down to where they began to curl at his neck and was rewarded with an unexpected smile. Pure and sweet.

"You're too perfect for words, lad," she whispered against his wide mouth, but before she could seal their lips together his long blonde lashes fluttered open.

Fraser gazed at her sleepily, his smile only growing wider as the word Sorcha was adoringly breathed against her cheeks.

She wanted to ask him what that one meant. It might be her favorite bit of gaelic so far.

But then . . .

"Claire!" Fraser exclaimed, and nearly toppled them both out of the bed if not for Beauchamp clinging to his shoulders, steadying him above her.

"How di' ye - Why are ye -"

Beauchamp giggled loudly at his befuddled face and at his hair sticking up in all directions like a sunflower crown. She coasted her hands up the wide breadth of his shoulders to cup both his scarlet cheeks.

"You're door was unlocked, and you know how cold I easily get . . ." she playfully pouted, and tugged his face closer, enjoying how his skin felt like a glowing hot coal between her hands.

But Fraser pulled away.

"Claire. . ."

She sighed yet kept her amused grin.

"You're not a lad of sixteen, you know. You can have a girl in your room."

"I ken that," he answered back, with a defensive spike in his voice.

Beauchamp ignored his tone letting her hands wander to his chest, the muscles taut beneath his crisp white shirt straining to contain his racing heartbeat.

"We even spent a night under the stars together."

"That was altogether different."

Her eyes flashed with mischief as she toyed with the buttons of his shirt. "How so?"

"For one," Fraser breathed hoarsely, placing a hand over hers lest she get too carried away. "It wasn't all night, the thunder made sure of that, and we mostly were talking anyway."

"Mostly?"

"And two," he said firmly, ears pink. "There wasn't a bed either of us could fall out of."

"No, there wasn't," she agreed, deciding he'd had enough of her teasing (and only because she had never taken anyone seriously enough to go slow). "But you can still keep me warm, Fraser. Virtue intact. I promise."

He arched a ruddy brow, doubtful of the lass with cheeky hands and a red cheshire grin that could lure a man to break every sin. Yet he eased himself beside her anyway and in the only way that worked.

With their legs twined together, nearly flushed against one another.

And his big hand braced along her back, the fabric soft against his callused palm as he smoothed it up and down, feeling the gentle rise of her ribs as she breathed in absolute contentment.

“Better than sitting in the cinema don't you think?” said Beauchamp, as she nuzzled her face to the crook of his neck, warmed by his skin that smelled freshly clean. Yet she found herself missing the scent of a hard day's labor on him.

“Aye, much - wait!” Fraser shifted to his elbow. “We missed the film didn't we?"

Beauchamp, a little annoyed at being jostled, shook her head and tugged at his collar to settle her lad back down.

"No, there's still some time left. Cary Grant just lost his intercostal clavicle bone to a dog named George. . . Or was it a leopard named Baby?"

Fraser stared at her like she'd gone completely daft until he noticed the radio playing in the background and heard the inimitable voices of Grant alongside Katherine Hepburn.

- Now it isn't that I don't like you, Susan, because, after all, in moments of quiet, I'm strangely drawn toward you, but - well, there haven't been any quiet moments.

"Oh,” he chuckled lightly, dropping his head to the side. “I must've fallen asleep listening to Lux Theatre . What I meant was the actual cinema though.”

“I think Judy Garland is merrily singing down that yellow brick road as we speak. But don't be sorry," she said, with a kiss to the hard line of his jaw, before the words could fall from his mouth. "It would've been far too crowded anyway."

“But you got yourself all dressed up," he protested, as his eyes traveled down to where her dress had been rucked up tight over her breasts and waist (and where his hand involuntarily flexed over the winged flare of her hip) before hastily clearing his throat.

"Ye look lovely by the way, mo chridhe. More than lovely actually. . ."

That shy and tender smile of his was her undoing and made her feel light-headed and reckless.

"Either that clever mouth of yours keeps on with the compliments, Fraser, or . . ."

Her voice carried off as her knee glided up between his thighs and her arms clasped around his shoulders so that any thoughts Fraser had of being a gentleman were forgotten in a wanton blaze of heat.

Some time later, with Fraser's cheek pillowed against her breasts, breath hot and seeping through the thin blue fabric thoroughly wrinkled now, he groaned.

"I wish we weren't in a room above a pub that reeks of cigarettes and wee."

She hummed softly, her fingertips stroking the back of his head, twirling around his curls. Admiring their beauty.

"Where should we be then?"

Fraser lifted his gaze to hers, blue eyes glimmering with that undeniable emotion that should've scared her yet it only made her want to claim him forever.

"A woman like you. . ." He smiled. " In a tent somewhere outside the ruins of a temple or in a cave in the Himalayas."

Her chest bounced with sparkling laughter.

"How about when this is all over and our names are the talk of the town, you take me anywhere you please. Preferably with a bed we can both fit in."

It was a tantalizing thought yet Fraser couldn't help but think of Scotland. Of his home Lallybroch. With her hand in his passing through the centuries old stone archway as his lady of Broch Turach.

Someday, maybe. God willing.

"I can think of a place," he murmured, and tightened his hold around her lush frame and pressed a daring kiss of hope above her heart. Felt her shiver beneath his mouth.

- I've just discovered that was the best day I've ever had in my whole life!

- But I was there!

- That's what made it so good!

And together they drifted off listening to the rain and the silly, sappy music.

I can't give you anything but love, baby.

That's the only thing I've plenty of, baby.

Dream awhile, scheme awhile

We're sure to find happiness . . .

A/N: There’s a lot of notes so I’ll keep them to ao3. And there’s probably mistakes galore but I needed to post this before cringe settled in and I deleted it, Thank you for reading!

#jamie x claire #outlander fic #outlander fanfiction #gobbledygook writing

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uglypastels · 3 years

Text

Slide In // Frat!Tom

(a/n) I’ve never written this au before, in like a full fic i think, so i have no idea if this is good, but i had this idea in the middle of the night and yeah. I hope you guys enjoy. this may or may not have been inspired by a certain post @duskholland made about Tom and his mirror selfies <3 how amazing that he literally just posted one today lol

word count: 16.7k

warning: drinking, mention of drug use (weed), school, social anxiety, some smexy innuendos. i made some big last minute changes, so i hope its all coherent.

DEEPFAVE: Liking a photo (or any post) from over a year ago.

It was a cloudy morning, and it was early. Really really early. Not even the birds felt up to it, it felt like. The campus was slowly awakening or going to sleep (depending on if you had been to last night’s Delta Kappa party, of course).

It was cold, and the leaves fell off the branches with each huff of the morning breeze. The grass was wet from the previous night’s rain, and it soaked your ankles as you ran through the small grass field, in hopes to cut a bit off the distance to your lecture hall.

It had not been your fault that you overslept. You had gone to bed early; your backpack was already packed for the next morning. It was supposed to be a relaxing morning, perfect for easing back into it after a week of sleeping in and celebrating the holidays. How could you have expected that your roommate would barge into your dorm at 2 am, still whoo-ing her drunk ass in the corridor with other wasted idiots?

And it wasn’t like you were against all that partying and drinking. You would have gone yourself to the frat party, but it just didn’t sit right with you. A giant house full of intoxicated strangers- the anxiety running through you just thinking about it was making you shake.

So, instead of “living a little”, as your older brother called it, you preferred to stay in bed most evenings, either watching Netflix or reading a book. Yet, still, you had been kept awake for so long last night that you slept through your alarm. What was supposed to be a calm morning turned out to be ten minutes of rushed panic. Eventually, you had decided to skip most of your morning routine, including breakfast, brushing your hair or even putting on a decent outfit. You ran out of your dorm, clutching on to your bag, phone and keys.

Your hair was reasonably alright. It was still in the braid you had made before going to bed, but a lot of hair had fallen out during your slumber. When you looked in the mirror though, you saw that it looked decent so you let it be. Not so much could have been said for your outfit. You kept on the same shirt in which you slept in, which was a slightly oversized grey graphic tee from a random indie concert you had been to ages ago. Unfortunately, it was so cold that you couldn’t just go outside in your shorts, so had to spend a precious minute slipping into a pair of sweatpants that were actually not as bum-looking as you had feared.

Luckily, the walk (or in this situation, run) to the lecture hall was short. So, you survived with only a thick sweater over your arms.

And so, just like that, you were running through campus. The cold air was piercing your lungs as you inhaled deeply. Each breath started with this whistling sound, as you tried to ignore that pain, and ended in an exhale of a cloud of condensation. Maybe you weren’t in the best shape, but even this horrible experience would not make you sign up for the campus gym. No way.

You could see the lecture hall doors, the wide wooden panelling already towering over you, and you slowed down. You were trying to catch your breath and composure. As always, the doors were heavy and to add to it, the wood could not handle the temperature, so it was even harder to open them.

“Oh, let me,” you suddenly heard behind you, almost making you jump. The voice sounded familiar, but it wouldn’t click to a particular face just yet.

“Thanks,” you breathed out as an arm extended from behind you, clad in a leather jacket, and pushed the door open with ease. You followed the arm up with your eyes and saw how it connected to an actual person. Yes, you definitely recognised him. But what was his name again?

T- something starting with a T.

He smiled at you politely, nodding the gesture for you to go inside.

“Thanks,” you said again, before finally moving.

“No problem,” he was walking behind you but quickly caught up to your side. You saw in his hand a Starbucks coffee, which almost made your mouth water.

“Professor Dowling’s lecture, right?” he asked, before taking a sip. Your eyes unconsciously followed the movement as the need for caffeine was growing.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah,” you shook your head, focusing on anything but the delicious rich smell that you could sense coming from the cup—dark roast.

“Well, good to know I won’t be the only one late,” he chuckled. Troy? Was that his name? No. He didn’t look like a Troy.

“We’re not that late,” you checked your phone and cursed internally, “only… nine minutes.”

“Dowling doesn’t care if it’s nine minutes or nine hours. Late is late.” He took another sip. You had to look away before your stomach realised how empty it really was.

“True, I guess. Well, it was nice knowing you.” You sighed as you had reached the second door leading to the lecture room. Ty raised an eyebrow. No, his name was definitely not Ty. What was it?!

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Dowling is gonna kill us, isn’t he?” You explained, and he nodded in agreement.

He was again the one to slowly and quietly opened the door, giving you insight into the room. You almost yelled out in excitement when you saw that the lights had been somewhat dimmed for a slideshow that the professor was giving. You have Tim (nope, not Tim) a knowing look and smile. You had been saved. Then, the two of you slipped into the room, letting the doors close themself. You saw a few people turn their heads as you walked by together, searching for a seat, but you didn’t think much of it. You would have looked too if someone dared to be late for one of Dowling’s lectures.

Finally, you found an empty seat. Two, actually. It was in the back of the class, so you hoped that once the lights would go back on, Dowling wouldn’t immediately notice the addition of two more faces. The mystery guy, as you were too tired to think of more names and decided to give up, sat down next to you. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on, quickly putting it on the lowest setting of brightness. Just before he had opened it up, you noticed a few stickers. Between a few references from tv shows and movies, you saw the logo of Delta Kappa. You only recognised it because you had been seeing the logo on almost every notice board the last few days together with the campus-wide invitation for last night’s party.

So he was a frat boy.

You looked up to the side at him as you pulled out your laptop and notebook. The notebook was more for doodling than anything. But also to write down some more of the essential or just entertaining parts of the lecture, since you had come to realise that writing things down by hand helped you remember better.

Your heart stopped beating for a second as you opened your laptop, praying that no embarrassing tabs were open or, even worse, you still had Spotify playing on full blast. But you could let yourself relax when the laptop just showed you your desktop.

Right then, you could hear your stomach growl of hunger.

“Here,” suddenly T, as you decided to call him for the time being, slid over his coffee to your small desk. You looked up at him in confusion. He had a cap on, so there was not much you could see in the dark shadow, but you saw his sincere smile.

You thanked him before grabbing the cup. Since it was Starbucks, you hoped to learn his name finally. But instead, in black marker, was written “Holland”. Last name. Well, that was something.

_________________________________

“Thank you,” y/n said before grabbing the drink, taking a look at the name written on it, and taking a big sip of it, although she quickly pulled it away from her lips, her face distorted in a sour expression.

“Sorry,” Tom apologised, “my hand had slipped when I was pouring in the sugar.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she whispered, still a bit disgusted, but it didn’t stop her from taking another large sip. “How can you drink this stuff?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Tom grinned.

Times weren’t exactly desperate, in his case.

The party had been a massive success. Everyone seemed to have had a great time, and this time, not even at the cost of any of the frat house furniture. Sure, some people might have thrown up in the cooking pans, but that could be easily cleaned up by one of the pledges.

It all ended around 2 am, which was fairly early, but it was, of course, a school night. Tom remembered to drink water before going to sleep and woke up with only a mild headache. A few painkillers solved that pretty quickly. He got up, stumbled a bit over the mess around the house and was on his way to class.

He was sure he would have made it on time if it wasn’t for his usual appetite and need for coffee. Yes, he could have made it at home, but for some reason, the coffee from that machine always tasted like piss. And Tom did not want to find out why. So, it had almost become routine for him to stop by the Starbucks that was on the way from the house to the lecture halls.

What he had not expected was the giant line of customers inside. More people had felt the need for coffee after a wild night of partying. He recognised some girls, still wearing the same dresses they wore to the party. A few guys who looked like they were on the verge of death were sipping their drinks in the corner of the room. The two baristas were running around behind the counter, trying to make the drinks as fast as possible. As fellow students, they knew that there were a lot of people rushing to get to class, at least.

Tom had even looked at his phone, checking the time before he decided to step into the queue. He had majorly misjudged the time it would take the baristas to make the few drinks before it was his turn to order. In the meantime, people would walk up to him, also recognising him from the party, to tell Tom what a great time they had last night.

Finally, he got his drink and made his way over to the second station and poured in some sugar. For that extra kick of energy, but also, secretly, because he could not stand the bitterness of coffee. Then, it was really time to leave the crowd. Tom never really minded people and was definitely what you call a “social butterfly”, but there was always a limit. And the limit on a Monday morning was minimal. Even smaller, if you are still trying to get rid of a hangover.

He had just reached the main square of campus when he saw the big clock. He was already late, so it wouldn’t do much to run. Professor Dowling did not care for excuses or how late you were, even if it was a second. So he could as well just take his time.

Others had different ideas apparently.

Tom watched as someone ran across the grass, clutching on to their backpack. She stopped at the same door that he was heading for, so he got to have a good look first. The first thing he saw was the back of her head. Hair made up in a braid that was falling apart. A large black sweater, probably her boyfriend’s, was covering most of her frame.

She was trying to pull open the door that had the word PUSH on them, but Tom didn’t say anything. It was early, and by the looks of her, not that he was judging, she didn’t have a great morning.

When they had made eye contact, he recognised her from the lectures but did not think he had ever heard her name being mentioned. Professor Dowling loved interacting with the class, no matter how large, and often called out people to answer his absurd questions. She had never put her hand up to answer. Tom was sure of it; he would have remembered her name.

It interested him to see her pull out, not only a laptop but also a notebook. Did people even use those anymore? Even the dim light he could see the words scribbled on the cover. The decorative style did kind of make it hard to miss it.

Property of y/f/n.

So that was her name. Tom couldn’t help but smile to himself.

Having already missed the first ten minutes, he tried his best to focus on the words of the professor, but some things just couldn’t go unnoticed.

By the look y/n was giving his coffee cup, he could tell that she had not had any herself and the sound of her empty stomach as they sat next to each other only confirmed his suspicion. So, it only felt like the right thing to do to give her some. And the smile he got in return definitely made it worth it.

His attention was entirely gone by that point, as he watched her open her notebook. It was filled with little drawings. Some were more distinct than others. There were the classic five-petal flowers and the single mysterious eye with no other entity attached to it—also a few little scratchy tornadoes and random filigree. Patches of just lines and different patterns filled up the corners and extended out to the middle of the pages. Tom also definitely recognised a few attempts at bringing back the Super S in there.

But what also filled up the page were little characters. She must have drawn them during the lectures around Halloween because he recognised a little witch, stylised to the perfect amount of cuteness. There was also a cauldron of bats flying off to the side.

Tom could have looked at it for much longer and still find some more doodles in there, but unfortunately, she flipped the page. This one was blank. She took out a pen and started to doodle mindlessly.

First, a straight line, to which she attached little ovals. Lightly, but the lines got darker, the more she went over it. Then she made some more lighter lines across it. It made him chuckle when he recognised what it finally was—a piece of wheat. The way she stopped drawing for a second, Tom thought that she had not realised what she was drawing either. It was just a random coincidence where a few lines suddenly could make up an existing object. Then she continued.

From time to time she’d stop to make a note somewhere in the middle of the page, something that professor Dowling said that made her giggle. It was adorable to hear.

“Now, this,” Tom could hear the professor say from his little podium, the two little words shook everybody in the room awake because those they were code for IMPORTANT. As Dowling kept on talking, y/n closed her notebook and pulled her laptop closer to type. Tom had to pull himself together to focus on the actual lecture.

Then the sound of her stomach pulled him out of that. That was followed by the whisper of an angry “fuck”. Tom looked over to y/n again. She was trying to type something out, but her shaking fingers kept pressing the wrong buttons. She was crumbling apart from hunger.

Crumbling…

Suddenly, Tom remembered. He leaned down to look in his bag, hoping it was still there. It was.

“Hey,” he nudged her side, making her look up at him once more, with caution. He grabbed the small pack of Oreos and slid them over to her desk. She looked perplexed. Then she pushed the, slightly flat-looking, cookies back to Tom. He frowned.

“I thought I’m not supposed to be taking candy from strangers.” She whispered. Tom chuckled and pushed the pack of four cookies back to her.

“Well, good it’s not candy then. Eat. I can tell you’re starving.”

Y/n looked at the Oreos, not sure whether to take them or not, but her stomach answered for her. She opened her mouth, but then she closed it again and turned away. Tom understood it. It would have been the fourth time she would have said: “thank you”. By now, he got the message. As she opened the packet of cookies, Tom went back to listening to the lecture.

_________________________________

You hesitated before taking the cookies. Were they some kind of prank? You knew how frat guys loved to pull jokes on everyone, even if they were no better than middle school hijinks or cheesy April fools clichés. But the silver packet, except that it looked a bit flat, seemed to be untouched. Most likely because of getting squashed by something in his backpack.

You opened it and were immediately hit with the delicious whiff of chocolate. You took out one cookie and didn’t bother with the usual way of splitting it open to eat the filling first. You needed food. Now. Even if it were just four broken Oreo cookies. It was better than nothing.

Obviously, you were still hungry and in need of a proper breakfast, but the small snack helped you hold out for the rest of the lecture.

But now that your stomach was sorted for, you had another problem concentrating. Your new, still unnamed, friend tended to type very loudly. At first, you looked over in a bit of annoyance, which made you actually notice his hands. There was nothing special about them. They were naturally just hands, but the way he moved his fingers across the keyboard… it made you look back in that general direction a few times more.

Probably because of all these distractions, the usual hour and 45 minutes felt much shorter. Before you knew it, professor Dowling was saying his goodbyes and everyone around you started packing up their things.

Needing to get some food ASAP, you packed up your things and practically ran out of the room. Only as you were nearing the cafeteria did you realise that you had never said goodbye to your snack provider.

Shit.

_________________________________

“Hey, so I was thinking-” Tom was going to suggest grabbing a bite for breakfast together, being somewhat hungry himself, but when he looked up y/n had already packed her things and was on her way to the stairs, following the other students out the door.

Tom sank back down into his seat.

“Any problems, Mr Holland?” Tom’s head shot forward to see professor Dowling looking up at him. When he looked around, he saw he was the only one who had not started packing up.

“No, everything’s alright, sir,” Tom said before getting up with his laptop. “Great lecture. Learned a lot... and stuff.”

“Good, good,” Dowling said. His glasses were slipping off his nose slightly, so he pushed them back up with his middle finger. “I did not expect you to have heard anything, by the way you and miss y/n were chatting.”

The professor’s words made Tom’s cheek burn up as he pushed the laptop back into its place in his bag. That man saw everything.Suddenly he felt as if he was in middle school again.

“Try to not make it a habit.”

“No, sir,” Tom said.

Dowling just nodded, meaning the conversation had ended and giving Tom permission to sprint out of the room.

He wasn’t sure why he was in such a hurry. Maybe he was hoping to find y/n waiting outside the doors. He didn’t even know why he wanted to see her there. He just did. He had this urge just to watch her doodle in that notebook of hers. There was something so endearing about it.

Alas, no one was waiting for him outside that door. Or even in the proximity of it. There was no one but groups of students making their way from and to class.

Then, Tom realised that she must have run off to the cafeteria. Still, he decided against going there. As much as he wanted to talk to y/n again, he didn’t want to come off stalkerish. Besides, they’d have another class tomorrow. He could speak to her then.

“Ayo! Holland!” Tom looked over to a group of people he recognised to be his friends. They were gathered around one of the large windows that was open in the hallway. He waved to them before making his way over.

“What’s up, man? You looked like a lost puppy.” Jacob said.

“No nothing, I just zoned out a little, I guess.” Tom shook his head, clearing it off thoughts of y/n.

“Well, we were thinking,” his best friend and fellow Delta Kappa resident, Harrison joined in on the conversation, “There is this new bar opening next week. The… something- shit, what’s it called again?” He looked over at the rest of the group.

“The Sterling,” it was Zendaya that answered. She was sitting on the window sill with both legs in front of her, not living much space for anyone else to sit. She had something between her fingers, and Tom could not make out if it were a regular cigarette or a joint. (The smell insinuated at nicotine, so that answered for itself.) The fact that they were on campus did not make much difference to them. She took a drag and blew the smoke out, before handing it to Harrison.

“So, Holland, you’re in?”

“Yeah of course.” There’s nothing like the hysteria of drinking yourself sick in some new dingy place across campus. A new one would open up every few months because its predecessor would get shut down after too many accounts of selling alcohol to minors. It had almost become a game for younger students to see how quickly they can destroy a business. Tom and Harrison had been record holders for a while. Five weeks. Tom wasn’t exactly sure how anyone could tell they were the reason for The Six-Ball to close, but it didn’t matter. (“With a name like that, they deserve to shut down,” Harrison had joked before ordering two Long Island Iced Teas.)

Now that they were of the legal drinking age, of course, maybe it wasn’t as fun to go to those shitty holes in the wall, but with the right people, they made it a party every time.

“Nice! So-” Jacob started talking about how he thought the night had to go, but Tom was already zoned out again. Between Zendaya and Harrison, he had the perfect view of the small grass field. Some people had sat down there with their friends to enjoy the midday, but most people still considered it too cold to sit outside. But what Tom was looking at was behind the grass field. It was the cafeteria doors. He saw that large sweater again. y/n walked out, holding something that looked like a sandwich. Tom smiled to himself.

“What are you smiling about?” He got nudged in the ribs by someone.

“Oh, you know, the uhm-” he had no idea what the rest of his friends had been talking about to include in his lie.

“I know,” Harrison said, lounging his arm across Tom’s shoulder to point in the same direction that Tom had been looking at. Tom froze up when he pointed straight at y/n with his finger.

“Angela Pikowski.”

“What?” It took Tom a second, but indeed, right in front of y/n, stood Angela with her own group of friends. She laughed at something, whipping her bottle bleached blonde hair across her shoulder. He understood too, how Harrison had caught her so quickly in his vision, for she had her jacket open and her shirt was pretty tight and low cut. How did that girl not catch pneumonia or some shit?

“You ain't slick, bro.” Harrison patted him on the back. Tom, not wanting to get into it more than he needed, just grinned awkwardly. When he looked out into the square, Angela still stood there, but y/n was gone.

_________________________________

The campus food was never that good, but it didn’t matter. The feelings of having actual food in your body felt so good that it might as well have been a five-course meal from a three-star Michelin restaurant. While, in reality, it was just a little bacon, egg and salad sub on stale bread.

It did not matter.

You enjoyed your breakfast as you walked down the path, back to your dorm. After that horrendous morning, and the pretty… interesting lecture, you were ready to lock yourself up in a room and do nothing but watch Netflix. And thankfully, due to having only one morning class, you could actually do it too.

You said your polite “Hi”s and “Hello”s as you passed some other people you recognised from other classes. A bit hopefully, you were on the lookout for your (still nameless!) friend from the lecture. You really had to figure out what his name was.

By the time you had reached your dorm building, your sandwich was gone. A part of you was still hungry, but you ignored that. You were probably just bored anyway.

The dorm hall was basic in every way, from the carpeted grey floor to the plainly painted walls. But the inhabitants, of course, did try to give it some life. They hung up posters and banners, flags and lights. You reached the door that was decorated with a collage of different 80s glam rock artists and walked into your room. That college had been a little bonding experience with your roommate, Marie, during the very first week of Freshman year.

When you walked in, your eyes were immediately drawn to the lump on one of the beds. A groan erupted from underneath it when you switched on the light.

“Ruuuude,” Marie yelled out. She came out from beneath the sheets. Her hair was bigger than ever, and you could see the mascara and eyeshadow stains under her eyes, and there was still some glitter on her.

“You know, you should take off your make-up before going to sleep,” You said as you took off your sweater.

“You know, you should put some on before leaving the house,” she said before diving back underneath her sheets.

“Ouch,” you both laughed. But you couldn’t help but take a look in the mirror as you passed it. Maybe you could have used some concealer under your eyes, but it wasn’t that bad. Right?

The room the two of you lived in maybe wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either. You were definitely one of the luckier people in the building. Your room, after all, had just enough space for the two beds, desks and closets to mirror each other on each side of the room. You also went the extra way to put up some extra shelving on your side above the bed, since one closet was not enough.

“Didn’t you have class this morning as well?” you asked as you sat down on. You could hear something coming from Marie that resembled an “Mhm”. Not in the talking mood, got it.

So, in quiet, you pulled out your laptop and searched for something that did not look mind-numbingly dumb to watch, eventually settling for a show you had probably watched five times out of pure overwhelming of choice. After a while of moving around in your bed, you found a comfortable position at last and turned the show on, ready for a day of uninterrupted laziness.

_________________________________

Tom got home a bit later than he had hoped. After making plans for the next night, his friends were determined to go out for lunch as well. What he thought would be just a quick grab-and-go, turned out to be a full two-hour lunch where they talked about anything and nothing.

He loved the company of people, but not on Mondays. Mondays were his day to do nothing except for going to class, and Tom felt like he had already done too much.

When he did get back, people were still busy cleaning the aftermath of the party. It had gone a bit wilder than Tom remembered. Some jackass had decided to spray paint one of the upstairs hallways, and the colour was not easy to get off. Luckily, it had become almost a custom for all the house members to lock their doors during a party. For privacy sake firstly, but like anything at Delta Kappa, it turned a bit into a game.

The first two unlock their door, either if the person was too tired to stay at the party or wanted to bring a guest into their room, was obliged to do something horrible. It was up to the rest of the house to decide what. Fortunately for Tom, he had not been the first to unlock his door that night. That luck fell on poor Billy.

Even if it came to be so, the rule didn’t make sense because no one could check who the first one was to open their door and even if- it was not an official Delta Kappa rule. That meant that, even if the person got caught to be the first, they could simply deny the dare. They would be known as Head Chicken, of course, but there were worse things in life.

Tom moved up the stairs, saying hi to a few of his roommates, feeling very lucky as one of the senior members of the house, he did not have cleaning duty. Most of that was up to the pledges anyway.

He remembered when he had to do all those tasks and shit to get into the house. It was so stupid; he didn’t even understand why he chose to be in a fraternity, in the first place.

He did think the other guys had gone a bit softer on himself and Harrison since at the beginning of it all, they had been chosen by the sorority of Alpha Zeta Zeta as the favourites. Still, some unspeakable things had been done that year.

But now that he lived in a giant house with some of his best friends, it all felt like it was a bit worth it. He had a great time at Delta Kappa.

One of the best pros, by far, was that he had his own bedroom. Spacious for everything he needed plus a bit more. A large, unmade, bed waited for him when he opened the door. That, and the happy barks of Tessa.

“Hello, darling,” he bent down to pet her as she jumped to his knees. Tessa was the official mascot of the fraternity, but she had very early on found a great liking to Tom. It only took her a few days to get settled in his room, and from then on, she wouldn’t sleep anywhere else.

Tom moved up to his bed, and Tessa gladly joined him. She patted down a circle before lying down with her head on his chest, letting out a satisfied huff of air. Even if he wasn’t comfortable, Tom had no way out anymore. He was stuck. With nothing else to do, he took out his phone and went through his notifications.

Some texts from Harrison and Jacob, a missed call from that girl he made the mistake of giving her his number. People were getting Wi-fi again because he got at least twenty different Snapchat pictures and videos from the party.

What else there was plenty of, were Instagram mentions and tags. He went through the photos, smiling. It really had been a great party. Then, something popped up in his mind.

Property of: y/f/n

y/f/n

Could it be that easy? He could just search for her and hope to find her account. He typed it in. Her first name was already enough to get plenty of results. As always the profile pictures were too small to really make out a true identity, so he made his way through the accounts.

He only needed three tries, though. The picture already resembled her, so with hope, he clicked on the account.

This account is private. Follow this account to see their photos and videos.

Tom sighed. Not so easy after all. Then he saw the bio. It was a bit vague, just a few random emojis. But what interested him was the Followed by and the fifteen mutual followers that she had. It couldn’t be anyone else.

For some unknown reason, his heart was beating in his throat as he clicked on the blue Follow button and watched it turn grey. Now it was just a matter of waiting until his request got accepted. Or maybe denied. Who knows.

_________________________________

Watching a show for the fifth time got a bit boring. You could still laugh at the jokes, but at the same time, you could also almost flawlessly quote it as the scene went along. So, a few episodes in you took out your phone and started scrolling through various app feeds.

Marie had fallen back to sleep since you could hear her snore in her bed. And you were falling asleep slowly too. It was so warm in your room, and your bed was so soft and comfortable. Your eyes were getting heavier by the second.

Then a notification popped up, brightening up the screen in your hand. Half-awake, you tried to read it.

(your account): Tom Holland (@tomholland2013) has requested to follow you.

Tom? Your mind took a moment to process. Then the face finally clicked to the name. Tom! His name was Tom!

Without much further thought you accepted the request and before you even put your phone down, you fell asleep.

_________________________________

Not to sound desperate, Tom waited for a good half hour before rechecking his phone. He clicked on the Instagram app and the search icon. Her account was still the last one from the recent searches he made. Tom clicked on the account and, to his unexplained surprise, he was greeted with a gallery of pictures.

He had noticed earlier that the count on top of the page said 53 Posts. Interested, he clicked on the first one. It was a picture of a coffee cup. It wasn’t tagged, but Tom recognised it to be from that café Le Moulin. He saw the distinctive black windmill on the napkin that could not be missed.

He scrolled down.

It was a selfie from last summer. The filter slightly enhanced her bright smile on the picture, but Tom could tell it was more to show off the warm atmosphere of her holiday destination. The next photo was from the same holiday, he assumed, of her and a group of friends. He recognised the girls from campus. When he tapped the picture for the tags, he saw their names. @tiffani.btx @bonne_marie @lucywithnodiamonds

He thought to have spotted that Marie chick at the party. She was French if he remembered correctly. She was definitely a wild one. Might have even grinded up against him during one of the better songs that were played.

There were some more selfies, solo and with friends, sunsets and landscapes. The picture quality got worse as he scrolled down. It matched with the timeline. People should not be keeping up their pictures from seven years ago, especially not with all those fucked up filters they used back then. Tom was, of course, one of those people.

He scrolled to the last picture; it was of a dog—one of the cutest little labrador puppies.

Out of nowhere, Tessa barked in her sleep, making Tom jump up. This sudden movement, in its turn, woke the dog up completely. Tessa kept barking.

“Right, I think it’s time for a walk, what do you think?” He patted Tessa on the head as she tried to lick his arm. Tom got up and was about to leave his room when he realised he almost forgot his phone. The screen hadn’t turned off yet, so he looked at the puppy again. But something was off this time. Something had changed.

The little blank heart under the image- it was now pink.

He accidentally liked her oldest picture.

_________________________________

There were two types of naps. Those that made you feel amazing and refreshed by the time you got up. And those that made you feel like you had fallen asleep on a bed of rocks. You felt even worse than before when you woke up. Your head was throbbing, and your bra had pushed itself into every possible part of your chest, making it that much more uncomfortable.

“What time is it?” you asked Marie, but she was still asleep.

The light of your phone almost blinded you, so you quickly put down the brightness. It was around four o’clock. Meaning you had slept for a good three hours.

Besides the time, you checked your notifications. There were not a lot of them. A few spam emails, a few texts in a group chat you never responded too and… a like on Instagram?

tomholland2013 liked your photo. 1 h

You had to think back to the moment before your nap to remember that he had in fact requested to follow you. And you had accepted it.

You clicked on the notification, and it sent you to the liked picture. To your surprise, it was the picture of your family dog, Spot. Your family had picked the name even though he was a completely yellow labrador, loving the irony.

It was your first-ever picture, from over seven years ago. Had he been stalking your account? Why the fuck would he do that?

Well, you thought, it was only fair if I do it too. So, through the like, you made your way over to his account.

First thing you noticed was the number of followers he had. 15.7k How the fuck do people even get those numbers? Well, it’s easier if you’re a hot frat guy, of course.

His profile picture was a mirror selfie, and clearly, it was his favourite composition, for at least five out of the first nine pictures in the gallery were the same style. All full-body reflections, with him holding the phone in his right hand, leaning his head a bit to look at the screen as he took the picture. His lips weren’t exactly in a smirk, but there was that cockiness in there. He really was feeling it, that was obvious.

The first picture was a classic mirror pose- A black jacket and a black hat: the same outfit he had been wearing in class. You looked at the timestamp and saw that he only posted it an hour ago. Already it had dozens of comments and a low thousand amount of likes.

You scrolled down. A denim jacket and beanie in the mirror; a grey t-shirt and sweats in the mirror; a black suit in the mirror, the list could go on. There were other pictures, mostly from the frat house parties and other events where alcohol played a significant role. There were also the occasional front camera selfies.

You couldn’t help but look at those a little bit longer. There was something about that small tight smile that he made that was so cute. In one of the more saturated pictures, with a deeper shadow, you noticed that his nose actually had a little bump in it, most likely from breaking it in the past.

But just from likes alone, you could tell that the mirror was a public favourite.

There was something about the confidence that the pictures portrayed that spoke to you.. He knew he looked good, and no one could deny it. Except, he looked so much better than good.

It was interesting to be scrolling down his posts because it was like a trip back in time. At first, it didn’t wasn’t that obvious, just maybe a change in temperature during the year that was referenced through his clothing. Then it showed a bit more as his hair started to get shorter by each picture taken. It got shorter and shorter until his hair was not much more than a buzz. The reason for the drastic hair change was explained in the next picture.

You had already scrolled down four years worth of pictures, and this one was of him (taken by someone else). Tom was standing in a victory stance on a grass field, which you recognised to be the campus square. He was only wearing boxer shorts and on his chest was painted, in bright blue paint, 𝜟K. Underneath the post, read the caption: Delta Kappa babyyy! with a bunch of other hashtags. One that was included was #deltakappapledge #initiated. Of course, it was during his pledge period.

You kind of hoped that he had to do more than just shave off his hair because he didn’t even look half that bad. It even suited him actually. Hoping to find some more evidence of that embarrassing period, you scrolled on.

The sound that came out of your mouth as you scrolled to the next picture was inhumane. Keeping to tradition, it was a mirror selfie. Behind him seemed to be some workout equipment, possibly from the campus gym, but no one would look at that. Everyone would be too focused on what was in the foreground.

It was Tom standing in front of a mirror, chest glistening with sweat as his hair draped in front of his eyes. Instead of the usual pose, he stood sideways, showing off not only his flexed bicep as he took the picture, but also the outline of all his other muscles.

Completely forgetting what you were doing, you double-tapped the post. How could you not? Only a second later, did your monkey brain realise what you had done. You had made that exact same mistake as Tom. Except while he had liked a picture of a cute dog, you had made your mark on a shirtless selfie.

As the pure humiliation flooded over you, you threw your phone to the other end of the bed with a squeak.

What’s done was done.

_________________________________

Tom came back from the walk with Tessa after an hour. They both enjoyed a long walk around the park neighbouring the campus, just to then pretend like they were too exhausted and lay in bed the rest of the day. Well, Tom pretended. Tessa seemed legitimately tired.

They went back to their position on the bed. Not sure what else to do, Tom got back to Instagram. There was no reaction to his accidental like yet. Not even a follow back from y/n. A bit rude but okay, maybe she hadn’t seen it yet?

He shook his head. He didn’t like this weird side of him. Where had it even come from? Since when did he wait for anyone to respond to him? And they weren’t even having a conversation!

Having nothing else to do, he searched through his phone gallery for a good picture to post. He chose one he had taken during lunch, on his way from the bathroom. It was still crazy that his friends wanted to go to a place where you needed to take an elevator to go to the toilet.

He didn’t care for editing, so he went through the usual Instagram process of making a post, thought of some dumb caption and send it out into the internet. Soon enough, as if they had a notification on for his activities, the likes streamed in. For the first few minutes, he tried to look through them, again hoping that y/n would be one of the likes or the heart eyes emojis in the comments, but quickly it became too much, and Tom couldn’t keep up. He still enjoyed reading the comments.

Of course, it was all one big ego boost. The praise and compliments, even if it was for something as shallow as his looks, definitely gave him a good kick of dopamine and all those other happy chemicals during the day.

Tessa was snoring and drooling on his belly as Tom went through his timeline and explore page. There was not much exciting happening in peoples’ lives, but it made the time flow by faster. An hour had gone by probably when he decided to recheck his activities. His new picture already had a few thousand likes and was close to reaching a hundred comments. He went through some of them and either liked them or responded with a matching emoji.

But as he scrolled through the activity, he saw a like that was to a different picture. A rather old one too, just from the beginning of college. And who might have liked this picture? y/n

She liked a workout selfie, huh?

With the confidence that the like gave him, Tom clicked on her account and the message button. He thought about what to send for a moment but decided against overthinking it and went with a simple-

_________________________________

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Hi

You looked at the notification for a while. He definitely saw you had liked his old picture. Was he going to make fun of you? Tease you how you had outed yourself for thirsting over him?

But maybe he just wants to talk? You tried to sound optimistic to yourself. After all, he did like an old picture of yours too. You were kind of in the same boat.

Putting all worries aside, you clicked on that damn nerve-wracking notification, and without much more thought send out the reply.

(y/n)

Hey :)

Before you could even send out the smiley, the message rose to reveal “SEEN” beneath it. Was this happening? Was it? You could see he was typing.

(tomholland2013)

After stalking me you could have at least followed me back lol

(y/n)

Right sorry just a lot of mirror selfies. Thought i’d seen everything there is to see 😂

(tomholland2013)

Rude Seen anything you like though? ;)

Uhhh, of course, you have. You liked it. A lot. But you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction.

(y/n)

No not really

Quickly change the subject.

So what are you up to?

Good enough subject?

(tomholland2013)

Just lying in bed with Tess

Tess? Who was Tess? Did he have a girlfriend? If he did, he would have posted something on his Instagram, right? That’s what couples did? Unless it was just a one time fling. You couldn’t even call it a one-night stand since it wasn’t even night.

Wait, why did you even care about that? You had literally only said hello to each other and shared a coffee during class.

But the curiosity was gnawing at you.

(y/n)

Tess?

(tomholland2013)

Yeah, she’s falling asleep on my chest. Kinda tired her out lol

You looked at the text, unsure how to respond, or even if to do it. Was he telling you about his hookup? It didn’t sound like the nice guy you had met in front of the lecture hall, and that gave you his leftover coffee and Oreos. Your face wrenched into a grimace, not sure anymore what to make of this conversation or of what had happened during class.

He was typing again.

Wanna see?

Jesus Christ, this was a mistake. You didn’t respond, but he still sent you a picture anyway. It was a timer, unfortunately, meaning you had to click on it to see what he had sent. But he could see you got the message and that you were online. The longer you took, the more prominent you would make it that something was wrong, and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He had given you his coffee.

The curiosity got the better of you once again, though, and you clicked on the little bomb. What popped up was almost what you expected- but at the same time, so not. Before your brain properly processed what you were looking at, you were scared that he had sent you an unsolicited dick pic, but it was the furthest thing from that.

What you saw was a POV shot of his chest and legs. He was indeed lying on his bed. On his chest, however, was the head of a grey silver dog. “Tess” had her eyes closed peacefully as she slept on.

Of course, it was a dog.

You decided to be honest. For the benefit of the conversation, if anything.

(y/n)

Omg 💀

(tomholland2013)

We just came back from a long walk, so she’s pretty knackered What? Did you think I meant something else?

Embarrassment kicked in anyway.

(y/n)

No... lol

(tomholland2013)

You sooo did lmao Jealous much ;)

(y/n)

Of the dog maybe

(tomholland2013)

Cause she gets to be here with me?

(y/n)

No I meant it like She’s so cute I want one

(tomholland2013)

Relax I was just messing with you But if you ever wanna come over

(y/n)

Maybe another time

The response came out in a panic. Had he invited you for what you thought he did? No, there was no way he did. Besides, you couldn’t go to his house. You barely knew the guy- your mind kept on whirring about it. But the conversation continued.

Soon the sun had gone down, and it got dark outside, but the messages kept coming in. At one point Marie finally woke up from her hangover slumber. Drowsily she got up and headed for the shower with a towel and toiletries bag in her hand. Before she left, though. She asked you if you could prepare something to eat for dinner since she was starving. You being you, agreed.

(y/n)

Hey, I think I gotta go for a bit. Gotta make dinner for my roommate

(tomholland2013)

What’s on the menu?

(y/n)

Probably spicy ramen?

(tomholland2013)

Damn. sounds good But can’t she make it herself?

_________________________________

A part of Tom wanted to send another message. I want to keep talking to you. But that felt like a bit much. She was typing again anyway.

(y/n)

Because she’s still hungover from your party lol Thank for that btw

(tomholland2013)

You make it sound like i am personally responsible

(y/n)

Well your the only guy from DK i know so you’re** 💀fml. There go my chances of an english degree

(tomholland2013)

Nah babe YOU’RE good ;)

_________________________________

Your heart fluttered at the little word, for no reason. It was just a text message. He probably called every girl he texted that. Still, the sentiment was there. Also that winky face of his. Could he stop?

He started to type again.

(tomholland2013)

But if you ever wanna meet the other guys, you really are welcome to come over.

(y/n)

I’m good thanks.

Going to a frat house alone? You felt like that could easily be the start of your personal horror movie. It would absolutely crash at the box office, but that didn’t matter. And it was the second time he invited you to come over. If it was a hint, it wasn’t a subtle one. It didn’t stop you from doubting it.

(tomholland2013)

No need to be scared. They’re pretty chill dudes.

It was cute how he could read your mind because you were undoubtedly scared, but what he probably did not think was that you weren’t interested in meeting any other frat guy because there was only one on your mind at the moment.

(y/n)

Maybe another time ttyl?

You had sent the last message in the hopes that he had as much fun talking to you as you did with him. You watched eagerly as the three dots danced around on the screen while he typed out his answer.

(tomholland2013)

Absolutely

_________________________________

Tom turned his phone off with a smile covering his face. He had just spent talking a good two hours to y/n, and he had to admit, he hadn’t had that pleasant of a conversation with anyone in a long time. It was just so easy to talk to her. It might be partly because it was only texts. But still, she was funny, sweet, and so pretty...

Unbeknown to himself, he was falling a little bit for y/n. Although, maybe he did feel it coming. The idea of getting another text from her made his face heat up. The idea of seeing her in class the next day almost made him… giddy. And it’s only been a day.

“Hey, man,” there came a knock on his door. “Better hide anything that would make it awkward between us cause I’m coming inside in 3-2-1-”

“‘S all good,” Tom said right as Harrison walked through the door.

“We’re gonna order pizza, what do you want?”

“Just the usual, I guess,’ Tom shrugged. Honestly, he didn’t really feel like eating pizza but to be the only one that wasn’t having any wasn’t a good strategy either.

“Alright, then.” As quickly as he walked in, Harrison was also leaving the room. But he peeked his head through the door once more before actually walking away.

“Hey, are you sure you’re good?” Harrison looked at him through narrow eyes.

“Yeah,” Tom answered as he prodded himself to sit up. “Why?”

“I don’t know… Nevermind.” And with that, Harrison left to share Tom’s order.

It was a rare occasion that all the house members would be at home on a night that wasn’t reserved for a party. That night, when it came to dinner, it was around 8 of them. Everyone was already sitting on the couches when Tom came downstairs to grab his pizza. He grabbed a chair and his box and sat down. A football game was playing on tv, and it made Tom roll his eyes. He still had no real idea of how football was supposed to work. He always preferred golf or basketball, or even baseball.

The guys cheered at a touchdown or whatever but all Tom could focus on was his phone. He kept checking if there were any notifications from y/n. So far, there was nothing. She was probably busy, he told himself, not wanting to feel too disappointed.

_________________________________

“So who were you texting back then?” Marie said as she slurped on her noodles. You were playing around with your own portion a bit, not really in the eating mindset.

“Huh? No one.” you shook your head.

“So it is someone. C’mon. Who is it?” She extended her leg to poke yours. She kept going until you finally gave in.

“Just this guy from Dowling’s class.” you finally took a bite of ramen.

“Aaand does this guy have a name?” Marie kept on asking.

You looked up from your cup of noodles. “Tom… Holland.”

Marie gasped, almost dropping her food onto her lap. “Tom Holland? As in Delta Kappa Tom Holland?’ you nodded your head yes. “No fucking way.”

“What?” Not the most nuanced reaction, but it would do.

“No way you have a crush on Tom fucking Holland.” You always noticed that when Marie cursed her French accent would show up again. Just the slightest bit. This time, however, what you stayed on was her statement.

“I do not!” you said as your cheeks were heating up.

“Ohhh, you do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have said ‘nobody’. Everybody knows that ‘nobody’ is code for either crush, boyfriend, or drug dealer. And I think we can exclude the last option.” you were going to protest, but you would have only been fooling yourself.

“So, hypothetically, let’s say I do have a crush on him. Why did you scream out ‘No way’?” You bit your lip, a bit scared for an answer.

“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” Marie put down her ramen on her desk and came to sit down next to you on your bed. “I didn’t mean that you, like, don’t have a chance with him. Please, if anything, you’re too good for him.’ you both chuckled. “I just didn’t think he’d be your type.”

“What, hot?” You raised an eyebrow to which she slapped your shoulder.

“You’re being difficult. I mean, so… out there. You know, he’s basically the leader of that frat house, he always parties, always has stuff to go to. And you’re… well, pretty much the exact opposite. Not that there is anything wrong with that. Completely not. I just don’t want you to put yourself in any positions that you’re uncomfortable with to impress him or anything. Remember, you are too good for him.”

“Thanks.” you hugged her from the side. “But don’t you think that it would be good for me to go out once in a while? Out of my comfort zone?”

“Sure, if you’re actually doing it for you. Not some guy.”

“He is really nice, you know.” you smiled, remembering what had happened that morning. You went on telling Marie about it.

“Oh, so he’s got a crush on you too, huh? That works out perfectly. ” She finally said when you were done telling your story. You looked at her with wide eyes.

“What? Noooo,” you said, letting an awkward laugh escape through the no.

“Fine, whatever,” Marie moved back to her own bed and grabbed her cup of ramen. “But I bet you that if you check your phone now, you’ll have at least one message from him.”

You rolled your eyes again but grabbed your phone either way. And, fair enough, you had two notifications from ten minutes ago.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: Heyy

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: I hope the ramens good

Holding in your smile, and ignoring the smart ass comments of Marie, you replied quickly.

(y/n)

It was :)

_________________________________

The speed at which Tom checked his phone when he felt the vibration in his pocket could have caused someone severe whiplash. He responded to the text and got up. Ultimately, he had hoped that he could slip out the room unnoticed, but he never got what he wanted, did he?

“Where are you going?” It was Dave that saw him get up. Tom stopped in his tracks like a little kid that got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Just up to my room. Feelin’ a bit tired.’ He explained. This answer received several strange and confused looks, but Tom ignored those and just walked upstairs without saying another word. He plopped down onto his bed. Tessa was still downstairs under the table chewing on some pizza crusts, so he was finally alone.

The texting continued through the whole night, and Tom had wholly lost the sense of time. He didn’t even feel tired. If it wasn’t for y/n saying that she was about to fall asleep, he wouldn’t at least. Like that, the windshield crashed, and he felt the fatigue from the hours of messaging and staring at a screen overwhelm him. He just about managed to send out goodnight before his eyelids were too heavy to open up again.

_________________________________

The next morning you woke up feeling much better than either time the day before. Fresh and energised, with plenty of time to get ready before class started. Not that you really put much effort into how you looked for the morning lectures. It was more mental preparation. With enough time to eat breakfast, shower and brush your teeth, you felt excellent walking out the door. Dressed in a sweater that was warmer than two jackets and some loose jeans. With your bag over your shoulder.

You always thought the walk from your dorm to the lecture halls was delightful. The path leading toward it was enveloped in a tunnel of trees, and during the end of the year, when the leaves were turning into their auburn and golden shades, it almost felt warmer than in summer. Because the harsh wind still kept up with its schedule. It blew in your face as you walked, rubbing against your cheeks.

When you got there, the lecture hall was still relatively empty. Only a few other people had taken their seats. This was the crucial moment of choosing your seat. Against all your own instincts, you walked down to the bottom of the auditorium, into the fourth row. You had never sat that closer to professor Dowling’s podium, too scared you would be too easy to notice and called to answer a question. But something in you told you to be brave.

Besides, you had the idea that Tom wasn’t eager to sit there either.

As much as those butterflies in your stomach fluttered at his mention, you didn’t want to talk to him now, not during class. You needed to pass this class badly and to do that, you needed to focus. Something you could not do with him sitting next to you.

That’s what you told yourself. It was, of course, true, but the bigger problem was that you were scared. Tom sounded like a nice guy, a very good looking nice guy, but Marie’s words played in your head. He was from a completely different world. And it was a scary one. Why not keep a bit of a safe distance at first?

So, you kept your head buried in your notebook as people started to stream into the room. One by one, the seats around you were getting occupied—none of them by Tom, for better or for worse.

_________________________________

It had taken Tom a while to find y/n. He walked into the room, thinking he had come in with plenty of time to spare, but as he was making his way down the steps, the professor was already making his way to the podium. Tom tried to look around the room as quickly as he could, but he could not see her. Where was she?

Professor Dowling coughed loudly, indicating for everyone to shut up and sit down, so he could start the lecture. Tom took the first empty seat he saw. An aisle seat somewhere around the 8th row. The course started, but Tom’s eyes stayed on the seats, looking for that braid.

It wasn’t a brilliant plan, because he had no idea if she had actually kept that braid in for another day. And she had not, in fact. He noticed her, sitting somewhere at the bottom of the class, as she grabbed her hair and was pulling it up into a bun. She did it so quickly, so smoothly, without ever letting her attention get away from her. Focused on the class. He could really learn something from her.

And he tried to take a page from her book as he finally looked ahead of him to see Dowling write an entire essay on the blackboard. He cursed himself and quickly started to type everything over. His fingers went in fully automatic mode, and he had no more idea what the words he was typing actually meant.

His mind had wandered off once again. He couldn’t stop feeling that disappointing pull at his heartstrings. He had hoped they could have had a repeat of yesterday. She apparently thought differently. Or maybe she had hoped he would sit next to her, but he was just too slow?

The lecture went on forever, felt like. Tom’s fingers were cramping up from typing so much, and he could feel his back beginning to hurt in the uncomfortable chair. He kept stealing quick glances at y/n, hoping to catch her in doing the same, but she had not moved once.

He had to get a grip. They had known each other for one day, spoken maybe ten sentences to each other in person. The rest was all through text. And nothing was the same via messages. Maybe all his feelings were coming from the entirely wrong place? Perhaps she was just polite, and he had misinterpreted it for casual flirting? Besides, there was that sweater of hers yesterday- what if she had a boyfriend?

But a part of him still wanted to ignore all those signs and go for it. So, when the bell rang, and professor Dowling finally dismissed the class, Tom made sure he was one of the first ones outside. The large hall had two exits, so he stood against a wall, somewhere in the middle between both doors, hoping to catch y/n as she was walking out.

The loud rumbling of thunder caught his attention momentarily.

It was just a second, he swore to himself. But the second was enough to miss her. Somehow she had escaped him, nowhere to be found.

_________________________________

You had seen Tom waiting out in front of the room, and you felt horrible for walking the exact opposite direction. For the sake of your own feelings, you didn’t look back at any point on your way to your second lecture.

As Professor Phillips spoke, you felt your phone vibrate.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: where are you? :)

The little smiley made heat up in the cheeks, but you tried to ignore that as you typed out a response. You didn’t even click the notification to go to the app, just responded through the shortcut.

(y/n): had another class

Another notification popped up not long after.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: wanna meet up later?

(y/n): ngl I don’t feel well, will probably head back home right after

(y/n): but i’d love to chat

You shut off your phone, too scared to see the reply. Maybe it wasn’t the best move since you could not think about anything else for the remainder of the class. When you checked your phone again on your way back to the dorms your heart was lifted.

(tomholland2013): Tom Holland: of course. hope you feel better <3

_________________________________

Tom tried to think that she wasn’t avoiding him. After all, they texted almost every possible second that they had the time for the past week

They had talked about pretty much anything and everything. And it felt great. The way they spoke to each other, or at least Tom to her, was as if they had known each other for ages.

Tom only wished he could do that with her from across a table, or a on a bench. Where ever, he didn’t care. He wanted to be able to look into her eyes as they talked and see her smile. Hear that lol and not just imagine it.

Unfortunately, y/n was kind of giving him the cold shoulder in the real life. She ignored him during classes, and was gone before he could get the chance to talk to her. Whenever he asked if they could meet, she’d give him some reason she couldn’t. If it wasn’t for the fact that they had actually already met in real life, he had vary valid reasons to think he was being catfished.

Another reason could have been that she sounded too perfect.

It was the next Tuesday already, and Tom was waiting eagerly for the lecture to end. It had been a full week and he had decided, while copying some of Dowling’s notes, that he would talk to y/n today. After class.

Tomorrow would be the opening of the Sterling and he wanted to ask her if she wanted to come.Or at least to know if she wanted to hang out ever. If the truth came to be no, he would be fine with that. He respected that. He just needed to know. It wouldn’t take away from the fact how great it was to have someone to talk to, even if it was only through text bubbles.

The bell rang and Tom sprinted out. He kept his eyes on both doors as best as possible and finally saw her.

_________________________________

“Hey, y/n!” you heard your name being called from behind you. It was from Tom. He waved to you so would come over. Taking a deep breath, you decided to wave back, but your legs were frozen in place.

You felt absolutely terrible for ignoring him and denying his various invitations to hang out or to go anywhere, but it was just too terrifying. You were scared of fucking it up. Of it to turn out to be one big joke. You had heard of frat guys using dates and hookups as dares and shit. You didn’t want that. You couldn’t let that happen.

But when you saw Tom smile at you, those worries suddenly disappeared and your legs moved without connecting to your brain. Suddenly, you found your spot next to him.

He had been leaning against the wall with one foot, his arms crossed. You decided to lean against it with your shoulder. Even though you had your sweater, you could feel the grizzly texture of the bare red brick. He smiled and mirrored your movement, so you were only a few inches apart. ,

“Hey,” he said, still with the smile on his face.

“Hey,” you replied.

Tom uncrossed his arms to brush his fingers through his hair. As you watched him do so, you couldn’t help imagine how it would feel to play with his hair. It looked so soft.

“I just wanted to say,” he licked his lips. You were so close to each other that you could see how pink and chapped they were. Focus. “How much fun I had the past week. It’s bee really great talking to you.”

“I had fun too,” you said. It really was nice talking to Tom. Especially now, standing so close to him, you could smell the coffee he had consumed that morning. Was it pumpkin spice? You felt stupid for not letting it happen sooner.

“Great, that’s- that’s really great to hear. I said great already, didn’t I?” He laughed, shaking his head, “Anyway, I was thinking: a couple of friends of mine are going to the opening of this new bar, the Sterling, it’s probably going to be a bit boring, but I thought, maybe you’d like to come? With me?” He looked at you with those big brown eyes. Your mind started racing a million miles an hour at his words. The fuzzy warm feeling that you got from looking at his smile was dispersing and setting in for anxiety.

He wanted you to go to a bar with him and his friends? Would that be considered a date? For the sake of your dignity, you decided against asking for clarification. It didn’t matter. You couldn’t go to some dingy bar with strangers, even if one of them was Tom. You could already feel your body heating up in anxiety as all the horrible scenarios played out in your head.

You realised you had been quiet for a while and Tom was still looking at you hopefully.

“No,” you blurted out. “I mean, I can’t. Sorry.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Totally. Maybe another time? Or if you don’t wanna go there, we could go somewhere else?”

“Uhh,” you couldn’t breath. All his suggestions were so sweet, but it felt too overwhelming to answer. Thankfully, the clock tower at the other end of campus rang and indicated the quarter of an hour. Your next class would soon start, and it was about a five-minute walk to get to.

“I have to go.” you pointed back and started walking, but Tom grabbed your hand gently, just enough by your fingertips.

“Sorry, I just- if you don’t want to hang out with me, that’s totally fine. You don’t have to pretend to like me, no hurt feelings. I don’t want you to-”

“I do, Tom,” you told him with a compassionate smile. Then you looked back at the clock. “But I really got to go.”

“Right, sorry.” he let go of your hand, and you ran off to your next course.

_________________________________

“Who was that?”

As soon as y/n ran off, Tom heard the voice coming from next to him. Zendaya popped up out of nowhere, an unlit cigarette hanging between her lips as she leaned in the same spot y/n had.

“Just a friend,” Tom shrugged. That’s what they were, after all. If even. He hoped he could describe someone he had mainly only spoken through texts with as a friend.

“You sure about that?” Zendaya smirked. “Cause by the looks of it, she’s got you pretty hooked. You were basically begging her to go out with you, bro.”

“Yeah, well, forcefulness isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, is it?” he sighed then almost turned pale at the words he had said. Zendaya didn’t say anything, just nodded and took out her glittery lighter.

“Could you not?” Tom pulled the cigarette out of her mouth before she could light it and put it in his pocket. “We’re inside, for fucks sake.”

“Fine, but tell me who this friend of yours is.” She nodded her head back into the direction that y/n ran in.

“I don’t really know. I mean I do, but- Basically we met last week before class. Then I found her on Instagram and DM’d her-”

“You slid into her DMs? Bro,” she laughed.

“Call it what you want, it was the only way of reaching her I had.”

“Fine, so you like her, yeah?”

“I guess.” Tom didn’t like sharing his feelings. It put him in this vulnerable position that he was not used to. Zendaya knew that, yet still she pushed him to do it almost every time they talked.

“For what it’s worth, I think she likes you too,” she said.

“How so?” he questioned hesitantly. It wouldn’t have been the first time that Zendaya had pulled that trick on him to date someone. And it had not ended well.

“Well, body language for one, she felt comfortable enough around you to stand close to you, facing you; she smiled at your rants which, props to her, is hard to do.”

“How long had you been watching us, exactly?” Tom asked a bit freaked out. Zendaya ignored the question.

“Believe me, she likes you. She’s just scared.” she pulled out another cigarette from her pocket, “also, taking a girl to a shithole like the Sterling for your first date? I’m glad she said no. Set some standards, man.” And with that lovely comment, she walked away. She didn’t have to see Tom flipping her off, she knew he would do it, and she replied lovingly in the same way.

That’s what you got for being friends with psychology majors.

_________________________________

The first thing you did after walking out of your second class was to check your phone if you had received any messages from Tom. There was nothing. So you decided to message him yourself.

(your account)

Hey Sorry I ran away like that And basically anytime after class and making those dumb excuses not to meet up Just so you know I do really wanna hang out with you I’m just not really great with crowds or with places like bars and stuff And ive also never really been asked to go anywhere with anyone, like personally Idk why im telling you this. I’m definitely rambling Texting is definitely easier than talking huh Sorry for all this

It took Tom two minutes to see your messages and to respond.

(tomholland2013)

It’s totally okay. I get it And sorry if i made you uncomfortable with all that. Can i come to your place tonight? Or how about we go to Le Moulin?

Le Moulin. You had been there before. You could do that. With trembling fingers of excitement, you replied

(your account)

Deal. Around 7?

(tomholland2013)

Sounds perfect. See u then

_________________________________

Tommo: Hey guys, sorry but im gonna have to skip on tonight

This short message was seen and very much not appreciated by his friends. None of the replies could be seen as appropriate for day-time television. Except for the one Zendaya had sent him through their personal chat. It was simple,

Z: 👍

With the entire afternoon off, Tom made sure he looked somewhat decent for the night. He took a shower. Washed his hair and made sure it was extra soft. He wasn’t sure what y/n thought of it, but from past experiences, he knew that usually, girls loved his hair. Thinking about other girls was probably not the best mindset, though. Still, his hair did look really good. He brushed his fingers through it.

It had not yet stopped raining, which was a bit of a problem, but he hoped she wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet. For the sake of it, he took an umbrella with him. Luckily it wasn’t very windy, so it actually came to good use. The walk from the frat house to the dorm that y/n said she lived in wasn’t too far away, and fortunately on the way to the place he had in mind to take her to.

On his way over, he thought about what Zendaya had told him.

Was y/n scared? Of what?

They had talked about that kind of stuff briefly, during the weekend, and she and said that she suffered from anxiety. Tom just thought it was stuff like giving a presentation in class. He hadn’t even thought about the more social aspect of it. And here he was pushing all those things at her like going to some bar with strangers. Jesus, why did he have to be such a dumbass?

The dorm complex had a buzzer system like a regular apartment complex, so he searched for her name on the long list, and pressed the button next to it.

“Hello?” It was her roommate, Marie, that answered.

“Hey, it’s Tom. I’m here to pick up y/n.” He could hear some indistinct giggling coming from the other side of the line.

“Of course, c’mon up. But I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit.” Next followed the buzzer, and the doors opened for him. The number on the button said 54, so he assumed it had to be on the fifth floor. When he walked up to the door with that number, he was greeted with a colourful collage of rock bands whose hair was probably more impressive than their vocal range, which said a lot considering Queen was on it.

He knocked and waited for someone to open. y/n was the one to do it. She stood frozen in the door, only a towel wrapped around her body.

“I thought we said seven?” she said, her voice a bit higher than usual.

“It’s quarter past seven!” Marie shouted out from inside the dorm. y/n cursed.

“Shit, sorry, I lost complete track of time. Give me ten minutes, okay?” she held up a finger so he would wait here. Tom nodded and let her close the door again. He could still hear her yell at Marie as to why she had not told her she was running late, to which Marie only responded with hysterical laughter.

“Holland?” someone in the hallway asked a few minutes later. Tom turned in the direction to see a guy with a head full of bed hair poke out of his doorway (which was covered in pictures of death metal posters and my little ponies). He stepped out in the hallway to reveal he was wearing nothing but a pair of tiny and tight briefs, leaving little to the imagination.

“Oh hey… Crocker,” he called the guy by his preferred nickname.

“Hey man, what are you doing here?” Crocker asked. The way his eyes were almost ruby red and the stench coming from his room, Tom presumed that the guy was higher than a kite.

“Oh you know, waiting for a date, heh.” He said a bit awkwardly, pointing back to door 54.

“Ah, getting some of that French jay nehsuh gwaa.”

Tom looked confused. He wasn’t sure he had ever heard someone butcher a language that badly. Well, probably, but he didn’t remember it. He kind of understood what Crocker meant, though.

“No, I’m here for y/n. Not Marie.”

“Damn? Really.” Crocker started to giggle, which might as well just have been a side effect from whatever he had smoked up in his room.

“Yeah?” He wasn’t sure how else to react. Crocker just shrugged and walked back into his room, smashing the door closed. Tom turned slowly, not sure what exactly had happened just then. And he turned right on time too, because the door of dorm 54 opened and y/n walked out. Wearing a raincoat over a sweater and jeans. She also had a pair of black ankle boots on. Tom could not help but smile at the sight of her.

“Sorry about that,” she said, the nervousness in her voice was unmistakable.

“First,” Tom spoke, remembering one of his earlier worries from days ago, “you don’t have a boyfriend, do you?” The question made her laugh.

“I very much do not. Why did you think that?”

“The sweater you wore when we met. It had that whole stole-it-from-my-boyfriend vibe.”

“No, I haven’t had anyone to steal clothes from in a long time.” she shook her head. Tom extended his hand for her to take, which she gladly did. It felt amazing.

“So what will you be ordering?”

“Ice cream,” Tom answered, almost matter-of-factly.

_________________________________

“Ice cream?” you asked to make sure you had heard him correctly. He nodded in agreement. “Don’t you think it’s a bit cold for that?”

“No.” He said bluntly, which really sold the case for you. You were on your way again.

You could hear the rain pound against the main door before you even reached the ground floor, and it only got harder and louder the nearer you got. Tom, being a true gentleman, opened the door for you, but you were a bit hesitant to walk outside.

“Oh, shit. Sorry,” he let you hold the door so he could step through the threshold and push open the umbrella. You noticed it was a Delta Kappa umbrella. They really made merch of everything. As he put the umbrella up, he extended his arm for you to intertwine yours through. Then, you walked.

Though it was relatively early, the sky was pitch black because of how early the sun set those days and the dark clouds that had been pestering the sky that entire day. Not a star was to be seen. The rain tapped heavily against the umbrella, and you tried to stay as close to Tom as possible. The excuse, of course, was to not get wet but really you wanted to enjoy the warmth that he was giving off. At one point you had changed position from just having your arm over his, to him wrapping his arm over your shoulder.

You walked down a brightly lit path, so you could see everything around you. The trees, the cars passing by, the building. So, when you saw the little café at the end of the street, you squealed.

While there were plenty of bars, pubs and clubs to go to around town, so there were restaurants and cafés. And while restaurants really weren’t your thing, you loved to sit in one of the cosy coffee shops with a cup of tea or coffee and read a good book. Another fun thing about all those places was that they were very internationally orientated, speaking to the wide variety of students that the university had. Le Moulin was of course based on a Parisian café. You had actually found it together with Marie, in hopes she could have something that felt a bit closer to home. Though it didn’t come close to the real magic of the French capital, it still had plenty of its charm in it. Not to mention, the pain du chocolats were to die for!

Yet, you had never actually had ice cream from their menu.

You still weren’t sure if today would be the day for it. By the time you wear under the little entrance roof, you were freezing, and so was Tom, visibly.

“Are you still sure about the ice cream?” you asked him as he closed the umbrella.

“Hot chocolate?” he suggested, suddenly fluent in your love language: chocolate and hot drinks (it was a very simplified version of said love language).

This time Tom got to be the real gentleman as he let you walk inside first. He dropped the umbrella in the stand, together with a few others. When you looked around the café, you saw that a few more couples were enjoying the cosiness. A sweet melody was playing from the speakers. The rain had also softened outside, and together with the vintage sounds of guitar and vocals, it gave the perfect atmosphere for the night.

You had barely stepped inside when one of the waiters walked up. He smiled and said: “Your table is ready,” which surprised you, but Tom took you by the hand, and you both followed the waiter to one of the tables next to the wall, where one side had a couch instead of the usual chairs. You sat down first, taking off your jacket. Tom was going to sit opposite you, but now it was your turn to grab his hand.

“Slide in.”

He smiled and sat down. He probably didn’t need any convincing and just wanted to hear you say that you wanted him to sit next to you. You didn’t mind that.

“Should I prepare the order?” the waiter asked as you made yourself comfortable, again confusing the hell out of you.

“Actually, scrap that. We’ll have two large hot chocolates.” Tom said.

“With cinnamon!” you added.

“One with cinnamon.” Tom corrected. The waiter nodded and walked off.

“Don’t like cinnamon?” you quizzed, to which Tom shrugged.

“It’s alright, just not a big fan.” Both of you looked around the room. You had never been in the café at night, so you hadn’t even realised that the walls were covered in soft gold lights, giving it all that much more the feeling as if you had stepped into a fairytale.

“I didn’t know this place took reservations.”

“I’m not sure either,” Tom replied, you noticed he had his arm draped around you again, “I just called to be sure.”

“Really?” That split you up into two. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought that he had made a special call to the café to get, probably, the best seat in the house. On the other side, you were freaking out for a few reasons. He had put in quite the effort in an almost last minute notice of plans, while you were fifteen minutes late. That was embarrassing enough. And this reservation basically put you in a spotlight for the entire business, which was really not ideal. You didn’t want to be noticed.

“Hey,” he whispered and squeezed his grip around you lightly, “everything okay?”

“Huh? Mhm,” you nodded your head and smiled, trying not to think about how the waiters might be judging you.

“I saw you had posted a picture from this place on your Instagram, and I used to come here a while back, so I thought it would be cool, but if you don’t like it-”

“It’s perfect,” you made up your mind. In the end, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You felt safe, sitting on the little couch, next to Tom.

Soon after, the waiter came back with two mugs of hot chocolate. When Tom ordered large ones, they delivered. The mugs might as well have been cereal bowls, topped with a peak of whipped cream and cocoa powder, and a cinnamon stick in your cup to distinguish the two drinks.

“Et voila!” the waiter put the cups down. You thanked him, and he was gone again.

There were spoons, but you decided to stir your chocolate with the cinnamon stick.

Still with his arm around you, Tom took his mug up to his lips. With the feeling of having him so close to you, you wondered what this really was. What if he just wanted to be friends and spend some time with you? Had he noticed how sad and lonely you were, and did he want to take his pity out on you? Were you a charity act for him? God, you hoped not. You really really hoped not.

“Tom?” You looked at him, to see his eyes dart in your direction. His top lip was covered in whipped cream. You gestured it to him, slightly giggling, and he wiped it off with the back of his hand. How was someone that hot, so adorable?

“You were saying?” he said, putting the mug down on the table in front of you.

“I was just wondering,” Be quick, get it over with, you’ll feel better when you say it. “is this a date?”

“Do you want it to be? It doesn’t have to.” He added the second part quickly after.

“I- I think I do,” I smiled. Though he had just put his mug down, he picked it right back up, you did the same.

“Then a date it is.” You clinked cups. Still, something felt off. You were holding the cup up to your lips, but just far enough not to be able to drink from it. Your eyes glazed over as you focused them on the mural in front of you. It was of the Paris skyline. With the Eiffel tower in the middle, the Arc de Triomphe a bit to the left, on the other side stood the two symmetrical towers of the Notre Dame cathedral. It was probably geographically inaccurate, just good enough to keep everyone who had never been to the City of Love satisfied.

“Okay, something’s up.” Tom brought you back to the date. “What’s wrong? And, please, be honest.”

“I don’t know,” you huffed out a laugh. “But before you start to freak out, it’s nothing to do with you, I swear.”

“So, you kind of know what it is about.” he raised an eyebrow. He had a point. If you knew what it was not, it meant you knew what it was, indeed.

“I, uhm,” suddenly you felt very much aware of everything and everyone around you. Were they listening? “Well, I really want to apologise for being so distant outside of Instagram.”

“There’s really no need for that, darling,” he said. “I understand it, and should have been a bit more considerate. I should have realised sooner that bars and shit aren’t your cup of tea.. or hot chocolate.”

You both laughed.

“Yeah,” you were smiling, but the word came out a bit as a sigh, conveying your all the troubling thoughts that were going on in your brain.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Tom saw through it. You bit your lip, not sure how to say it. You didn’t want to say it. He would probably think you were a joke. Besides, all those people around. Some of them from your school. They could probably hear every word you were saying.

“Do you maybe want to text it to me?” he suggested with a kind smile. You hadn’t realised when he had moved, but he had let go of your shoulders, and his hand was now on top of yours. His thumb moved slowly over your skin, reassuring you that, whatever it was, it was okay.

How you hoped it was.

You grabbed your phone and started to type out your message, taking a deep breath before sending it to him. You heard the vibration in his pocket, and with it, your heart skipped with anxiety. Tom kept holding on to your hand as he took out his phone and read the text. His eyes shot wide open.

“Wait, really?”

_________________________________

“Never?” he asked, to which she bit her lip and shook her head.

No, it wasn’t possible.

“How has no one- nooo,”

“It just… never got far enough- No, I mean, ugh,” she finally took a sip of her hot chocolate. Tom had to admit that it was cute how that was her go-to frustration action. She wiped off the whipped cream from her lip. Tom couldn’t stop looking at them, they were just so perfect. He wanted to feel her, to taste her. He wouldn’t even mind the taste of cinnamon that would have remained on them.

“There was just never a guy that made me think, oh yeah, I want to kiss him,” she said after another sip of the hot chocolate.

“So, you’d want to kiss me?”

“Shut up,” she said glaring, but just to hide the big smile on her face.

“Sorry, I just can’t believe you’ve never been kissed.” She flinched a bit at his words. “I don’t mean it in that way. You shouldn’t be ashamed of never being kissed. Sometimes it happens early on, sometimes it doesn’t. If it wasn’t for my pledge, I don’t think I would have had my first kiss till last year.” He confessed. y/n looked at him with eyebrows that had a twist of disbelief in them.

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear,” Tom laughed, putting his hands up. “So really, no judgement here.” Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, “and I definitely won’t mind breaking you in,” He couldn’t keep a straight face saying it, and neither could she. He had thought it would make her nervous or flushed, but she just slapped him on his arms teasingly.

“In your dreams, Holland.”

“Fuck, I hope so.” That made her freeze, just for a second though. “Shit, too much?” He asked, afraid he had finally taken it too far with his inappropriate humour.

“No, you’re good.” She took another sip of her hot chocolate, allowing Tom to do so as well.

“See, just because I’ve never been kissed, it immediately puts me under this label of being a prude or something, but I’m really not. I’ve just- had a really shitty love life.” Or just a complete lack of it.

“Well, I hope to change that.” He leaned in again and pecked her cheek. That finally got him the flushed reaction he had hoped for.

“You already did.”

_________________________________

Your hand moved up to your cheek, hovering above the area that he had kissed. You felt like an idiot, but with Tom, it didn’t even feel like a bad thing.

“We’ve known each other for less than two days, and I can already tell you, you’re way up there in the list of good dates.”

“Way up there? Give me stats.” He nudged on. You thought for a second.

“At least… top ten.”

“Top five? Oh C’mon, babe, I think I’m a bit better than that. Not to toot my own horn, of course.”

“Top five.” You said, ignoring the butterflies that had escaped in your stomach. He glared at you. You glared back, keeping your eyes on each other for another moment until he had dipped his finger in his hot chocolate and pressed it against your nose. You blinked in confusion.

“That just moved you down to number six.”

“Well, shit.” Tom leaned in and licked the whipped cream off your nose. As disgusting as it should have been, you burst into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in his chest to not disturb the rest of the restaurant. While you were trying to calm down, you felt Tom kiss the top of your head a few times.

Finally, you sat up again.

“Top three,” you stated. It was good enough for Tom. For now.

You drank the rest of your drinks in the best silence possible that could be kept as both of you kept laughing at each other. Finally, the mugs were empty. Tom paid for everything and let you take the lead to walk outside with the umbrella. When you opened the door, however, you saw that the storm had now passed over into a light drizzle. You kept the umbrella closed.

You were already letting yourself get taken up by the rain when Tom was outside. You thought he would come to join you, but he stayed under the little roof, watching you with a big smile.

“Not afraid of the rain, are you?” you asked. “Or are you made of sugar?”

“All I can say is, come and find out for yourself.” You were already a few steps away, so you hopped over to him, took his hand and took the final step, so you were touching chest to chest. His other hand found its way on your hip. You saw his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips. You smiled and pulled him in closer, making you take a step back and exposing him to the weather.

“Mutherfucker!” He gasped, not having expected that. “Ohh, you’re good.”

Before you knew what was happening, he had picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed from surprise before the both of you started laughing again. Eventually, he had to put you back down again, and your eyes widened in horror when you saw him walk to a large puddle.

“No, Tom! No, no, no.!” He put you down right next to it. Probably an inch from the water edge.

“C’mon, I’m not that mean.” he pouted.

“Nah, you’re a softy,” you poked his cheek. He grabbed your hand.

“Oi, I wouldn’t go that far.” then kissed the tip of your index finger, which you had poked him with a second before.

“Too late, I guess.”

“You sure about that? You’re still really close to that puddle babe. We wouldn’t want any… accidents!” He gripped you by the waist again, and the sudden movement made you feel like he was gonna throw you down into the puddle. You shrieked but soon felt his arms still around you and no parts of your body were soaked (only moderately wet from the light rain) or on the ground. He was still holding you.

“You never answered me,” he said, his sweet laughter was gone, and his eyes were on your lips again.

“Answer what?” you kept looking at his face as a whole, taking in every detail. The way his nose scrunched when droplets of rain well on it. How one of his eyebrows was more bushy and irregular than the other. The dimple in his chin, his freckles- everything.

“If you wanted to kiss me.”

His golden-brown eyes were so warm, even in the dim street lights at night. His wet hair was sticking to his face, but framing it so nicely. His jaw was sharp, it didn’t seem like it should be real.

“I do.”

His lips. Though thin and a bit chapped, they still felt so soft. The sweet taste of chocolate, mixed in with the rain that had fallen in the few moments that you stood outside. His hands cupped your cheeks, pulling you in closer to him. It felt so good. So right.

You pulled away but with no idea how much time had gone by. His stands stayed in their position, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. Nothing came from it since you were still in an emotional daze.

Tom chuckled.

“Fuck, I should have slid into your DMs sooner.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Holland.”

“Oh, you love it.” He said before pulling you into another kiss.

The END

> song played in Le Moulin: Rendez-vous sous la pluie (Jean Sablon)

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed

> please leave a comment or ask with your thoughts. i love reading them and let me know if you want to see more of this au cause i really enjoyed writing it :)

> if anyone has a comment about how it had only been a day since they met etc. i wrote this 15k story in the span of 24 hours. i wish i could have added more to it but at this point, i am physically and emotionally exhausted and do not want to make it even longer.

>masterlist and link to taglist in bio

tagging:

@definitely-not-black-cat @artemisiaarm @nerdyhockeygirl @miraclesoflove @justasmisunderstoodasloki @thefridgeismybestie @m19friend @creative-happenings @parker-holland-osterfield @fanficparker @fanficscuziranout @peterparkoure @xxtomxo @happywolves81 @captainbuckyy @tra-gicx @qxeen-of-hearts @varshavisuu @kangaroobunny @petersunderoos96 @the-lost-fairy-tale @nerd-domland @sleepybesson @rissa067 @the-queen-procrastinator @scarletteclipze @screeching-student-unknown @spiderrrling @captainpeggy40 @tomhollanders2013 @miraclesoflove @playinonaloop @queenoflostspirits @roses-hxlland @hereiamhereigo @sunnydays0803 @averyfosterthoughts @moorehollandplz @beiroviski @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @peterparkerbabyyy @multifandomlover21 @lmaotshollandd @badbitchydecisions @tikapollak @awesomehritz @madzleigh01 @oh-what a beautiful-parker @taciturnspidey @quaksonhehe @mountainsforwords @harryfobter @peepeeparkerr @viagracex @ethereal-beauty-p @slytherin-chaser @worldoftom @moonysoftt @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @saintlavrents @peachybloomss @blissfulparker @chloecreatesfictions-archive @fallinfortom @bitchydecisions @okokimfreakingoutahh @cicicantblog @musicalkeys @joyleenl @multifandomdoodles121 @awkwardfangirl2014 @marvelouspeterparker

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